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".

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.

In a letter to Thomas Turton, dated Enfield Highway, December 1st, 1840, Carlile writes:—

"I have this afternoon been delighting myself with me correspondence with Mrs. C. (Isis) while I was in the Compter, separating the wheat from the chaff. It will make an interesting volume some future day. Mrs. C. is heartily sick of the poverty of philosophy. You may be sure of that. She has had her martyrdom that way, as often without money as with it."

"Battle of the Church Rates.*

"A country gentleman came into my shop on Tuesday evening, and said he had heard that the Jury at the Old Bailey had just returned a bill against me for the exhibition of the effigies; that the bench had issued a warrant, and that the trial was fixed for Monday next. The Wednesday morning papers have taken no notice of the matter; in the afternoon I sent my son to the office of the Clerk of the Arraigns, whose clerk demanded a shilling for the precise information, and as I have determined not to spend a shilling about it, he came off without satisfaction, though the clerk more than once mentioned that no such a bill had yet been returned to that office, where it must necessarily be lodged. So that up to this moment, Wednesday evening, I know nothing about the matter in fact, and may have to go to press with this number before I know anything, even if there be an indictment. I am quite prepared for it, and shall have nothing to regret, unless I am interrupted in doing what I wish to do for the family of the departed Rowland Detrosier. The moment I am certain of an indictment, I shall prepare the effigy of a lawyer, as one of the temporal brokers and props of the Church. If the Duke of Wellington shall say that he intends to propose the sinking of the Church rates, I will take his word for it, and remove the effigies; but I will not take the word of a Whig for anything.

"Thursday Noon,—I have been to the City Solicitor's Office, and have learned that an indictment was to be presented against me this morning. I have since learnt, on returning home, that it has been returned a true bill, and that the Court has been moved, and has granted a warrant for my arrest. All this is mere sport to me. The indictment charges me with having committed a nuisance by the exhibition of effigies in Fleet Street The foreman of the Grand Jury, which has returned this a true bill, is that selfsame notorious Robert Hedger, who is Chairman of the Surrey Sessions, who was born in a nuisance, brought up in a nuisance, and who has turned out a nuisance to society as a profligate drunkard. His father begat him, and made the fortune he inherits in a common brothel and highwayman's house, that was called the Dog and Duck, in St. George's Field's. If the man's character were now good, I would not reproach him for the scene of his birth; but it is notoriously bad and hypocritical. Though I have quarrelled with Mr. Taylor, I have not pardoned Hedger for his conduct toward him. I will go through with this indictment as I have gone through with others, and defy any indictment to put or take them down.

"The trial is fixed for Monday, Dec. 1, in the Old Court of the Old Bailey, before the Judges of the Central Criminal Court. May God overthrow the Bishop and the Devil.

"R. C."

"Oppressive Taxation.

"William Davis, a chimney sweeper of King Street, St. Ann's, Westminster, was called on for king's taxes to the amount of four pounds twelve shillings, on the 23rd of October, by Sharp the collector. Davis asked for three days to make up the money. Sharp refused. Davis then sent out to the pawnshop his best hat, coat, and trousers; his wife's cloak, gown, and shawl, and raised £2 4s., which was all he could raise, and Samuel George Blake, of John Street, Tottenham Court Road, a fellow sweep, had to raise the remainder by paying interest for the loan of the money. David offered to pay the money by a sovereign per week, which was refused by Sharp and the sheriff's officer. He is now threatened with distraint for poor rates, church rates, and land-tax. What is a government that is supported by scenes of distress of this kind? What is protection for liberty and property, where the law swallows up both liberty and property, without cognisance of any other offence than the poverty of the housekeeper? It will be well to publish as many cases of this kind as possible, to teach Our Lords who have not the fear of The Lord before their eyes, what is the real state of things; and moreover, that an endurance of such a state of things may be exhausted.

"R. C."