Period sixth.

Bunyan is delivered from prison— controversy with the christian church on the subject of the lord’s supper—publishes the pilgrim’s progress, and many books, and becomes extremely popular—his decease and character.

As Charles II felt himself securely seated on his throne, his design to establish an absolute monarchy became more and more apparent. The adulation of his professed friends, and the noisy popularity with which he was greeted, appear to have fostered his crafty designs to rid himself of parliamentary government. His whole conduct was that of a Papist, who keeps no faith with Protestants; or of a statesman, whose religion, honour, and truthfulness, were wholly subservient to expediency. To further his object, he formed a council of five noblemen, two of whom were Roman Catholics, and the other three either careless as to religion or professed infidels. The first letter of their names formed the word CABAL. Aided by these he sought to extinguish liberty, and extirpate the Protestant faith.²⁷² To furnish himself with the means of indulging his unbridled passions, he, like a buccaneer, seized the Dutch merchantmen returning from India and Smyrna, without any declaration of war, and laid his hands upon all the money borrowed of his merchants which had been deposited in the exchequer. He then united himself with France to destroy Holland, the stronghold of liberty. To gratify the Roman Catholics, and conciliate the Dissenters, he issued a declaration in favour of liberty of conscience, the seal to which he afterwards broke with his own hands,²⁷³ but he could not prevent a considerable degree of religious liberty arising from such vacillating conduct.

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²⁷² Rapin.

²⁷³ For an accurate copy of this declaration, see vol. iii., p. 21.

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Bunyan, who had secured the confidence and esteem of his jailer, now found his prison more like a lodging-house, and enjoyed great privileges. He frequently, if not regularly, attended the church meetings, and preached with some degree of publicity. The church at Bedford was at this time in want of a pastor, and their eyes were naturally fixed upon Bunyan to succeed to that important office. There were two weighty considerations that required Divine guidance in coming to a conclusion. One was, whether it might injuriously affect the prisoner’s comforts, and the other was, the propriety of making choice of a Christian brother to be their ministering elder, while incarcerated in a jail. Feeling these difficulties, the church held several meetings on the subject, the minutes of which are very interesting. The first was held at Hawnes, on the 24th of the eighth month (October) 1671, when ‘the improvement of the gifts of the church, and their disposal in an orderly way, were proposed to consideration, that God might be sought for direction therein; and a time further to consider and debate thereof, was appointed this day seven-night, at evening, at Bedford, where the principal brethren were desired for that purpose to come together, at brother John Fenn’s; and a church-meeting was appointed to be there that day week. The church was also minded to seek God about the choice of brother, Bunyan to the office of elder, that their way in that respect may be cleared up to them.’ At a meeting held at Bedford, on the last day of the ninth month (November), there was appointed another meeting ‘to pray and consult about concluding the affair before propounded, concerning gifts of the brethren to be improved, and the choice of brother Bunyan to office, at Gamlingay, on the 14th day, and at Hawnes, the 20th, and at Bedfod, the 21st of the same instant, which it was desired might be a general meeting.’ After all this jealous care, and these fervent applications to the throne of grace for divine guidance, the result was most gratifying. ‘At a full assembly of the church at Bedford, the 21st of the tenth month,²⁷⁴ after much seeking God by prayer and sober conference formally had, the congregation did at this meeting, with joynt consent, signified by solemn lifting up of their hands, call forth and appoint our brother John Bunyan to the pastoral office or eldership. And he accepting thereof, gave himself up to serve Christ and his Church, in that charge, and received of the elders the right hand of fellowship, after having preached fifteen years.’ The choice thus solemnly made, was ratified by the abundant blessings of heavenly union and great prosperity—no stranger or novice, but one whose preaching and writings had proved most acceptable to them for a series of years—on that had been owned and blessed of his God, and whom the church delighted to honour.

At the same church meeting, ‘The congregation having had long experience of the faithfulness of brother John Fenn in his care for the poor, did after the same manner solemnly choose him to the honourable office of a deacon, and committed their poor and purse to him, and he accepted thereof, and gave himself up to the Lord and them in that service.’ The church did also determine to keep the 26th inst. as a day of fasting and prayer, both here, and at Hawnes, and at Gamlingay, solemnly to commend to the grace of God brother Bunyan and brother Fenn, and to entreat his gracious assistance and presence with them in their respective works, whereunto he hath called them.

The most extraordinary circumstance that took place at this time was, that while Bunyan was a prisoner in a wretched dungeon for preaching the glad tidings of salvation, or, in the mysterious legal jargon of the period, ‘holding conventicles,’ he received his Majesty’s license to preach, and thus to hold conventicles—it was one of the first that was granted. His Majesty continued to keep him a prisoner for preaching more than six months after he had licensed him to preach!! At the same time that the permission to preach was granted to Bunyan, the house of Josiah Roughed, Bedford, was licensed by his Majesty’s command, for the use of such as do not conform to the Church of England. In this John Bunyan was authorized to teach, or in any other licensed place.²⁷⁵ These were among the first licenses that were granted. The present highly-respected pastor of the church considers that this license does not refer to Roughed’s private dwelling, but rather to ‘an edifice or a barn, purchased of Robert Crompton, Esq., with a piece of ground adjoining it,’ in the parishes of St. Paul and Cuthbert, for £50, in 1672, by Roughed, Bunyan, Fenn, and others, and which was released by Fenn to Bunyan and others, November 10, 1681, two days before Fenn’s death. This building having been properly fitted up by voluntary contribution, became permanently occupied by the church as its place of meeting, until the old chapel was erected in 1707. From this we may conclude that Bunyan was engaged in his worldly occupation as a brazier, in the year that he obtained his release from prison, and to 1681.

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²⁷⁴ The ecclesiastical year commenced in March. The tenth month means December.

²⁷⁵ For a copy of these licenses, see vol. iii., p. 24.

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How utterly contemptible does any Govern[1]ment become when they tamper with spiritual worship. At one period they punished Dissenters with imprisonment, transportation, and, to use Judge Keeling’s elegant expression in his sentence on Bunyan, ‘to stretch by the neck for it’; and anon, the very same Government, under the same king, gives them license to dissent! Human laws affecting religion can never be the standard of morality; to read the Bible is considered to be sin in Tuscany, and righteousness in Britain. The release of this great and pious man from his tedious imprisonment, has been hitherto involved in a cloud of mystery, which it will be our happiness to disperse, while we record that event in a clear, indisputable narrative of facts. His earlier biographer, Mr. Doe, not having access to archives which the lapse of time has now rendered available, attributed his release to the influence of Bishop Barlow, by the interference of Dr. Owen. It is narrated in the life of Dr. Owen, published in 1721:—’The doctor had some friends also among the bishops, Dr. Barlow, formerly his tutor, then bishop of Lincoln, who yet upon a special occasion failed him, when he might have expected the service of his professed friendship. The case was this, Mr. John Bunyan had been confined to a jail twelve years, upon an excommunication for Nonconformity. Now there was a law, that if any two persons will go to the bishop of the diocese, and offer a cautionary bond, that the prisoner shall conform in half a year, the bishop may release him upon that bond; whereupon a friend of this poor man desired Dr. Owen to give him his letter to the bishop in his behalf, which he readily granted. It was soon after the discovery of the Popish plot, when this letter was carried to the bishop, who having read it, desired “a little time to consider of it, and if I can do it, you may be assured of my readiness.” He was waited upon again in about a fortnight, and his answer was, “I would desire you to move the Lord Chancellor in the case, and, upon his order, I will do it.” To which it was replied, “this method would be chargeable, and the man was poor, not able to expend so much money; and, being satisfied he could do it legally, it was hoped his Lordship would remember his promise, there being no straining a point in the case. But he would do it upon no other terms, which at last was done, and the poor man released.” And for this we are told that “Mr. Bunyan returned him his unfeigned thanks, and often remembered him in his prayers, as, next to God, his deliverer.”‘ The whole of this story, so far as it relates to Bunyan, is not only improbable, but utterly impossible. Bunyan was never excommunicated, and he was certainly released from prison two or three years previous to Dr. Barlow becoming a bishop. The critical times to which he alludes, refer doubtless to the Popish plot, which took place in 1678, Bunyan having been released in 1672. The probability is, that Dr. Owen did about 1678 apply to the bishop of Lincoln for the release of some poor prisoner under sentence of excommunication, it being his province to release such prisoners upon their making peace with the Church. If this person was a friend of Bunyan’s, his prayers for the bishop, and acknowledgments for this act of kindness, are readily accounted for. That Barlow had nothing to do with Bunyan’s release is now perfectly clear; because all, even the minutest particulars relative to it, have been discovered. This is a very romantic history, and necessarily leads us back to the battle of Worcester. At this battle, the republicans were numerous, well disciplined, and led by experienced officers; the royal army was completely routed, and its leaders, who survived the battle, were subject to the severest privations. Charles found refuge at Boscobel House, and, disguised as a woodcutter, was hid in an oak. His adventures and hair-breadth escapes fill a volume:—the parliament offered one thousand pounds reward for his apprehension. At length, after wandering in various disguises forty days, he arrived at Brighton, then a small fishing town, and here his friends succeeded in hiring a fishing boat to take him to France. Numerous histories of this extraordinary escape were published, but no two of them agree, excepting that, to please the king, all the credit was given to Roman Catholics. Of these narratives, that by Dr. Lingard has the strangest blunder. When they left Shoreham, ‘The ship stood with easy sail towards the Isle of Wight, as if she were on her way to Deal, to which port she was bound’²⁷⁶—Deal being exactly in the contrary direction! Carte has the best account. The vessel was bound for Poole, coal-laden; they left Shoreham at seven a.m. under easy sail; and at five, being off the Isle of Wight, with the wind north, she stood over to France, and returned to Poole, no one discovering that they had been out of their course. A letter recently discovered among the archives of the Society of Friends at Devonshire House solves every difficulty. It is written by Ellis Hookes to the wife of George Fox, dated January, 1670—

‘Yesterday there was a friend (a quaker) wth the king, one that is John Groves mate, he was the may yt. was mate to the master of the fisher-boat yt carried the king away when he went from Worcester fight, and only this friend and the master knew of it in the ship, and the friend carried him (the king) ashoare on his shoulders. the king knew him again, and was very friendly to him, and told him he remembered him and of severall tings yt was done in ye ship att the same time. the friend told him the reason why he did not come all this while was yt he was satisfied in yt he had peace and satisfaction in himself yt he did what he did to releiue a man in distresse and now he desired nothing of him (the king) but that he would sett friends at libertie who were great sufferers or to that purpose and told the king he had a paper of 110 that were premunired yt had lain in prison about 6 years and none can release ym but him. Soe the king took the paper and said there was many of ym and yt they would be in again in a monthes time and yt the country gentlemen complained to him yt they were so troubled wth the quakers. So he said he would release him six. but ye friend thinkes to goe to him again, for he had not fully cleared himselfe.’

This letter is endorsed by Fox himself, ‘E Hookes to M F of passages consering Richard Carver, that cared the King of his backe.’ E. Hooke’s next letter, addressed to George Fox, thus continues the narrative—

‘February, 1669-70.

‘Dear G. F. As for the friend that was with the King, his love is to thee. He has been with the King lately, and Thomas Moore was with him, and the King was very loving to them. He had a fair and free opportunity to open his mind to the King, and the King has promised to do for him, but willed him to wait a month or two longer. I rest thy faithful friend to serve thee, ‘E.H.’²⁷⁷

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²⁷⁶ 4to, vol. vii., p. 75.

²⁷⁷ I am greatly indebted to J. P. Brown, Esq., James Street, Islington, for directing my attention to these letters.

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The captain of the fisher-boat was Nicholas Tattersall, whose grave, covered with a slab of black marble, is still to be seen in Brighton church-yard, with a long poetical inscription, now scarcely legible. On the Restoration, he applied for his reward, and was made a commander in the royal navy, with an annuity to him and his heirs for ever of £100. The family have recently become extinct. His fisher-boat was moored for a considerable time in the Thames, opposite Whitehall. Years had rolled on, but the Quaker mate who had so materially assisted the flying prince—by keeping the secret—arranging the escape with the crew, and when, in fear of danger from a privateer, rowing the prince ashore, and in shoal water carrying him on his shoulders to the land, near the village of Fecamp, in Normandy, yet he had not been with the king to claim any reward. This escape took place in 1651, and nearly twenty years had elapsed, ten of which were after the Restoration; so that in all probability the king, who with all his faults was not ungrateful, was agreeably surprised with his appearance at the palace. Whatever alteration the rough life of a sailor had made on his appearance, the king at once recognized him. All the progress he had made as to worldly prosperity was from being mate of a fisher[1]boat, under Tattersall, to becoming mate of a West Indiaman, under Captain Grove. His Majesty, who had passed his time more with courtiers than with Quakers, was doubtless astonished that a poor man, having such a claim on his bounty, should have been so many years without seeking his recompense. On asking the reason, the Quaker nobly answered to this effect, That the performance of his duty in saving the life of the hunted prince, was only a moral obligation, for the discharge of which God had amply repaid him by peace and satisfaction in his mind and conscience. And now, Sire, I ask nothing for myself, but that your Majesty would do the same to my friends that I did for you—set the poor pious sufferers at liberty, that they may bless you, and that you may have that peace and satisfaction which always follows good and benevolent actions. The king attempted feebly to argue, that they would soon offend again, and that they were much complained of by the country gentlemen. How readily the sailor might have said to his sailor king, Alter the ship’s articles, let all the crew fare alike as to their free choice in religion, and there will be no grumbling in your noble ship; every subject will do his duty. The king offered to release any six, and we may imagine the sailor’s blunt answer, What, six poor Quakers for a king’s ransom!! His Majesty was so pleased as to invite him to come again, when he introduced another member of the Society of Friends, Thomas Moore. At this period an amazing number of Friends, men and women, were in the jails throughout the kingdom, torn from their families, and suffering most severe privations, under which great numbers had perished. The application for the release of the survivors, thus happily commenced, was followed up with zeal and energy, and crowned with great success. This narrative solves all those difficulties which rendered that remarkable event extremely mysterious. The question naturally arises why so debauched and dissolute a king should prefer such tight-laced Christians to be the peculiar objects of his mercy. The reason is perfectly obvious, he owed his life to one of their members, who, however poor as to this world, possessed those riches of piety which prevented his taking any personal reward for an act of duty. Shade of the noble sailor, thy name, Richard Carver, is worthy of all honour! And the more so, because thy gallant bearing has been studiously concealed in all the histories of these important transactions. Had he been a mischief-making Jesuit, like Father Huddleston, his noble deed would have been trumpeted forth for the admiration of the world in all ages. His name was left to perish in oblivion, because he was of a despised sect. It is an honour to Christianity that a labouring man preferred the duty of saving the life of a human being, and that of an enemy, to gaining so easily heaps of glittering gold. And when all the resources of royalty were ready munificently to reward him, he, like Moses, preferred the rescue of his suffering friends to personal honours or emoluments—even to all the riches of England! The efforts of Carver and Moore were followed by most earnest appeals for mercy by George Whitehead, who with Moore appeared before the king in council several times, until at length the royal word sanctioned this act of mercy. The Quakers were then appealed to by sufferers of other denominations, and advised them to obtain the permission of the king in council, that their names might be inserted in the deed; rendering them all the assistance that was in their power. Great difficulties were encountered in passing the cumbrous deed through the various offices, and then in pleading it in all parts of the country. The number of Quakers thus released from imprisonment was 471, being about the same number as those who had perished in the jails. The rest of the prisoners liberated by this deed were Baptists and Independents, and among the former was JOHN BUNYAN.

A very circumstantial narrative of these proceedings, copies of the minutes of the privy council, and other documents, will be found in the introduction to The Pilgrim’s Progress. ²⁷⁸ One of these official papers affords an interesting subject of study to an occasional conformist. It is the return of the sheriff of Bedfordshire, stating that ALL the sufferings of Bunyan—his privation of liberty, sacrifice of wife, children, and temporal comforts, with the fear of an ignominious death—were for refusing to attend his parish church and hear the Common Prayer service.

When it is considered that Bunyan was very severe in his remarks upon the Quakers, the event reflects no ordinary degree of honour upon the Society of Friends, at whose sole charge, and entirely by their own exertions, this great deed of benevolence was begun, carried on, and completed. It is difficult to ascertain the exact duration of this sad imprisonment, because we cannot discover any record of the day of his release. His imprisonment commenced November 13, 1660, and his pardon under the great seal is dated September 13, 1672. As the pardon included nearly 500 sufferers, it occupied some time to obtain official duplicates to be exhibited at the assizes and sessions for the various counties. A letter from E. Hooks to Mrs. Fox intimates that none were released on the 1st November 1672. Another letter shows that the Bedfordshire prisoners were discharged before January 10, 1673;²⁷⁹ confirming Bunyan’s own account, published by him in the Grace Abounding, 1680, that his imprisonment lasted complete twelve years.²⁸⁰

During the latter period of his imprisonment, probably from the time of his receiving the royal license to preach, May 15, 1672, he enjoyed extraordinary liberty—visiting those who had been kind to his family, and preaching in the surrounding counties. An entry in the records of the city of Leicester proves that he was there, and claimed the liberty of preaching—’John Bunyan’s license bears date the 15th of May 1672, to teach as a Congregational person, being of that persuasion, in the house of Josias Roughed, Bedford, or in any other place, room, or house, licensed by his Majestie’s memorand. The said Bunyan shewed his license to Mr. Mayor, Mr. Overinge, Mr. Freeman, and Mr. Browne, being then present, the 6th day of October, 1672, that being about two months before his final release from jail.’²⁸¹

His first object, upon recovering his liberty, appears to have been the proper arrangement of his worldly business, that he might provide for the wants of his family, a matter of little difficulty with their frugal habits. He, at the same time, entered with all his soul into his beloved work of preaching and writing, to set forth the glories of Immanuel. The testimony of one who was his ‘true friend and long acquaintance,’ is, that one of the first fruits of his liberation was to visit those who had assisted him and comforted his family during his incarceration, encouraging those who were in fear of a prison, and collecting means of assistance to those who still remained prisoners; traveling even to remote counties to effect these merciful objects.²⁸²

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²⁷⁸ Vol. iii., pp. 21-29.

²⁷⁹ Vol. iii., p. 27.

²⁸⁰ Vol. i., p. 47; No. 319.

²⁸¹ Jukes’ History of Bunyan’s Church, p. 24.

²⁸² Continuation of Life to Grace Abounding.

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While the premises occupied by Mr. Roughed were being converted into a capacious meeting-house, the pastor was indefatigable in visiting the sick, and preaching from house to house, settling churches in the villages, reconciling differences, and extending the sacred influences of the gospel, so that in a very short time he attained the appellation of Bishop Bunyan—a title much better merited by him than by the downy prelates who sent him to jail for preaching that which they ought to have preached.

 He formed branch churches at Gamlingay, Hawnes, Cotton-end, and Kempston, in connection with that at Bedford. When he opened the new meeting-house, it was so thronged that many were constrained to stay without, though it was very spacious, every one striving to partake of his instructions. Here he lived, in much peace and quiet of mind, contenting himself with that little God had bestowed upon him, and sequestering himself from all secular employments to follow that of his call to the ministry.²⁸³ The word ‘sequestering’ would lead us to conclude, that his business was continued by his family, under his care, but so as to allow him much time for his Christian duties, and his benevolent pursuits. His peaceful course was interrupted by a severe controversy with the Christian world upon the subject of communion at the Lord’s Table, which had commenced while he was in prison. He would admit none but those who, by a godly conversation, brought forth fruits meet for repentance, nor dared he to refuse any who were admitted to spiritual communion with the Redeemer. Every sect which celebrated the Lord’s Supper, fenced the table round with ritual observances, except the Baptist church at Bedford, which stood preeminent for non[1]sectarianism. A singular proof of this is, that the catechism called Instruction of the Ignorant, written and published by Bunyan, is admirably adapted for the use, not only of his own church, but of Christians of all denominations.

His spirit was greatly refreshed by finding that his precept and example had been blessed to his son Thomas. On the 6th of the 11th month, 1673, he passed the lions, and was welcomed into the house called Beautiful, uniting in full communion with his father’s church. There doubtless was, as Mercy expresses it, ‘music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that he was here.’²⁸⁴ He afterwards became a village preacher.

Bunyan was by no means a latitudinarian. No one felt greater decision than he did for the truths of our holy faith. When his Lord’s design in Christianity was, as he thought, perverted by a beneficed clergyman, then he sent forth from his prison an answer as from a son of thunder, even at the risk of his life. His love for the pure doctrines of the gospel was as decided as his aversion to sectarian titles. ‘As for those factious titles of Anabaptists, Independents, Presbyterians, or the like, I conclude that they came neither from Jerusalem, nor from Antioch, but rather from hell and Babylon, for they naturally tend to divisions.’²⁸⁵ The only title that he loved was that of Christian. ‘It is strange to see how men are wedded to their own opinions, beyond what the law of grace and love will admit. Here is a Presbyter—here an Independent and a Baptist, so joined each man to his own opinions, that they cannot have that communion one with another as by the testament of the Lord Jesus they are commanded and enjoined.’²⁸⁶ The meaning which he attached to the word ‘sectarian’ is very striking—Pharisees are sectarians, they who in Divine worship turn aside from the rule of the written Word, and in their manner do it to be seen of men—these are sectaries.²⁸⁷ Bunyan was most decided as to the importance of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. ‘Do you think that love letters are not desired between lovers? Why these, God’s ordinances, they are his love letters, and his love tokens, too. No marvel, then, if the righteous do so desire them. “More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold; sweeter also than honey, and the honey-comb.” Christ made himself known to his disciples in breaking of bread; who would not, then, that loves to know him, be present at such an ordinance? Ofttimes the Holy Ghost, in the comfortable influence of it, has accompanied the baptized in the very act of administering of it.’ His views of the fellowship of the saints were equally explicit—’Church fellowship, rightly managed, is the glory of all the world. No place, no community, no fellowship, is adorned and bespangled with those beauties, as is a church rightly knit together to their Head, and lovingly serving one another.’²⁸⁸ Such he admitted to the table of their common Lord; but, in his esteem, to communicate with the profane was all one with sacrificing to the devil.

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²⁸³ It is generally believed at Bedford, that, after Bunyan was imprisoned, his family removed from Elstow to Bedford, in order that they might have more frequent access to him; and that, on his release, he made his abode there. His humble dwelling was much like that of his father at Elstow, most unassuming; just such a cottage as a poor wounded sinner would feel at home in when visiting his pastor for advice. The late Rev. J. Geard, of Hitchin, in his Diary, says—’July 17, 1774. I preached, for the first time, at Bedford, to the successors of good Mr. Bunyan’s congregation, and the next day called at the house where he used to live, and went into the room that tradition reported was his study. This house, though it had been the habitation of so truly great a man, was now let for about 40s. per annum.’ Allowing for the difference in the value of money, Bunyan would Bunyan’s Cottage st Bedford have now paid 16s. a-year rent for his humble abode. It will be always matter of regret, that it was not purchased and preserved by the members of the ‘Old Meeting,’ when it was offered them before its destruction; we procured, however, a drawing of it, which is here engraved. The cottage was in the parish of St. Cuthbert, in the street opposite the meeting-house, and here Bunyan lived, while he was pastor, from 1681 to 1688.

²⁸⁴ Pilgrim, vol. iii., p. 198.

²⁸⁵ Vol. ii., p. 649

²⁸⁶ Vol. ii., p. 538.

²⁸⁷ Vol. ii., p. 219.

²⁸⁸ Vol. i., p. 757.

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All this liberality was accompanied by very strict notions of church fellowship, not allowing private judgment in the withdrawing of any member, if the church withheld its approbation. Mary Tilney had been cruelly robbed by the persecuting Justice Porter, for not attending the parish church. He carted away all her goods, beds, and bedding, even to the hangings of her rooms. She was a most benevolent widow, and was more troubled with the crying and sighing of her poor neighbours, than with the loss of her goods. Harassed by persecution at Bedford, she removed to London, and requested her dismission to a church of which her son-in-law was pastor, which was refused. As the letter announcing this to her is a good example of Bunyan’s epistolary correspondence, it is carefully extracted from the church book.

Our dearly-beloved sister Tilney.

Grace, mercy, and peace be with you, by Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I received your letter, and have presented it to the sight of the brethren, who, after due consideration of your motion, have jointly concluded to give you this answer. This for yourself (honoured sister), you are of high esteem with the church of God in this place, both because his grace hath been bestowed richly upon you, and because of your faithful fellowship with us; for you have been rightly a daughter of Abraham while here, not being afraid with any amazement. Your holy and quiet behaviour, also, while with patience and meekness, and in the gentleness of Christ, you suffered yourself to be robbed for his sake, hath the more united our affections to you in the bowels of Jesus Christ. Yea, it hath begotten you reverence, also, in the hearts of them who were beholders of your meekness and innocency while you suffered; and a stinging conviction, as we are persuaded, in the consciences of those who made spoil for themselves; all which will redound to the praise of God our Father, and to your comfort and everlasting consolation by Christ, in the day he shall come to take vengeance for his people, and to be glorified in them that believe. Wherefore we cannot (our honoured sister) but care for your welfare, and increase of all good in the faith and kingdom of Christ, whose servant you are, and whose name is written in your forehead; and do therefore pray God and our Father, that he would direct your way, and open a door in his temple for you, that you may eat his fat and be refreshed, and that you may drink the pure blood of the grape. And be you assured that, with all readiness, we will help and forward you what we can therein, for we are not ashamed to own you before all the churches of Christ.

But, our dearly beloved, you know that, for our safety and your profit, it is behoofful that we commit you to such, to be fed and governed in the Word and doctrines as, we are sufficiently persuaded, shall be able to deliver you up with joy at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ with all his saints: otherwise we (that we say not you) shall receive blushing and shame before him and you; yea, and you also, our honoured sister, may justly charge us with want of love, and a due respect for your eternal condition, if, for want of care and circumspection herein, we should commit you to any from whom you should receive damage, or by whom you should not be succoured and fed with the sincere milk of the incorruptible Word of God, which is able to save your soul. Wherefore we may not, neither dare give our consent that you feed and fold with such whose principles and practices, in matters of faith and worship, we, as yet, are strangers to, and have not received commendations concerning, either from works of theirs or epistles from others. Yourself, indeed, hath declared that you are satisfied therein; but, elect sister, seeing the act of delivering you up is an act of ours and not yours, it is convenient, yea, very expedient, that we, as to so weighty a matter, be well persuaded before. Wherefore we beseech you, that, for the love of our Lord Jesus Christ, you give us leave to inform ourselves yet better before we grant your request; and that you also forbear to sit down at the table with any without the consent of your brethren. You were, while with us, obedient, and we trust you will not be unruly now. And for the more quick expedition of this matter, we will propound before you our further thoughts. 1. Either we shall consent to your sitting down with brother Cockain, brother Griffith, brother Palmer, or other, who, of long continuance in the city, have showed forth their faith, their worship, and good conversation with the Word; 2. Or if you can get a commendatory epistle from brother Owen, brother Cockain, brother Palmer, or brother Griffith, concerning the faith and principles of the person and people you mention, with desire to be guided and governed by, you shall see our readiness, in the fear of God, to commit you to the doctrine and care of that congregation. Choose you whether of these you will consent unto, and let us hear of your resolution. And we beseech you, for love’s sake, you show, with meekness, your fear and reverence of Christ’s institution; your love to the congregation, and regard to your future good. Finally, we commit you to the Lord and the Word of his grace, who is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among them that are sanctified. To God, the only wise, be glory and power everlasting. Amen.—Your affect[1]ionate brethren, to serve you in the faith and fellowship of the gospel.

Sent from Bedford, the 19th
of the Fourth Month, 1671.

As a farther illustration of Bunyan’s sentiments on this subject, we give the following letter to the church at Braintree:—

The 7th of the Twelfth Month, 1676 (Feb. 1677). The church of Christ in and about Bedford, to the church of Christ in and about Braintree,

sendeth greeting,

Holy and beloved—We, fellow-heirs with you of the grace of life, having considered your request concerning our honoured and beloved brother, Samuel Hensman: that he shall be given up to you for your mutual edification, and his furtherance and joy of faith; and considering also, in the capacity he now standeth by reason of his habitation amongst you, his edification is to be from you, not from us—he being, by God’s providence (by which he disposeth the world), placed at such a distance from us. And considering, also, the great end of Christ our Lord, in ordaining the communion of saints, is his glory in their edification, and that all things are to be done by his command to the edification of the body in general, and of every member in particular, and that this we oft (ought?) to design in our receiving him, and giving up to other churches, and not to please ourselves: do as before God and the elect angels, grant and give up to you our elect brother, to be received by you in the Lord, and to be nourished, in the church at Braintree, with you as one that is dear to the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ; and this we the willinger do, because, as we are informed concerning you, beloved, you are not rigid in your principles, but are for communion with saints as saints, and have been taught by the Word to receive the brotherhood, because they are beloved, and received of the Father and the Son, to whose grace we commend you, with the brother of late a member with us, but now one of you. Grace be with you all. Written by the appointment of the church here, and subscribed, in her name, by your brethren, as followeth:—

The late Mr. Kilpin of Bedford considered the whole of this letter to be entered in the minutes in Bunyan’s hand-writing.

There is also in the church book the copy of a letter, in 1674, addressed to the ‘church sometime walking with our brother Jesse,’ refusing to dismiss to them Martha Cumberland, unless they were certified that they continued in the practice of mixed communion. In these sentiments Bunyan lived and died. His church remains the same to the present day. In the new, commodious, and handsome meeting-house, opened in 1850, there is a baptistery, frequently used. The present minister, the amiable and talented John Jukes, baptizes infants, and receives the assistance of a neighbouring Baptist minister to baptize adults.

Not only had Bunyan clear, well-defined, and most decided views of the ordinances of the gospel, but also of all its doctrines. His knowledge upon those solemn subjects was drawn exclusively from the sacred pages; nor dared he swerve in the slightest degree from the path of duty; still he belonged to no sect, but that of Christian, and the same freedom which had guided him in forming his principles, he cheerfully allowed to others. Hitherto, water baptism had been considered a pre-requisite to the Lord’s table by all parties. The Episco- palians, Presbyterians, and Independents, had denounced the Baptists as guilty of a most serious heresy, or blasphemy, in denying the right of infants to baptism; not only did they exclude the Baptists from communion with their churches, but they persecuted them with extreme rigour. When the Independents made laws for the government of their colony in America, in 1644, one of the enactments was, ‘That if any person shall either openly condemn, or oppose the baptizing of infants, or seduce others, or leave the congregation during the administration of the rite, they shall be sentenced to banishment.’ The same year a poor man was tied up and whipped, for refusing to have his child baptized. ‘The Rev. J. Clarke, and Mr. O. Holmes, of Rhode Island, for visiting a sick Baptist brother in Massachusetts, instead of being admitted to the Lord’s table, they were arrested, fined, imprisoned, and whipped.’ At this very time, the Baptists formed their colony at Rhode Island, and the charter concludes with these words, ‘All men may walk as their consciences persuade them, every one in the name of his God.’ This is probably the only spot in the world where persecution was never known. The Baptists considered that immersion in water was the marriage rite between the believer and Saviour; that to sit at the Lord’s table without it was spiritual adultery, to be abhorred and avoided, and therefore refused to admit any person to the Lord’s table who had not been baptized in water upon a personal profession of faith in the Saviour. This was the state of parties when Bunyan, at the commencement of his pastorate, entered into the controversy. He had been promised a commendation to his book by the great, the grave, ‘the sober’ Dr. Owen, but he withdrew his sanction. ‘And perhaps it was more for the glory of God, that truth should go naked into the world,’ said Bunyan, ‘than as seconded by so weighty an armour-bearer as he.’²⁸⁹ Bunyan denied that water could form a wedding garment, or that water baptism was a pre[1]requisite for the Lord’s table, or that being immersed in water was putting on our Lord’s livery, by which disciples may be known. ‘Away, fond man, do you forget the text, “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.”‘²⁹⁰ And attempt was made to embroil Bunyan in a public disputation in London upon this subject, which he very wisely avoided.²⁹¹ This controversy will be found in our second volume, and is deeply interesting, making allowance for the esprit de corps manifested on all sides. A verse in the emblems is very pertinent upon the violence of this dispute:—

Our gospel has had here a summer’s day,
But in its sunshine we, like fools, did play;
Or else fall out, and with each other wrangle,
And did, instead of work, not much but jangle.²⁹²

After a lapse of nearly two centuries, Bunyan’s peaceable principles have greatly prevailed; so that now few churches refuse communion on account of the mode, in which water baptism has been administered. The Baptists are no longer deemed heretics as they formerly were. Dr. Watts aided this kindly feeling—’A church baptized in infancy, or in adult age, may allow communion to those that are of the contrary practice in baptism.’²⁹³ Robert Robinson praises Bunyan’s work, and advocates his sentiments upon the most liberal principles. One of his remarks is very striking:—’Happy community! that can produce a dispute of one hundred and fifty years unstained with the blood, and unsullied with the fines, the imprisonments, and the civil inconveniences of the disputants. As to a few coarse names, rough compliments, foreign suppositions, and acrimonious exclamations, they are only the harmless squeakings of men in a passion, caught and pinched in a sort of logical trap.’²⁹⁴ To this time, Bunyan was only  known as an extraordinarily talented and eloquent man, whose retentive memory was most richly stored with the sacred Scriptures. All his sermons and writings were drawn from his own mental resources, aided, while in prison, only by the Bible, the Concordance, and Fox’s Book of Martyrs. Very emphatically he says, ‘I am for drinking water out of my own cistern.’ ‘I find such a spirit of idolatry in the learning of this world, that had I it at command I durst not use it, but only use the light of the Word and Spirit of God.’ ‘I will not take of it from a thread even to a shoe latchet.’²⁹⁵ It must not be understood that he read no other works but his Bible and Book of Martyrs, but that he only used those in composing his various treatises while in confinement. He certainly had and read The Plain Man’s Pathway, Practice of Piety, Luther on the Galatians, Clarke’s Looking-glass for Saints and Sinners, Dodd on the Commandments, Andrews’ Sermons, Fowler’s Design of Christianity, D’Anvers and Paul on Baptism, and doubtless all the books which were within his reach, calculated to increase his store of knowledge.

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²⁸⁹ Vol. ii., 649.

²⁹⁰ Vol. ii., p. 638.

²⁹¹ Vol. ii., p. 641.

²⁹² Vol. iii., p. 758.

²⁹³ Christian Church, 8vo, 1747, p. 280.

²⁹⁴ The General Doctrine of Toleration, applied to Free Communion, p. 8. George Whitefield most warmly approved the communion of all God’s saints with each other. This, I must own, more particularly endears Mr. Bunyan to my heart. He was of a catholic spirit. The want of water (adult baptism), with this man of God, was no bar to outward Christian communion. And I am persuaded that if, like him, we were more deeply and experimentally baptized into the benign and gracious influences of the blessed Spirit, we should be less baptized into the waters of strife about circumstantials and non-essentials. For being thereby rooted and grounded in the love of God, we should necessarily be constrained to think and let think, bear with and forbear one another in love, and without saying, I am of Paul, Apollos, or Cephas; have but one grand, laudable, disinterested strife, namely, who should live, preach, and exalt the ever-loving, altogether-lovely Jesus most.

²⁹⁵ Vol. iii., p. 398.

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About this time he published a small quarto tract, in which he scripturally treats the doctrine of eternal election and reprobation. This rare book, published for sixpence, we were glad to purchase at a cost of one guinea and a half, because a modern author rejected its authenticity! It is included in every early list of Bunyan’s works, and especially in that published by himself, in 1688, to guard his friends from deception; for he had become so popular an author that several forgeries had been published under his initials. These few pages on election contain a scriptural treatise upon a very solemn subject, written by one whose mind was so imbued by the fear of God, as to have cast out the fear of man; which so generally embarrasses writers upon this subject. It was translated into Welsh, and is worthy an attentive perusal, especially by those who cannot see the difference between God’s foreknowledge and his foreordination.

A new era was now dawning upon him, which, during the last ten years of his life, added tenfold to his popularity. For many years his beautifully simple, but splendid allegory, The Pilgrim’s Progress, lay slumbering in his drawer.²⁹⁶ Numerous had been his consultations with his pious associates and friends, and various had been their opinions, whether it was serious enough to be published. All of them had a solemn sense of the impropriety of anything like trifling as to the way of escape from destruction, and the road to the celestial city. It appears strange to us, who have witnessed the very solemn impressions, in all cases, made by reading that book, that there could have been a doubt of the propriety of treating in a colloquial manner, and even under the fashion of a dream, those most important truths. Some said, ‘John, print it’; others said, ‘not so.’ Some said, ‘it might do good’; others said, ‘no.’ The result of all those consultations was his determination, ‘I print it will,’ and it has raised an imperishable monument to his memory. Up to this time, all Bunyan’s popularity arose from his earlier works, and his sermons. Leaving out of the question those most extraordinary books, The Pilgrim’s Progress and Holy War, his other writings ought to have handed down his name, with honour and popularity, to the latest posterity. While the logical and ponderous works of Baxter and Owen are well calculated to furnish instruction to those who are determined to obtain knowledge, the works of Bunyan create that very determination, and furnish that very knowledge, so blended with amusement, as to fix it in the memory. Let one illustration suffice. It is our duty to love our enemies, but it is a hard lesson; we must learn it from the conduct of the Divine Creator—’There is a man hates God, blasphemes his name, despises his being; yea, says there is no God. And yet the God that he carrieth it thus towards doth give me his breakfast, dinner, and supper; clothes him well, and, when night comes, has him to bed, gives him good rest, blesses his field, his corn, his cattle, his children, and raises him to high estate; yea, and this our God doth not only once or twice, but until these transgressors become old; his patience is thus extended years after years, that we might learn of him to do well.’²⁹⁷ All the works of Bunyan abound with such striking lessons, as to render them extremely valuable, especially to Sunday-school teachers and ministers, to enliven their addresses and sermons. But, in The Pilgrim’s Progress, the world has acknowledged one train of beauties; picture after picture, most beautifully finished, exhibiting the road from destruction to the celestial city; our only difficulty in such a display being to decide as to which is the most interesting and striking piece of scenery.²⁹⁸ The editor’s introduction to that extraordinary book is intended to prove that it was written while the author was imprisoned for refusing to submit his conscience to human laws, and that it is a perpetual monument to the folly of persecution; the peculiar qualifications of the author are displayed in its having been a spontaneous effusion of his own mind, unaided by any previous writer; an analysis is given of all prior pilgrimages, in which, more especially in The Pilgrims, The Pylgremage of the Soule, Grande Amoure, and in The Pilgrim of Loretto¸ the reader will find a faithful picture of some of the singularities of Popery drawn by itself; an account of the editions, forgeries, errors in printing, versions and translations of this wonderful book; the opinions of the learned and pious of its merits, principal scenes, and a synopsis. It has been the source of very numerous courses of lectures by ministers of all denominations; and has been turned into a handsome volume of hymns, adapted for public worship, by the late Mr. Purday, a friend of John Wesley’s, and a laborious preacher for more than half a century.

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²⁹⁶ He hesitated as to the propriety of publishing it, probably from the influence of the weighty opinion of Martin Luther. ‘The people are greatly delighted with allegories and similitudes, and therefore Christ oftentimes useth them; for they are, as it were, certain pictures which set forth things as if they were painted before our eyes. Paul was a marvelous cunning workman in handling allegories, but Origen and Jerome turn plain Scriptures into unfit and foolish allegories. Therefore, to use allegories, it is oftentimes a very dangerous thing’ [Com. on Gal. iv. 21]. Such instructions, from one he so much venerated, curbed his exuberant imagination, and made him doubly watchful, lest allegorizing upon subjects of such vast importance might ‘darken counsel by words without knowledge.

²⁹⁷ Vol. iii., p. 739.

²⁹⁸ Even Dean Swift, in his popular Letter to a Young Divine, says, ‘I have been better entertained, and more informed by a few pages in the Pilgrim’s Progress, than by a long discourse upon the will and the intellect, and simple and complex ideas.’ Nothing short of extraordinary merit could have called for such a eulogy from so severe a critic.

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Great efforts have been made by the most popular artists to enliven the scenes of the pilgrimage; but no colour glows like the enchanting words of Bunyan. No figures are so true to nature, and so life-like. Those eminent engravers, Sturt and Strut, Stothard and Martin, with the prize efforts excited by the Art Union of England, and the curious outlines by Mrs. M’Kenzie, the daughter of a British admiral, have endeavoured to exhaust the scenes in this inexhaustible work of beautiful scenery. The most elegant and correct edition is the large-paper, sumptuous volume by Mr. Bogue, admirably illustrated with new designs, engraved on wood in superior style—a volume worthy the drawing-room of queens and emperors. The designs, also, of the late David Scott, recently published at Edinburgh, are new, and peculiarly striking. His entrance to the Valley of the Shadow of Death is mysteriously impressive, a fit accompaniment to Bunyan’s description, which is not excelled by any thing in Dante, Spencer, or Milton. In both parts of The Pilgrim’s Progress this scene is full of terrific sublimity. But we must be excused, if we most warmly recommend our own offspring— the present edition—as combining accuracy, elegance, and cheapness, with the addition of very numerous notes, which, we trust, will prove highly illustrative and entertaining.

The carping criticisms of Mr. Dunlop, in his History of Fiction, and of an author in the Penny Encyclopedia, are scarcely worth notice. The complaint is, want of benevolence in the hero of the tale. How singular it is, and what a testimony to its excellence, that an intelligent writer upon fictions should have been so overpowered with this spiritual narrative, as to confound it with temporal things. Christian leaves his wife and children, instead of staying with them, to be involved in destruction—all this relates to inward spiritual feelings, and to these only. Visited by compunctions of heart, Christian strives to inspire his wife and children with the same, but in vain; he attends solitarily to his spiritual state, taunted by his family, while, as to temporal things, he becomes a better husband and father than ever he was— but this is not prominent, because it is entirely foreign to the author’s object, which is to display the inward emotions of the new birth, the spiritual journey alone, apart from all temporal affairs. Multitudes read it as if it was really a dream, the old sleeping portrait confirming the idea. In the story, Christian most mysteriously embodies all classes of men, from the prince to the peasant—the wealthiest noble, or merchant, to the humbles mechanic or labourer—and it illustrates the most solemn, certain truth, that, with respect to the salvation of the soul, the poorest creature in existence is upon perfect equality with the lordly prelate, or magnificent emperor, with this word ringing in their ears, ‘the POOR have the gospel preached to them.’ The Grace Abounding, or Life of Bunyan, is a key to all the mysteries of The Pilgrim’s Progress, and Holy War.

Bunyan’s singular powers are those of description, not of invention. He had lived in the city of destruction—he had heard the distant threatening of the awful storm that was shortly to swallow it up in unutterable ruin—he had felt the load of sin, and rejoiced when it was rolled away before a crucified Saviour—he knew every step of the way, and before he had himself passed the black river, he had watched prayerfully over those who were passing, and when the gate of the city was opened to let them enter, he had strained his eyes to see their glory.

The purifying influence of The Pilgrim’s Progress may be traced in the writings of many imaginative authors. How does it in several parts beautify the admirable tale of Uncle Tom, and his Cabin. In that inimitable scene, the death of the lovely Eva, the distressed negro, watching with intense anxiety the progress of death, says, ‘When that blessed child goes into the kingdom, they’ll open the door so wide, we’ll all get a look in at the glory.’ Whence came this strange idea—not limited to the poor negro, but felt by thousands who have watched over departing saints? It comes from the entrance of Christian and Hopeful into the celestial city—’I looked in after them, and, behold, the city shone like the sun; the streets, also, were paved with gold, and in them they walked with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises, which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.’²⁹⁹ How often has Bunyan’s wit sparkled in sermons, and even in speeches delivered in the senate. Recently, in a speech on the collation ministry, the following reference was introduced:—’Mr. Facing-both-ways, of honest John Bunyan, is not a creature mankind can regard with any complacency; nor will they likely suffer any one to act with one party, and reserve his principles for another.’ It has also been strangely quoted in novel writing—thus in Bell’s Villette—visiting a God-mother in a pleasant retreat, is said ‘to resemble the sojourn of Christian and Hopeful, beside the pleasant stream, with green trees on each bank, and meadows beautified with lilies all the year round.’ It is marvelous that a picture of nature should have been so beautifully and strikingly described by an unlettered artisan, as to be used in embellishing an elegant novel, written nearly two centuries after his decease.³⁰⁰

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²⁹⁹ Vol. iii., p. 166.

³⁰⁰ Within the Editor’s memory, polished writers hesitated to name our incomparable allegorist, on account of his humble name and education. Thus Cowper sang—

                  I name thee not, lest so despised a name Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame.

Now nearly all men find it difficult to do that name sufficient honour. One of the most splendid steam[1]ships in America is called after his name. A magnificent ship, for the China trade, was built at Aberdeen by Walter Hood & Co., which so swiftly traversed the ocean as to have made the voyage from Canton to London in ninety-nine days, without any aid from steam. This beautiful and grand specimen of the perfection of naval architecture is named The John Bunyan. Roman Catholics have printed large editions of the Pilgrim, with slight omissions, for circulation among the young under the care of the nuns. Our English fanatics have committed a crime that would make a papist blush. A Rev. E. Neale has clumsily altered the Pilgrim’s Progress, that Bunyan might appear to teach the things which Bunyan’s righteous heaven[1]born soul abhorred. It is a piece of matchless self[1]conceit to think of mending that which has been admired by the wisest of the human race in all nations, and which has obtained an unbounded popularity. Such an attempt to alter it is an acknowledgment that all the boasted power of Oxford, Exeter, and Rome, are unable to invent a tale to supersede the matchless beauties of the work of our spiritually-minded, heavenly-assisted brazier. If Mr. Neale should, at any time, alter a deed and the punishment for that felony is transportation for life. A similar forgery was committed in a recent London edition of Dr. Cheever’s Hill Difficulty. The Tractarians, doubtless, commit these scandalous outrages upon the Fathers, and all other writers, and deserve the contempt of every honest, upright mind.

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The Pilgrim was followed by a searching treatise on The Fear of God. The value of this book led to its republication by the Tract Society, and 4000 copies have been circulated. It is a neat and acceptable volume, but why altered? and a psalm omitted.³⁰¹ Bunyan says, ‘Your great ranting, swaggering, roysters’; this is modernized into ‘Your ranting boasters.’³⁰² Then followed, the Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ. This was frequently reprinted, and hundreds of thousands have been circulated to benefit the world. His popularity increased with his years; efforts were made, but in vain, to steal him from his beloved charge at Bedford. ‘He hath refused a more plentiful income to keep his station,’ is the language of his surviving friend, Charles Doe. It is not surprising that he was thus tempted to leave his poor country church, for we are told by the same biographer, that ‘When Mr. Bunyan preached in London, if there were but one day’s notice given, there would be more people come together to hear him preach, than the meeting[1]house could hold. I have seen to hear him preach, by my computation, about 1200 at a morning lecture, by seven o’clock, on a working day, in the dark winter time. I also computed about 3000 that came to hear him one Lord’s-day, at London, at a town’s end meeting-house, so that half were fain to go back again for want of room, and then himself was fain at a back door to be pulled almost over people to get up stairs to his pulpit.’ This took place in a large meeting-house, erected in Zoar Street, either on the site or near the Globe Theatre, Southwark.³⁰³ On this spot, the prince of dramatists amused and corrupted crowded houses; while in the immediate vicinity were the stews and bear garden, frequented by libertines of the lowest caste. One Sunday, in 1582, many were killed or miserably wounded while attending the brutal sport of bear-baiting. Here, in the heart of Satan’s empire, the prince of allegorists attracted multitudes, to be enlightened by his natural eloquence, and to be benefited by the fruits of his prolific and vivid imagination, at all times curbed and directed by the holy oracles. It was a spacious building, covering about 2000 feet of ground (50 by 40), with three galleries, quite capable of holding the number computed by Mr. Doe. We have, from correct drawings, furnished our subscribers with the plan and elevation of this ancient meeting-house. Having preached with peculiar warmth and enlargement, one of his friends took him by the hand, and could not help observing what a sweet sermon he had delivered; ‘Ay,’ said he, ‘you need not remind me of that, for the devil told me of it before I was out of the pulpit!’³⁰⁴ Amongst his hearers were to be found the learned and the illiterate. It was well known that Dr. John Owen, when he had the opportunity, embraced it with pleasure, and sat at the feet of the unlearned, but eloquent tinker. Charles II, hearing of it, asked the learned D.D., ‘How a man of his great erudition could sit to hear a tinker preach?’ to which the doctor replied, ‘May it please your Majesty, if I could possess the tinker’s abilities, I would gladly give in exchange all my learning.’

He now pictured the downward road of the sinner to the realms of death and darkness in the Life of Badman. This was published in 1680, and is written in a language which fraudulent tradesmen at that period could not misunderstand; using terms now obsolete or vulgar. It is full of anecdotes, which reveal the state of the times, as superlatively immoral, and profane. He incidentally notices that a labourer received eightpence or tenpence per day.³⁰⁵ At that time, bread and all the necessaries of life, excepting meat, were dearer than they are at present. In fact, our days are much happier for the poor than any preceding ones in British history. Bunyan’s notions of conscientious dealing, will make all traders who read them— blush.³⁰⁶

November 12, 1681, Bunyan’s friend and fellow-labourer Samuel Fenn, was removed from this world, and in the following year persecution raged severely. The church was, for a season, driven from the meeting-house, and obliged to assemble in the fields. The Word of the Lord was precious in those days.

In 1682, while surrounded by persecution, he prepared and published his most profound and beautiful allegory, The Holy War, made by Shaddai upon Diabolus, for the Regaining of the Metropolis of the World; or, The Losing and Taking again the Town of Mansoul. ³⁰⁷ The frontispiece is the most accurate likeness of Bunyan that is extant; it is engraved by White, from a drawing, also by him, now preserved in the print department of the British Museum. From this drawing, carefully compared with the print, we have furnished the expressive likeness which forms the frontispiece to this volume. It has also a correct whole-length portrait, with emblematical devices. This exceedingly beautiful and most finished allegory has never been so popular as The Pilgrim’s Progress, for reasons which are shown in the introduction to The Holy War. ³⁰⁸ The whole narrative of this wondrous war appears to flow as naturally as did that of the pilgrimage from the highly imaginative mind of the author. Man, in his innocence, attracts the notice and hatred of Apollyon. Nothing could be accomplished by force—all by subtlety and deceit. He holds a council of war—selects his officers— approaches—parleys, and gains admittance— then fortifies the town against its king— Immanuel determines to recover it—vast armies, under appropriate leaders, surround the town, and attack every gate. The ear is garrisoned by Captain Prejudice and his deaf men. But he who rides forth conquering and to conquer is victorious. All the pomp, and parade, and horrors of a siege are as accurately told, as if by one who had been at the sacking of many towns. The author had learnt much in a little time, at the siege of Leicester. All the sad elements of war appear, and make us shudder— masses of armed men with their slings and battering-rams—clarions and shouts—wounded and slain, all appear as in a panorama. The mind becomes entranced, and when sober reflection regains her command, we naturally inquire, Can all this have taken place in my heart? Then the armies of Diabolus, with his thousands of Election Doubters, and as many Vocation Doubters, and his troops of Blood[1]men—thousands slain, and yet thousands start into existence. And all this in one man! How numberless are our thoughts—how crafty the approaches of the enemy—how hopeless and helpless is the sinner, unless Immanuel undertakes his recovery. The Holy War is a most surprising narrative of the fall and of the recovery of man’s soul, as accurate as it is most deeply interesting. It is one of the most perfect of allegories.³⁰⁹ There is as vast a superiority in Bunyan’s Holy War over that by Chrysostom, as there is in the sun over a rush-light.

In 1684, he completed his Pilgrim’s Progress, with the Journey of a Female Christian, her Children, and the Lovely Mercy; and now, as his invaluable and active life drew towards its close, his labours were redoubled. In his younger days, there appeared to have been no presentiment on his part that the longest term of human life would with him be shortened, but rather an expectation of living to old age, judging from an expression in his Grace Abounding. when he enjoyed a good hope, and bright anticipation of heavenly felicity, ‘I should often long and desire that the last days were come. O! thought I, that I were fourscore years old now, that I might die quickly and be gone to rest.’³¹⁰ At that time he did not anticipate twelve years’ imprisonment in a wretched jail, nor the consequent effects it must have upon his robust frame, well calculated to stand all weathers, but easily sapped and undermined by a damp dungeon. Symptoms of decay, after having enjoyed his liberty for about a year, led him to close his Affectionate Advice to his Beloved Flock, on their Christian Behaviour; with these words, ‘Thus have I written to you, before I die, to provoke you to faith and holiness, and to love one another, when I am deceased, and shall be in paradise, as through grace I comfortably believe; yet it is not there, but here, I must do you good.’³¹¹ It is remarkable that Bunyan escaped all the dangers of the trying reign of James II, who, at times, was a persecutor, and at times endeavoured, in vain, by blandishments, to win the Nonconformists. his minions had their eyes upon our pilgrim, but were foiled in every attempt to apprehend him; all that he suffered was the occasional spoiling of his goods.³¹² Neither violence nor allurements induced him to deviate from his line of duty. No fear of man appeared to agitate his breast—he richly enjoyed that ‘perfect love,’ which ‘casteth out fear’ (1 John 4:18). James did all that an unprincipled man could do to cajole the Dissenters, that by their aid he might pull down the walls of Protestantism, and give full sway to the Papacy. He attempted, among many others, to bribe John Bunyan. He knew not how well he was read in the Book of Martyrs; how well he was aware that ‘the instruments of cruelty are in their habitations,’ and that the only advantage he could have received, would have been the same that Polypheme, the monstrous giant of Sicily, allowed to Ulysses, that he would eat his men first, and do him the favour of being eaten last. Mr. Doe states that ‘Regulators were sent into all cities and towns corporate to new-model the magistracy, by turning out some, and putting in others. Against this Bunyan expressed his zeal with great anxiety, as foreseeing the bad consequences that would attend it, and laboured with his congregation to prevent their being imposed on in this kind. And when a great man in those days, coming to Bedford upon some such errand, sent for him, as it is supposed, to give him a place of public trust, he would by no means come at him, but sent his excuse.’³¹³ He knew that in his flesh he possessed what he calls ‘Adam’s legacy, a conduit pipe, through which the devil conveys his poisoned spawn and venom,’³¹⁴ and he wisely avoided this subtle temptation. He detested the ‘painted Satan, or devil in fine clothes.’³¹⁵ It was one of these hypocritical pretences to correct evil, while really meaning to increase it, and which Bunyan calls, ‘the devil correcting vice.’ He was watchful, lest ‘his inward man should catch cold,’³¹⁶ and every attempt to entangle him failed.

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³⁰¹ Vol. i., p. 473.

³⁰² Vol. i., p. 480.

³⁰³ Two views of this meeting-house, an exterior and interior, after its conversion into a workshop, are given in the Plate facing page i. of this Memoir. In the interior, part of the beams and pillars that supported the gallery still remain.

³⁰⁴ Toplady’s Works, vol. iv., p. 463.

³⁰⁵ Vol. iii., p. 637.

³⁰⁶ One of his anecdotes is remarkable, as exhibiting the state of medical knowledge in his neighbourhood. A poor wretch, who had taught his son to blaspheme, was affected with a nervous twisting of the muscles of his chest. This was supposed to arise from a Satanic possession. One Freeman, a more than ordinary doctor, attempted the cure. They bound the patient to a form, with his head hanging down over the end; set a pan of coals under his mouth, and put something therein that made a great smoke, to fetch out the devil. There they kept the man till he was almost smothered, but no devil came out of him [Vol. iii., p. 605]. The death-bed scene of the broken-hearted Mrs. Badman, is delicately and beautifully drawn.

³⁰⁷ Sutcliff’s History of Bunyan’s Church.

³⁰⁸ Vol. iii., p. 245.

³⁰⁹ A beautiful satire is contained in the account of the traitors—tradition, human wisdom, and man’s invention. This picture is drawn by an inimitable artist. Nor have we seen anything more admirably adapted to the present state of our Tractarian times. Vol. iii. 277.

³¹⁰ Vol. i., p. 22, No. 128.

³¹¹ Vol. ii., p. 574.

³¹² Life, 1692.

³¹³ Grace Abounding (continued), vol. i., p. 63, and Life, 1692.

³¹⁴ Vol. i., p. 505.

³¹⁵ Vol. i., p. 719.

³¹⁶ Vol. i., p. 753.

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This godly jealousy led him to sacrifice worldly interests to an extent not justifiable, if all the facts appear. When told that a very worthy citizen of London would take his son Joseph apprentice without fee, and advance his interests, he refused, saying, ‘God did not send me to advance my family, but to preach the gospel.’

At this time he again manifested his lion heart, by writing and preparing for the press a fearless treatise on Antichrist, and his Ruin. In this he shows, that human interference with Divine worship, by penal laws or constraint, is ‘Antichrist’—that which pretends to regulate thought, and thus to reduce the kingdom of Christ to a level with the governments of this world. In this treatise, he clearly exhibits the meaning of that passage, so constantly quoted by the advocates of tyranny and persecution (Ezra 7:26), and shows that the laws interfered not with Divine worship, but that they upheld to the fullest extent the principle of voluntary obedience (v 13); so that any man putting constraint upon another in religious affairs, would be guilty of breaking the law, and subject him to extreme punishment. This was one of the last treatises which Bunyan prepared for the press, as if in his dying moments he would aim a deadly thrust at Apollyon. Reader, it is worthy your most careful perusal, as showing the certain downfall of Antichrist, and the means by which it must be accomplished.

Feeling the extreme uncertainty of life, and that he might be robbed of all his worldly goods, under a pretence of fines and penalties, he, on the 23d of December, 1685, executed a deed of gift, vesting what little he possessed in his wife. It is a singular instrument, especially as having been sealed with a silver twopenny piece. The original is in the church book, at Bedford:—

                 To all people to whom this present writing shall com, J. Bunyan of the parish of St. Cuthbirt’s, in the towne of Bedford, in the county of Bedford, Brazier send greeting. Know ye, that I the said John Bunyan as well for, and in consideration of the natural affection and loue which I have, and bear vnto my welbeloued wife, Elizabeth Bunyan, as also for divers other good causes and considerations, me at this present especially moneing, have given and granted, and by these presents, do give, grant, and conferm vnto the said Elizabeth Bunyan, my said wife, all and singuler my goods, chattels, debts, ready mony, plate, rings, household stuffe, aparrel, vtensills, brass, peuter, beding, and all other my substance, whatsoever moueable and immoueable, of what kinde, nature, quality, or condition soever the same are or be, and in what place or places soever the same be, shall or may be found as well in mine own custodies, possession, as in the possession, hands, power, and custody of any other person, or persons whatsoever. To have and to hold all and singuler the said goods, chattels, debts, and all other, the aforesaid premises vnto the said Elizabeth, my wife, her executors, administerators, and assigns to her and their proper vses and behoofs, freely and quietly without any matter of challinge, claime, or demand of me the said John Bunyan, or of any other person, or persons, whatsoever for me in my name, by my means cavs or procurement, and without any mony or other thing, therefore to be yeeilded, paid or done vnto me the said John Bunyan, my executors, administrators or assigns. And I, the said John Bunyan, all and singular, the aforesaid goods, chattels, and premises to the said Elizabeth my wife, her executors, administrators, and assignes to the vse aforesaid, against all people do warrant and forever defend by these presents. And further, know ye, that I the said John Bunyan have put the said Elizabeth, my wife, in peacable and quiet possession of all and singuler the aforesaid premises, by the delivrye vnto her at the ensealing hereof one coyned peece of silver, commonly called two pence, fixed on the seal of these presents.³¹⁷

In wittnes wherof, I the said John Bunyan have herevnto set my hand and seall this 23d day of December, in the first year of the reigne of our soueraigne lord, King James the Second of England, &c., in the year of our lord and saviour, Jesus Christ, 1685.

Sealed and delivered in the presence of vs, whos names are here vnder written:—

JOHN BARDOLPH                                           WILLM HAWKES

NICHOLAS MALIN                                          LEWES NORMAN

It appears from this deed that Bunyan continued in business as a brazier, and it is very probable that he carried it on until his decease. This deed secured to his wife what little he possessed, without the trouble or expense of applying to the ecclesiastical courts for probate of a will.

Among other opinions which then divided the Christian world, was a very important one relative to the law of the ten commandments, whether it was given to the world at large, or limited to the Jews as a peculiar nation until the coming of Messiah, and whether our Lord altered or annulled the whole or any part of that law. This question involves the observance of the seventh-day Sabbath. An awful curse is denounced upon those who do not continue in ALL things which are written in the book of the law to do them (Gal 3:10; Deut 27:26). When an innovation upon the almost universal practice of infant baptism had become an object of inquiry only to be answered from the New Testament, it is not surprising that the serious question, why God’s Sabbath-day had been altered, should also be agitated with deep feeling. Generally, those who advocated the restoration of the Jewish Sabbath were decidedly of opinion that believers only were fit subjects for baptism, and that the scriptural mode of administering it was by immersion; hence they were called Seventh-day Baptists— Sabbatarians, or Sabbath-keepers.

Bunyan entered with very proper and temperate zeal into this controversy. Popular feeling had no influence over him; nor could he submit to the opinions of the ancient fathers. His storehouse of knowledge was limited to the revealed will of God, and there he found ample material to guide his opinion. His work upon this subject is called, Questions about the Nature and Perpetuity of the Seventh-day Sabbath; and proof that the First Day of the Week is the Christian Sabbath. It is one of the smallest of his volumes, but so weighty in argument as never to have been answered.

We now arrive at the last year of his eventful and busy life, during which he published six important volumes, and left twelve others in manuscript, prepared for publication. A list of these will be found in The Struggler; ³¹⁸ they are upon the most important subjects, which are very admirably treated. We notice among these, The Jerusalem Sinner Saved, or Good News for the Vilest of Men. It is a specimen of preaching calculated to excite the deepest interest, and afford the strongest consolation to a soul oppressed with the sense of sin. Great sinner! thou art called to mercy by name. Arise! shoulder thy way into court through any crowd,—’say, Stand away, devil; stand away all discouragements; my Saviour calls me to receive mercy.’ In this treatise, Bunyan has repeated from memory what he had read in some book when in prison, four and twenty years before. It is a curious legend, which he doubtless believed to be true, and it displays his most retentive memory.³¹⁹ His poetry, like his prose, was not written to gain a name, but to make a deep impression. One of his professed admirers made a strange mistake when he called them doggerel rhymes.³²⁰ His Caution to Watch Against Sin is full of solemn and impressive thoughts, the very reverse of doggerel or burlesque. his poem on the house of God is worthy of a most careful perusal; and thousands have been delighted and improved with his emblems. One rhyme in the Pilgrim can never be forgotten—

He that is down need fear no fall;
He that is low no pride;
He that is humble ever shall
Have God to be his guide, &c.

The careful perusal of every one of his treatises, has excited in my mind a much livelier interest than any other religious works which, in a long life, have come under my notice. In fact, the works of Bunyan to a country minister may be compared to a vast storehouse, most amply replenished with all those solemn subjects which call for his prayerful investigation; well arranged, ready of access, striking in their simplicity, full of vivid ideas conveyed in language that a novice may understand. They are all so admirably composed that pious persons, whether in houses of convocation or of parliament, or the inmates of a workhouse, may equally listen to them with increasing delight and instruction. No man ever more richly enjoyed the magnificent language of Job. He called it ‘that blessed book.’³²¹ The deep interest that he took in its scenery may be traced through all his writings. His spirit, with its mighty powers, grasped the wondrous truths so splendidly pourtrayed in that most ancient book. The inspired writings, which so eminently give wisdom to the simple, expanded his mind, while his mental powers were strengthened and invigorated by his so deeply drinking into the spirit of the inspired volume.

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³¹⁷ Some of the wax remains, but the coin is lost.

³¹⁸ Vol. iii., p. 763.

³¹⁹ Vol. i., p. 81.

³²⁰ Mr. Philip, Critique on Bunyan, p. vi. and xvi.

³²¹ Vol. ii., p. 425.

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The time was drawing near when, in the midst of his usefulness, and with little warning, he was to be summoned to his eternal rest. He had been seriously attacked with that dangerous pestilence which, in former years, ravaged this country, called the sweating sickness, a malady as mysterious and fatal as the cholera has been in later times. The disease was attended by great prostration of strength; but, under the careful management of his affectionate wife, his health became sufficiently restored to enable him to undertake a work of mercy; from the fulfillment of which, as a blessed close to his incessant earthly labour, he was to ascend to his Father and his God to be crowned with immortality. A father had been seriously offended with his son, and had threatened to disinherit him. To prevent the double mischief of a father dying in anger with his child, and the evil consequence to the child of his being cut off from his patrimony, Bunyan again ventured, in his weak state, on his accustomed work, to win the blessings of the peace-maker. He made a journey on horseback to Reading, it being the only mode of travelling at that time, and he was rewarded with success. Returning home by way of London to impart the gratifying intelligence, he was overtaken by excessive rains, and, in an exhausted state, he found a kindly refuge in the house of his Christian friend Mr. Strudwick, and was there seized with a fatal fever. His much-loved wife, who had so powerfully pleaded for his liberty with the judges, and to whom he had been united thirty years, was at a great distance from him. Bedford was then two days’ journey from London. Probably at first, his friends had hopes of his speedy recovery; but when the stroke came, all his feelings, and those of his friends, appear to have been absorbed, by the anticipated blessings of immortality, to such an extent, that no record is left as to whether his wife, or any of his children, saw him cross the river of death. There is abundant testimony of his faith and patience, and that the presence of God was eminently with him.

He bore his trying sufferings with all the patience and fortitude that might be expected from such a man. His resignation was most exemplary; his only expressions were ‘a desire to depart, to be dissolved, to be with Christ.’ His sufferings were short, being limited to ten days. He enjoyed a holy frame of mind, desiring his friends to pray with him, and uniting fervently with them in the exercise. His last words, while struggling with death, were, ‘Weep not for me, but for yourselves. I go to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will, no doubt, through the mediation of his blessed Son, receive me, though a sinner; where I hope we ere long shall meet, to sing the new song, and remain everlastingly happy, world without end. Amen.’ He felt the ground solid under his feet in passing the black river which has no bridge, and followed his pilgrim into the celestial city in August, 1688, in the sixtieth year of his age. There is some uncertainty as to the day of his decease: Charles Doe, in the Struggler, 1692, has August 31, and this has been copied in all his portraits. In the life appended to the Grace Abounding, 1692, his death-day is stated as August 12; and in the memoir appended to the third part of the Pilgrim, also in 1692, the date is August 17. The circumstances of his peaceful decease are well compared by Dr. Cheever to the experience of Mr. Standfast, when he was called to pass the river: the great calm—the firm footing—the address to by-standers—until his countenance changed, his strong man bowed under him, and his last words were, ‘Take me, for I come to thee.’ Then the joy among the angels while they welcomed the hero of such spiritual fights, and conducted his wandering soul to the New Jerusalem, which he had so beautifully described as ‘the holy city’; and then his wonder and amazement to find how infinitely short his description came to the blissful reality.

The deep affliction that his church was plunged into led to several special meetings. Wednesday, the 4th of September, ‘was kept in prayer and humiliation for this heavy stroke upon us—the death of dear brother Bunyan; it was appointed also, that Wednesday next be kept in prayer and humiliation on the same account. At the meeting held on the 11th, it was appointed that all the brethren meet together on the 18th of this month, September, to humble themselves for this heavy hand of God upon us, and also to pray unto the Lord for counsel and direction what to do, in order to seek out for a fit person to make choice of for an elder. On the 18th, when the whole congregation met to humble themselves before God, by fasting and prayer, for his heavy and severe stroke upon us in taking away our honoured brother Bunyan by death, it was agreed by the whole congregation that care be taken to seek out for one suitably qualified to be chosen an elder among us, and that care was committed by the whole to the brethren at Bedford.’ Thus did the church manifest that they had improved in wisdom under his ministry by flying, in their extreme distress, to the only source of consolation.

The saddest feelings of sorrow extended to every place where he had been known. His friend, the Rev. G. Cockayn, of London, says, ‘it pleased the Lord to remove him, to the great loss and inexpressible grief of many precious souls.’ Numerous elegies, acrostics, and poems were published on the occasion of his decease, lamenting the loss thus sustained by his country—by the church at large, and particularly by the church and congregation at Bedford. One of these, ‘written by a dear friend of his,’ is a fair sample of the whole:—

‘He in the pulpit preached truth first, and then He in his practice preached it o’er again.

His remains were interred in Bunhill Fields, in the vault of his friend Mr. Strudwick, at whose house he died. His tomb³²² has been visited by thousands of pilgrims, blessing God for his goodness in raising up such a man, so signally fitted to be a blessing to the times in which he lived. All the accounts of his decease, published at the time, agree as to his place of burial. The words of Mr. Doe, who probably attended the funeral, are, ‘he was buried in the new burying-place, near the artillery ground, where he sleeps to the morning of the resurrection.’³²³ His Life and Actions, 1692, records that ‘his funeral was performed with much decency, and he was buried in the new burying-ground by Moorfields.’ The Struggler calls it ‘Finsbury burying-ground, where many London Dissenting ministers are laid.’³²⁴ Bunhill Fields burying-ground for Dissenters was first opened in 1666. The inscription upon the tomb to his memory was engraven many years after his funeral. It is not contained in the list of inscriptions published in 1717. His widow survived him four years. He had six children by his first wife, three of whom survived him— Thomas, Joseph, and Sarah. His son Thomas joined his church in 1673, and was a preacher in 1692. He appears to have been usefully employed in visiting absent members until December 1718. My kind friend, the Rev. J. P. Lockwood, rector of South Hackney, recently discovered entries in the register of Kimbolton, in Huntingdonshire, probably of the descendants of this son, Thomas. November 26, 1698, John Bonion and Mary Rogers, married: she was buried, September 7, 1706; and he again married Anne, and buried her in 1712, leaving a son and two daughters. His death is not recorded. One of the descendants, Hannah Bunyan, died in 1770, aged seventy-six years, and lies in the burial-ground by the meeting[1]house at Bedford. John Bunyan’s son, Joseph, settled at Nottingham, and marrying a wealthy woman, conformed to the Church. A lineal descendant of his was living, in 1847, at Islington, near London, aged eighty-four, Mrs. Senegar, a fine hearty old lady, and a Strict Baptist. She said to me, ‘Sir, excuse the vanity of an old woman, but I will show you how I sometimes spend a very pleasant half-hour.’ She took down a portrait on canvas of her great forefather, and propped it up on the table with a writing-desk, with a looking-glass by its side. ‘There, Sir, I look at the portrait, and then at myself, and can trace every feature; we resemble each other like two pins.’ ‘Excepting the imperial and moustachios,’ I replied; to which she readily assented. It was the fact that there was a striking family likeness between the picture and her reflection in the looking-glass. Another descendant, from the same branch of the family, is now living at Lincoln. He was born in 1775, and possessed a quarto Bible, published by Barker and Bill in 1641, given by John Bunyan to his son Joseph. This was preserved in his family until the present year, when it came into the editor’s possession, with the following relics, which were, and I trust will yet be preserved with the greatest care:—An iron pencase, made by Bunyan the brazier, with some stumps of old pens, with which it is said he wrote some of his sermons and books; the buckles worn by him, and his two pocket[1]knives, one of them made before springs were invented, and which is kept open by turning a ferrule; his apple-scoop, curiously carved, and a seal; his pocket-box of scales and weights for money, being stamped with the figures on each side of the coins of James and Charles I.³²⁵ These were given by Robert Bunyan, in 1839, then sixty-four years of age, to a younger branch of the family, Mr. Charles Robinson, of Wilford, near Nottingham (his sister’s son), for safe custody. He died in 1852; while his aged uncle remains in good health, subject to the infirmities of his seventy-eighth year. On many of the blank spaces in the Bible are the registers of births and deaths in the family, evidently written at the time. Those relics are deposited in a carved oak box. They were sold with the late Mr. Robinson’s effects, January, 1853, and secured for me by my excellent friend James Dix, Esq., of Bristol, who met with them immediately after the sale, on one of his journeys at Nottingham. They are not worshipped as relics, nor have they performed miracles, but as curiosities of a past age they are worthy of high consideration. Everything that was used by him, and that survives the ravages of time, possesses a peculiar charm; even the chair in which he at is preserved in the vestry of the new chapel, and is shown to those who make the pilgrimage to the shrine of Bunyan.³²⁶

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³²² Vol. iii., p. 766.

³²³ Grace Abounding, 1692.

³²⁴ No. 25, E.; 26, W.; 26, N.; 27, S.

³²⁵ As matters of curious interest to all lovers of Bunyan, we insert, in the accompanying page, engravings of these relics, from drawings by Mr. Edward Offor.

³²⁶ The chair is engraved above, and it will be seen that it has suffered some little dilapidation since the last published engraving of it. The legs have been cut down to suit the height of one of his successors in the ministry!! With regard to the pulpit, an old resident in Bedford says—The celebrated John Howard presented a new pulpit in the room of the old one, which was cut up. Of part of the wood a table was made, which now belongs to Mrs. Hillyerd.

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In the same vestry is also a curious inlaid cabinet, small, and highly finished. It descended from Bunyan to a lady who lived to an advanced age—Madam Bithray; from her to the Rev. Mr. Voley; and of his widow it was purchased to ornament the vestry of Bunyan’s meeting-house.

Bunyan’s Cabinet

.

The personal appearance and character of our pilgrim’s guide, drawn by his friend Charles Doe, will be found at the end of his Grace Abounding; to which is appended his Dying Sayings—’of sin—afflictions—repentance and coming to Christ—of prayer—of the Lord’s day, sermons, and week days: “Make the Lord’s day the market for thy soul”—of the love of the world—of suffering—of death and judgment—of the joys of heaven—and the torments of hell.’

How inscrutable are the ways of God! Had Bunyan lived a month longer, he would have witnessed the glorious Revolution—the escape of a great nation. The staff and hope of Protestant Europe was saved from a subtle—a Jesuitical attempt—to introduce Popery and arbitrary government. The time of his death, as a release from the incumbrance of a material body, was fixed by infinite wisdom and love at that juncture, and it ought not to be a cause of regret. His interest in the welfare of the church ceased not with his mortal life. How swiftly would his glorified spirit fly to see the landing of William, and hover with joy over the flight of the besotted James! He was now in a situation to prove the truth of that saying, ‘the angels desire to look into’ the truth and spread of the glad tidings. How he would prove the reality of his opinion, expressed in The Holy War, of the interest taken by the inhabitants of heaven in the prosperity of the church on earth. When Mansoul was conquered, the spirits that witnessed the victory ‘shouted with that greatness of voice, and sung with such melodious notes, that they caused them that dwell in the highest orbs to open their windows, and put out their heads and look down to see the cause of that glory’ (Luke 15:7- 10).³²⁷ So may we imagine that the happy, happy, glorified spirit of Bunyan would look down rejoicing, when, a few years after he had yielded up his pastoral cares, the seed which he had been instrumental in sowing produced its fruit in such numbers, that the old meeting- house was pulled down, and in its place a large and respectable one was erected. And again, on the 20th February, 1850, with what joy would he look down upon the opening of a still larger, more commodious, and handsome meeting[1]house, bearing his name, and capable of holding 1150 worshippers. One of Bunyan’s pungent, alarming sayings to the careless was, ‘Once die, we cannot come back and die better.’³²⁸ If anything could tempt him, in his angelic body, to re-visit this earth, it would be to address the multitude at the new Bunyan Chapel with his old sermon on The Jerusalem Sinner Saved, or Good News to the Vilest of Men. But we have Moses and the prophets— Christ and his apostles; if we shut our ears to them, neither should we listen to a messenger from the New Jerusalem.

PERSONAL UTENSILS USED BY JOHN BUNYAN

• Pocket-Box of Scales and Weights, for the purchase of old gold, and dipped or worn money, with the figures of the coin on each weight in the reign of James I.
• His Apple-Scoop, curiously carved.
• Pocket[1]Knife, with spring.
• Larger Knife, without spring, kept open or shut, by turning a ferrule.

 

 

 

When it is recollected that Bunyan received the most imperfect rudiments of education in a charity school when very young, which were ‘almost entirely’ obliterated by bad habits—that he was a hard-working man through life, maintaining himself, a wife, and four children, by his severe labour as a brazier—and yet, by personal efforts, he educated himself and wrote sixty-two valuable religious treatises, numbering among them his inimitable allegories, The Pilgrim’s Progress and Holy War, made a Concordance to the Bible, and conducted important controversies. Preaching, while at liberty, almost innumerable sermons on the Lord’s-days and week-days, early in the morning and late at night. Visiting his flock with pastoral care—founding churches in the villages, and even in towns and cities far distant from his dwelling—constantly giving advice to promote peace and good will, and rendering benevolent aid by long journeys! His whole life presents to us a picture of most astonishing, energetic perseverance. Every moment of time must have been employed as if he valued it as a precious trust, which, if once lost, could never be regained. Who of us can compare our life with his last thirty years, and not blush with shame!

The finest trait in Bunyan’s Christian character was his deep, heartfelt humility. This is the more extraordinary from his want of secular education, and his unrivalled talent. The more we learn, the greater is the field for research that opens before us, insomuch that the wisest philosophers have most seriously felt the little progress they have made. He acknowledged to Mr. Cockayn, who considered him the most eminent man, and a star of the first magnitude in the firmament of the churches,³²⁹ that spiritual pride was his easily besetting sin, and that he needed the thorn in the flesh, lest he should be exalted above measure. A sense of this weakness probably led him to peculiar watchfulness against it. His self[1]abasement was neither tinctured with affectation, nor with the pride of humility. His humble-mindedness appeared to arise form his intimate communion with Heaven. In daily communion with God, he received a daily lesson of deeper and deeper humility. ‘I am the high and lofty One, I inhabit eternity! verily this consideration is enough to make a broken[1]hearted man creep into a mouse-hole, to hide himself from such majesty! There is room in this man’s heart for God to dwell.’³³⁰ ‘I find it one of the hardest things that I can put my soul upon, even to come to God, when warmly sensible that I am a sinner, for a share in grace and mercy. I cannot but with a thousand tears say, “God be merciful to me a sinner” (Ezra 9:15).’³³¹

The Revs. Messrs. Chandler and Wilson, bear the following testimony as eye-witnesses to his character:—’His fancy and invention were very pregnant and fertile. His wit was sharp and quick—his memory tenacious, it being customary with him to commit his sermons to writing after he had preached them,’ a proof of extraordinary industry. ‘His understanding was large and comprehensive—his judgment sound and deep in the fundamentals of the gospel. His experience of Satan’s temptations in the power and policy of them, and of Christ’s presence in, and by his Word and Spirit to succour and comfort him, was more than ordinary; the grace of God was magnified in him and by him, and a rich anointing of the Spirit was upon him; and yet this great saint was always in his own eyes the chiefest of sinners, and the least of saints. He was not only well furnished with the helps and endowments of nature, beyond ordinary, but eminent in the graces and gifts of the Spirit, and fruits of holiness. He was from first to last established in, and ready to maintain, that God[1]like principle of having communion with saints as such, without any respect to difference in things disputable among the godly. His carriage was condescending, affable, and meek to all, yet bold and courageous for Christ. He was much struck at, in the lat times of persecution; being far from any sinful compliance to save himself, he did cheerfully bear the cross.’ Such was the character given of him by these two eminent divines, in 1693, while his memory, in its fullest fragrance, was cherished by all the churches.

This humility peculiarly fitted him to instruct the young, of whom he was very fond—

Nor do I blush, although I think some may
Call me a baby, ‘cause I with them play;
I do ‘t to show them how each fingle fangle
On which they doating are, their souls entangle;
And, since at gravity they make a tush,
My very beard I cast behind a bush.³³²

He had friends among the rich as well as the poor. Of this his solid gold ring and handsome cabinet are proofs. From a letter in the Ellis correspondence, we learn that Bunyan had so secured the affections of the Lord Mayor of London, as to be called his chaplain.³³³

Among his religious friends and associates he must have been a pleasing, entertaining, lively companion. However solemn, nay awful, had been his experience when walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, yet when emerging from the darkness and enjoying the sunshine of Divine favour, he loved social intercourse and communion of saints. It is one of the slanders heaped upon Christianity to call it a gloomy, melancholy theme: though ‘it is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting,’ yet the wisely pious man will endeavour, even at an elegant entertainment or a Lord Mayor’s dinner, to drop useful hints. Whenever Bunyan describes a social party, especially a feast, he always introduces a wholesome dish; and it is singular, in the abundance of publications, that we have not been favoured with John Bunyan’s Nuts to Crack at Religious Entertainments, or a Collection of his Pious Riddles. Thus, at the splendid royal feast given to Emmanuel, when he entered Mansoul in triumph, ‘he entertained the town with some curious riddles, of secrets drawn up by his father’s secretary, by the skill and wisdom of Shaddai, the like to which there are not in any kingdom.’ ‘Emmanuel also expounded unto them some of those riddles himself, but O how were they lightened! They saw what they never saw, they could not have thought that such rarities could have been couched in such few and ordinary words. The lamb, the sacrifice, the rock, the door, the way.’³³⁴ ‘The second Adam was before the first, and the second covenant was before the first.’³³⁵ ‘Was Adam bad before he eat the forbidden fruit?’³³⁶ ‘How can a man say his prayers without a word being read or uttered?’³³⁷ ‘How do men speak with their feet?’ Answer, Proverbs 6:13.³³⁸ ‘Why was the brazen laver made of the women’s looking-glasses?’³³⁹ ‘How can we comprehend that which cannot be comprehended, or know that which passeth knowledge?’³⁴⁰ ‘Who was the founder of the state or priestly domination over religion?’³⁴¹ What is meant by the drum of Diabolus and other riddles mentioned in The Holy War? ³⁴² The poetical riddles in The Pilgrim’s Progress are very striking—

‘A man there was, though some did count him mad,

The more he cast away, the more he had.’

How can ‘evil make the soul from evil turn.’³⁴³

Can ‘sin be driven out of the world by suffering?’³⁴⁴

‘Though it may seem to some a riddle, We use to light our candles at the middle.’³⁴⁵

‘What men die two deaths at once?’³⁴⁶

‘Are men ever in heaven and on earth at the same time?’³⁴⁷

‘Can a beggar be worth ten thousand a-year and not know it?’³⁴⁸

He even introduced a dance upon the destruction of Despair, Mr. Ready-to-halt, with his partner Miss Much-afraid, while Christiana and Mercy furnished the music. ‘True, he could not dance without one crutch in his hand; but I promise you he footed it well. Also the girl was to be commended, for she answered the music handsomely.’ Is this the gloomy fanaticism of a Puritan divine? It is true, that promiscuous dancing, or any other amusement tending to evil, he had given up and discountenanced, but all his writings tend to prove that the Christian only can rationally and piously enjoy the world that now is, while living in the delightful hope of bliss in that which is to come.

Bunyan’s personal appearance and character was drawn by his friend Mr. Doe. ‘He appeared in countenance stern and rough, but was mild and affable; loving to reconcile differences and make friendships. He made it his study, above all other things, not to give occasion of offence. In his family he kept a very strict discipline in prayer and exhortations. He had a sharp, quick eye, and an excellent discerning of persons; of good judgment and quick wit. Tall in stature, strong-boned; somewhat of a ruddy face with sparkling eyes; his hair reddish, but sprinkled with gray; nose well set; mouth moderately large; forehead something high, and his habit always plain and modest.’

My determination in writing this memoir has been to follow the scriptural example, by fairly recording every defect discoverable in Bunyan’s character; but what were considered by some to be blemishes, after his conversion, appear, in my estimation, to be beauties. His moral and religious character was irreproachable, and his doctrinal views most scriptural; all agree in this, that he was a bright and shining light; unrivalled for his allegories, and for the vast amount of his usefulness. His friend, Mr. Wilson, says, ‘Though his enemies and persecutors, in his lifetime, did what they could to vilify and reproach him, yet, being gone, he that before had the testimony of their consciences, hath now their actual commendation and applause.’³⁴⁹ To this we may add, that he was without sectarianism, a most decided Bible Christian. This reveals the secret of his striking phraseology. It was in the sacred pages of Divine truth that he learned grammar and rhetoric. Style, and all his knowledge of the powers of language—all were derived from the only source of his religious wisdom and learning. He lived, and thought, and wrote under the influence of the holy oracles, translated by the Puritans in 1560, compared with the version of 1611. This gives a charm to all his works, and suits them to every human capacity.

Reader, the object of biography is to excite emulation. Why should not others arise as extensively to bless the world as Bunyan did? The storehouses of heaven from which he was replenished with holy treasures, are inexhaustible. As he said, ‘God has bags of mercy yet unsealed.’ We have the same holy 0oracles, and the same mercy-seat. The time is past for merely challenging the right to personal judgment of religious truths. In Britain the lions are securely chained, and the cruel giants disabled. The awful crime of imprisoning and torturing man for conscience’ sake, exists only in kingdoms where darkness reigns—

‘’Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy.’

We stand upon higher ground than our forefathers; we take our more solemn stand upon the imperative duty of personal investigation—that no one can claim the name of Christian, unless he has laid aside all national, or family, or educational prejudices, and drawn from the holy oracles alone all his scheme of salvation and rules of conduct. All the secret of Bunyan’s vast usefulness, the foundation of all his honour, is, that the fear of God swallowed up the fear of man; that he was baptized into the truths of revelation, and lived to exemplify them. He was a bright and shining light in a benighted world; and of him it may be most emphatically said, ‘Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.’

GEORGE OFFOR.

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³²⁷ Vol. iii., p. 297.

³²⁸ Vol. i., p. 714.

³²⁹ Vol. i., p. 686.

³³⁰ Vol. i., pp. 690, 691.

³³¹ Vol. ii., p. 261.

³³² Vol. iii., p. 748.

³³³ It is noticed, in a letter to the Secretary for Ireland, dated September 6, 1688—’On teusday last died the Lord Mayor Sir J. Shorter. A few days before died Bunnian his lordship’s teacher or chaplain a man said to be gifted that way though once a cobler’ [Ellis’s Cor., vol. ii., p. 161]. We can excuse the sarcasm of a Roman Catholic, and with equal good nature, and more truth, remark, that the great and eminent pope, Sixtus V., was once a swineherd—not a bad school in which to study how to keep up a despotic sway over the Papacy.

³³⁴ Vol. iii., p. 308.

³³⁵ Law and Grace, marg., vol. i., p. 524.

³³⁶ Vol. ii., p. 651.

³³⁷ Vol. i., pp. 634, 635.

³³⁸ Vol. ii., p. 653.

³³⁹ Vol. i., p. 647.

³⁴⁰ Vol. ii., p. 15.

³⁴¹ Vol. ii., p. 497.

³⁴² Vol. iii., p. 251.

³⁴³ Emblem xiv., vol. iii., p. 751.

³⁴⁴ Christ is made known by the sufferings of his saints, vol. ii., p. 701, and note.

³⁴⁵ Vol. iii., p. 751, and note.

³⁴⁶ Vol. iii., p. 595.

³⁴⁷ Vol. ii., p. 22.

³⁴⁸ Vol. ii., p. 257.

³⁴⁹ Works, folio, 1693.

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