by John Fowles
But now Ayscough turns, and sharply. 'You may pray for her, but not with her. You have her word, I do her no ill, are you not done?'
'We shall pray with her.'
No, you shall not, sir. You have had the right to question her on what is pertinent. I gave no right to hold a praying meeting also.'
'Friends, ye stand witnesses to this. Prayer is called impertinent.'
The clerk, who stands behind the three men, steps forward and reaches for the arm nearest him, that of Rebecca's father, to encourage him to turn and go; but his touch is as if scalding, for Hocknell twists round and catches his wrist, clamping it as in a vice; then forces it down and stares fiercely at the clerk.
'Touch me not, thee ... devil.'
Wardley puts a hand on Hocknell's other arm.
'Still thy righteous anger, brother. They shall be judged hereafter'
Hocknell looks for a few moments little inclined to obey; at last throws down the clerk's wrist, and turns back to face the room.
Tis tyranny. They have no right to forbid prayer.'
'We are among infidels, brother.'
Hocknell looks across at his daughter. 'Daughter, kneel.'
Rebecca does not move, in the silence that follows this abrupt paternal command; and nor now do the men, since they feel it below their dignity to kneel before she does. Her husband stares at the floor between them, more than ever as if he wished he were not there; while Wardley stares beyond her into a middle distance. Now she comes in front of her father, and smiles.
'I am thy daughter in all. Fear not, I shall not be bent again. I am Christ's daughter also, now.' She pauses, then adds, 'I pray thee, father, go in peace.'
Still the three stand, plainly doubting whether a woman can, or should, decide such a matter. They regard the face before them with its innate meekness; and that has also something other, a kind of simplicity, a levelheadedness, almost a judging of them. A sceptic or an atheist might have suspected a contempt for them, for the way their faith had deformed them, and their sex also; in which he would have been wrong. She felt pity, not contempt, and in no way doubted the substance of the faith. Mr Ayscough had seemed largely indifferent until this point; now he might be seen watching Rebecca closely. It is Wardley who breaks the impasse.
'More love, sister. Christ's spirit be with thee.'
Her eyes watch her father's still angry ones.
'More love, brother.'
She picks up her father's hand and raises it to her lips; there seems some hidden allusion to a past event, some previous taming of his rancorous temper. He does not look appeased, and searches for something in her steady eyes, the faint smile, perhaps a simple answer to the question of why she knows him, but he does not know her. He is like a man shown, at this late stage of his life, a glimpse of something he has never recognized before: a lightness, affection, a last echo of her former life; a thousand miles from solid timber and moral judgements by setsquare, and so unplaceable by him. Yet there is no hint of this when it comes to her husband. She turns and takes both his hands, does not kiss them, or his face. Instead they exchange a look, that seems almost one between strangers, despite their joined hands.
'Speak truth.'
'Yea, husband.'
And that is all. They go, and the clerk follows. Mr Ayscough is left alone with Rebecca, and still watching her. She glances almost shily back at him, then meekly down. For some moments he goes on watching her; suddenly, without further word, he leaves. The door once closed, there is the sound of a key being turned in a lock. Rebecca listens as his footsteps die away, before turning to the bed, and kneeling. Her eyes stay open, and her mouth does not move. She stands again, and lies on the bed. Her hands begin to feel her still only slightly swollen belly, and she cranes up for a moment to look down at it; lets her head sink back and smiles, much more fully than before, up at the ceiling.
It is a strange smile, strange in its innocence. It shows no vanity or pride, no sense that she has handled a situation well, no indication of a response to the awkward stiffness of her three brothers in Christ. It seems much more a reflection of some deep inner certainty; not of a kind she has actively earned, but of one she has been given, is simply now in, beyond her willing. Rebecca shares one thing with her husband besides a general faith: she too has a very indistinct sense of what defines and is common to every modern ego. She smiles in fact because Christ's grace has just granted her her first prophecy: the child inside her will be a girl. We should say today she has discovered she would like it so; and completely misunderstand what she feels. Her smile is not that of such a personal knowledge, and delight in it. It is the smile of one who has heard, is now written by, an annunciation.
* * *
The Examination and Deposition of
James Wardley
the which doth witness but will not swear,
this fourth day of October
in the tenth year of the reign of our
sovereign Lord George the second,
by the grace of God King of Great Britain
and of England, &c.
* * *
MY NAME is James Wardley. I am tailor by trade. I was born in the year of 168 5, at Bolton on the Moor in this county. I am married.
Q. Now, Wardley, the hour is late, my business with you is brief. I will not dispute with you over your beliefs, I wish to ascertain only some facts, that touch upon Rebecca Lee. She is one you count of your flock, your meeting, what you may call it?
A. I am no bishop nor vicar, to count souls like a miser his guineas. We live in fellowship. She is sister, and believes what I believe.
Q. You teach the doctrine of the French Prophets, is it not so?
A. I teach truth, that this world is near its end by cause of its sins; and that Jesus Christ returns, once more to redeem it. That whosoever shall show that faith in Him, and live by His light, shall be saved. And all else shall be eternally damned.
Q. They to be damned are all those who do not follow you?
A. All those that follow Antichrist, that has ruled since the first church of the Apostles ended; and hear not the Lord's word, revealed by grace of prophecy.
Q. You say all religion since then is Antichrist?
A. Until the Friends first came, this hundred years past. All else are possessed of the Devil's great I. Go off, great I, and come not nigh. So say we.
Q. Believe you not in predestination, as the Calvinists?
A. Nay, and nor doth God.
Q. What is false in it?
A. It saith man may not change in the living Christ, nor war the flesh and put a cross upon sin, if he so choose, as he should.
Q. Draw you this doctrine from the Bible?
A. Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. The Book is good witness, and much wisdom; yet is not all. So say we.
Q. How not all - is it not sacred truth, and infallible?
A. We say 'twas writ by good and holy men, they lied not by their lights. Such were of their understanding then; in some things, not certain truth. 'Tis but words, that are fallible in their season. The Lord was never beholden to letters, nor the Book his last testament; for that is to say, He now is dead; which is vile heresy put about by Antichrist, so the sinners may sin in the more peace. He is not dead, He lives, He sees all, and soon shall come among us.
Q. I am told, you have no belief in the Holy Trinity.
A. That it is all male, and woman no part of it, we will not credit.
Q. Christ may come again in the form of woman, is it not so you blasphemously proclaim?
A. What blasphemy lies in that? The first and greatest sin of all was the fornication of Adam and Eve, who were guilty both and equally. Man and woman that sprang from their loins, may be saved both; and may save both. Both may be in Jesus Christ's likeness; and shall.
Q. Believe you He may be seen now in this world, tho' it be in secret, brought from Heaven?
A. Christ is no secret. This world's present state doth ans
wer thee. Had He been seen, it had not been as it is, all blindness and corruption.
Q. What of Holy Mother Wisdom?
A. Who is she?
Q. Do you not so call the Holy Spirit?
A. Nay.
Q. You have heard it so called?
A. I deny thee.
Q. Nor Heaven, the life everlasting, called June Eternal?
A. Thee's been sold more rotten eggs than good, master. Heaven hath no special season, 'tis no more June than any other month.
Q. You forswear all carnal pleasure?
A. The carnal nature is mansion of Antichrist, there will we not enter. What frees us of his chains is chastity, naught else. So say we, and do our best to live.
Q. This last I ask - doth by your faith the flesh of true believers survive death?
A. All flesh is corrupt, of those who have the light or not. The spirit alone is resurrected.
Q. This comes not of you alone, but of all who have declared themselves French prophets?
A. Thee may judge. Thee may read of Misson and Elias Marion. Thomas Eames that be gone to the Lord nigh these thirty years past. Sir Richard Bulkeley likewise. Thee may solicit John Lacy, who liveth in this county till this day, that I know well, he is old now of seventy-two years; and hath witnessed to the truth far longer than I.
Q. Very well, to my present purpose. You are persuaded Rebecca Lee doth believe as you, as these you have named?
A. Yes.
Q. It is not by her husband's will, or her father's, to please both or either? As is common in all religion, not only yours?
A. No. She is of our faith of her own conscience, for I have questioned her thereon, and my wife also, who knows her better.
Q. Know you of her past - that she was whore in London?
A. She hath repented.
Q. I ask again - are you cognizant of her former life?
A. I have spoken to it with my brethren, and my wife with our sistren, and we hope she shall be saved.
Q. But hope?
A. Jesus alone shall save, when the doom is done.
Q. You believe her sincere in repentance for her past life?
A. Aye, most earnest for salvation.
Q. To wit, she fits your beliefs, and is fanatickal in them?
A. I will not answer thee that. I come in peace.
Q. Did you not quit the Quakers upon this matter of peace - were you not born one?
A. I was born a friend of truth, and shall die one, but with this difference, praise the Lord, for Christ's word I must fight. I treat not Christ's enemy as no business of mine, as they now have wont to do. If such a one deny me in matters of the spirit, I must deny him back.
Q. Did they not ban you from their meeting-house here?
A. I might still go if I was silent. Such is to say, a man may walk, if he will but wear chains. And I will not, for Jesus Christ my master's sake.
Q. Were you not ejected by force from their meeting, this two years past?
A. I would prophesy His coming, and they would not bear it nor hear it.
O. Did you not say that civil authority was not to be borne by such as yourself, what you called true Christians? And that civil authority was most signal instance of the sins for which this world is doomed?
A. I said 'twas not to be borne when civil authority would make us do or swear against our conscience. I did not say it was not to be obeyed in all else. Should I be before thee if I believed other?
Q. I am told you would make all wealth and property to be shared commonly, and have likewise spoken so.
A. I have prophesied it shall be so, when God's vengeance is done, among those who are saved. I have not spoken it is to be done now.
Q. You maintain, it would be a better world, if it were done.
A. I maintain it shall be a better world, when it is done; as it shall be, by God's will.
Q. This world shall be a better place when it is overturned?
A. Christ overturned. We have good warrant.
Q. To bring riot and rebellion, is it not so?
A. Thee hast no proof for this, and there is none.
Q. You are how many here, of the French Prophets?'
A. Some forty or fifty, and some where I was born, in Bolton. And in London some, also.
Q, Then you are not strong!
A. Many littles make a mickle. Christ had less, when He began.
Q. Is not the reason you are not in seditious rebellion this, you are too weak to bring it to success; but that you should, if you were stronger?
A. Thee shan't snare me in thy cunning supposings, master lawyer. We obey the civil law in all matters civil, we hurt no man, unless it be in his conscience. We would make rebellion against sin, yea, we will go sword in hand against sin, which is the soul's saving. There is no law against that. And when we are strong, there shall be no civil rebellion; for all will see we live in Christ and shall join us. Then shall there be peace and true respect among men.
Q. The law demands obedience to the established church and its authority, does it not?
A. Aye. And Rome was once the established church.
Q. The Protestant and established church of this kingdom is as evil and corrupted as that of Rome, is it how you say?
A. I say all churches are made of men. Men are of flesh, which is born corrupt. I do not say all men of the established church are corrupt. Hast thee read A Serious Call? I will not judge he that wrote it, William Law, that is of thy church, an evil man. Nay, he puts most others in it to shame, that are blind as mouldwarps to Christ's light.
Q. Which is to say they are not fit for what they are. This is plain invitation to rebellion against them. Just so were our forefathers made to fall into their errors and intolerance this century past. You are damned of your own mouth, and of history beside.
A. And thee of thine own, if thee'd make an evil man, or a blind, fit to be what he is because he is what he is. Thee may call the Devil good and fit, by such an argument. Thee'd not buy thy meat off a bad butcher, nay, nor go to one of my trade that sewed ill. But thee'll not qualm to hear the Word of Christ betrayed, coined false as by any forger. For lo, if he wear bands, and carry a dog's-tail of alphabet letters after his name, he may drink, he may whore, he may do what he will, for he is fit.
Q. Is this your peace and respect among men? Mr Fotheringay shall hear of it.
A. Is this thy no disputing upon my beliefs? And much good may it do him.
Q. Enough. I will know this. Hath the woman Lee prophesied at your meetings?
A. Nay.
Q. Hath she spoken in any way, publicly or privately, of what brought her to her new piety?
A. Save she had grievous sinned and stood sore shent by her past life.
Q. She hath not talked of any particular occasion to make her change her ways?
A. Nay.
Q. Nor place nor day?
A. Nay.
Q. Nor of other persons present, if there were such an occasion?
A. Nay.
Q. You are certain?
A. She is meek, as she should be; and lives now in Christ, or would live in Him.
Q. How, would live? Is she not persuaded yet?
A. She is not yet moved to prophesy. Which comes by Christ's grace, for which we pray.
Q. That she may rant with the best of you?
A. She may be given the glorious tongue of the light, and proclaim it, as my wife doth, and others.
Q. She is till now deficient in this?
A. She hath not prophesied.
Q. May it not be that she deceives you?
A. Why should she deceive?
Q. To pretend she is no longer what she was, tho' at heart she remain so.
A. She lives for Christ, so she may one day live in Christ. She and her husband are poor, as bare stone are they poor, he earns not enough for them to live by. Why should she feign to live so, when she might live else, in luxuriousness and lechery, as she did in thy Babylon?
Q. Do you not sup
ply to their needs?
A. When I may, and her brothers and sisters in Christ also.
Q. Is this charity particular, or given to all in need?
A. To all. For so said George Fox and the blessed first brothers, the soul's tabernacle must be decent fed and clothed before the light of truth may pierce to the soul itself. And I'll tell thee why they said, they saw about them the greatest most of mankind live in misery, worse than brutes; and saw also those who might and should relieve them, they that had more than sufficient to clothe and feed themselves and theirs, did not, from their selfish vanity and greed. And further, how this lack of charity did stink as a carrion in the Lord Jesus Christ's nostrils, and shall damn all who are so blind. Now call us rebels if thee will, for yea, we are rebels in this, and call our giving most good and fellowly, and best mirror of Jesus Christ's true commonwealth. Call us rebels, thee call Him rebel also.
Q. Christ gave in compassion. This is not your case. You give to suborn they who know no better from their rightful station.
A. Is rightful station to starve and go in rags? Why man, thee should walk in the street where the sister lives. Thee's eyes, hast thee not?
Q. Eyes to see she is well hid behind your coat-skirts, and provided for, in this miserable town.
A. So well hid, thee's found her.
Q. She has been sought many months.
A. Here, I have a guinea upon me I was paid but yesterday for two coats I have made. Lay one of thine to it, and I will give both in Toad Lane to those thee think in their rightful station, that yet starve and live worse than beggars. What, thee won't? Don't thee believe in charity, master?
Q. Not in such charity that goes to the nearest gin-shop.
A. Nor tomorrow, neither. I see thee's a careful man. Look thee, did Jesus Christ not give for thee, and far more than a guinea's worth? Think'st thee He was so careful as theeself and said, Mayhap I'd best not redeem this man, he is weak, my blood shall go to the gin-shop?
Q. You grow insolent, I will not have it.
A. Nor I thy guinea. We are well matched.
Q. I say, there is possibility she did great crime.
A. She has done no great crime, save she was born Eve. Thee knows it well as I.
Q. I know she is most suspicious close to a great liar.
A. Come, I know thee by thy repute. They say thee a fair man, though strict in thy master's service. Thee'd deny repute with me, so be it, I am well used to such. Thee'd break me and all who believe as I upon thy books of law, that are eleven inches in their foot no more than custom made iron to wall the rich against the poor. We shall not be broke, nay, try thy worst, it shall never be. All thy rods shall be but flails, to make us the better grains of wheat. I'll tell thee now a tale of my father's time, in the year of Monmouth, that was also of my birth, '85. For Jesus be praised, he was a Friend of Truth ever since he had met George Fox, who first saw the light, and his wife at Swarthmoor; and was brought to gaol upon a trumpery charge at Bolton. Where while he lay there came one Mr Crompton, who was magistrate and to judge him, and would exhort him to mend his ways and adjure the fellowship of the Friends. Whereat my father would not be swayed, and spake so well of his beliefs that in the end 'twas the magistrate was left the more shaken in his own. For in the end he spake to my father aside and said this: there are two justices in this world, and in one was my father innocent, which was the justice of God; and guilty only by the other, that was men's. And three years after was this magistrate cause of great scandal, for he threw off his chains and came to us, tho' it cost him dear, great loss in many things of this world. Who did greet my father thus when first they did encounter in fellowship, saying, It is now for thee to judge me, friend, that I wove so poor a piece before; yet now I know justice without light is warp without weft, and will never make fair cloth.
