The Journal
Kenneth A. Ritley — Independent Study
For reasons of posterity, I feel it justified to give freely my account of what happened to me, in the form of a journal which I kept all during that bewildering time.
Dec. 14, 1983
I awoke this morning with a renewed freshness, such as the likes I have not seen for a good many years. Yet now I feel it proper and fitting to tell something of where I am presently at, though I know not why. I will then proceed to elaborate upon those events which, after leaving that “lounge area” that I described yesterday, eventually led to my disposal in these present circumstances.
I now gathered that I was confined in some jail! How mysterious can it be that God might feel compelled to have one such as I, who I before considered to be a pious and God-fearing man, observant of all the holydays and fasts, and resting every Sabbath; how He could have thought fit to have me snatched up en route to post a letter, which, by the way, I never did; subjected to a very bizarre set of circumstances I still cannot understand, and then, for almost no reason that I could plainly see, confined to a jail! How mysterious indeed!
My high regard of the men who brought me here soon began to falter, for it was quite unusual that I be jailed without any of the due proceedings I would come to suspect: no barrister was brought before me, neither a proper trial to establish my innocence or guilt, as the case may be. But look now how I talk! I say I might not be innocent, but surely I am, for what manner of law must I have broken to be jailed without any of the preliminaries I might expect!
Upon leaving that lounge area I recently told about, I was brought into a sitting room, where I stood and held a small placard to my breast. Then, in a sudden instant, a bright flash went off, a flash so bright, I believe, that had I been looking squarely at it I feel I would have been blinded for sure; and indeed, as it were, I was not looking squarely at it, yet after its occurrence I retained for several minutes the image of the flash in my eyes. I feel that this was not unlike the story the cannibals tell, for who of all but they would know best? — they tell that the eye retains its last image after death. This thought could scarce have reassured me any more, for it suggested to me just how near death I was for this to happen!
No longer was I acting in a passive manner as I had done before. I stood up and demanded, “Where hast thou brought me, and wherefore? I bid thee answer, knaves, that ye all not see such a man as I in violent turmoil and unrest!” I have never been very good at making threatening comments, but I realized that indeed I must have been better than I thought, for upon hearing these words that African, now with me in this room, remarked — and this I feel very reassuring, about with my threat, for pagans and Negroes were hardest to threaten, and I gathered he was both; he remarked, as I say, “Jss cool, jss cool. Jus’ relax, kay? Daint nufin dat yoh can do, cuz we goss da goods on ya, and yous in pooty deep trouba, heah? Yous calms down, an’ we gwyne take yoh pitchure.”
Though he spoke with a good many pagan words which I could not understand, I did gather that I was going to have my portrait done, no doubt in restitution for all the trouble they had caused me; yet I could have gathered that anyway, for I saw the artist’s light equipment and shades, though I saw not his canvas and easel.
I felt very sorry for having threatened them all in so violent a manner, especially when a man returned bearing my portrait. I was indeed fascinated by the skill with which he had captured my essence, and on such a tiny canvas, too, for it was only about two or three inches on a side! When I inquired if I could keep that portrait, which was indeed very glossy, no doubt covered over with a sealer of sorts, and was so flexible — indeed, I have never seen canvas like it; when I asked, as I say, I was told not, that it must be entered into a book. And what a huge book it was! for I then saw it and the scores and hundreds of pictures, as the African called it, within the book, and all of them bearing placards at their breasts. I then deduced, for I was not in the least lacking wits, that the purpose of the placards was for cataloguing all of the portraits; moreover, I figured that, after being asked to do so many sittings in such an unusual manner, the artists of course became good, for the likeness of me was as a mirror; and fast, for he wasted no time in handing me over the finished result; indeed so fast was he that I did not even see him at work.
After this I was incarcerated for the first time, for I am now, at present, writing during my second incarceration. I asked that man who sat beside me in the lounge room for the charges that, all of a sudden, must have been brought against me. He told them to me, in Latin, and I recognized them as words spoken similarly by one of the first six men — the same one, in fact, who graciously told me of my rights and not my wrongs. But as I could speak not a word of Latin, I knew not what charges were against me. (Apparently, too, that man knew not their meanings in the King’s English, or any other English, for that matter, for when I bid him repeat the words in my language, he must needs repeat them in Latin. If the reader of this passage survives me, for I feel uncertain as to my secure future, let him endeavor to learn the meanings in English of felony manslaughter.)
Here I sat in my jail for the first time, and pondered, too, as to what a nice jail it was, for there was a sink and mirror, and all manner of toiletries, and a bed, and bars instead of walls that I might have company. Indeed what a jail! for there was not so much as a rat I could see, nor any racks or stocks, nor trebuchets, nor Iron Maidens of Nuremberg, nor any of the various items I would expect to be here.
I was not here an hour when I was taken before a judge. I was surprised to see that he wore not a wig, nor any of the barristers present, and I thought how they should be disappointed, that is, dis-appointed, by the King if ever word of their actions got out. I was called to the witness stand, strange as it was, for I was able to sit. Following my good man’s bidding, for I now ascertained him to be some barrister, who by his actions was better suited to a life of solicitation, I spoke not a word, except for that “Fifth Amendment” phrase which I spoke earlier about. The magistrate must have known the implications of that phrase, for at once as I said it, he motioned the Bailiff to assist me off the stand, which he did and I was gracious and beholding that a man of such obvious importance as he would consent to help me.
The trial progressed, though most of it in Latin and, hence, incomprehensible to me; after which I was taken and placed in this cell, devoid of all my personal possessions, where I have for two more days sat, and a third, counting this day.
