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.
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]
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-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-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.
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.
John Bunyan
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.