Chapter 12

After having lain in prison about seven weeks, the session was held at Bedford, for the county; and Bunyan was placed at the bar, indicted for devilishly and perniciously abstaining from coming to church to hear Divine service, and as a common upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction of the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king. In this indictment Bunyan is not described as ‘of Elstow’ but ‘of Bedford.’ Probably he had removed to Bedford soon after he joined Gifford’s church. The bench was numerous, and presided over by Justice Keelin.[227] If this was Sergeant Kelynge who, the following year, was made Lord Chief-Justice, he was a most arbitrary tyrant, equaled or excelled only by Judge Jeffreys. It was before him that some persons were indicted for attending a conventicle; but it being only proved that they had assembled on the Lord’s-day with Bibles in their hands without prayer-books, and there being no proof that their meeting was only under colour or pretence of religion, the jury acquitted them. Upon this he fined each of the jury-men one hundred marks, and imprisoned them till the fines were paid. Again, on a trial for murder, the prisoner being under suspicion of Dissent, was one whom the judge had a great desire to hang, he fined and imprisoned all the jury because, contrary to his direction, they brought in a verdict of manslaughter! Well was it said, that he was more fit to charge the Roundheads under Prince Rupert than to charge a jury. After a short career, he fell into utter contempt.[228] He entered into a long argument with the poor tinker, about using the liturgy of the Church of England, first warning him of his danger if he spake lightly of it. Bunyan argued that prayer was purely spiritual, the offering of the heart, and not the reading of a form. The justice declared—‘We know the Common Prayer-book hath been ever since the apostles’ time, and is lawful to be used in the church!!’ It is surprising that such a dialogue was ever entered upon; either Keling was desirous of triumphing over the celebrated tinker, or his countenance and personal appearance commanded respect. For some cause he was treated with great liberality for those times; the extent of it may be seen by one justice asking him, ‘Is your God Beelzebub?’ and another declaring that he was possessed with the devil! ‘All which,’ says Bunyan, ‘I passed over, the Lord forgive them!’ When, however, the justice was worsted in argument, and acknowledged that he was not well versed in Scripture, he demanded the prisoner’s plea, saying, ‘Then you confess the indictment?’ ‘Now,’ says Bunyan, ‘and not till now, I saw I was indicted; and said—“This I confess, we have had many meetings together, both to pray to God, and to exhort one another; and that we had the sweet comforting presence of the Lord among us for our encouragement (blessed be his name!); therefore I confess myself guilty, and no otherwise.”’ This was recorded as a plea of guilty, and Keling resumed his natural ferocity. ‘Then,’ said he, ‘hear your judgment. You must be had back again to prison, and there lie for three months following; and then, if you do not submit to go to church to hear Divine service, and leave your preaching, you must be banished the realm; and after that, if you shall be found in this realm without special license from the king, you must stretch by the neck for it. I tell you plainly’; ‘and so he bid my jailer have me away.’ The hero answered—‘I am at a point with you: if I were out of prison to-day, I would preach the gospel again to-morrow, by the help of God.’[229]

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

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

In Scotland, the persecution raged with still more deadly violence. Military, in addition to civil despotism, strove to enforce the use of the Book of Common Prayer. The heroic achievements and awful suffering of Scottish Christians saved their descendants from this yoke of bondage.[231]

A short account of the extent of the sufferings of our pious ancestors is given in the Introduction to the Pilgrim’s Progress[232]—a narrative which would appear incredible did it not rest upon unimpeachable authority. It would be difficult to believe the records of the brutal treatment which the sufferers underwent had they not been handed down to us in the State Trials, and in public registers, over which the persecuted had no control. Two instances will show the extreme peril in which the most learned and pious men held their lives. John James, the pastor of a Baptist church in Whitechapel, was charged, upon the evidence of a perjured drunken vagabond named Tipler, a pipe-maker’s journeyman, who was not present in the meeting, but swore that he heard him utter treasonable words. Notwithstanding the evidence of some most respectable witnesses, who were present during the whole service, and distinctly proved that no such words were used, Mr. James was convicted, and sentenced to be hung. His distracted wife saw the king, presented a petition, and implored mercy, when the unfeeling monarch replied, ‘O! Mr. James; he is a sweet gentleman.’ Again, on the following morning, she fell at his feet, beseeching his royal clemency, when he spurned her from him, saying, ‘John James, that rogue, he shall be hanged; yea, he shall be hanged.’ And, in the presence of his weeping friends, he ascended from the gibbet to the mansions of the blessed. His real crime was, that he continued to preach after having been warned not to do so by John Robinson, lieutenant of the Tower, properly called, by Mr. Crosby,[233] a devouring wolf, upon whose head the blood of this and other innocent Dissenters will be found. Another Dissenting minister, learned, pious, loyal, and peaceful, was, during Bunyan’s time, marked for destruction. Thomas Rosewell was tried before the monster Jeffreys. He was charged, upon the evidence of two infamous informers, with having doubted the power of the king to cure the kings’ evil, and with saying that they should overcome their enemies with rams’ horns, broken platters, and a stone in a sling. A number of most respectable witnesses deposed to their having been present; that no such words were uttered, and that Mr. Rosewell was eminent for loyalty and devoted attachment to the Government. Alas! he was a Dissenting teacher of high standing, of extensive acquirements, and of great earnestness in seeking the salvation of sinners; and, under the direction of that brutal judge, the venal jury found him guilty, and he was sentenced to be hung. This frightful sentence would have been executed but from a singular interposition of Providence. Sir John Talbot was present during the trial, and a stranger to Mr. Rosewell; but he was so struck with the proceedings, that he hastened to the king, related the facts, and added, ‘that he had seen the life of a subject, who appeared to be a gentleman and a scholar, in danger, upon such evidence as he would not hang his dog on.’ And added, ‘Sire, if you suffer this man to die, we are none of us safe in our own houses.’ At this moment Jeffreys came in, gloating over his prey, exulting in the innocent blood he was about to shed, when, to his utter confusion, the king said, ‘Mr. Rosewell shall not die’; and his pardon was issued under the great seal.[234] Every Englishman should read the state trials of that period, recording the sufferings of Richard Baxter, William Penn, Sir H. Vane, and many others of our most pious forefathers; and they must feel that it was a miracle of mercy that saved the life of Bunyan, and gave him leisure to write not only his popular allegories, but the most valuable treatises in the English language upon subjects of the deepest importance.

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

Like an experienced military commander, he wisely advises every Christian to have a reserve for Christ in case of dire emergency. ‘We ought to have a reserve for Christ, to help us at a dead lift. When profession and confession will not do; when loss of goods and a prison will not do; when loss of country and of friends will not do; when nothing else will do, then willingly to lay down our lives for his name.’[235] In the midst of all these dread uncertainties, his soul was raised to heavenly contemplations of the future happiness of the saints of God.

It is deeply impressive to view a man, with gigantic intellect, involved in the net which was laid to trammel his free spirit, disregarding his own wisdom; seeking guidance from heaven in earnest prayer, and in searching the sacred Scriptures; disentangling himself, and calmly waiting the will of his heavenly Father. Still he severely felt the infirmities of nature. Parting with his wife and children, he described as ‘the pulling the flesh from the bones. I saw I was as a man who was pulling down his house upon the head of his wife and children; yet, thought I, I must do it.’[236] His feelings were peculiarly excited to his poor blind Mary.[237] ‘O! the thoughts of the hardships my poor blind one might go under, would break my heart in pieces.’ It is one of the governing principles of human nature, that the most delicate or afflicted child excites our tenderest feelings. ‘I have seen men,’ says Bunyan, ‘take most care of, and best provide for those of their children that have been most infirm and helpless; and our Advocate “shall gather his lambs with his arms, and carry them in his bosom.”’[238] While in this state of distress, the promise came to his relief—‘Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.’ He had heard of the miseries of those banished Christians who had been sold into slavery, and perished with cold and calamities, lying in ditches like poor, forlorn, desolate sheep.

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

The clerk of the peace, Mr. Cobb, was sent by the justices to persuade him to conform, and had a very long and interesting conference with him in the prison. This shows that the magistrates were well convinced that he was a leader in nonconformity, who, if brought over, would afford them a signal triumph. In fact, he was called, by a beneficed clergyman, ‘the most notorious schismatic in all the county of Bedford.’[239] It is perhaps to the arguments of Cobb that he refers in his Advice to Sufferers. ‘The wife of the bosom lies at him, saying, O do not cast thyself away; if thou takest this course, what shall I do? Thou hast said thou lovest me; now make it manifest by granting this my small request—Do not still remain in thine integrity. Next to this come the children, which are like to come to poverty, to beggary, to be undone, for want of wherewithal to feed, and clothe, and provide for them for time to come. Now also come kindred, and relations, and acquaintance; some chide, some cry, some argue, some threaten, some promise, some flatter, and some do all to befool him for so unadvised an act as to cast away himself, and to bring his wife and children to beggary for such a thing as religion. These are sore temptations.’[240] It was during this period of his imprisonment that the mad attempt was made, by Venner and his rabble, to overturn the government. This was pressed upon Bunyan as a reason why he should not hold meetings for religious exercises, but rely upon his more private opportunities of exhorting his neighbours. In reply to this, Mr. Cobb is reminded of Bunyan’s well-known loyalty, which would become useful in proportion to his public teaching. It was a pleasing interview, which, while it did not for a moment shake his determination, led him to thank Mr. Cobb for his civil and meek discourse, and to ejaculate a heartfelt prayer—‘O that we might meet in heaven.’[241] The whole of it is reprinted at the end of the Grace Abounding, and it shows that God gave him favour even with his persecutors. It Is not surprising that such a prisoner should have won the good opinion of his jailer, so that he was permitted the consolation of seeing his relatives and friends, who ministered to his comforts.

When the time arrived for the execution of the bitterest part of his sentence, God, in his providence, interposed to save the life of his servant. He had familiarized his mind with all the circumstances of a premature and appalling death; the gibbet, the ladder, the halter, had lost much of their terrors; he had even studied the sermon he would then have preached to the concourse of spectators. At this critical time the king’s coronation took place, on April 23, 1661. To garnish this grand ceremony, the king had ordered the release of numerous prisoners of certain classes, and within that description of offences was that for which Bunyan was confined. The proclamation allowed twelve months’ time to sue out the pardon under the great seal, but without this expensive process thousands of vagabonds and thieves were set at liberty, while, alas, an offence against the church was not to be pardoned upon such easy terms. Bunyan and his friends were too simple, honest, and virtuous, to understand why such a distinction should be made. The assizes being held in August, he determined to seek his liberty by a petition to the judges. The court sat at the Swan Inn, and as every incident in the life of this extraordinary man excites our interest, we are gratified to have it in our power to exhibit the state of this celebrated inn at that time.

Having written his petition, and made some fair copies of it, his modest, timid wife determined to present them to the judges. Her heroic achievements—for such they deserve to be called—on behalf of her husband, are admirably narrated by Bunyan, the whole of which is reprinted in our first volume,[243] and deserves a most attentive perusal. Want of space prevents us repeating it here, or even making extracts from it. She had previously traveled to London with a petition to the House of Lords, and entrusted it to Lord Barkwood, who conferred with some of the peers upon it, and informed her that they could not interfere, the king having committed the release of the prisoners to the judges. When they came the circuit and the assizes were held at Bedford; Bunyan in vain besought the local authorities that he might have liberty to appear in person and plead for his release. This reasonable request was denied, and, as a last resource, he committed his cause to an affectionate wife. Several times she appeared before the judges; love to her husband, a stern sense of duty, a conviction of the gross injustice practiced upon one to whom she was most tenderly attached, overcame her delicate, modest, retiring habits, and forced her upon this strange duty. Well did she support the character of an advocate. This delicate, courageous, high-minded woman appeared before Judge Hale, who was much affected with her earnest pleading for one so dear to her, and whose life was so valuable to his children. It was the triumph of love, duty, and piety, over bashful timidity. Her energetic appeals were in vain. She returned to the prison with a heavy heart, to inform her husband that, while felons, malefactors, and men guilty of misdemeanours were, without any recantation or promise of amendment, to be let loose upon society to grace the coronation, the poor prisoners for conscience’ sake were to undergo their unjust and savage sentences. Or, in plain words, that refusing to go to church to hear the Common Prayer was an unpardonable crime, not to be punished in any milder mode than recantation, or transportation, or the halter. With what bitter feelings must she have returned to the prison, believing that it would be the tomb of her beloved husband! How natural for the distressed, insulted wife to have written harsh things against the judge! She could not have conceived that, under the stately robes of Hale, there was a heart affected by Divine love. And when the nobleman afterwards met the despised tinker and his wife, on terms of perfect equality, clothed in more glorious robes in the mansions of the blessed, how inconceivable their surprise! It must have been equally so with the learned judge, when, in the pure atmosphere of heaven, he found that the illiterate tinker, harassed by poverty and imprisonment, produced books, the admiration of the world. As Dr. Cheever eloquently writes—‘How little could he dream, that from that narrow cell in Bedford jail a glory would shine out, illustrating the grace of God, and doing more good to man, than all the prelates and judges of the kingdom would accomplish.’[244]

Bunyan was thus left in a dreary and hopeless state of imprisonment, in which he continued for somewhat more than twelve years, and it becomes an interesting inquiry how he spent his time and managed to employ his great talent in his Master’s service. The first object of his solicitude would be to provide for his family, according to 1 Timothy 5:8. How to supply his house with bare necessaries to meet the expenses of a wife and four children, must have filled him with anxiety. The illness, death, and burial of his first beloved wife, had swept away any little reserve which otherwise might have accumulated, so that, soon after his imprisonment commenced, before he could resume any kind of labour, his wife thus pleaded with the judge for his liberty, ‘My lord, I have four small children that cannot help themselves, of which one is blind, and have nothing to live upon but the charity of good people.’ How inscrutable are the ways of Providence; the rich reveling in luxury while using their wealth to corrupt mankind, while this eminent saint, with his family, were dependent upon charity! As soon as he could get his tools in order he set to work; and we have the following testimony to his industry by a fellow-prisoner, Mr. Wilson, the Baptist minister, and of Charles Doe, who visited him in prison:—‘Nor did he, while he was in prison, spend his time in a supine and careless manner, nor eat the bread of idleness; for there have I been witness that his own hands have ministered to his and his family’s necessities, making many hundred gross of long tagged laces, to fill up the vacancies of his time, which he had learned to do for that purpose, since he had been in prison. There, also, I surveyed his library, the least, but yet the best that e’er I saw—the Bible and the Book of Martyrs.[245] And during his imprisonment (since I have spoken of his library), he writ several excellent and useful treatises, particularly The Holy City, Christian Behaviour, The Resurrection of the Dead, and Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners.’[246] Besides these valuable treatises, Charles Doe states that, of his own knowledge, in prison Bunyan wrote The Pilgrim’s Progress, the first part, and that he had this from his own mouth.[247] In addition to the demonstration of this important fact contained in the introduction to The Pilgrim’s Progress, there ought to have been added, Bunyan’s statement made in introducing his second part:—‘Now, having taken up my lodgings in a wood about a mile off the place’: no longer in ‘a den,’ but sheltered, in a wood, in a state of comparative, but not of perfect liberty, about a mile distant from the den in which he wrote his first part. Whether this may refer to his former cottage at Elstow, of which there is great doubt, or to the house he occupied in Bedford after his release, they were equally about a mile from the jail. He certainly means that the two parts were not written in the same place, nor is there a shadow of a doubt as to the fact that in prison the great allegory was conceived and written. Well might Mr. Doe say, ‘What hath the devil or his agents got by putting our great gospel minister in prison?’ They prevented his preaching to a few poor pilgrims in the villages round Bedford, and it was the means of spreading his fame, and the knowledge of the gospel, by his writings, throughout the world. Thus does the wrath of man praise God. In addition to the works above enumerated, he also published some extremely valuable tracts, several editions of a work which ought to be read by all young Christians—A Treatise on the Covenants of the Law and of Grace; several editions of Sighs from Hell; A Map of Salvation and Damnation; The Four Last Things, a poem; Mount Ebal and Gerizim, or, Redemption from the Curse, a poem; Prison Meditations, a poem: the four last are single sheets, probably sold by his children or friends to assist him in obtaining his livelihood: Justification by Faith in Jesus Christ, 4to; Confession of His Faith and Reason of His Practice. The most remarkable treatise which he published while in confinement, is on prayer, from the words of the apostle, ‘I will pray with the spirit and with the understanding also.’ His attention had been fixed on this subject when his free-born spirit was roused by the threat of Justice Keeling, ‘Take heed of speaking irreverently of the Book of Common Prayer, for if you do you will bring great damage upon yourself.’