Works of John Bunyan — by John Bunyan and George Offor— INTRODUCTION Part 12

 

'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.

'But the same day, as I was in the midst of a game at cat, and having struck it one blow from the hole, just as I was about to strike it the second time, a voice did suddenly dart from heaven into my soul, which said, "Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell?" At this I was put to an exceeding maze; wherefore leaving my cat upon the ground, I looked up to heaven, and was as if I had, with the eyes of my understanding, seen the Lord Jesus looking down upon me, as being very hotly displeased with me, and as if he did severely threaten me with some grievous punishment for these and other my ungodly practices.

'I had no sooner thus conceived in my mind, but, suddenly, this conclusion was fastened on my spirit, for the former hint did set my sins again before my face, that I had been a great and grievous sinner, and that it was now too late for me to look after heaven; for Christ would not forgive me, nor pardon my transgressions. Then I fell to musing upon this also; and while I was thinking on it, and fearing lest it should be so, I felt my heart sink in despair, concluding it was too late; and therefore I resolved in my mind I would go on in sin: for, thought I, if the case be thus, my state is surely miserable; miserable if I leave my sins, and but miserable if I follow them; I can but be damned, and if I must be so, I had as good be damned for many sins, as be damned for few.

'Thus I stood in the midst of my play, before all that then were present: but yet I told them nothing. But I say, I having made this conclusion, I returned desperately to my sport again; and I well remember, that presently this kind of despair did so possess my soul, that I was persuaded I could never attain to other comfort than what I should get in sin; for heaven was gone already; so that on that I must not think.'

How difficult is it, when immorality has been encouraged by royal authority, to turn the tide or to stem the torrent. For at least four years, an Act of Parliament had prohibited these Sunday sports. Still the supineness of the justices, and the connivance of the clergy, allowed the rabble youth to congregate on the Green at Elstow, summoned by the church bells to celebrate their sports and pastimes, as they had been in the habit of doing on the Lord's day.[

This solemn warning, received in the midst of his sport, was one of a series of convictions, by which he hardened sinner was to be fitted to receive the messages of mercy and love. In the midst of his companions and of the spectators, Bunyan was struck with a sense of guilt. How rapid were his thoughts—'Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell?' With the eye of his understanding he saw the Lord Jesus as 'hotly displeased.' The tempter suggests it is 'too, too late' to seek for pardon, and with a desperate resolution which must have cost his heart the severest pangs, he continued his game. Still the impression remained indelibly fixed upon his mind.

The next blow which fell upon his hardened spirit was still more deeply felt, because it was given by one from whom he could the least have expected it. He was standing at a neighbour's shop-window, 'belching out oaths like the madman that Solomon speaks of, who scatters abroad firebrands, arrows, and death'[58] 'after his wonted manner.' He exemplified the character drawn by the Psalmist. 'As he clothed himself with cursing like as with his garment: so let it come into his bowels like water, and like oil into his bones.' 

Works of John Bunyan — by John Bunyan and George Offor— INTRODUCTION Part 11

 

During the Commonwealth, there was substituted, in place of the Common Prayer, A directory for the Public 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 had assembled, and been exhorted to reverence and humility, and 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 endeavored 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, let, or discouraged from dancing, either men or women; archery, leaping, vaulting, or any other such harmless recreations; May games, Whitsun-ales, Morris dances, Maypoles, 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.' 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-bannered Bonner himself in his dreadful career of cruelty while making havoc on 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.'

 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 wrestling, 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 a 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 of 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.

Works of John Bunyan — by John Bunyan and George Offor— INTRODUCTION Part 10

 

 

 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 to 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 to 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 belongs 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, 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,' and by a subsequent Act 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 were 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 Highest God, doe swear'; that being the mode of taking an oath, instead of kissing the cover of a book, as is now practiced. The cruel and intemperate measures of Laud, and the zeal of Charles, for priestly domination over conscience, may be justly attributed to 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.

Works of John Bunyan — by John Bunyan and George Offor— INTRODUCTION Part 9

 

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.' 'What can be the meaning of this (trumpeters), they neither sound boot and saddle, nor horse and away, nor a charge?' In his allegories when he alludes to fighting, it is with the sword and not with the musket; 'rub up man, put on thy harness.' 'The father's sword in the hand of the sucking child is not able to conquer a foe.'

Considering his singular loyalty, which, during the French Revolution, was exhibited as a pattern to Dissenters by an eminent Baptist minister;  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, 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.'

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.' 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.' 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. 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 daredevil.

 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,' 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.

Works of John Bunyan — by John Bunyan and George Offor— INTRODUCTION Part 8

 

'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.'

'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, 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.'

Lord Clarendon admits the rapine and plunder, and that the king regretted that some of his friends suffered with the rest. 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. 

Works of John Bunyan — by John Bunyan and George Offor— INTRODUCTION Part 7

 

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.'

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.'

 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 was 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 favor 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 honor the king. I also am for the 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 is aware of.' 'Pray for the long life of the king.' 'Pray that God would discover all plots and conspiracies against his person and government.' 'Will you rebel against the king? is a word that shakes the world.' '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.' 'Let kings have that fear, honor, 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.

Works of John Bunyan — by John Bunyan and George Offor— INTRODUCTION Part 6

 

At another time he dreamed that he was in a pleasant place, jovial and rioting, banqueting and feasting his senses, when a mighty earthquake suddenly rent the earth, and made a wide gap, out of which came bloody flames, and the figures of men tossed up in globes of fire, and falling down again with horrible cries, shrieks, and execrations, whilst some devils that were mingled with them, laughed aloud at their torments; and whilst he stood trembling at this sight, he thought the earth sunk under him, and a circle of flame enclosed him; but when he fancied he was just at the point to perish, one in white shining raiment descended, and plucked him out of that dreadful place; whilst the devils cried after him, to leave him with them, to take the just punishment his sins had deserved, yet he escaped the danger and leaped for joy when he awoke and found it was a dream.'

Such dreams as these fitted him in after life to be the glorious dreamer of the Pilgrim's Progress, in which a dream is told which doubtless embodies some of those which terrified him in the night visions of his youth.

In the interpreter's house he is 'led into a chamber where there was one rising out of bed, and as he put on his raiment he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began and said, This night, as I was in my sleep I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceeding black; also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate, upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sit upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven—they were all in flaming fire; also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a voice saying, 

"Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment;" and with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth. Some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some sought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw the man that sat upon the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out and came from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge and prisoners at the bar. I heard it also proclaimed, "Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake"; and with that the bottomless pit opened just whereabout I stood, out of the mouth of which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said, "Gather my wheat into the garner"; and with that, I saw many caught up and carried away into the clouds, but I was left behind. I also sought to hide, but I could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me; my sins also came into my mind, and my conscience did accuse me on every side. Upon that I awoke from my sleep.'

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, unrivaled.

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 to 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.'

Works of John Bunyan — by John Bunyan and George Offor— INTRODUCTION Part 5

 

At another time he dreamed that he was in a pleasant place, jovial and rioting, banqueting and feasting his senses, when a mighty earthquake suddenly rent the earth, and made a wide gap, out of which came bloody flames, and the figures of men tossed up in globes of fire and falling down again with horrible cries, shrieks, and execrations, whilst some devils that were mingled with them, laughed aloud at their torments; and whilst he stood trembling at this sight, he thought the earth sunk under him, and a circle of flame enclosed him; but when he fancied he was just at the point to perish, one in white shining raiment descended, and plucked him out of that dreadful place; whilst the devils cried after him, to leave him with them, to take the just punishment his sins had deserved, yet he escaped the danger and leaped for joy when he awoke and found it was a dream.'

Such dreams as these fitted him in after life to be the glorious dreamer of the Pilgrim's Progress, in which a dream is told which doubtless embodies some of those which terrified him in the night visions of his youth.

In the interpreter's house, he is 'led into a chamber where there was one rising out of bed, and as he put on his raiment he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so-doing. So he began and said, This night, as I was in my sleep I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceeding black; also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate, upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sit upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven—they were all in flaming fire; also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a voice saying, "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment;" and with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that was therein came forth. Some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward, and some sought to hide under the mountains. Then I saw the man that sat upon the cloud open the book and bid the world draw near. 

Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out and came from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge and prisoners at the bar. I heard it also proclaimed, "Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake"; and with that the bottomless pit opened just whereabout I stood, out of the mouth of which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said, "Gather my wheat into the garner"; and with that I saw many caught up and carried away into the clouds, but I was left behind. I also sought to hide, but I could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me; my sins also came into my mind, and my conscience did accuse me on every side. Upon that, I awaked from my sleep.'

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, unrivaled.

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 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.

Works of John Bunyan — by John Bunyan and George Offor— INTRODUCTION Part 4

 

These reminiscences are alluded to in the prologue of the Holy
War:—

   'When Man soul trampled upon things Divine,
    And wallowed in filth as doth a swine,
    Then I was there, and did rejoice to see
    Diabolus and Man soul so agree.'

The Laureate had read this, and yet considers it the language of a heart that 'never was hardened.' He says that 'the wickedness of the tinker has been greatly overcharged, and it is taking the language of self-accusation too literally to pronounce of John Bunyan, that he was at any time depraved. The worst of what he was in his worst days is to be expressed in a single word, the full meaning of which no circumlocution can convey; and which, though it may hardly be deemed presentable in serious composition, I shall use, as Bunyan himself (no mealy-mouthed writer) would have used it, had it in his days borne the same acceptation in which it is now universally understood;—in that word then, he had been a blackguard.

    The very head and front of his offending
    Hath this extent—no more.'

The meaning of the epithet is admirably explained; but what could Dr. Southey imagine possible to render such a character viler in the sight of God, or a greater pest to society? Is there any vicious propensity, the gratification of which is not included in that character? Bunyan's estimate of his immorality and profaneness prior to his conversion was not made by comparing himself with the infinitely Holy One, but he measured his conduct by that of his more moral neighbors. In his Jerusalem Sinner Saved, he pleads with great sinners, the outwardly and violently profane and vicious, that if HE had received mercy, and had become regenerated, they surely ought not to despair, but to seek earnestly for the same grace. He thus describes himself:—' I speak by experience; I was one of those great sin-breeders; I infected all the youth of the town where I was born; the neighbors counted me so, my practice proved me so: wherefore, Christ Jesus took me first; and, taking me first, the contagion was much allayed all the town over. 

When God made me sigh, they would hearken, and inquiringly say, What's the matter with John? When I went out to seek the bread of life, some of them would follow, and the rest be put into a muse at home. Some of them, perceiving that God had mercy upon me, came crying to him for mercy too.' Can anyone, in the face of such language, doubt that he was most eminently a brand snatched from the fire'; a pitchy burning brand, known and seen as such by all who witnessed his conduct? He pointedly exemplified the character set forth by James, 'the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity, set on fire of hell' (James 3:6). This was as publicly known before his conversion, as the effects of the wondrous change were openly seen in his Christian career afterward. He who, when convinced of sin, strained his eyes to see the distant shining light over the wicket-gate, after he had gazed upon

      —'The wondrous cross
    On which the Prince of glory died,'

became a luminous beacon, to attract the vilest characters to seek the newness of life; and if there be hope for them, no one ought to despair. Far be it from us to cloud this light, or to tarnish so conspicuous an example. Like a Magdalene or a thief on the cross, his case may be exhibited to encourage hope in every returning prodigal. During this period of his childhood, while striving to harden his heart against God, many were the glimmerings of light which from time to time directed his unwilling eyes to a dread eternity. In the still hours of the night 'in a dream God opened' his ears—the dreadful vision was that 'devils and wicked spirits labored to draw me away with them.' These thoughts must have left a deep and alarming impression upon his mind; for he adds, 'of which I could never be rid.'

The author of his life, published in 1692, who was one of his personal friends, gives the following account of Bunyan's profligacy, and his checks of conscience:—' He himself hath often, since his conversion, confessed with horror, that when he was but a child or stripling, he had but few equals for lying, swearing, and blaspheming God's holy name—living without God in the world; the thoughts of which, when he, by the light of Divine grace, came to understand his dangerous condition, drew many showers of tears from his sorrowful eyes, and sighs from his groaning heart. The first thing that sensibly touched him in this unregenerate state were fearful dreams, and visions of the night, which often made him cry out in his sleep, and alarm the house as if somebody was about to murder him, and being waked, he would start, and stare about him with such a wildness, as if some real apparition had yet remained; and generally, those dreams were about evil spirits, in monstrous shapes and forms, that presented themselves to him in threatening postures as if they would have taken him away, or torn him in pieces. 

At some times they seemed to belch flame, at other times a continuous smoke, with horrible noises and roaring. Once he dreamed he saw the face of the heavens, as it were, all on fire; the firmament crackling and shivering with the noise of mighty thunders, and an archangel flew in the midst of heaven, sounding a trumpet, and a glorious throne was seated in the east, whereon sat one in brightness, like the morning star, upon which he, thinking it was the end of the world, fell upon his knees, and, with uplifted hands towards heaven, cried, O Lord God, have mercy upon me! What shall I do, the day of judgment has come, and I am not prepared! When immediately he heard a voice behind him, exceeding loud, saying, Repent.

Works of John Bunyan — by John Bunyan and George Offor— INTRODUCTION Part 3

 

Bunyan's parents do not appear to have checked, or attempted to counteract, his unbridled career of wickedness. He gives no hint of the kind; but when he notices his wife's father, he adds that he 'was counted godly'; and in his beautiful nonsectarian catechism, there is a very touching conclusion to his instructions to children on their behavior to their parents:—' The Lord, if it is his will, convert our poor parents, that they, with us, maybe the children of God.' These fervent expressions may refer to his own parents; and, connecting them with other evidence, it appears that he was not blessed with pious example. 

Upon one occasion, when severely reproved for swearing, he says—' I wished, with all my heart, that I might be a little child again, that my father might learn me to speak without this wicked way of swearing.' In his numerous confessions, he never expresses pain at having, by his vicious conduct, occasioned grief in his father or mother. From this it may be inferred, that neither his father's example nor precept had checked this wretched propensity to swearing and that he owed nothing to his parents for moral training; but, on the contrary, they had connived at, and encouraged him in, a course of life which made him a curse to the neighborhood in which he lived.

In the midst of all this violent depravity, the Holy Spirit began the work of regeneration in his soul—a long, a solemn, yea, an awful work—which was to fit this poor debauched youth for purity of conduct—for communion with heaven—for wondrous usefulness as a minister of the gospel—for patient endurance of sufferings for righteousness' sake—for the writing of works which promise to be a blessing to the Church in all ages—for his support during his passage through the black river which has no bridge—to shine all bright and glorious, as a star in the firmament of heaven. 'Wonders of grace to God belong.'

During the period of his open profligacy, his conscience was ill at ease; at times the clanking of Satan's slavish chains in which he was hurrying to destruction, distracted him. The stern reality of a future state clouded and embittered many of those moments employed in gratifying his baser passions. The face of the eventful times in which he lived was rapidly changing; the trammels were loosened, which, with atrocious penalties, had fettered all free inquiry into religious truth. Puritanism began to walk upright; and as the restraints imposed upon Divine truths were taken off, in the same proportion restraints were imposed upon impiety, profaneness, and debauchery. A ringleader in all wickedness would not long continue without reproof, either personally, or as seen in the holy conduct of others.

Bunyan very properly attributed to a gracious God, those checks of conscience which he so strongly felt even while he was apparently dead in trespasses and sins. 'The Lord, even in my childhood, did scare and affright me with fearful dreams, and did terrify me with dreadful visions.' 'I often wished that there had been no hell, or that I had been a devil to torment others.' A common childish but demoniac idea. His mind was as 'the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt.' 'A while after, these terrible dreams did leave me; and with more greediness, according to the strength of nature, I did let loose the reins of my lusts, and delighted in all transgression against the law of God.' 'I was the very ringleader of all the youth that kept me company, into ALL MANNER of vice and ungodliness.'

Dr. Southey and others have attempted to whiten this Blackmore, but the veil that they throw over him is so transparent that it cannot deceive those who are in the least degree spiritually enlightened. He alleges that Bunyan, in his mad career of vice and folly, 'was never so given over to a reprobate mind,' as to be wholly free from compunctions of conscience. This is the case with every depraved character, but he goes further when he asserts that 'Bunyan's heart never was hardened.' 

This is directly opposed to his description of himself:—'I found within me a great desire to take my fill of sin, still studying what sin was yet to be committed; and I made as much haste as I could to fill my belly with its delicates, lest I should die before I had my desire.' He thus solemnly adds, 'In these things, I protest before God, I lie not, neither do I feign this sort of speech; these were really, strongly, and with all my heart, my desires; the good Lord, whose mercy is unsearchable, forgive me my transgressions.' The whole of his career, from childhood to manhood, was, 'According to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience' (Eph 2:2).