November 12, 1681,
Bunyan's friend and fellow laborer 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. 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. 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 learned 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 were 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 allegories.
There is as vast a superiority in Bunyan's Holy War over that by Chrysostom, as
there is in the sun over a rushlight.
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