"On the subject of marriage I have ever been the advocate and the consistent practicer of monogamy, of the honorable and happy and mutual attachment of the one man to one woman, the basis of which must not, cannot be human law, but the divine law of love and affectionate attachment. Chastity is found in obedience to the divine law, and not to the human law. I am now living up to this law in the highest sense in which it can be interpreted, openly, honorably, and with injury to no one, against which reproach has no power, for which the insect has no sting nor has venom poison. I have paid the penalty of perpetual unhappiness, and have still to pay a financial penalty for an error arising from the ignorance of my youth, and for supposing that the priest and the law could unite two hearts. Alas! I found that there was no charm in either the priest or the law to that end, and the experiment was to me the penalty of seventeen years of misery, hopeless and irremediable as to law, and which I have only remedied by the force of moral courage and the sacrifice of whatever property I had accumulated beyond the brain. As far as means were available, I have honorably filled out the character of a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a neighbor, a tradesman, and a citizen. I shrink from no enquiry. All is now better, all is now settled in my family, and I am not aware that a single human being regrets the arrangement. The wife of my bosom, the willing participator in my toils and troubles, is wedded to me in mind, body, and estate; she strong in her confidence in my honor, I strong in the confidence of her virtue, and this promises to be a happy marriage through life. It is so in the third year. It is sufficiently respected in the metropolis and elsewhere. It is pure in spirit, and is pure. It conceals neither motive nor purpose. It is open, fair, and honorable, not intruding itself upon the world's attention, but not shrinking from the world's scrutiny."
CHAPTER IV. IN PRISON AGAIN!
A very few weeks after Carlile's liberation from the Compter he was again under sentence. This time it was for refusing to pay the Church rates, which were unusually burdensome and excessive, owing to extra assessments which had been made. These assessments bore very hard on people of limited means, and many were the cases of consequent suffering which were endured. A seizure was made of 1,200 almanacs to satisfy the claim. In retaliation, Carlile had made three effigies: a bishop and the devil arm in arm, which he placed in one of the windows over 62 Fleet Street; these were designated the "spiritual" brokers, and in another window the figure of a man in ordinary clothes as a "temporal" broker. This drew immense crowds of people to the house, so large as to interfere seriously with business in the street. He was threatened with all kinds of "actions", and several attempts were made by the police and others to drag them from the windows, but he finally "compromised" the matter with the authorities, "for the sake of his neighbors"; he would only put them up on Sunday, that being, as he said, "the bishop's day". He hoisted these effigies to-attract the people and call their attention to one of the greatest burdens they had to endure in the way of taxation. The next week another seizure was made for Church rates, and 800 general book almanacs were taken for a tax of £6 ($30). There were three distraints made in one year amounting to £30 ($150). There were many persons who encouraged Carlile to make this stand, and many offers of assistance were received by him (privately) in carrying on this war. Many people were heartily sick of these burdensome Church taxes and special assessments.
It is a singular fact that the collector of such rates paid two of them out of his own pocket rather than make the levy on the goods. Carlile on discovering this paid one of the sums back, but warned him never to do that again.
Joseph Harris* was fined £1 and locked up one night for being in the shop at the time of the seizure! Carlile was brought up on an indictment before the Court and again sentenced to three years' imprisonment, to pay a fine of forty shillings, and to give sureties of £200 ($1,000) for good behaviour for three years. The spirit of this sentence was to keep him silent out of prison for three years. To this he would not submit, saying that "he would rather be free in prison than shackled outside".
* This is the Joseph Harris mentioned in the sketches of
Carlile's friends who helped.
He therefore wrote a note to the Governor of the compter asking that his old room be made ready for him, the one he had occupied so long; and once more he took up his abode in a gaol. However, he was not required to fill out his term, and after being in the compter four months he was released quietly, the authorities themselves becoming ashamed of the affair.
This was the last of his imprisonments, having now completed nine years and seven months on the various charges.
Shortly after the liberation of Carlile from the compter, he and Isis made a short tour in the country, where he lectured at many places. Unfortunately, in some way their infant boy, then about six months old, contracted the small-pox. The mother and babe had to be isolated in a little cottage outside the town, the fear of the inhabitants of the town being so great as to be almost wild in their alarm. Things the patient needed were brought and left at the door; but not one could be had to wait upon them. To make matters worse poor Isis, probably from using the same handkerchief on the baby which she had used to wipe away her own tears, was attacked with a serious affection of the eyes, which made her almost blind. In this situation she remained several days, as Carlile had been travelling from place to place filling engagements, and she was not able to reach him till the end of the week. We will not dwell on this most terrible experience, which ended in the death of their beautiful boy and the illness of its mother. Their grief, and Carlile's mention of it in the Gauntlet, was very touching. He was only able to stay with her one week, and then he went to fill up his belated engagements. A public man has not much time to give to private griefs. Neither did Carlile force his sorrows upon the public notice. We get this meagre account of the sad affair from private sources, though his boy's death was published and commented on in the Gauntlet. After the death of their beloved son, and birth of another, Carlile leased a pretty little place in Enfield. It was a pleasant home, and Carlile and his little family were very happy. The place, though not large, had a nice garden and many fruit trees, with a fine spreading yew tree on the front lawn, under which tea was often served in fine weather. Here they lived for several years, and here their two daughters, Hypatia and Theophila, were born, Julian having been born at 62, Fleet Street. The many years of imprisonment had seriously affected Carlile's lungs, and had developed a family tendency to asthma. This, with the fogs and dampness of the usual London winter, made it almost impossible for him to breathe in the city's atmosphere. He was almost well at Enfield, but whenever he was called to London to lecture, or on any other business, he would suffer agonies until he got back to the country again. Unfortunately, these calls were frequent, and often required forty-eight hours in bed to overcome their effects, and Isis had frequently to take his place on the rostrum. But he was not idle by any means. In the summer months he made extended trips to the leading towns of the island, and in the winter he wrote much, always with a good grate-fire in his room, for he could not live without a good fire, being so very sensitive to changes of temperature.