The Pilgrim's Progress: A Review

by George W. Latham

Before Bunyan's death ten editions of The Pilgrim's Progress¹ had been published, and it was said by one of his intimate acquaintances that a hundred thousand copies had been sold, an extraordinary number when we take into account the comparative smallness of the reading class in those times. Although so many editions of The Pilgrim's Progress were called for, including an American edition published in Boston in 1681, yet of few books of the period are early editions so rare. Only five copies of the first edition are known to be in existence. The reason for this is that the people who bought copies of The Pilgrim's Progress bought them to read, and literally read them to pieces. At the same time the more cultivated readers seem to have been long inclined to look on the book askance. Addison spoke of Bunyan rather contemptuously, and Cowper thought it necessary to apologize for referring to him. Yet there is plenty of evidence on the other side , as is shown by Dr. Johnson's statement that The Pilgrim's Progress was one of the few books that were not too long for him.

In Bunyan's own time it was a cause for amazement that an uneducated tinker could have written such a book as The Pilgrim's Progress, and he felt obliged to defend himself from the charge of plagiarism. At the end of his Holy War we find these lines referring to the more famous book:

"It came from my own heart, so to my head,
And thence into my fingers trickled;
Then to my pen, from whence immediately
On paper I did dribble it daintily.
Matter and manner too was all mine own,
Nor was it unto any mortal known,
Till I had done it. Nor, did any then,
By books, by wits, by tongues, or hand or pen
Add five words to it, or write half a line
Thereof; the whole and every whit is mine."

This would seem to settle the question. Yet from the time when the book became a subject of interest to scholars, there has been considerable speculation as to the sources of the allegory. Dr. Johnson first called attention to the similarity between the opening of The Pilgrim's Progress and the first lines of Dante's Inferno; and he thought that Bunyan might have read Spenser's Faerie Queene. The resemblance to Dante must be purely accidental, for, as Johnson adds, there was no translation of the Divine Comedy when Bunyan wrote; and the passages from the Faerie Queenecited by recent critics in support of Johnson's conjecture do not convince the unprejudiced reader that Bunyan made any use of Spenser's poem. Many other books have been suggested as possible sources, but no single passage in The Pilgrim's Progress has been pointed out which seems clearly indebted to anything other than Bunyan's own inventiveness or his knowledge of the Bible. The conception of human life as a pilgrimage is one that might occur to any contemplative person, and long before Bunyan's time an enormous literature had grown up in which this notion is treated from numberless points of view. It had become a literary convention; yet it is improbable that Bunyan had read or even heard of any of these books. Certainly time spent in reading them he would have considered wasted. The fact is that Bunyan cared nothing for literature as literature. He had the poet's mind and feeling, but for all that, he felt that the only concern of importance for a man was the saving of his soul. And he reached this conclusion early in life. It would be possible, with a fair degree of certainty, to make a list of all the books that Bunyan ever read. Almost the only one not distinctly religious in character would be Sir Bevis of Southampton, already mentioned as the only book we know him to have read as a child.

There was one book, however, that he knew as hardly any other man in any age has known it — the Bible. His knowledge of it was not the scholar's knowledge, for he knew nothing of Greek and Hebrew or even of such Biblical criticism as existed in his own day. What he had was a verbal knowledge of the English versions that was never at fault. Many stories are told of the readiness with which he could produce apposite scriptural quotations, often to the confusion of much more learned men than himself. This intimacy with the Bible, combined with one other element, is enough to account for the substance of The Pilgrim's Progress. That other element is his profound acquaintance with the rustic and provincial life about him, and with the heart of the average man.

From these sources come also two characteristics of Bunyan's style that even the most cursory reader cannot fail to notice, — his constant use of the phraseology and the imagery of the Bible and the frequent occurrence of provincial and colloquial expressions. Bunyan wrote the language as he heard it, and there is surprisingly little that is unfamiliar to a modern ear. Many of his expressions still survive in colloquial and illiterate usage; "drownded," "would a done it," "there is no turnings," have not yet disappeared from the language of daily life. Many other expressions and usages in The Pilgrim's Progress that have apparently become unknown in England are still familiar in parts of America. There were readers who felt that this homeliness of diction involved a loss of dignity; but there can be little doubt that to most modern readers it is this very characteristic that gives The Pilgrim's Progressone of its greatest charms.

But a racy and colloquial diction alone would not have made Bunyan a great writer. His real achievement is that he makes the reader see the thing that he describes. The vividness of the descriptive passages (they are usually sentences or merely phrases) in The Pilgrim's Progress has often been pointed out. It is the vividness that absolute sincerity combined with imagination is sure to effect. A study of these passages will show that they reproduce scenes from the Bible, as Bunyan understood them, or scenes from provincial and rural England. It was not necessary for him to go outside of his own experience for the Slough of Despond, the Palace Beautiful, and Vanity Fair. None of them was far away from Bedford. In many respects Christian's journey was just such as any Bedfordshire countryman might have taken. The characters, too, are drawn from the life. Worldly Wiseman, By-Ends, Lord Hategood, and Christian himself would be recognized as faithful portraits. This does not mean, of course, that definite places and actual persons are represented in the book. Probably they are not. But both persons and places are typical of what Bunyan's readers were familiar with. This realism, this closeness to everyday life, undoubtedly has much to do with the immense vitality of the book.

In addition to this power of representing vividly persons and places, Bunyan possessed to a high degree the ability to tell a story effectively. No prose writer who preceded him in English literature, unless it be Malory, is to be compared with him in this respect, and he anticipated Defoe and Swift in many of the devices which a generation later they adopted to give reality to their tales. We find in all three the same minuteness of detail, the same unconcerned colloquialism, and the same apparent absence of straining for effect. For these reasons, some critics have calledThe Pilgrim's Progress the first English novel, and many persons have read it solely as a story of adventure.

It should not be forgotten, however, that The Pilgrim's Progress is primarily a religious allegory, and that in intention it is an exposition of the Protestant theory of the plan of salvation. As such, it is entirely successful for from no other book is it possible to obtain so lucid an account of Puritan theology. Yet it is entirely free from narrow sectarianism, and there is nothing whatever about it that makes it the peculiar possession of any one Christian denomination. With the exception of half a dozen lines in regard to Giant Pope, there is nothing in The Pilgrim's Progress to which a Roman Catholic would take exception, and only the most extreme Anglicans have found it necessary to make alterations to adapt it to their purposes. When we take into account Bunyan's antecedents and surroundings, this total absence of fanaticism seems one of the most extraordinary things about the book.

Another extraordinary feature is that the reader finds very little difficulty in the interpretation of the often rather intricate allegory. It is true that certain places in the book are not easy reading, but they are usually places where the allegory is dropped altogether. Doubtless, many readers have hurried over the long conversation with which Christian and Hopeful tried to enliven the passage through the Enchanted Ground. Sometimes, the allegory does become hopelessly obscure, especially in the few instances where there is an allegory within the allegory, as in the account of the Bond Woman and Mount Sinai. It is possible, too, as it is in the case of any allegorical work of considerable length, to discover inconsistencies. For example, Macaulay has pointed out that according to the plan of the allegory every mortal must cross the River of Death, yet Faithful is transported directly from Vanity Fair to the Celestial City. These are matters of small account. "If you were to polish it," said Coleridge, "you would destroy at once the reality of the vision."

It is easy to find flaws in any work. More significant is it to remember that The Pilgrim's Progress is a book which can be read with genuine interest long after the state of society of which it was the expression has passed away. The number of books of which this can be said with any degree of truth is indeed small. Modern opinion would agree with Macaulay: "Though there were many clever men in England during the latter half of the seventeenth century, there were only two minds which possessed the imaginative faculty in a very eminent degree. One of these minds produced the Paradise Lost, the other The Pilgrim's Progress."

¹The Pilgrim's Progress consists of two parts. The first part and more widely known was published in 1678. The second, published in 1684, describes the journey of Christian's wife and children from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City. They travel under the guidance of Mr. Great-Heart, one of the best drawn of all the characters of the book, who with his ability to fight or to pray, as circumstances demand, might have been copied from almost any one of the commanders of Cromwell's army. In regard to this second part critical opinions differ. Froude called it "but a feeble reverberation of the first." Other critics, however, have considered it that rara avis, a successful sequel.

Copied by Stephen Ross for WholesomeWords.org from The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan. Edited for school use by George W. Latham. Chicago: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1906.

source: http://www.wholesomewords.org/biography/bbunyan5.html

Conversion of John Bunyan: The Immortal Dreamer

compiled by Hy. Pickering

John Bunyan, the Bedford tinker, author of the immortal allegory, "Pilgrim's Progress," was awakened through a conversation which he heard among three women. Here are his words:

"This morning as I went through Bedford, intent upon my calling, it was my lot that I should pass through one of the streets that are nigh the High Street. There sat three poor women in the sun, and as they talked in the doorway I heard some of their speech. I drew nigh to listen; but alas! 'twas such talk as I never dreamed of ever before! They spoke of a new birth, of how God had worked in their hearts to show them their lost state, of how they were once under the curse of God for their guilt and iniquity; and then they spoke comfortably of the loving-kindness of God in giving His dear Son to die for them, and how they had been led to trust Christ, and found in Him peace and rest for their souls. Methought that is what I much want, yet how to obtain it I knew not.

Then they talked of how God had visited them and refreshed them; and said one (Mary Fenne, by name), 'I mind how now once when I was sore grieved and vexed, for that the Sheriff's man seized my kettle and lace-pillow for a church rate, I walked in darkness by the river bank, and, as I watched the dark waters that swept under the bridge nigh the black prison, I remembered the river that Ezekiel saw, and methought its healing waters came even to my marshy and barren heart. It rose upon me, the sweet mercy and comfort of Jesus, until I felt that it mattered little what men took from me, so that they left me Christ and His Divine grace and mercy. Oh, but I was strong in Him, and I felt His sweet comfort down in my poor heart, and I felt as if I must shout to the clouds and trees of the gladness that burned like fire in my bones. Talk of mirth! there was never such light-heartedness round the Maypole as filled me then.'

"'Aye,' said a wrinkled and worn ancient woman they termed Norton, ''tis even so. I have known depths of sorrow, but they have been times of deep delight to my soul. When my husband died of the wounds he received in battle, my soul was stayed upon God, and I felt my faith grasp His sweet, strong promise; and look ye, gossips, though I have but a penny per week to call my own, I would not give it up with the love of God to be the great Earl of Bedford himself!

"It seemed to me as if they were in another world far above me; but when they talked about their temptations, methought I knew what they meant, at least in some degree. Yet they declared that they had oftentimes gotten the victory and all through the Word of God. Methought this is indeed news to me.

"I was struck all a-dumb at their wisdom, yet it was sweet to me, like the droppings of the honeycomb. And when I opened my mind to them they made no mock of my distress, nor did they make light of it, but bade me come the next day to talk to their teacher, one Dr. Gifford, and by God's grace I went to him."

Bunyan procured a Bible, but read only the historical books, avoiding with a strange perversity the Epistles of Paul. He set the Commandments before him as his way to Heaven, and for a year lived a reformed life externally. He was looked upon as a prodigy of piety. His neighbours, who had been shocked by his daring wickedness, were much pleased with the change, and Bunyan, ever eager for the sympathy of others, rejoiced greatly in their esteem and commendations; yet was inwardly conscious that they were not fully deserved; "for" he writes, "had I then died, my state had been most fearful."

"Wife," said Bunyan one day in course of conversation at home, "is there such a Scripture as 'I must go to Jesus?'" She replied, "I cannot tell;" therefore he stood musing to see if he could remember it. In the course of a few minutes he recalled what is written in the twelfth chapter of Hebrews: "Ye are come unto Mount Sion ... to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling." Then with joy he told his wife, "Oh, now I know, I know!"

He writes, "That night was a good night to me; I have had but few better; I longed for the company of some of God's people, that I might have imparted unto them what God had showed to me. I could scarcely lie in my bed for joy, and peace, and triumph through Christ. All my former darkness had fled away, and the blessed things of Heaven were set in my view. These words have oft since that time been great refreshment to my spirit. Blessed be God for having had mercy on me!"

source: http://www.wholesomewords.org/biography/bbunyan7.html

John Bunyan's Conversion

Hitherto, Bunyan was, at best, only "a brisk talker" about religion, as he calls himself; and that only as it bore upon opinion and a few practical duties. Nothing he knew of religion had humbled him at all, either before God or man; and all that he practiced only made him proud before both. Like many who turn over a new leaf in morals, he never looked at the old leaf, which was still uppermost in his heart.

In his case, this can hardly be wondered at. He had met with none who knew "the plague of their own hearts;" and his reading had not turned at all upon the necessity of a new heart, or of a right spirit, before God. His wife, also, although well disposed, was not well informed on this subject. He remembered all this when his attention was drawn to the state of his heart; and gratefully recorded the means of it. Hence he says, "Upon a day, the good providence of God called me to Bedford, to work at my Calling: and in one of the streets of that town (would we knew whichstreet!) I came where there were three or four women sitting at a door in the sun, talking about the things of God. And being now willing to hear what they said, I drew near, to hear their discourse -- for I was now a brisk talker of myself in the matters of religion -- but I may say, I heard, but understood not; for they were far above, out of my reach.

"Their talk was about a new birth — the work of God in their hearts; as also, how they were convinced of their miserable state by nature. They talked how God had visited their souls with his love in the Lord Jesus, and with what Promises they had been refreshed, comforted, and supported against the temptations of the devil."

All this was new to Bunyan; and especially that part of it which related to the devil. Of him he had never thought before, as a Tempter to anything but wickedness or crime: — as a Tempter to despair, distrust, impatience, or unbelief, he had never heard or dreamt. Accordingly, he paid unusual attention to what the poor women said on this subject. "Moreover," he says, "they reasoned of the suggestions and temptations of Satan, in particular; and told to each other, by what means they had been afflicted, and how they were borne up under his assaults. They also discoursed of their own wretchedness of heart, and of their unbelief; and did contemn, slight, and abhor their own righteousness as filthy, and insufficient to do them any good."

All this perplexed him, and compelled him to feel that these new things were strangethings to him. And yet, he seems to have asked for no explanation of any of them; not even of Satan's temptations, which were an utter mystery to him. This is the more remarkable, as he evidently had a fair opportunity; for the women were communicative, and he was either sitting or standing close by them. This is certain. Accordingly, when they had finished their conversation, "I left them," he says, "and went about my employment again." Thus, he did not overhear them, as he was mending kettles; but was in their company. He might, therefore, have asked questions; for the speakers evidently wished to draw him out. They were talking athim, although not in a wrong spirit. They knew their man; and gladly set themselves, like Priscilla with Apollos, to teach him "the way of the Lord more perfectly."

This is the true reason of their conduct. They were not religious gossips, who would have told their experience to any one. They were "holy women," who knew what Bunyan had been; and what he had become by the reproof of a bad woman; and what he was likely to turn out if left in the hands of his canting companion, the masked Ranter, who could talk "pleasantly" about religion. They knew this, and took care that he should not have all the talk to himself.

I am not ascribing to these poor women more knowledge of Bunyan and his companion, nor more zeal for Bunyan's welfare, than they really possessed: for they were accredited Members of the Baptist Church in Bedford; which was then too young, too small, and too pure, for any of its members to overlook or neglect anyreturning Prodigal, however far off from his Fattier's house; or to mistake any wolf in sheep's clothing, however woolly. The honor of religion was too dear to the truly godly of' these times, for that. And this will be equally intelligible and credible, to all who know any thing of the regular Dissenting Churches of that day, or of our own times. All spiritual Churches episcopize in this way. Bunyan did not know this at the time: perhaps he never suspected it afterwards, in his own case. But the poor women certainly talked of themselves, that they might teach him.

How well they spoke of experimental religion, will be best seen from his own account. "Methought, they spake as if joy did make them speak. They spake with such pleasantness of Scripture language, and with such appearance of grace in all they said, that they were to me, as if I had found a new world; as if they were 'people that dwelt alone, and were not to be reckoned among their neighbors.' At this, I felt my own heart began to shake, and mistrust my condition to be naught: for I saw that in all my thoughts about religion and salvation, the new birth did never enter in my mind; (Nicodemus-like!) neither knew I the comfort of the word and promise, nor the deceitfulness of my own wicked heart. As for secret thoughts, I took no notice of them; neither did I understand what Satan's temptations were, nor how they were to be withstood and resisted."

The last part of this confession, although not the most interesting, had most to do afterwards with Bunyan's strange fears and fancies; and I mark it out, as another of those lights which we shall soon need, when he is "led into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil." He did not understand Satanic temptation when he first heard of it, nor when it began to harass his mind. The Enemy came in upon him "as a flood;" but be saw only the flood itself, and not the Enemy who poured it around and over him.

His ignorance on this point, however, did not hinder his profiting by what he had heard about the religion of the heart. That arrested and humbled him. It followed him to his work like his shadow; nor did he try to shake it off. "I left," he says; "but their talk and discourse went with me: also my heart would tarry with them; for I was greatly affected by their words; both because by them I was convinced that I wanted the tokens of a truly godly man, and also, because by them I was convinced of' the happy and blessed condition of him that was such a one. Therefore, I would often make it my business to, be going again and again into the company of these poor people; for I could not stay away. And the more I went among them, the more I did question my condition: and, as I still remember, presently, I found two things within me, at which I did sometimes marvel: the one was, a very great softness and tenderness of' heart, which caused me to fall under conviction of what, by Scripture, they asserted; and the other was, a great bending in my mind to a continual meditating on it, and on all other good things, which at any time I heard or read of'.

"By these things, my mind was now so turned, that it lay like a horse-leech at the vein; still crying out, "Give, give;' and was so fixed on eternity, and on the things of the kingdom of heaven (that is, so far as I knew; though as yet, God knows, I knew but little), that neither pleasures, nor profits, nor persuasions, nor threats, couldloose it, or make it let go its hold. And, though I speak it with shame, yet it is in very deed, a certain truth, that it would have been as difficult for me to have taken my mind from heaven to earth, as I have found it often since, to get it again from earth to heaven."

Bunyan himself marveled, as he well might, at this child-like and angel-like turn of spirit; "especially," as he says, "considering what a blind, ignorant, sordid, and ungodly wretch, but just before, I was." It hardly requires spiritual discernment, in order to see beauty in this change. Mere Philosophy, either moral or mental, must admire it. It is, indeed, the Lion become a lamb! How Mrs. Bunyan must have enjoyed it! Her husband was now more gentle and humble than her father seems to have been. Even those who attach no importance to the religion of the heart, must wonder at the change of the Tinker's heart; it was so sudden and great, and yet so simple withal. His spirit softened like furrows under spring showers; and, like them, soon sent forth "the tender blade." And all this was produced, not by visions nor dreams, but by words which dropped as the rain, and distilled as the dew, from the lips of simple-hearted women, who used no direct persuasion. Christians see, of course, the hand of God in the effect: and even a mere philosopher must confess, that he never sees the same effect produced by the most eloquent maxims or appeals of his ethics, although he tries their force upon more cultivated minds. True; there was latent genius in the Tinker, to work upon. What then? Neither the Tinker himself, nor his Teachers, knew of it. They had never heard of genius. It was not the less there, I grant. Where was it, however, in the women who sat

"Knitting in the sun?"

They had not minds of Bunyan's order: and yet, the truths of the Bible had the same sweet influence upon them. Besides, what is philosophy worth, as a Reformer of the world, if it require genius, as the soil for its seed to root or ripen in?

One of the first-fruits of Bunyan's conversion was, a tender concern for those whom his former example had misled or hardened ...

source: http://www.wholesomewords.org/biography/bbunyan2.html

John Bunyan

by John Frost

[John Bunyan] was born in the village of Elstow, near Bedford, in 1628. His father was a poor tinker; but he managed to place his son at the village school, where he learned to read and write. When quite young, he was thrown among the vulgar and profane, and soon, as he himself informs us in his Grace Abounding, became the ringleader in all manner of lying, vice, and ungodliness. Yet, at the early age of ten or twelve years, an inward monitor warned him of the consequences of sin: "I was often much cast down and afflicted; yea, I was often then so overcome with despair of life and heaven, that I should often wish either that there had been no hell, or that I had been a devil, supposing that they were only tormentors; that if it must needs be that I went thither, I might be rather a tormentor than tormented myself." Here we see the germ of that powerful imagination, excited by the first workings of conscience, which Bunyan subsequently personified by the man with a heavy burden on his back, crying, "What shall I do?" As he became older, his conscience hardened, and he found more peace. The desire of heaven and fear of hell left him; he mingled in wicked company; he was wild, boisterous, reckless. Yet it would be unfair to consider his subsequent denunciations of his life at this early period as proof that he was indeed the worst youth in his neighbourhood, or of his age. In proportion as Bunyan became humbled by the grace of God, he magnified his early crimes; and he must be ignorant of true Christian feeling while under conviction for sin, to suppose that Bunyan's confessions in the Grace Aboundingare to be taken literally as a comparison of himself with others. He was no drunkard, nor did his worst acts at that time bring him under cognisance of the magistrate.

When seventeen, Bunyan entered the parliamentary army. When he was about marching to the siege of Leicester, one of the company volunteered to go in his stead. Bunyan consented. The man was shot as he stood sentinel; and long after, Banyan delighted to dwell upon this interposition of Providence in his behalf. Soon after he left the army; and at the early age of nineteen, he married. The financial condition of the tinker at this time may be inferred from his assertion, that they had not a dish or a spoon between them. Yet the marriage was undoubtedly a blessing. His wife's dowry was two religious books; these Bunyan sometimes read to her, and the impression upon his feelings was favourable. He became regular in his attendance at church, and learned to adore the "high place, priest, clerk, and vestment;" but he did not abandon the practice of swearing, until reproved by a woman, herself bad, who protested that his oaths, which made her tremble, were capable of spoiling all the youth in the town. Bunyan was put to shame, and swore no more. About the same time, he was influenced by a poor, but pious man, to read the Bible, the result of which was an outward conversion, which astonished all who knew him. It was only outward. "I thought," he says, "no man in England could serve God better than I."

From this self-righteous delusion, Bunyan was awakened by overhearing a conversation, on the power of real religion, among some poor women, who belonged to a Baptist denomination at Bedford. He also formed acquaintance with John Gifford, whose conversation was "sweet and pleasant to him." He now became alarmed as to his condition; he earnestly besought God for a new heart; he read the Bible with "new eyes;" and at last he was led to abandon his outward religion and cast himself upon the mercy of God. But he had long and terrible conflicts to pass through. For more than a year, he was "tossed between the devil and his own ignorance," harassed with doubts about Scripture, conjectures concerning practical religion, and horrible phantoms of his imagination. An interview with the village pastor brought no relief; and for a long period Bunyan was subject to those fearful temptations, which made him believe that he saw both worlds revealed before him—one of which, the beautiful one, he was never to enjoy, while to the other he was rushing headlong. Just as he was beginning to emerge from this condition, an old translation of Luther's Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians fell into his hands. In this he found his religious experience so "largely and profoundly handled." that it seemed as though the book had been "written out of his own heart." He ever prized it next to the Bible, and for a while his spirit received consolation. Then came a dark and terrible temptation. During a whole year, he was haunted with a desire to sell Christ—"to exchange him for the things of this life—for any thing." It haunted him day and night; it was whispered to him, as he walked through the streets, or sat at table; he trembled and wrestled, and cried out under it, as his own Christian did, during the conflict with Apollyon. Bunyan attributes this temptation to the immediate agency of the devil, and describes the assaults to which he was exposed from the enemy of souls, with a vividness of language which sometimes causes the reader to shudder. This state of mind led him to search the Scriptures with more diligence, to "see more into the nature of the promises." But so violent had been the struggle, that, on escaping from it, his health was impaired, and he began to exhibit symptoms bordering on consumption. But peace was gradually restored to his mind; and with it health returned.

In 1653, Bunyan became a member of the Baptist church in Bedford. He had already attracted attention; so that on joining the congregation, he was employed occasionally in exhorting or teaching, and in a short time was appointed itinerant preacher. In 1657, he was indicted for preaching at Eaton; but the proceedings against him appear to have been arrested. The character of Bunyan's preaching, we may gather from his own words: "It pleased me much, to contend with great earnestness for the word of faith, and the remission of sins by the death and sufferings of Jesus; but as to other things, I would let them alone, because I saw they engendered strife." How admirably, in these words, is foreshadowed the spirit which pervades the Pilgrim's Progress. His Christian meekness could not screen him, however, from persecution. In that age of bigotry and of wickedness, John Bunyan was regarded as a witch, a Jesuit, a highwayman, a libertine. In 1660, a warrant was issued against him, and after being brought before a justice in Bedfordshire, he was offered a discharge on condition of leaving off preaching.   On refusing, he was committed to jail. Seven weeks after, he was brought before judges for examination; accused of neglecting the true church, and being possessed with the devil; and, without either trial or verdict from jury, sentenced to three months' imprisonment, "and at the three months' end," said the judge, "if you do not submit to go to church to hear divine service, and leave your preaching, you must be banished the realm; and if you be found to come over again, without special license from the king, you must be stretched by the neck for it, I tell you plainly." Bunyan answered, that if he were out of prison to-day, he would preach the gospel again to-morrow, by the help of God. On the king's coronation, in 1661, a general pardon was proclaimed; but in this Bunyan was not included. His wife made efforts to obtain his release before Judges Hale, Twisden, and others; but though the former was disposed to clemency, he was overruled by his hardened associates, and Bunyan remained in jail. The jailer was, however, a compassionate man, and allowed his prisoner to depart occasionally through the day, on promise of returning at night. These opportunities he employed in preaching ; but of this his persecutors soon obtained information, and the jailer was notified to keep him close, or to leave his situation. It is believed that he remained a close prisoner from 1661 to 1668. During this time, he laboured at making little articles for the support of his family. By the Act of Indulgence to Dissenters, he was liberated for a short time; but again incurring the persecution of the hierarchy, he was remanded to prison, where he remained until 1672. It was during this long period of confinement, that he wrote some of his most celebrated works—"Of Prayer by the Spirit," "The Holy City's Resurrection,"  "Grace Abounding,"   "A Defence of the Doctrine of Justification,"—and one other, "The Pilgrim's Progress, Part I."

Of this great work—one which has no superior, and few equals in our language—so much is known by every class of readers, that it were superfluous to describe or analyze it. It is dated from prison, November 21, 1671, but the date of the first edition is unknown. The second edition was issued in 1678, after which one edition after another was rapidly called for. At the same time counterfeit ones appeared, and imitations, purporting to be continuations. It was probably from these, that Bunyan received the idea of writing his second part, which appeared in 1684. Long before this, Bunyan had obtained his release, and entered upon the enjoyment of that long season of almost uninterrupted happiness with which his latter days were blessed. In 1672, his congregation observed a day of thanksgiving on account of his release. Shortly after, the voluntary contributions of his friends enabled him to build a meeting-house. Here he preached to large congregations with but little interruption. Scholars from college and conceited churchmen often came to argue with him, supposing that he was but an ignorant rustic; but they generally went away with far different opinions. In London, his reputation was so great, that, says one, "if but a day's notice were given, the meeting-house in Southwark, where he generally preached, would not hold half the people that attended. Three thousand persons have been gathered together for the purpose, in a remote part of the town; and no fewer than twelve hundred on a dark winter's morning, at seven o'clock, even on week days." The Baptist congregation at Hitchin, in Hertfordshire, is supposed to have been founded by him. In a wood, near Preston, he frequently preached to a thousand people; and five miles from Hitchin was a malt-house, in which he sometimes addressed large congregations, and whose pulpit was carefully removed as an honoured relic, when, in 1787, the meeting was transferred to Coleman's Green. So eager was he to dispense the word of life, that it is affirmed, on good authority, he sometimes passed at midnight through the town of Reading, disguised as a carter, with whip in hand, until he arrived at the secret meetings of his friends. The house in which the Baptists met for worship stood in a lane; a bridge was thrown from the back door across a branch of the Kennett, by which, in case of alarm, they might escape. It was while visiting this place, that Bunyan contracted the disease which terminated his life. A young man, having incurred his father's displeasure, was threatened with loss of his inheritance. He implored Bunyan to act as his mediator. Bunyan complied, and was successful; but his kindness to another proved fatal to himself. While returning to London on horseback, he was overtaken with heavy rains, which brought on cold, and a fever. The violence of the attack baffled his physician's skill; and ten days after, August 12, 1688, he died at the house of Mr. Stradwick, a grocer on Snowhill. He was buried at Bunhill Fields, where a tomb has since been erected to his memory.

Bunyan is described as being in "countenance of a stern and rough temper," but in his conversation mild and affable, "not given to loquacity or much discourse in company, unless some urgent occasion required it; observing never to boast of himself or his parts, but rather to seem low in his own eyes, and submit himself to the judgment of others, loving to reconcile differences and make friendship with all. He had a sharp, quick eye, accompanied with an excellent discerning of persons, being of good judgment and quick wit. As for his person, he was tall of stature, strong boned, though not corpulent; somewhat of a ruddy face, with sparkling eyes; wearing his hair on his upper lip, after the old British fashion; his hair reddish, but, in his latter days, time had sprinkled it with gray; his nose well set, but not declining or bending, and his mouth moderately large; his forehead somewhat high; and his habit always plain and modest." Bunyan married twice, and had many children, only four of whom survived him. His works are numerous, and as an instructor of the people he deserves to rank among the most powerful writers of his age. Perhaps, his most important work, next to the Pilgrim's Progress and Grace Abounding, is The Holy War, an allegory in which he describes the conflict between God and Satan for the town of Mansoul. His great allegory has been translated into nearly all the languages of Europe, and of countries much frequented by Europeans, and is adopted as a standard church-book by the various denominations of Protestants, as well as by Roman Catholics. It is in an especial degree the book of the common people; and, with the Bible, and a volume of Hymns or the Prayer Book, forms a fountain of pure English, for which it were vain to look elsewhere in the same number of pages.

source: http://www.wholesomewords.org/biography/bbunyan14.html

A Baptist Page Portrait

A Baptist Page Portrait

John Bunyan

John Bunyan was born in Bedfordshire, England in 1628. Like Andrew Fuller, Bunyan came from the working class and understood poverty early in life. His early life included a good deal of degradation as well as a stint in the army. Even after he had married, Bunyan was what we would call today a wayward Christian. He later realized he was no Christian at all. The story is oft told of how Bunyan heard a sermon one Sunday morning against the evils of Sunday sports. That afternoon, while playing "cats", Bunyan heard a voice in his heart which said, "Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to Heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell?" Those words would not leave him over the next few months. In one of God’s divine encounters, John Bunyan began to turn from religion in form to Christ in fact. One day Bunyan tried to join in on a conversation about religion with several poor women he heard talking as he walked down the street. He thought himself to be quite knowledgeable about such things so he attempted to reason along with these godly women. Instead, Bunyan had no idea what they were speaking of. He wrote:

"Their talk ... was about a new birth, the work of God on their hearts, also how they were convinced of their miserable state by nature. They talked how God had visited their souls with His love in the Lord Jesus, and with what words and promises they had been refreshed, comforted, and supported against the temptations of the devil." 1

Later those same women introduced Bunyan to their pastor, John Gifford. While not Baptist, Gifford and the church he pastored were definitely congregational and definitely not "high church." The church was comprised of both Congregational and Baptist believers. It was under Gifford’s preaching and teaching that Bunyan at last came to Christ. Bunyan's, Grace Abounding is his own spiritual biography. In it he tells how the verse, "He hath made peace by the blood of His cross" (Colossians 1:20), finally broke through to his heart and he was truly saved.

Several years (1656) after coming to Christ, Bunyan began to preach at the same church which Gifford had pastored. He was above all a preacher who would proclaim God's Word anywhere and everywhere:

"He himself ... went out to preach the Word in the open air on village greens, in barns, in private houses, and sometimes even in parish churches. Bedfordshire and neighboring shires are full of traditions of his preaching, and several Congregational and Baptist churches claimed to have been founded through his preaching." 2

It was not long before Bunyan’s willingness and drive to preach the gospel everywhere got him into trouble. By 1660, Anglican royalists had stepped up their attacks on non-conformist preachers (Baptists, Congregationalists, and Puritans in general). It became illegal to preach in non-sanctioned places. So on Nov. 12, 1660, John Bunyan was arrested for preaching in a field near a farmhouse. Upon his arrest, Bunyan was informed that if he would apologize to the magistrates and refrain from preaching, he would be released. Bunyan replied that such a promise was not possible and thus began a twelve year imprisonment. His refusal to cease preaching reminds one of Peter and John's reply to the Jewish leaders when they were instructed to refrain from preaching:

Acts 4:18-20—"And they called them, and commanded them not to speak at all nor teach in the name of Jesus. But Peter and John answered and said unto them, Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye. For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard."

During those 12 years of imprisonment, Bunyan wrote Grace Abounding,Confessions of Faith, and A Defense of the Doctrine of Justification by Faith. Ernest Bacon speculates that it was in the last part of his imprisonment that Bunyan began to formulate his greatest work, Pilgrim's Progress. 3 Finally, King Charles II released most religious prisoners including John Bunyan. Bunyan emerged a leader among non-conformist and the pastor of the church at Bedford. He wouldn't have long to spend with his wife and seven children, however. On Feb. 1675, Charles II changed his mind and Bunyan along with others was arrested again. This time more legally minded friends accomplished the release of Bunyan after a short time. On leaving prison this second time, Bunyan released for publication part one of his monumentalThe Pilgrims Progress in 1678.

What may seem like a question for church historians and no one else is whether Bunyan was really a Baptist at all. The answer is important to modern Christians as you will see. There can be no doubt that Bunyan had little use for denominational titles. He once said:

As for those titles of Anabaptists, Independents, Presbyterians, or the like, I conclude that they come neither from Jerusalem nor from Antioch, but rather from hell and Babylon, for they naturally tend to division." 4

In fact, it would probably be safer to call Bunyan a baptist rather than a Baptist. He was baptized as a believing adult and often taught that baptism should be administered only to those who had heard and embraced the gospel. At the same time, Bunyan did not believe that either baptism or the Lord's Supper should divide true Christians. "Instead of accenting the differences … he emphasized the fundamentals of the faith which all true believers shared. He defended the gospel as the basis of Christian unity … When he involved himself in controversy, he did so because he saw a challenge to the gospel itself." 5 Bunyan was a baptist in the sense that he held to what became the foundational tenets of Baptists. He was committed to God's Word first and foremost; he held to a congregational form of church government; and he strongly emphasized justification by faith alone.

Bunyan certainly was in sympathy with the Particular Baptists in his firm grip on the Doctrines of Grace. We, of what is sometimes called the Reformed Faith, could learn much from John Bunyan. He was far more interested in God's glory and man's salvation than he was in restrictive denominational tags.

By the time of Bunyan’s death in 1688, eleven editions of The Pilgrim’s Progress had been published with over 100,000 copies in print. He left a legacy of many other great books and poems. None of these, however, are his greatest legacy to us. Bunyan’s greatest gift to the church was his demonstration that the Doctrines of Grace are not static or cold. The gospel is not predestination—it is Christ! Grace is how God brings us to Christ. Above all Bunyan loved Christ. He preached Christ and exalted Christ.

"There was first and foremost in John Bunyan a deep personal love for his Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ ... Bunyan's books are full of Christ - His welcome, His unshakable truth, His advocacy for sinners... His preaching and writing were Christ-centered, and it was this that carried men's hearts captive to Christ. If our present day preachers and theologians had the same emphasis a very different spirit would prevail in both the Church and the State." 6

source: http://www.wholesomewords.org/biography/bbunyan13.html 

John Bunyan: Dreamer and Writer

by Ernest H. Hayes

In a humble cottage at Elstow, near Bedford, three hundred years ago, grew up a boy who was learning to mend the farmers' tools, the house-pots of the villagers, and to become a tinker, while his father travelled round the district on the same work.

John was a queer lad, moody and superstitious, who believed in fiends and hobgoblins, and heard more of grown-up people's talk about religion than was good for him. He called himself a terrible sinner, and thought he was being haunted by demons as a punishment for his sins. At sixteen he was clever with his punch and soldering-iron, popular in the village, good at dancing and playing tip-cat on the green, and at ringing the church bells. Then came the great Civil War, when Cromwell was fighting for the liberty of the people against King Charles, and though only sixteen, John went off to fight on the side of liberty.

During the Civil War he had several narrow escapes from death. Once he was nearly drowned by falling into a creek. On another occasion the soldiers of his company drew lots to settle who should undertake a dangerous attack on a certain city. The lot fell on John among others, but just as he was about to start a fellow-soldier begged to be allowed to take his place, and he consented. In the fighting that followed, his deputy was shot in the head by a musket ball and killed immediately. This deeply affected John, for he felt that he had himself escaped death by a miracle.

When the army was disbanded, John returned to Elstow to help his father at his trade. When he was little more than twenty he married a woman as poor as himself. "We came together as poor as might be," he said afterwards, "not having so much household stuff as a dish or a spoon betwixt us both." His wife, however, brought with her two books that had belonged to her father, who had been a very good man.

Books were rare in those times, and John and his wife were proud of them and read them together. One was called "The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven," and the other "The Practice of Piety," and they had a powerful effect over John's queer mind. He began to have terrifying visions, and to be very worried about his sins. In those days religion was very narrow, and John soon found himself in a struggle to give up many pleasures that we regard as harmless, but which pious people then thought were evil or worldly. One by one John gave up his old companions and tried to give up other things. One Sunday, while playing tip-cat on the village green by the old market cross, he says that "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?'" After that he gave up tip-cat.

Later he felt that bell-ringing was wrong. It required a great struggle to give up ringing the bells of Elstow Church, but at last he refused to touch the bell-ropes, hoping that that would bring him peace and a sense of forgiveness. Then another incident occurred that made a deep impression on him.

"One day, as I was standing at a neighbour's shop window, and there cursing and swearing and playing the madman after my usual manner," he says, "she was made to tremble to hear me, and told me that I was the ungodliest fellow for swearing that she had ever heard in all her life, and that I by thus doing was able to spoil all the youth in the whole town, if they but came in my company."

Finding the Peace of God.

The woman's burning words made John stop swearing, and he tried to become good by attending church. He had always been fond of dancing on the village green or in the old moot hall, but now he felt that this was wrong. It cost him a great struggle to give up dancing with the village lasses, but after a time he gave that up, but still did not find peace. He went to church regularly and took to reading his Bible, much to the surprise of his neighbours. He found the historical parts of the old Book easy to read, but he says that "Paul's Epistles, and such-like Scriptures I could not away with." For a time he felt quite pleased with himself at his progress in spiritual matters.

Then came the greatest change of all. One day he saw a few poor old women basking in the sunshine and found that they were talking together about the things of God. As he listened, John discovered that these simple souls had found a new world that so far he had missed, with all his church-going. As the tinker listened to these old souls telling each other how they had found peace and joy in serving the Lord Jesus Christ, he saw in a flash just what was wrong in his life, and he went down on his knees and prayed as never before: "O Lord, I'm a fool, and not able to know truth from error; leave me not to my own blindness." Then he turned to his Bible with new eyes, and soon found joy and peace by repentance, and simply doing the right thing.

There was no doubt about the real change in John Bunyan. As he talked with the women whose words had so impressed him, he found that their new life had its centre in the "meeting-house," called the "little chapel" in a later day. Eagerly he agreed to go to meeting too. Soon Bunyan, through studying his Bible with the help of John Gifford, the minister of the "chapel," became a keen servant of Jesus Christ, fired with a desire to help other people into the great and glorious new life he had found. A ragged and worn copy of Luther's translation of "The Epistles to the Galatians" now fell into his hands, and as he mastered its contents he was led to join the little "Separatists' Church" (dissenting chapel), mostly composed of Baptists. Later he became a deacon, and began to preach the good news of how he had found peace and joy in Christ.

At this time great changes were taking place in England. The government of the country passed out of the hands of Parliament, and a king was again on the throne. The priestly party came into power, and the meeting-houses of the Dissenters were shut up and free worship became a crime. Worship could only be observed in the parish churches, so the "Nonconformists" met for worship in secret—in the depths of the woods, in fields, behind hedges at night. Spies were everywhere, and one after another the Nonconformist preachers were discovered at their work and thrown into prison. This danger never for an instant stopped Bunyan from proclaiming the Gospel, but the authorities thought the poor tinker was not worth shutting up, so for a long time Bunyan preached, often disguised as a carter, wearing a big white smock and wide-awake hat, and carrying a huge whip. He visited barns and other out-of-the-way places, helping the suffering Nonconformists to stand true to their faith in freedom and hope of better times coming.

Arrested, but Defiant.

At last, while conducting worship in a farm-house, after being warned that spies were on his track, Bunyan was seized and cast into prison. At his trial, Bunyan was ordered to "mind his own business of a tinker," but threats and commands to stop preaching alike had no effect on him. He had a long argument with his judges at the Quarter Sessions, and was told that his gift was tinkering and he must keep to it and leave preaching alone.

"If then you do not submit to go to church and to hear Divine Service, and leave your preaching, you must be banished the realm; and if after such a day you shall be found in this realm, you must stretch by the neck for it."

But the dauntless tinker would not be silenced: "If you let me out to-day I will preach again to-morrow, by the help of God," he declared.

So Bunyan faced the horrors and dangers of a filthy prison for the right to worship and serve God with freedom. He was first sent to the old prison on Bedford Bridge, and later to the county gaol. He had to support his wife and four children, though in prison, and made "tagged laces," which were sold by his wife. One of his greatest trials was the separation from his family:

The parting from my wife and children hath often been to me in this place like pulling off the flesh from my bones, especially my poor blind child, who lay nearer my heart than all I had besides."

For twelve years he suffered, although a promise not to preach, and to attend church, would have brought him instant freedom. Yet although he could not preach he could write books that would help forward the fight for freedom for the true Church.

During one long imprisonment he wrote "The Pilgrim's Progress," which has become one of the greatest religious books ever written. It has been a delight and help to Christian people all over the world, and has been translated into many tongues—so that the despised tinker of Bedford gaol, through being imprisoned and persecuted, has become one of the greatest Christian writers in history.

After years of imprisonment, Bunyan was allowed his freedom, and went back to his little Baptist chapel at Bedford and spent the few remaining years of his life in preaching and in helping others, a loyal soldier of Jesus Christ. Our open churches and freedom to worship in our own way is in part due to the heroic tinker and dreamer who would not be silenced.

Biographical Note.
John Bunyan was born in 1628 (when Parliament presented its Petition of Right that was the first step in the fight for constitutional freedom), and died in 1688 (on the eve of the landing of the Prince of Orange and the dawn of religious toleration in England). He was closely identified with the happenings of his time. He fought on the side of Parliament when 16, and during the Protectorate went through some remarkable religious experiences. After the return of the monarchy and the passing of the Act of Uniformity (1662), he was arrested when leading worship in a farm-house, and spent 12 years in prison. During this period he wrote "Grace Abounding", a remarkable religious autobiography from which we can trace how much personal experience there was behind his "Holy War" and "The Pilgrim's Progress."

From 1672 to his death in 1688 he laboured as a preacher and a writer. In 1675, during a temporary revival of the spirit of persecution, he was thrown into Bedford Gaol on the bridge across the Ouse, and it was during that incarceration that he began writing "The Pilgrim's Progress", that has made his name a household word in English literature. From his early days he was moody and introspective, a seer of visions and a hearer of voices. He went through the whole gamut of religious experience fully and often luridly described in his books. He seemed to think and talk in pictures. He was steeped in his Bible; its figures of speech and rich imagery were accepted in their full literal value, and its language became his very own. He died after exposure to bad weather on a preaching visit to London in 1688.

source: http://www.wholesomewords.org/biography/bbunyan11.html

John Bunyan, 1628-1688

by Henry S. Burrage

It is only a slender tie by which Bunyan is united to the hymn writers of the church. Dr. Belcher ("Historical Sketches of Hymns," page 104) is authority for the statement that some lines written by the immortal dreamer of Bedford jail, and found in the Second Part of the "Pilgrim's Progress," have "long been used in some of the Baptist churches in England at the admission of members." They are the words Bunyan puts into the lips of Mercy, as she and Christiana set out on their pilgrimage to the Celestial City.

Let the Most Blesséd be my guide,    If't be his blesséd will, Unto his gate, into his fold,    Up to his holy hill. And let him never suffer me    To swerve or turn aside From his free grace and holy ways,    Whate'er shall me betide. And let him gather them of mine    That I have left behind; Lord, make them pray they may be thine    With all their heart and mind.

There are other lines in the Second Part, which the readers of the "Pilgrim's Progress" will recall, especially those which Bunyan puts into the lips of the shepherd boy, commencing

He that is down needs fear no fall;
He that is low no pride;
He that is humble ever shall
Have God to be his guide.

Those given above, however, so far as I am aware, are the only lines by Bunyan that have been sung. Had Bunyan lived a century later, the treasury of Christian song would doubtless have been greatly enriched by hymns from his pen.

John Bunyan was born in Elstow, near Bedford, in 1628. The record of his christening in Elstow church is as follows: "1628. John the sonne of Thomas Bonnionn, Junr. the 30th of Novemb." His parents were poor, but, as he tells us," It pleased God to put it into their hearts to put me to school to learn both to read and write." His advantages, however, were of the most meager kind, and not long enjoyed, for he early passed from the school-room to his father's workshop. In his sixteenth year his mother died, and a few weeks later his sister Margaret. His father almost immediately remarried, and thenceforward the home to Bunyan was not what it had been.

It is believed that his experience in the army, to which he briefly refers in his "Grace Abounding," belongs to this period. The army was disbanded in 1646, and Bunyan returned to Elstow. Two or three years later he was married. Who his wife was we do not know, but she evidently came from a godly home, and desired to have her own home like that from which she came. The four years that followed their marriage were the years of Bunyan's spiritual conflict, which he has so vividly portrayed. Then, at the end of the struggle, came peace. "The chains fell off," and the new life of blessedness began.

Bunyan united with Mr. Gifford's church in Bedford, in 1653. Two years later he made Bedford his home. Here his wife soon died, and Bunyan was left to be both father and mother to his four children. His pastor, Mr. Gifford, also died not long after Bunyan's removal to Bedford, and Bunyan, by request of his brethren who had discovered his gifts, began to preach. Wherever he went the people "came to hear the word by hundreds, and that from all parts, though upon Sunday and from divers accounts." His right to preach was frequently questioned, and in November, 1660, he was arrested, and soon after tried for "devilishly and perniciously abstaining from coming to church to hear divine service, and for being 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 law of our sovereign lord, the king." Then followed his twelve years' imprisonment in Bedford jail, from 1660 to 1672. Three years of liberty succeeded. Then, in the winter and early spring of 1675-76, Bunyan was again in prison, and it was during this time that he wrote the "Pilgrim's Progress" ("Brown's Life of Bunyan," page 253), continuing his career as an author, upon which he entered not long after he began to preach. The "Pilgrim's Progress" has been sold in many editions and in untold numbers of copies, in all English-speaking lands, and has been translated into between seventy and eighty languages and dialects, and is continually appearing in new forms and new languages. Rufus Choate once called the speech of Mr. Standfast, near the close of the Second Part, "the most mellifluous and eloquent talk that was ever put together in the English language." Of Bunyan's "Holy War," Lord Macaulay says, "If the 'Pilgrim's Progress' did not exist, it would be the best allegory that ever was written."

Bunyan's last years were years of busy work as a writer and a preacher. Wherever he went crowds came together to listen to his words.

His death occurred in London, August 31, 1688, and he was buried in Bunhill Fields.

http://www.wholesomewords.org/biography/bbunyan10.html

The Life of John Bunyan

by George W. Latham

John Bunyan was born in November, 1628, at Elstow, a little village about a mile south of Bedford in Bedfordshire [England]. His ancestors, who were in very humble circumstances, lived in Bedfordshire probably as early as the twelfth century; and the name, under various spellings, appears in the records of that county at intervals from that time until very recently. Thomas Bunyan, the grandfather of John, left at his death in 1641 a small property, one-half of which he bequeathed to his son Thomas. This second Thomas, who was a maker and mender of pots and kettles, described himself in certain documents as a brazier or tinker. He did not belong to the rather disreputable class of vagrant tinkers for whom seventeenth century literature expressed great contempt, and who were usually of gypsy origin, but was a freeholder, settled permanently in Elstow and plying his trade in the neighboring towns and villages. The mother of John Bunyan, Margaret Bentley of Elstow, came from people of some substance and of a slightly higher social position than the Bunyans.

The life of the family was a severe struggle with poverty. Bunyan's parents were able, nevertheless, to send him to school. In his own words, "It pleased God to put it into their hearts to put me to school, to learn me both to read and write." The only book that we know of his reading in childhood was the Life of Sir Bevis of Southampton, probably one of the cheap pamphlets known as chapbooks. This book was ever after in his mind the type of profane and worldly literature. We know very little of Bunyan's life during this period, but it is clear that the intensity of his inner life, even as a child, was extraordinary. He tells us that it was his delight "to be taken captive by the devil at his will, being filled with all unrighteousness," and that he had few equals for his years "both for cursing, swearing, lying, and blaspheming the holy name of God." At the same time, he was "greatly afflicted and troubled with the thoughts of the fearful torments of hell-fire." Already he had begun to dream dreams and see visions.

In 1644 his mother died, and within two months his father married again. This marriage apparently caused an estrangement between father and son, and the son spent the three following years as a soldier. There is in Bunyan's works one allusion to his military service, and there are many passages which could not have been so realistically managed except for this experience, but there is not a single line to indicate on which side be fought. This is the more remarkable when we remember that the issues in the English Civil War were as much religious as political. The fact is that Bunyan took very little interest in political questions and literally obeyed the injunction to render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's. In the absence of direct proof Macaulay assumed, in his article on Bunyan in the Encyclopædia Britannica, that Bunyan was on the side of Parliament. Froude, on the other hand relying upon the facts that Bunyan's parents were adherents of the Established Church and that he himself was baptised in the parish church, felt sure that he was on the side of the King. There was really not a particle of direct evidence on the subject until, a few years ago, the muster rolls of the garrison at Newport Pagnell were discovered. By them it was shown that Bunyan served under Sir Samuel Luke, a well-known Parliamentary commander, who is commonly supposed to be the original of Hudibras, the hero of Butler's celebrated satirical poem. What battles Bunyan engaged in under the leadership of Sir Samuel are entirely unknown, but there is a probability that he was present at the siege of Leicester.

After leaving the army, probably in 1647 or 1648, Bunyan married, but no record of his marriage has yet been found, and both the Christian and the family name of his wife are unknown. It seems likely that she was not a native of Elstow. "This woman and I," says Bunyan, "though we came together as poor as poor might be (not having so much household stuff as a dish or a spoon betwixt us both), yet this she had for her part, 'The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven' and 'The Practice of Piety.'" By means of these books and the assistance of his wife, he recovered the art of reading, which he apparently had forgotten. He seems also to have resumed his tinker's trade. In 1905 his anvil, stamped with his name and the date 1647, was found in a pile of rubbish at St. Neots, near Bedford.

The four years following his marriage were the period of the intense spiritual struggles which Bunyan records in the autobiography, written many years later, entitled Grace Abounding. It was this experience which made it possible for him to write The Pilgrim's Progress. His pathway to the New Life was the same that the Pilgrim trod. He knew the Valley of Humiliation, and the Valley of the Shadow of Death; he had lain in the dungeons of Doubting Castle; and he finally overcame Giant Despair. He felt himself to be a great sinner and constantly stood in fear of the wrath of God, yet many of the sins of which he accuses himself seem at least venial. One of his weaknesses was a fondness for playing the game of cat, especially on Sunday afternoons. He himself tells us how he overcame this: "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 a 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?'" Another worldliness was a delight in ringing the bells in the tower of Elstow Church. His conscience troubled him in the matter, and he gave up the practice, yet not without reluctance. "I would go to the steeple-house and look on, though I durst not ring, ... but quickly after I began to think how if one of the bells should fall? So after this I would yet go to see them ring, but would not go any farther than the steeple-door; but then it came into my head, how if the steeple itself should fall? And this thought ... did continually so shake my mind that I durst not stand at the steeple-door any longer, but was forced to flee for fear the steeple should fall upon my head."

It was years before he found peace, but he was helped to it by intercourse with John Gifford, the pastor of an independent religious body in Bedford. During the Protectorate, this congregation occupied St. John's Church in Bedford, Gifford being in fact the rector of the parish. In 1653 Bunyan joined this body, although still living in Elstow, and two years later, having removed to Bedford, he was chosen a deacon in the church. He continued to employ himself as a tinker, but this new interest in the Bedford church must have come to be of paramount importance. His fervor and his power of expression, shown in extemporaneous exhortation, soon brought him into prominence among, his co-religionists, who formally recognized his "call to preach." This recognition was not a legal license, but Bunyan, nevertheless, was in the habit of preaching in the surrounding towns. As a result of this disregard of the law he was indicted in 1658. Apparently the indictment was not pressed, for there is no record of any trial or sentence. It is impossible to believe that Bunyan desisted from preaching.

Bunyan had been preaching a year when he became entangled in a controversy with the Quakers. These followers of the "inner light," who believed that the individual conscience was the only safe guide to conduct, seemed to some to disparage the written word. Bunyan, of course, believed the Bible to be literally the word of God. This controversy was the beginning of Bunyan's literary career. In 1656 appearedSome Gospel Truths Opened, in which, according to Offor, the editor of the most recent edition of Bunyan's complete works, Bunyan "attacked the follies of the time, exposed and condemned heresies without mercy." The pamphlet was answered by Edward Burroughs, a somewhat well-known Quaker of the time, who died six years later in prison at Newgate. Bunyan replied with a Vindication of Some Gospel Truths Opened. The title of his third book (1658), which deals with the parable of Lazarus and the rich man, is highly characteristic; it is called, A Few Sighs from Hell, or the Groans of a Damned Soul; by that poor and contemptible servant of Jesus Christ, John Bunyan. For thirty years he continued to publish books with hardly any cessation, and he is one of the most voluminous writers of his time. In most instances, Bunyan's books seem to have been built up from sermons that were originally preached extemporaneously.

1660 was the year of the Restoration, and in spite of the promises of toleration made by Charles, the old acts against the Nonconformists were revived. Bedfordshire had long been a hot-bed of nonconformity, and the county magistrates in Quarter Sessions at Bedford entered upon the work of subjugation with extraordinary zeal. An order was issued for the restoration of the Prayer Book in all churches. One of the justices, Sir Francis Wingate, learned that Bunyan was intending to preach near the small village of Lower Samsall, and issued a warrant for his arrest. Bunyan might easily have escaped, but he felt that it was his duty to persevere. In the midst of the sermon the constable entered and arrested him. The following day he appeared before Wingate. There was really nothing to charge him with, the Act of Uniformity, which required all public religious worship to be according to the Liturgy of the Church of England not being passed until over a year later. Nevertheless, Wingate committed Bunyan to Bedford Jail to await the next Quarter Sessions.

At the Sessions, he was convicted under the unrepealed but almost forgotten "Conventicle Act" of 1593, of "perniciously abstaining from coming to church to hear divine service, and for being a common upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles to the great disturbance and distraction of the good subjects of this kingdom." The judgment of the court was that he must be taken back to jail for three months, and if then he "should not submit to go to church and leave off preaching," he should be "banished the realm." If found in the country after that, he should hang. The actual sentence was not executed. Instead, Bunyan was kept in jail for twelve years.

The twelve years' imprisonment was interrupted by an interval of a few weeks of freedom in 1666, and during the whole period the closeness of his confinement seems to have depended upon the disposition of his jailers. Sometimes he was allowed to go out to preach, and he was in the habit of preaching to audiences of forty and fifty within the jail. One of his visitors has told us that the books to which he had access were the Bible and Foxe's Book of Martyrs. The greater part of his time while in jail must have been taken up with preaching and writing, but for the support of his family he made "long tagged laces."

Many of Bunyan's books were written during these twelve years, and the tradition was that The Pilgrim's Progress was one of them, but it seems more likely that this famous book was written during a later imprisonment. In 1666 was published the first edition of Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners. This is Bunyan's spiritual autobiography. It tells us surprisingly little about the external affairs of his career, but as a record of the inner life it is to be ranked with the Confessions of St. Augustine. In spite of its poverty in matters of fact, it remains the principal source of information in regard to Bunyan's life up to the time of his imprisonment.

In 1672 the long imprisonment came to an end. Charles II., in his eagerness to benefit the Catholics, had suspended all the statutes against the Nonconformists. Bunyan received royal authority to preach and was called to the pastorate of the Bedford church, having been chosen for this office before his release. At the Restoration, St. John's Church had been returned to the Episcopalians, and the congregation now met in a barn belonging to one of its members. During these years Bunyan enjoyed prosperity in his work, and his reputation extended as far as London, where great crowds gathered to hear him preach. Because of his habit of making many visits to places in the neighboring country, he gained in friendly jest the title of Bishop Bunyan.

This comparative ease was not to last long. In 1675 the attitude of the government towards Nonconformists changed, and many licenses to preach were withdrawn. In March of the following year, a warrant was issued for the arrest of Bunyan on the charge of "having preached to or teached at a Conventicle meeting or assembly under colour or pretense of exercise of religion in other manner than according to the Liturgie or Practice of the Church of England." He seems to have been imprisoned at this time for six months, probably in the tiny one-room jail on the bridge over the River Ouse. Numerous engravings have made the cell and the bridge familiar to millions of persons, and it was long thought that here was the scene of the twelve years' imprisonment. It seems more likely that Bunyan spent those years in the county jail in the central part of Bedford. There can be little doubt, however, that The Pilgrim's Progress was written, in great part at any rate, in the bridge jail during this six months' imprisonment, and that to this extent the tradition is well founded.

The Pilgrim's Progress, which appeared in 1678, became almost at once a popular book, and it made Bunyan the best-known Nonconformist in England. His success led him to undertake other religious allegories. In 1680 he brought out The Life and Death of Mr. Badman, which he intended to be the counterpart of The Pilgrim's Progress. The title indicates clearly enough the nature of the book. Because of its lack of vivacity and the unpleasantness of the subject-matter it is not comparable with the earlier work. Two years later appeared The Holy War, next to The Pilgrim's Progress and perhaps Grace Abounding, his most popular book. It is an account of the defense of the City of Mansoul against the attacks of the Devil. In writing this allegory, Bunyan's military experience was of immense value to him. In some respects it is more direct and logical in plan than The Pilgrim's Progress, but it is decidedly inferior to it in realism; one does not find oneself forgetting the allegory. But of this book Macaulay has said, "If there had been no Pilgrim's Progress, The Holy War would have been the first of religious allegories."

During these later years Bunyan enjoyed immense influence, and his services were demanded in almost every part of England. He died August 31, 1688, in London, whither he had gone to effect a reconciliation between a father and a son. He was buried in Bunhill Fields, Finsbury, the "Campo Santo of the Dissenters."

A contemporary, whose identify is unknown, has left the following account of Bunyan's character and person:

A Brief Character of Mr. John Bunyan

"He appeared in countenance to be of a stern and rough temper, but in his conversation mild and affable; not given to loquacity or much discourse in company, unless some urgent occasion required it; observing never to boast of himself or his parts, but rather seem low in his own eyes, and submit himself to the judgment of others; abhorring lying and swearing, being just in all that lay in his power to his word, not seeming to revenge injuries, loving to reconcile differences and make friendship with all; he had a sharp quick eye, accomplished with an excellent discerning of persons, being of good judgment and quick wit. As for his person, he was tall of stature, strong boned, though not corpulent, somewhat of a ruddy face, with sparkling eyes, wearing his hair on his upper lip, after the old British fashion; his hair reddish, but in his latter days time had sprinkled it with grey; his nose well set, but not declining or bending, and his mouth moderate large; his forehead something high, and his habit always plain and modest. And thus we have impartially described the internal and external parts of a person whose death hath been much regretted — a person who had tried the smiles and frowns of time, not puffed up in prosperity nor shaken in adversity, always holding the golden mean.

In him at once did three great worthies shine
Historian, poet, and a choice divine:
Then let him rest in undisturbed dust,
Until the resurrection of the just."

sour source: http://www.wholesomewords.org/biography/bbunyan4.html