Yet it is consistent with his over-all inclination to avoid heroics. He himself says that since he is not of heroic mold, it would almost be hypocritical of him to stand up and play the hero. In spite, however, of his humble awareness of guilt and unwillingness to run foolishly into jeopardy, he is a forceful individual given to decisive action. He bluntly opposes Parris and Putnam. He tears up Herrick's warrant and tries to prevent the officers from arresting and chaining his wife. He works extremely hard to get Mary Warren to change her story, and joins with Nurse and Corey in obtaining the deposition favoring the accused women. When all else fails, he speaks up and reveals his shameful act of adultery to the judges. Even in prison he does not accept defeat easily. He struggles bravely until restrained by fetters, and will talk to no one, only deigning occasionally to take some food. When, therefore, he suggests toward the end that only in destroying his lying confession does he reveal some goodness, he is not being fair to himself. He has hitherto fought hard and ably for justice; and in admitting publicly his sin with Abigail to save Elizabeth, he has already shown himself capable of generous self-sacrifice. Because he has a lively conscience, he may, in fact, have followed Elizabeth's lead and undervalued his own merits because of his one sensual lapse. At the same time, when he must choose either the lie and life, or the truth and death, he is understandably uncertain. Certain factors, however, combine to help him arrive at his final noble decision. First of all, Elizabeth, while giving him no directive, lets him know that she thinks him a good man. And she herself, of course, has not surrendered. Secondly, he is more than ever impressed with the fanatical harshness of the judges. They will leave him no shred of self-respect if he yields. Thirdly, he thinks of his children and dreads willing them a dishonored name.