(Written by William Prynne, on his Prison wall, in the Tower.)

The men who arraign their fellows before any standard of orthodoxy, or claim the right of dictating forms of belief or modes of worship under pains or penalties, are guilty of a.s.suming the prerogative of the Most High, and of claiming, for their frail opinions, infallibility. Such are guilty of high treason against the Majesty of heaven--and all their machinations have a direct tendency to destroy human happiness--the wealth of the nation, and that universal good-will among men which the gospel is intended to establish. Such men present to us the various features of antichrist, the dread enemy of mankind.

The duty of every intelligent creature is to watch the operations of nature, that he may be led to just perceptions of the greatness of the Creator, and the goodness of his immutable laws. Soon he finds his perceptions dim, and is conscious of evil propensities, which baffle all his efforts at sinless perfection. He finds nothing in nature to solve the solemn inquiry how sin is to be pardoned, and evil thoughts and habits to be rooted out. The convinced sinner then feels the necessity of a direct revelation from G.o.d; and in the Bible alone he finds that astounding declaration, which leaves all human philosophy at an immeasurable distance--'Ye must be born again.' G.o.d only can effect the wondrous change--man, priest, prophet, or magi, can do him no good--his terror-stricken conscience drives him to his Creator, and faith in the Redeemer causes consolation to abound.

In every kingdom of the world, the Christian inquirer is met by the opposition of antichrist, in some form or other, attempts will be made to limit his free-born spirit to human inventions and mediations in seeking Divine mercy. He feels that he is bound, by all his hopes of happiness, here and hereafter, to obey G.o.d rather than man, in everything pertaining to spiritual religion. In his simple obedience to the Word of G.o.d, he braves all dangers, sure of the Divine blessing and support while encountering obloquy, contempt, allurements, and persecution, in its varied polluted forms and appalling cruelties.

After the decease of Oliver Cromwell, it soon became apparent that the exiled king would be restored. In the prospect of that event, Charles II promised a free pardon to all his subjects, excepting only such persons as should be excepted by parliament; and 'we do declare a liberty to tender consciences, and that no man shall be disquieted or called in question for differences of opinion in matters of religion, which do not disturb the peace of the kingdom.'

Who could imagine, that, in the face of this solemn declaration, acts, the most oppressive and tyrannical, would be pa.s.sed--compelling pretended uniformity in belief and real uniformity in the mode of public worship--driving the most pious and useful clergymen from their pulpits and livings--preventing them from becoming tutors or schoolmasters--and not suffering them to live within five miles of a city or town. Ruinous penalties were inflicted, not only on every minister, but upon every hearer, who met to worship G.o.d in private houses or in the fields and woods. Christians, convinced of the wickedness of such laws, strove, by every possible means, to evade the penalties, with a stern determination to worship G.o.d in the way that their conscience led them. They met their beloved ministers in private places, and at the most unseasonable hours.

It is said that Bunyan, to avoid discovery, went from a friend's house disguised as a carter; with his white frock, wide-awake cap, and his whip in his hand, to attend a private meeting in a sheltered field or barn. To prevent these meetings, severe and almost arbitrary penalties were enforced, a considerable part of which went to the informers--men of debauched habits and profligate principles. With all their vigilance, these prohibited meetings could not be prevented. In some cases, the persecuted disciples of a persecuted Lord took houses adjoining each other, and, by opening internal communications, a.s.sembled together. In some cases, the barn or room in which they met, had a door behind the pulpit, by which the preacher could escape. A curious letter, preserved in the archives at Devonshire House, states, that when a Christian a.s.sembly was held near Devonshire Square, while the minister was in his sermon, the officers and trained bands entered the meeting-house.

The preacher immediately ceased preaching, and gave out the lines of a hymn, which the congregation joined in singing, and the officers waited till the devotional exercise was ended. The preacher, taking advantage of their hesitation, made his escape by a door at the back of the pulpit; 'thus,' says the quaint Quaker, 'he choked the informers off with his hymn.' In the Life of Badman are some ill.u.s.trative anecdotes relating to informers and their violent ends, with an interesting cut of a religious meeting in the fields. One informer is in a neighbouring tree, to identify the meeters; while in the distance, another is running for the officers, with this verse under the print:--

'Informer, art thou in the tree?

Take heed, lest there thou hanged be: Look likewise to thy foot-hold well; Lest, if thou slip, thou fall to h.e.l.l.'

In many cases the justices considered a field preacher to be equally guilty with a regicide.[210] One of the informers, named W.

S., was very diligent in this business; 'he would watch a-nights, climb trees, and range the woods a-days, if possible to find out the meeters, for then they were forced to meet in the fields.' At length he was stricken by the hand of G.o.d, and died a most wretched object.[211] The cruelties that were inflicted upon Dissenters are scarcely credible. Penn, the Quaker, gives this narrative of facts:--The widow's mite hath not escaped their hands; they have made her cow the forfeit of her conscience, not leaving her a bed to lie on, nor a blanket to cover her; and what is yet more barbarous, and helps to make up this tragedy, the poor helpless orphan's milk, boiling over the fire, was flung away, and the skillet made part of their prize; that, had not nature in neighbours been stronger than cruelty in informers and officers, to open her bowels for their relief, they must have utterly perished.[212] One of these infamous, hard-hearted wretches in Bedford, was stricken, soon after, with death; and such had been his notorious brutality, that his widow could not obtain a hea.r.s.e, but was obliged to carry his body to the grave in a cart.

It is gratifying to leave these horrors--these stains upon our national history--for a moment, to record an event which took place about fifty years back. The Rev. S. Hillyard, the pastor of Bunyan's church, thus writes:--'When our meeting-house was lately repaired, we were allowed, by the Lord Lieutenant and the justices, to carry on our public worship, for a quarter of a year in the town-hall, where, if it had been standing in Mr. Bunyan's time, he must have been tried and committed to jail for preaching.' How different our position from that of our pilgrim forefathers.

The justices, if the law had allowed them, would, from the first, have prevented Bunyan's preaching. When they had the power, he possessed nothing to excite the cupidity of an informer: this, with the caution of his friends, saved him, for some months, from being apprehended; they met privately in barns, milk-houses, and stables, or in any convenient place in which they were not likely to be disturbed. In addition to these services, every opportunity was embraced to visit his friends--praying with them, and administering consolation, arming them with a steady resolve to be patient in suffering, and to trust in G.o.d for their safety and reward. At length an information was laid, and he was caught in the very act of worshipping G.o.d with some pious neighbours. Bunyan's account of this event is deeply interesting; but the want of sufficient s.p.a.ce prevents my giving more than an abstract of it, referring the reader to his Grace Abounding for fuller details.

On November 12, 1660, as the winter was setting in, having been invited to preach at Samsell, in Bedfordshire, he prepared a sermon upon these words--'Dost thou believe in the Son of G.o.d?' (John 9:35); from which he intended 'to show the absolute need of faith in Jesus Christ, and that it was also a thing of the highest concern for men to inquire into, and to ask their own hearts whether they had faith or no.'[213] He had then been a preacher of the glorious gospel of Christ for five or six years, without any interruption; for, although indicted, he had continued his useful career, and through grace had received great encouragement and eminent proofs of the Divine blessing.

Francis Wingate, a neighbouring justice of the peace, having heard of the intended meeting, issued his warrant to bring the preacher before him. The intention of the magistrate was whispered about, and came to Bunyan's ears before the meeting was held, probably to give him an opportunity of escape. His friends, becoming alarmed for his safety, advised him to forego the opportunity. It was a trying moment for him; he had a beloved wife to whom he had not been long married, and four dear children, one of them blind, depending upon his daily labour for food. If he escaped, he might continue his stolen opportunities of doing good to the souls of men. He hesitated but for a few minutes for private prayer; he had hitherto shown himself hearty and courageous in preaching, and it was his business to encourage the timid flock. 'Therefore, thought I, if I should now run and make an escape, it will be of a very ill savour in the country; what will my weak and newly converted brethren think of it? If I should run, now there was a warrant out for me, I might, by so doing, make them afraid to stand when great words only should be spoken to them.' He retired into a close, privately, to seek Divine direction, and came back resolved to abide the will of G.o.d. It was the first attempt, near Bedford, to apprehend a preacher of the gospel, and he thus argued with himself--'If G.o.d, of his mercy, should choose me to go upon the forlorn hope, that is, to be the first that should be opposed for the gospel, if I should fly it might be a discouragement to the whole body that should follow after. And I thought that the world thereby would take occasion at my cowardliness, to have blasphemed the gospel.'[214] These considerations brought him to the n.o.ble resolution of fulfilling his duty, under all its difficulties and dangers. In these reasonings the same honourable decision of mind animated him which impelled Daniel, and the three Hebrew youths, to violate the wicked laws of the nation in which they lived, because these laws were opposed to the will of G.o.d. He and they, as well as the apostles, judged for themselves, and opposed statutes or ancient customs which, in their opinion, were contrary to the Divine law by which they were to be judged at the solemn and great day. Nor did they, in the prospect of the most dread personal sufferings, hesitate to follow the convictions of their minds. Some laws are more honoured in the breach than in the observance of them. The law of Pharaoh to destroy the male children of the Israelites, in ancient times, and the present Popish laws of Tuscany, that the Bible shall not be read, are laws so contrary to common sense, and the most sacred duties of man, that 'G.o.d dealt well' with those who broke them in Egypt, as he has ever dealt with those who have thus honoured him. The millions of prayers that were offered up for a blessing upon the confessors, Madiai, have been answered. Had they perished in the prisons of Tuscany, they would have joined the n.o.ble army of martyrs before the throne of G.o.d, to witness his judgments upon that persecuting church which has shed so much holy blood.

When Bunyan was advised to escape by dismissing the meeting, which consisted of about forty persons, he replied, 'No, by no means; I will not stir, neither will I have the meeting dismissed. Come, be of good cheer, let us not be daunted; our cause is good, we need not be ashamed of it; to preach G.o.d's Word is so good a work, that we shall be well rewarded if we suffer for that.'[215] All this took place about an hour before the officers arrived. The service was commenced with prayer at the time appointed, the preacher and hearers had their Bibles in their hands to read the text, when the constable and his attendants came in, and, exhibiting the warrant, ordered him to lave the pulpit and come down; but he mildly told him that he was about his Master's business, and must rather obey his Lord's voice than that of man. Then a constable was ordered to fetch him down, who, coming up and taking hold of his coat, was about to remove him, when Mr. Bunyan fixed his eyes steadfastly upon him; having his Bible open in his hand, the man let go, looked pale, and retired; upon which he said to the congregation, 'See how this man trembles at the Word of G.o.d.' Truly did one of his friends say, 'he had a sharp, quick eye.' But being commanded in the king's name, he went with the officer, accompanied by some of his friends, to the magistrate's residence. Before they left, the constable allowed him to speak a few words to the people of counsel and encouragement. He declared that it was a mercy when called to suffer upon so good an account; that it was of grace that they had been kept from crimes, which might have caused their apprehension as thieves and murderers, or for some wickedness; but by the blessing of G.o.d it was not so, but, as Christians, they were called to suffer for well-doing; and that we had better be persecuted than the persecutors. The constable took him to the justice's house, but as he was from home, to save the expense and trouble of charging a watch to secure his prisoner, he allowed him to go home, one of his friends undertaking to be answerable for his appearance the next day. On the following morning they went to the constable and then to the justice. The celebrated Quaker, John Roberts, managed an affair of that kind better. There was plenty of time to have held and dismissed the meeting before the constable arrived, and then he might have done as Roberts did--made the best of his way to the magistrate's house, and demanded, 'Dost thou want me, old man?' and when asked whether or not he went to church, his ready reply was, 'Yes, sometimes I go to the church, and sometimes the church comes to me.'[216]

When Bunyan and the constable came before Justice Wingate, he inquired what the meeters did, and what they had with them; suspecting that they met armed, or for treasonable practices: but when the constable told him that they were unarmed, and merely a.s.sembled to preach and hear the Word, he could not well tell what to say. Justice Wingate was not the only magistrate who had felt difficulties as to the construction of the persecuting acts of 35 Eliz. and 15 Chas. II.

Had he taken an opinion, as one of the justices at that time did, it might have saved him from the infamy and guilt of punishing an innocent man. The case was this:--'Two persons of insolent behaviour, calling themselves informers, demanded, on their evidence of having been present, without summons or hearing in presence of the accused, that a fine of 100 should be levied; they were at the meeting and heard no Common Prayer service.' The opinion was that there must be evidence showing the intent, and that the meeting was held under colour and pretence of any exercise of religion to concoct sedition.[217] Mr. Wingate asked Bunyan why he did not follow his calling and go to church? to which he replied, that all his intention was to instruct and counsel people to forsake their sins, and that he did, without confusion, both follow his calling and preach the Word. At this the angry justice ordered his commitment to jail, refusing bail, unless he would promise to give up preaching. While his mittimus was preparing, he had a short controversy with an old enemy of the truth, Dr. Lindale, and also with a persecuting justice, Mr. Foster, who, soon after, sorely vexed the people of G.o.d at Bedford. They tried their utmost endeavours to persuade him to promise not to preach; a word from him might have saved his liberty; but it was a word which would have sacrificed his religious convictions, and these were dearer to him than life itself. This was a trying moment, but he had been forewarned of his danger by the extraordinary temptation to sell Christ narrated in his Grace Abounding. His feelings, while they were conducting him to the prison, were so cheering as to enable him to forget his sorrows; he thus describes them--'Verily, as I was going forth of the doors I had much ado to forbear saying to them, that I carried the peace of G.o.d along with me; and, blessed be the Lord, I went away to prison with G.o.d's comfort in my poor soul.'[218]

Tradition points out the place in which this eminently pious man was confined, as an ancient prison, built with the bridge over the river Ouse, supported on one of the piers near the middle of the river.[219] As the bridge was only four yards and a half wide, the prison must have been very small. Howard, the philanthropist, visited the Bedford prison, that which was dignified as the county jail about 1788, and thus describes it:--'The men and women felons a.s.sociate together; their night-rooms are two dungeons. Only one court for debtors and felons; and no apartment for the jailer.'[220]

Imagination can hardly realize the miseries of fifty or sixty pious men and women, taken from a place of public worship and incarcerated in such dens or dungeons with felons, as was the case while Bunyan was a prisoner. Twelve feet square was about the extent of the walls; for it occupies but one pier between the center arches of the bridge. How properly does the poor pilgrim call it a certain DEN! What an abode for men and women who had been made by G.o.d kings and priests--the heirs of heaven! The eyes of Howard, a Dissenter, penetrated these dens, these hidden things of darkness, these abodes of cruelty. He revealed what lay and clerical magistrates ought to have published centuries before, that they were not fit places in which to imprison any, even the worst of criminals. He denounced them, humanity shuddered at the discovery, and they were razed to their foundations. In this den G.o.d permitted his honoured servant, John Bunyan, to be incarcerated for more than twelve years of the prime of his life. A man, whose holy zeal for the salvation of sinners, whose disinterested labours, whose sufferings for Christ prove his apostolical descent much better than those who claim descent from popes, and Wolsey or Bonner--those fiends in human shape.

Bedford bridge was pulled down in the year 1811, when the present handsome bridge was built. One of the workmen employed upon the ruins found, among the rubbish, where the prison had stood, a ring made of fine gold, bearing an inscription which affords strong presumptive evidence that it belonged to our great allegorist. Dr.

Abbot, a neighbouring clergyman, who had daily watched the labours of the workmen, luckily saw it, and saved it from destruction. He constantly wore it, until, drawing near the end of his pilgrimage, in 1817, he took it off his own finger and placed it upon that of his friend Dr. Bower, then curate of Elstow,[221] and at present the dean of Manchester, charging him to keep it for his sake. This ring must have been a present from some person of property, as a token of great respect for Bunyan's pious character, and probably from an indignant sense of his unjust and cruel imprisonment. By the kind permission of the dean, we are enabled to give a correct representation of this curious relic.[222][223]

Bunyan was thirty-two years of age when taken to prison. He had suffered the loss of his pious wife, whose conversation and portion had been so blessed to him. It is not improbable that her peaceful departure is pictured in Christiana's crossing the river which has no bridge. She left him with four young children, one of whom very naturally and most strongly excited his paternal feelings, from the circ.u.mstance of her having been afflicted with blindness. He had married a second time, a woman of exemplary piety and retiring modesty; but whose spirit, when roused to seek the release of her beloved husband, enabled her to stand unabashed, and full of energy and presence of mind, before judges in their courts, and lords in their mansions. When her partner was sent to jail, she was in that peculiar state that called for all his sympathy and his tenderest care. The shock was too severe for her delicate situation; she became dangerously ill, and, although her life was spared, all hopes had fled of her maternal feelings being called into exercise. Thus did one calamity follow another; still he preserved his integrity.[224]

Bunyan was treated with all the kindness which many of his jailers dared to show him. In his times, imprisonment and fetters were generally companions. Thus he says--'When a felon is going to be tried, his fetters are still making a noise on his heels.'[225] So the prisoners in the Holy War are represented as being 'brought in chains to the bar' for trial. 'The prisoners were handled by the jailer so severely, and loaded so with irons, that they died in the prison.'[226] In many cases, prisoners for conscience' sake were treated with such brutality, before the form of trial, as to cause their death. By Divine mercy, Bunyan was saved from these dreadful punishments, which have ceased as civilization has progressed, and now cloud the narratives of a darker age.

After having lain in prison about seven weeks, the session was held at Bedford, for the county; and Bunyan was placed at the bar, indicted for devilishly and perniciously abstaining from coming to church to hear Divine service, and as a common upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction of the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king. In this indictment Bunyan is not described as 'of Elstow' but 'of Bedford.' Probably he had removed to Bedford soon after he joined Gifford's church. The bench was numerous, and presided over by Justice Keelin.[227] If this was Sergeant Kelynge who, the following year, was made Lord Chief-Justice, he was a most arbitrary tyrant, equaled or excelled only by Judge Jeffreys. It was before him that some persons were indicted for attending a conventicle; but it being only proved that they had a.s.sembled on the Lord's-day with Bibles in their hands without prayer-books, and there being no proof that their meeting was only under colour or pretence of religion, the jury acquitted them. Upon this he fined each of the jury-men one hundred marks, and imprisoned them till the fines were paid. Again, on a trial for murder, the prisoner being under suspicion of Dissent, was one whom the judge had a great desire to hang, he fined and imprisoned all the jury because, contrary to his direction, they brought in a verdict of manslaughter! Well was it said, that he was more fit to charge the Roundheads under Prince Rupert than to charge a jury. After a short career, he fell into utter contempt.[228] He entered into a long argument with the poor tinker, about using the liturgy of the Church of England, first warning him of his danger if he spake lightly of it. Bunyan argued that prayer was purely spiritual, the offering of the heart, and not the reading of a form. The justice declared--'We know the Common Prayer-book hath been ever since the apostles' time, and is lawful to be used in the church!!' It is surprising that such a dialogue was ever entered upon; either Keling was desirous of triumphing over the celebrated tinker, or his countenance and personal appearance commanded respect. For some cause he was treated with great liberality for those times; the extent of it may be seen by one justice asking him, 'Is your G.o.d Beelzebub?' and another declaring that he was possessed with the devil! 'All which,' says Bunyan, 'I pa.s.sed over, the Lord forgive them!' When, however, the justice was worsted in argument, and acknowledged that he was not well versed in Scripture, he demanded the prisoner's plea, saying, 'Then you confess the indictment?'

'Now,' says Bunyan, 'and not till now, I saw I was indicted; and said--"This I confess, we have had many meetings together, both to pray to G.o.d, and to exhort one another; and that we had the sweet comforting presence of the Lord among us for our encouragement (blessed be his name!); therefore I confess myself guilty, and no otherwise."' This was recorded as a plea of guilty, and Keling resumed his natural ferocity. 'Then,' said he, 'hear your judgment.

You must be had back again to prison, and there lie for three months following; and then, if you do not submit to go to church to hear Divine service, and leave your preaching, you must be banished the realm; and after that, if you shall be found in this realm without special license from the king, you must stretch by the neck for it. I tell you plainly'; 'and so he bid my jailer have me away.'

The hero answered--'I am at a point with you: if I were out of prison to-day, I would preach the gospel again to-morrow, by the help of G.o.d.'[229]

The statutes, by virtue of which this awful sentence was p.r.o.nounced, together with the legal form of recantation used by those who were terrified into conformity, are set forth in a note to the Grace Abounding.[230] Bunyan was, if not the first, one of the first Dissenters who were proceeded against after the restoration of Charles II; and his trial, if such it may be called, was followed by a wholesale persecution. The king, as head of the Church of England, wreaked his vengeance upon all cla.s.ses of Dissenters, excepting Roman Catholics and Jews.

The reign of Charles II was most disgraceful and disastrous to the nation, even the king being a pensioner upon the French court. The Dutch swept the seas, and threatened to burn London; a dreadful plague depopulated the metropolis--the princ.i.p.al part of which was, in the following year, with its cathedral, churches, and public buildings, destroyed by fire; plots and conspiracies alarmed the people; tyranny was triumphant; even the bodies of the ill.u.s.trious dead were exhumed, and treated with worse than savage ferocity; while a fierce persecution raged throughout the kingdom, which filled the jails with Dissenters.

In Scotland, the persecution raged with still more deadly violence.

Military, in addition to civil despotism, strove to enforce the use of the Book of Common Prayer. The heroic achievements and awful suffering of Scottish Christians saved their descendants from this yoke of bondage.[231]

A short account of the extent of the sufferings of our pious ancestors is given in the Introduction to the Pilgrim's Progress[232]--a narrative which would appear incredible did it not rest upon unimpeachable authority. It would be difficult to believe the records of the brutal treatment which the sufferers underwent had they not been handed down to us in the State Trials, and in public registers, over which the persecuted had no control. Two instances will show the extreme peril in which the most learned and pious men held their lives. John James, the pastor of a Baptist church in Whitechapel, was charged, upon the evidence of a perjured drunken vagabond named Tipler, a pipe-maker's journeyman, who was not present in the meeting, but swore that he heard him utter treasonable words.

Notwithstanding the evidence of some most respectable witnesses, who were present during the whole service, and distinctly proved that no such words were used, Mr. James was convicted, and sentenced to be hung. His distracted wife saw the king, presented a pet.i.tion, and implored mercy, when the unfeeling monarch replied, 'O! Mr.

James; he is a sweet gentleman.' Again, on the following morning, she fell at his feet, beseeching his royal clemency, when he spurned her from him, saying, 'John James, that rogue, he shall be hanged; yea, he shall be hanged.' And, in the presence of his weeping friends, he ascended from the gibbet to the mansions of the blessed.

His real crime was, that he continued to preach after having been warned not to do so by John Robinson, lieutenant of the Tower, properly called, by Mr. Crosby,[233] a devouring wolf, upon whose head the blood of this and other innocent Dissenters will be found.

Another Dissenting minister, learned, pious, loyal, and peaceful, was, during Bunyan's time, marked for destruction. Thomas Rosewell was tried before the monster Jeffreys. He was charged, upon the evidence of two infamous informers, with having doubted the power of the king to cure the kings' evil, and with saying that they should overcome their enemies with rams' horns, broken platters, and a stone in a sling. A number of most respectable witnesses deposed to their having been present; that no such words were uttered, and that Mr. Rosewell was eminent for loyalty and devoted attachment to the Government. Alas! he was a Dissenting teacher of high standing, of extensive acquirements, and of great earnestness in seeking the salvation of sinners; and, under the direction of that brutal judge, the venal jury found him guilty, and he was sentenced to be hung. This frightful sentence would have been executed but from a singular interposition of Providence. Sir John Talbot was present during the trial, and a stranger to Mr. Rosewell; but he was so struck with the proceedings, that he hastened to the king, related the facts, and added, 'that he had seen the life of a subject, who appeared to be a gentleman and a scholar, in danger, upon such evidence as he would not hang his dog on.' And added, 'Sire, if you suffer this man to die, we are none of us safe in our own houses.'

At this moment Jeffreys came in, gloating over his prey, exulting in the innocent blood he was about to shed, when, to his utter confusion, the king said, 'Mr. Rosewell shall not die'; and his pardon was issued under the great seal.[234] Every Englishman should read the state trials of that period, recording the sufferings of Richard Baxter, William Penn, Sir H. Vane, and many others of our most pious forefathers; and they must feel that it was a miracle of mercy that saved the life of Bunyan, and gave him leisure to write not only his popular allegories, but the most valuable treatises in the English language upon subjects of the deepest importance.

When he entered the prison, his first and prayerful object was to levy a tax upon his affliction--to endeavour to draw honey from the carca.s.s of the lion. His care was to render his imprisonment subservient to the great design of showing forth the glory of G.o.d by patient submission to His will. Before his commitment, he had a strong presentiment of his sufferings; his earnest prayer, for many months, was that he might, with composure, encounter all his trials, even to an ignominious death. This led him to the solemn consideration of reckoning himself, his wife, children, health, enjoyments, all as dying, and in perfect uncertainty, and to live upon G.o.d, his invisible but ever-present Father.

Like an experienced military commander, he wisely advises every Christian to have a reserve for Christ in case of dire emergency.

'We ought to have a reserve for Christ, to help us at a dead lift.

When profession and confession will not do; when loss of goods and a prison will not do; when loss of country and of friends will not do; when nothing else will do, then willingly to lay down our lives for his name.'[235] In the midst of all these dread uncertainties, his soul was raised to heavenly contemplations of the future happiness of the saints of G.o.d.

It is deeply impressive to view a man, with gigantic intellect, involved in the net which was laid to trammel his free spirit, disregarding his own wisdom; seeking guidance from heaven in earnest prayer, and in searching the sacred Scriptures; disentangling himself, and calmly waiting the will of his heavenly Father. Still he severely felt the infirmities of nature. Parting with his wife and children, he described as 'the pulling the flesh from the bones.

I saw I was as a man who was pulling down his house upon the head of his wife and children; yet, thought I, I must do it.'[236] His feelings were peculiarly excited to his poor blind Mary.[237] 'O!

the thoughts of the hardships my poor blind one might go under, would break my heart in pieces.' It is one of the governing principles of human nature, that the most delicate or afflicted child excites our tenderest feelings. 'I have seen men,' says Bunyan, 'take most care of, and best provide for those of their children that have been most infirm and helpless; and our Advocate "shall gather his lambs with his arms, and carry them in his bosom."'[238] While in this state of distress, the promise came to his relief--'Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.' He had heard of the miseries of those banished Christians who had been sold into slavery, and perished with cold and calamities, lying in ditches like poor, forlorn, desolate sheep.

At the end of three months he became anxious to know what the enemies of the cross intended to do with him. His sentence was transportation and death, unless he conformed. To give up or shrink from his profession of Christ, by embracing the national forms and submitting his conscience to human laws, he dared not. He resolved to persevere even at the sacrifice of his life. To add to his distress, doubts and fears clouded his prospects of futurity; 'Satan,' said he, 'laid hard at me to beat me out of heart.' At length he came to the determination to venture his eternal state with Christ, whether he had present comfort or not. His state of mind he thus describes--'If G.o.d doth not come in (to comfort me) I will leap off the ladder, even blindfold, into eternity, sink or swim, come heaven, come h.e.l.l. Lord Jesus, if thou wilt catch me, do; I will venture all for thy name.' From this time he felt a good hope and great consolation.

The clerk of the peace, Mr. Cobb, was sent by the justices to persuade him to conform, and had a very long and interesting conference with him in the prison. This shows that the magistrates were well convinced that he was a leader in nonconformity, who, if brought over, would afford them a signal triumph. In fact, he was called, by a beneficed clergyman, 'the most notorious schismatic in all the county of Bedford.'[239] It is perhaps to the arguments of Cobb that he refers in his Advice to Sufferers. 'The wife of the bosom lies at him, saying, O do not cast thyself away; if thou takest this course, what shall I do? Thou hast said thou lovest me; now make it manifest by granting this my small request--Do not still remain in thine integrity. Next to this come the children, which are like to come to poverty, to beggary, to be undone, for want of wherewithal to feed, and clothe, and provide for them for time to come. Now also come kindred, and relations, and acquaintance; some chide, some cry, some argue, some threaten, some promise, some flatter, and some do all to befool him for so unadvised an act as to cast away himself, and to bring his wife and children to beggary for such a thing as religion. These are sore temptations.'[240]

It was during this period of his imprisonment that the mad attempt was made, by Venner and his rabble, to overturn the government.

This was pressed upon Bunyan as a reason why he should not hold meetings for religious exercises, but rely upon his more private opportunities of exhorting his neighbours. In reply to this, Mr. Cobb is reminded of Bunyan's well-known loyalty, which would become useful in proportion to his public teaching. It was a pleasing interview, which, while it did not for a moment shake his determination, led him to thank Mr. Cobb for his civil and meek discourse, and to e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e a heartfelt prayer--'O that we might meet in heaven.'[241] The whole of it is reprinted at the end of the Grace Abounding, and it shows that G.o.d gave him favour even with his persecutors. It Is not surprising that such a prisoner should have won the good opinion of his jailer, so that he was permitted the consolation of seeing his relatives and friends, who ministered to his comforts.

When the time arrived for the execution of the bitterest part of his sentence, G.o.d, in his providence, interposed to save the life of his servant. He had familiarized his mind with all the circ.u.mstances of a premature and appalling death; the gibbet, the ladder, the halter, had lost much of their terrors; he had even studied the sermon he would then have preached to the concourse of spectators.

At this critical time the king's coronation took place, on April 23, 1661. To garnish this grand ceremony, the king had ordered the release of numerous prisoners of certain cla.s.ses, and within that description of offences was that for which Bunyan was confined.

The proclamation allowed twelve months' time to sue out the pardon under the great seal, but without this expensive process thousands of vagabonds and thieves were set at liberty, while, alas, an offence against the church was not to be pardoned upon such easy terms. Bunyan and his friends were too simple, honest, and virtuous, to understand why such a distinction should be made. The a.s.sizes being held in August, he determined to seek his liberty by a pet.i.tion to the judges. The court sat at the Swan Inn, and as every incident in the life of this extraordinary man excites our interest, we are gratified to have it in our power to exhibit the state of this celebrated inn at that time.

Having written his pet.i.tion, and made some fair copies of it, his modest, timid wife determined to present them to the judges. Her heroic achievements--for such they deserve to be called--on behalf of her husband, are admirably narrated by Bunyan, the whole of which is reprinted in our first volume,[243] and deserves a most attentive perusal. Want of s.p.a.ce prevents us repeating it here, or even making extracts from it. She had previously traveled to London with a pet.i.tion to the House of Lords, and entrusted it to Lord Barkwood, who conferred with some of the peers upon it, and informed her that they could not interfere, the king having committed the release of the prisoners to the judges. When they came the circuit and the a.s.sizes were held at Bedford; Bunyan in vain besought the local authorities that he might have liberty to appear in person and plead for his release. This reasonable request was denied, and, as a last resource, he committed his cause to an affectionate wife. Several times she appeared before the judges; love to her husband, a stern sense of duty, a conviction of the gross injustice practiced upon one to whom she was most tenderly attached, overcame her delicate, modest, retiring habits, and forced her upon this strange duty. Well did she support the character of an advocate.

This delicate, courageous, high-minded woman appeared before Judge Hale, who was much affected with her earnest pleading for one so dear to her, and whose life was so valuable to his children. It was the triumph of love, duty, and piety, over bashful timidity.

Her energetic appeals were in vain. She returned to the prison with a heavy heart, to inform her husband that, while felons, malefactors, and men guilty of misdemeanours were, without any recantation or promise of amendment, to be let loose upon society to grace the coronation, the poor prisoners for conscience' sake were to undergo their unjust and savage sentences. Or, in plain words, that refusing to go to church to hear the Common Prayer was an unpardonable crime, not to be punished in any milder mode than recantation, or transportation, or the halter. With what bitter feelings must she have returned to the prison, believing that it would be the tomb of her beloved husband! How natural for the distressed, insulted wife to have written harsh things against the judge! She could not have conceived that, under the stately robes of Hale, there was a heart affected by Divine love. And when the n.o.bleman afterwards met the despised tinker and his wife, on terms of perfect equality, clothed in more glorious robes in the mansions of the blessed, how inconceivable their surprise! It must have been equally so with the learned judge, when, in the pure atmosphere of heaven, he found that the illiterate tinker, hara.s.sed by poverty and imprisonment, produced books, the admiration of the world. As Dr. Cheever eloquently writes--'How little could he dream, that from that narrow cell in Bedford jail a glory would shine out, ill.u.s.trating the grace of G.o.d, and doing more good to man, than all the prelates and judges of the kingdom would accomplish.'[244]

Bunyan was thus left in a dreary and hopeless state of imprisonment, in which he continued for somewhat more than twelve years, and it becomes an interesting inquiry how he spent his time and managed to employ his great talent in his Master's service. The first object of his solicitude would be to provide for his family, according to 1 Timothy 5:8. How to supply his house with bare necessaries to meet the expenses of a wife and four children, must have filled him with anxiety. The illness, death, and burial of his first beloved wife, had swept away any little reserve which otherwise might have acc.u.mulated, so that, soon after his imprisonment commenced, before he could resume any kind of labour, his wife thus pleaded with the judge for his liberty, 'My lord, I have four small children that cannot help themselves, of which one is blind, and have nothing to live upon but the charity of good people.' How inscrutable are the ways of Providence; the rich reveling in luxury while using their wealth to corrupt mankind, while this eminent saint, with his family, were dependent upon charity! As soon as he could get his tools in order he set to work; and we have the following testimony to his industry by a fellow-prisoner, Mr. Wilson, the Baptist minister, and of Charles Doe, who visited him in prison:--'Nor did he, while he was in prison, spend his time in a supine and careless manner, nor eat the bread of idleness; for there have I been witness that his own hands have ministered to his and his family's necessities, making many hundred gross of long tagged laces, to fill up the vacancies of his time, which he had learned to do for that purpose, since he had been in prison. There, also, I surveyed his library, the least, but yet the best that e'er I saw--the Bible and the Book of Martyrs.[245] And during his imprisonment (since I have spoken of his library), he writ several excellent and useful treatises, particularly The Holy City, Christian Behaviour, The Resurrection of the Dead, and Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners.'[246] Besides these valuable treatises, Charles Doe states that, of his own knowledge, in prison Bunyan wrote The Pilgrim's Progress, the first part, and that he had this from his own mouth.[247]

In addition to the demonstration of this important fact contained in the introduction to The Pilgrim's Progress, there ought to have been added, Bunyan's statement made in introducing his second part:--'Now, having taken up my lodgings in a wood about a mile off the place': no longer in 'a den,' but sheltered, in a wood, in a state of comparative, but not of perfect liberty, about a mile distant from the den in which he wrote his first part. Whether this may refer to his former cottage at Elstow, of which there is great doubt, or to the house he occupied in Bedford after his release, they were equally about a mile from the jail. He certainly means that the two parts were not written in the same place, nor is there a shadow of a doubt as to the fact that in prison the great allegory was conceived and written. Well might Mr. Doe say, 'What hath the devil or his agents got by putting our great gospel minister in prison?' They prevented his preaching to a few poor pilgrims in the villages round Bedford, and it was the means of spreading his fame, and the knowledge of the gospel, by his writings, throughout the world. Thus does the wrath of man praise G.o.d. In addition to the works above enumerated, he also published some extremely valuable tracts, several editions of a work which ought to be read by all young Christians--A Treatise on the Covenants of the Law and of Grace; several editions of Sighs from h.e.l.l; A Map of Salvation and d.a.m.nation; The Four Last Things, a poem; Mount Ebal and Gerizim, or, Redemption from the Curse, a poem; Prison Meditations, a poem: the four last are single sheets, probably sold by his children or friends to a.s.sist him in obtaining his livelihood: Justification by Faith in Jesus Christ, 4to; Confession of His Faith and Reason of His Practice. The most remarkable treatise which he published while in confinement, is on prayer, from the words of the apostle, 'I will pray with the spirit and with the understanding also.' His attention had been fixed on this subject when his free-born spirit was roused by the threat of Justice Keeling, 'Take heed of speaking irreverently of the Book of Common Prayer, for if you do you will bring great damage upon yourself.'

Bunyan had formed his ideas of prayer from heartfelt experience; it is the cry of the burthened, sinking sinner, 'Lord save us, we perish'; or adoration rising from the heart to the throne of grace, filled with hopes of pardon and immortality. In his estimation, any form of human invention was an interference with the very nature of prayer, and with the work of the Holy Spirit, who alone can inspire our souls with acceptable prayer.

In expressing his views upon this all-important subject, Bunyan was simply guided by a sense of duty. Fear of the consequences, or of offending his enemies, never entered his mind. He felt that they were in the hands of his heavenly Father, and that all their malice must be over-ruled for good. Notwithstanding his solemn warning not to speak irreverently of the book, his refusal to use which had subjected him to severe privations and the fear of a halter, this Christian hero was not daunted, but gives his opinion of it with all that freedom and liberty which he considered essential to excite in his fellow-men inquiries as to its origin and imposition.

It is not my province to enter into the controversy whether in public worship a form of prayer ought to be used. Let every one be persuaded in his own mind; but to pa.s.s a law denouncing those that refuse to use a prescribed form as worthy of imprisonment, transportation, or death, is an attack upon the first principles of Christianity. To punish those who spoke irreverently of it, was almost an acknowledgment that it would not bear investigation. To speak of the book as in his serious judgment it deserved, was not that mark of sectarianism which Romaine exhibited when he called the beautiful hymns of Dr. Watts, which are used so much in public worship among Dissenters, 'Watts' jingle,' and 'Watts' whims!'[248]

No answer appears to have been published to Bunyan's extremely interesting volume until twelve years after the author's death, when a reply appeared under the t.i.tle of Liturgies Vindicated by the Dissenters, or the Lawfulness of Forms of Prayer proved against John Bunyan and the Dissenters. 1700. This is a very rare and curious volume. The author, as usual in such controversies, deals wholesale in invective, and displays all the ability of a sophist.

The Christian world is indebted to Dr. Cheever for a beautiful picture of Bunyan's devotional exercise in his cell. 'It is evening; he finishes his work, to be taken home by his dear blind child.