Books: The Works of John Bunyan Volume 1
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John Bunyan >> The Works of John Bunyan Volume 1
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No laboured composition could have produced such a dream as this.
It flows in such dream-like order as would lead us to infer, that
the author who narrates it had, when a boy, heard the twenty-fifth
chapter of Matthew read at church, and the solemn impression
following him at night assisted in producing a dream which stands,
and perhaps will ever stand, unrivalled.
Awful as must have been these impressions upon his imagination, they
were soon thrown off, and the mad youth rushed on in his desperate
career of vice and folly. Is he then left to fill up the measure
of his iniquities? No, the Lord has a great work for him to do.
HIS hand is not shortened that he cannot save. Bunyan has to be
prepared for his work; and if terrors will not stop him, manifested
mercies in judgments are to be tried.
'God did not utterly leave me, but followed me still, not now with
convictions, but judgments; yet such as were mixed with mercy. For
once I fell into a creek of the sea, and hardly escaped drowning.
Another time I fell out of a boat into Bedford river, but mercy
yet preserved me alive. Besides, another time, being in the field
with one of my companions, it chanced that an adder passed over
the highway, so I, having a stick in my hand, struck her over the
back; and having stunned her, I forced open her mouth with my stick,
and plucked her sting out with my fingers; by which act, had not
God been merciful unto me, I might by my desperateness have brought
myself to my end.
'This also have I taken notice of, with thanksgiving. When I was a
soldier, I, with others, were drawn out to go to such a place to
besiege it; but when I was just ready to go, one of the company
desired to go in my room, to which, when I had consented, he took
my place; and coming to the siege, as he stood sentinel, he was
shot into the head with a musket bullet, and died.'[27]
In addition to these mercies recorded by his own pen, one of his
friends asserts that he acknowledged his deep obligations to Divine
mercy for being saved when he fell into an exceeding deep pit, as
he was traveling in the dark; for having been preserved in sickness;
and also for providential goodness that such a sinner was sustained
with food and raiment, even to his own admiration.
Bunyan adds, 'Here were judgments and mercy, but neither of them
did awaken my soul to righteousness'; wherefore I sinned still,
and grew more and more rebellious against God, and careless of mine
own salvation.'[28]
That such a scape-grace should enter the army can occasion no surprise.
His robust, hardy frame, used to exposure in all weathers--his
daring courage, as displayed in his perilous dealing with the
adder, bordering upon fool-hardiness--his mental depravity and
immoral habits, fitted him for all the military glory of rapine and
desolation. In his Grace Abounding he expressly states that this
took place before his marriage, while his earliest biographer places
this event some years after his marriage, and even argues upon
it, as a reason why he became a soldier, that 'when the unnatural
civil war came on, finding little or nothing to do to support
himself and small family, he, as many thousands did, betook himself
to arms.'[29] The same account states that, 'in June, 1645, being
at the siege of Leicester, he was called out to be one who was to
make a violent attack upon the town, vigorously defended by the
King's forces against the Parliamentarians, but appearing to the
officer who was to command them to be somewhat awkward in handling
his arms, another voluntarily, and as it were thrust himself into
his place, who, having the same post that was designed Mr. Bunyan,
met his fate by a carbine-shot from the wall; but this little or
nothing startled our too secure sinner at that time; for being now
in an army where wickedness abounded, he was the more hardened.'
Thus we find Bunyan engaged in military affairs. There can be no
doubt but that he was a soldier prior to his marriage, and that he
was present at the siege of Leicester; but it is somewhat strange
(if true) that he should have preferred the Parliamentary to the
Royal army. Although this is a question that cannot be positively
decided without further evidence than has yet been discovered,
there are strong reasons for thinking that so loyal a man joined
the Royal army, and not that of the Republicans.
The army into which Bunyan entered is described as being 'where
wickedness abounded,' but, according to Hume, in this year the
Republican troops were generally pious men.
Bunyan's loyalty was so remarkable as to appear to be natural to
him; for even after he had so severely suffered from the abuse of
kingly power, in interfering with the Divine prerogative of appointing
modes of worship, he, who feared the face of no man--who never
wrote a line to curry favour with any man or class of men--thus
expresses his loyal feelings--'I do confess myself one of the
old-fashioned professors, that covet to fear God, and honour the
king. I also am for blessing of them that curse me, for doing good
to them that hate me, and for praying for them that despitefully
use me and persecute me; and have had more peace in the practice of
these things than all the world are aware of.' 'Pray for the long
life of the king.' 'Pray that God would discover all plots and
conspiracies against his person and government.'[30] 'Will you rebel
against the king? is a word that shakes the world.'[31] 'Pray for
all that are in authority; reproach not the governor, he is set over
thee; all his ways are God's, either for thy help or the trial of
thy graces--this is duty, will render thee lovely to thy friends,
terrible to thine enemies, serviceable as a Christian.'[32]
'Let kings have that fear, honour, reverence, worship that is due
to their place, their office and dignity.' 'I speak it to show my
loyalty to the king, and my love to my fellow-subjects.'[33] With
such proofs of his peaceful submission to government in all things
that touched not the prerogatives of God; it would have been marvelous
indeed if he had taken up arms against his king. His infatuated
delight in swearing, and roisterous habits, were ill suited to the
religious restraints of the Parliamentarians, while they would render
him a high prize to Rupert's dragoons. Add to this, the remarkable
fact, that Leicester was besieged and stormed with terrible slaughter
by the king, but not by the army of the Parliament. The taking of
Leicester by the king in person was attended with great cruelties.
The abbey was burnt by the cavaliers. Rupert's black flag was
hoisted on the gate which had been treacherously given up. Every
Scotchman found in the town was murdered. The mace and town seals
were carried off as plunder; and, if the account given by Thoresby
in his History of Leicester is correct, the scene of carnage was
quite enough to sicken Bunyan of a military life. He knew the mode
in which plunder taken from the bodies of the slain was divided by
the conquerors:--
'Or as the soldiers give unto
Each man the share and lot,
Which they by dint of sword have won,
From their most daring foe;
While he lies by as still as stone,
Not knowing what they do.'[34]
'The king's forces having made their batteries, stormed Leicester;
those within made stout resistance, but some of them betrayed
one of the gates; the women of the town laboured in making up the
breaches, and in great danger. The king's forces having entered
the town, had a hot encounter in the market-place; and many of them
were slain by shot out of the windows, that they gave no quarter,
but hanged some of the committee, and cut others to pieces. Some
letters say that the kennels ran down with blood; Colonel Gray the
governor, and Captain Hacker, were wounded and taken prisoners,
and very many of the garrison were put to the sword, and the town
miserably plundered. The king's forces killed divers who prayed
quarter, and put divers women to the sword,[35] and other women
and children they turned naked into the streets, and many they
ravished. They hanged Mr. Reynor and Mr. Sawyer in cold blood; and
at Wighton they smothered Mrs. Barlowes, a minister's wife, and
her children.'[36]
Lord Clarendon admits the rapine and plunder, and that the king
regretted that some of his friends suffered with the rest.[37]
Humphrey Brown deposed that he was present when the garrison, having
surrendered upon a promise of quarter, he saw the king's soldiers
strip and wound the prisoners, and heard the king say--'cut them
more, for they are mine enemies.' A national collection was made
for the sufferers, by an ordinance bearing date the 28th October,
1645, which states that--'Whereas it is very well known what miseries
befell the inhabitants of the town and county of Leicester, when
the king's army took Leicester, by plundering the said inhabitants,
not only of their wares in their shops, but also all their household
goods, and their apparel from their backs, both of men, women,
and children, not sparing, in that kind, infants in their cradles;
and, by violent courses and tortures, compelled them to discover
whatsoever they had concealed or hid, and after all they imprisoned
their persons, to the undoing of the tradesmen, and the ruin of
many of the country.'
Can we wonder that 'the king was abused as a barbarian and a
murderer, for having put numbers to death in cold blood after the
garrison had surrendered; and for hanging the Parliament's committee,
and some Scots found in that town?' The cruelties practiced in the
king's presence were signally punished. He lost 709 men on that
occasion, and it infused new vigour into the Parliament's army. The
battle of Naseby was fought a few days after; the numbers of the
contending forces were nearly equal; the royal troops were veterans,
commanded by experienced officers; but the God of armies avenged
the innocent blood shed in Leicester, and the royal army was cut to
pieces; carriages, cannon, the king's cabinet, full of treasonable
correspondence, were taken, and from that day he made feeble fight,
and soon lost his crown and his life. The conquerors marched to
Leicester, which surrendered by capitulation. Heath, in his Chronicle,
asserts that 'no life was lost at the retaking of Leicester.' Many
of Bunyan's sayings and proverbs are strongly tinged with the spirit
of Rupert's dragoons--'as we say, blood up to the ears.'[38] 'What
can be the meaning of this (trumpeters), they neither sound boot
and saddle, nor horse and away, nor a charge?'[39] In his allegories
when he alludes to fighting, it is with the sword and not with the
musket;[40] 'rub up man, put on thy harness.'[41] 'The father's
sword in the hand of the sucking child is not able to conquer a
foe.'[42]
Considering his singular loyalty, which, during the French
Revolution, was exhibited as a pattern to Dissenters by an eminent
Baptist minister; [43] considering also his profligate character
and military sayings, it is very probable that Bunyan was in the
king's army in 1645, being about seventeen years of age. It was a
finishing school to the hardened sinner, which enabled him, in his
account of the Holy War, so well to describe every filthy lane and
dirty street in the town of Mansoul.
Whether Bunyan left the army when Charles was routed at the battle
of Naseby, or was discharged, is not known. He returned to his
native town full of military ideas, which he used to advantage in
his Holy War. He was not reformed, but hardened in sin, and, although
at times alarmed with convictions of the danger of his soul, yet in
the end, the flesh pleading powerfully, it prevailed; and he made
a resolution to indulge himself in such carnal delights and pleasures
as he was accustomed to, or that fell in his way. 'His neglecting
his business, and following gaming and sports, to put melancholy
thoughts out of his mind, which he could not always do, had rendered
him very poor and despicable.'[44]
In this forlorn and miserable state, he was induced, by the persuasion
of friends, under the invisible guidance of God, to enter into the
marriage state. Such a youth, then only twenty years of age, would
naturally be expected to marry some young woman as hardened as
himself, but he made a very different choice. His earliest biographer
says, with singular simplicity, 'his poverty, and irregular course
of life, made it very difficult for him to get a wife suitable to
his inclination; and because none that were rich would yield to
his allurements, he found himself constrained to marry one without
any fortune, though very virtuous, loving, and conformably obedient
and obliging, being born of good, honest, godly parents, who had
instructed her, as well as they were able, in the ways of truth
and saving knowledge.'[45] The idea of his seeking a rich wife is
sufficiently droll; he must have been naturally a persuasive lover,
to have gained so good a helpmate. They were not troubled with
sending cards, cake, or gloves, nor with the ceremony of receiving
the visits of their friends in state; for he says, that 'This woman
and I came together as poor as poor might be, not having so much
household stuff as a dish or spoon betwixt us both.'[46] His wife
had two books, The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven, and The Practice
of Piety; but what was of more importance than wealth or household
stuff, she had that seed sown in her heart which no thief could
steal.[47] She enticed and persuaded him to read those books. To
do this he by application 'again recovered his reading, which he
had almost lost.' His wife became an unspeakable blessing to him.
She presents a pattern to any woman, who, having neglected the
apostolic injunction not to be unequally yoked, finds herself under
the dominion of a swearing dare devil. It affords a lovely proof
of the insinuating benign favour of female influence. This was the
more surprising, as he says, 'the thoughts of religion were very
grievous to me,' and when 'books that concerned Christian piety
were read in my hearing, it was as it were a prison to me.' In spite
of all obstacles, his rugged heart was softened by her tenderness
and obedience, he 'keeping on the old course,'[48] she upon every
proper season teaching him how her father's piety secured his own
and his family's happiness. Here was no upbraiding, no snubbing,
no curtain lectures; all was affectionate, amiable mildness. At
first, he became occasionally alarmed for his soul's salvation;
then with the thought of having sinned away the day of grace, he
plunged again into sin with greediness; anon a faint hope of mercy
would fill him with fear and trembling. But this leads us to the
wondrous narrative of his new birth.
THE SECOND PERIOD.
THE INTERNAL CONFLICT, OR BUNYAN'S CONVICTIONS AND CONVERSION.
All nature is progressive; if an infant was suddenly to arrive at
manhood, how idiotic and dangerous he would be! A long training is
essential to fit the human being for the important duties of life;
and just so is it in the new birth to spiritual existence--first a
babe, then the young man; at length the full stature, and at last
the experienced Christian.
The narrative of Bunyan's progress in his conversion is, without
exception, the most astonishing of any that has been published. It
is well calculated to excite the profoundest investigation of the
Christian philosopher. Whence came those sudden suggestions, those
gloomy fears, those heavenly rays of joy? Much learning certainly
did not make him mad. The Christian dares not attribute his intense
feelings to a distempered brain. Whence came the invisible power
that struck Paul from his horse? Who was it that scared Job with
dreams, and terrified him with visions? What messenger of Satan
buffeted Paul? Who put 'a new song' into the mouth of David? We
have no space in this short memoir to attempt the drawing a line
between convictions of sin and the terrors of a distempered brain.
Bunyan's opinions upon this subject are deeply interesting, and
are fully developed in his Holy War. The capabilities of the soul
to entertain vast armies of thoughts, strong and feeble, represented
as men, women, and children, are so great as almost to perplex the
strongest understanding. All these multitudes of warriors are the
innumerable thoughts--the strife--in ONE soul. Upon such a subject
an interesting volume might be written. But we must fix our attention
upon the poor tinker who was the subject of this wondrous war.
The tender and wise efforts of Mrs. Bunyan to reclaim her husband, were
attended by the Divine blessing, and soon led to many resolutions,
on his part, to curb his sinful propensities and to promote an outward
reformation; his first effort was regularly to attend Divine worship.
He says, 'I fell in very eagerly with the religion of the times, to
wit, to go to church twice a-day, and that too with the foremost;
and there should very devoutly both say and sing as others did,
yet retaining my wicked life; but withal, I was so overrun with a
spirit of superstition, that I adored, and that with great devotion,
even all things, both the high-place, priest, clerk, vestment,
service, and what else belonging to the Church; counting all things
holy that were therein contained, and especially, the priest and
clerk most happy, and without doubt greatly blessed, because they
were the servants, as I then thought,[49] of God, and were principal
in the holy temple, to do his work therein. This conceit grew so
strong in little time upon my spirit, that had I but seen a priest,
though never so sordid and debauched in his life,[50] I should find
my spirit fall under him, reverence him, and knit unto him; yea,
I thought, for the love I did bear unto them, supposing they were
the ministers of God, I could have lain down at their feet, and
have been trampled upon by them; their name, their garb, and work
did so intoxicate and bewitch me.'
All this took place at the time when The Book of Common Prayer,
having been said to occasion 'manifold inconveniency,' was, by an
Act of Parliament, 'abolished,'[51] and by a subsequent Act[52]
prohibited, under severe penalties, from being publicly used.
The 'manifold inconveniences' to which the Act refers, arose from
differences of opinion as to the propriety of the form which had
been enforced, heightened by the enormous cruelties practiced upon
multitudes who refused to use it. Opposition to the English Liturgy
as more combined in Scotland, by a covenant entered into, June 20,
1580, by the king, lords, nobles, and people, against Popery; and
upon Archbishop Laud's attempt, in 1637, to impose the service-book
upon our northern neighbours, tumults and bloodshed ensued; until,
in 1643, a new and very solemn league and covenant was entered into,
which, in 1645, extended its influence to England, being subscribed
by thousands of our best citizens, with many of the nobility--'wherein
we all subscribe, and each with his own hands lifted up to the
Most High God, doe swear'; that being the mode of taking an oath,
instead of kissing the cover of a book, as is now practiced. To the
cruel and intemperate measures of Laud, and the zeal of Charles,
for priestly domination over conscience, may be justly attributed
the wars which desolated the country, while the solemn league and
covenant brought an overwhelming force to aid the Parliament in
redressing the grievances of the kingdom. During the Commonwealth
there was substituted, in place of the Common Prayer, A directory
for the Publique Worship of God, and the uniformity which was
enjoined in it was like that of the Presbyterians and Dissenters
of the present day. The people having assembled, and been exhorted
to reverence and humility, joined the preacher in prayer. He then
read portions of Scripture, with or without an exposition, as he
judged it necessary, but not so as to render the service tedious.
After singing a psalm, the minister prayed, leading the people
to mourn under a sense of sin, and to hunger and thirst after the
grace of God, in Jesus Christ; an outline or abstract is given of
the subject of public prayer, and similar instructions are given as
to the sermon or paraphrase. Immediately after the sermon, prayer
was again offered up, and after the outline that is given of this
devotional exercise, it is noted, 'And because the prayer which
Christ taught his disciples, is not only a pattern of prayer, but
itself a most comprehensive prayer, we recommend it also to be
used in the prayers of the Church.' This being ended, a psalm was
sung, and the minister dismissed the congregation with a solemn
blessing.[53] Some of the clergy continued the use of prayers,
contained in the liturgy, reciting, instead of reading them--a
course that was not objected to. This was the form of service which
struck Bunyan with such awe and reverence, leaving a very solemn
impression upon his mind, which the old form of common prayer had
never produced.
Bunyan was fond of athletic sports, bell-ringing, and dancing; and
in these he had indulged, so far as his worldly calling allowed.
Charles I, whether to promote Popery--to divert his subjects from
political grievances--or to punish the Puritans, had endeavoured
to drown their serious thoughts in a vortex of dissipation,
by re-publishing the Book of Sports, to be used on Sundays. That
'after Divine service our good people be not disturbed, letted, or
discouraged from dancing, either men or women; archery, leaping,
vaulting, or any other such harmless recreations; May games,
Whitsun-ales, Morris dances, May poles, and other sports.' But this
was not all, for every 'Puritan and Precisian was to be constrained
to conformity with these sports, or to leave their country.' The
same severe penalty was enforced upon every clergyman who refused to
read from his pulpit the Book of Sports, and to persuade the people
thus to desecrate the Lord's-day. 'Many hundred godly ministers
were suspended from their ministry, sequestered, driven from their
livings, excommunicated, prosecuted in the high commission court,
and forced to leave the kingdom for not publishing this declaration.'[54]
A little gleam of heavenly light falls upon those dark and gloomy
times, from the melancholy fact that nearly eight hundred conscientious
clergymen were thus wickedly persecuted. This was one of the works
of Laud, who out-bonnered Bonner himself in his dreadful career
of cruelty, while making havoc of the church of Christ. Even
transportation for refusing obedience to such diabolical laws was
not the greatest penalty; in some cases it was followed by the death
of the offender. The punishments inflicted for nonconformity were
accompanied by the most refined and barbarous cruelties. Still many
of the learned bowed their necks to this yoke with abject servility:
thus, Robert Powell, speaking of the Book of Sports, says, 'Needless
is it to argue or dispute for that which authority hath commanded,
and most insufferable insolence to speak or write against it.'[55]
These Sunday sports, published by Charles I, in 1633, had doubtless
aided in fostering Bunyan's bad conduct in his youthful days.
In 1644, when The Book of Common Prayer was abolished, an Act was
passed for the better observance of the Lord's-day; all persons
were prohibited on that day to use any wrestlings, shooting, bowing,
ringing of bells for pastime, masques, wakes, church-ales, dancing,
game, sports or pastime whatever; and that 'the Book of Sports
shall be seized, and publicly burnt.' During the civil war this
Act does not appear to have been strictly enforced; for, four years
after it was passed, we find Bunyan and his dissolute companions
worshipping the priest, clerk, and vestments on the Sunday morning,
and assembling for their Sabbath-breaking sports in the afternoon.
It was upon one of these occasions that a most extraordinary
impression was fixed upon the spirit of Bunyan. A remarkable scene
took place, worthy the pencil of the most eminent artist. This
event cannot be better described than in his own words:--
'One day, amongst all the sermons our parson made, his subject
was, to treat of the Sabbath-day, and of the evil of breaking that,
either with labour, sports, or otherwise; now I was, notwithstanding
my religion, one that took much delight in all manner of vice, and
especially that was the day that I did solace myself therewith;
wherefore I fell in my conscience under his sermons, thinking and
believing that he made that sermon on purpose to show me my evil
doing. And at that time I felt what guilt was, though never before,
that I can remember; but then I was, for the present, greatly
loaden therewith, and so went home, when the sermon was ended, with
a great burthen upon my spirit.
'This, for that instant, did benumb the sinews of my best delights,
and did imbitter my former pleasures to me; but behold it lasted
not for before I had well dined, the trouble began to go off my
mind, and my heart returned to its old course. But O! how glad was
I, that this trouble was gone from me, and that the fire was put
out, that I might sin again without control! Wherefore, when I had
satisfied nature with my food, I shook the sermon out of my mind,
and to my old custom of sports and gaming I returned with great
delight.
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