When he entered the prison, his first and prayerful object was to levy a tax upon his affliction—to endeavour to draw honey from the carcass of the lion. His care was to render his imprisonment subservient to the great design of showing forth the glory of God by patient submission to His will. Before his commitment, he had a strong presentiment of his sufferings; his earnest prayer, for many months, was that he might, with composure, encounter all his trials, even to an ignominious death. This led him to the solemn consideration of reckoning himself, his wife, children, health, enjoyments, all as dying, and in perfect uncertainty, and to live upon God, his invisible but ever-present Father.
Like an experienced military commander, he wisely advises every Christian to have a reserve for Christ in case of dire emergency. 'We ought to have a reserve for Christ, to help us at a dead lift. When profession and confession will not do; when loss of goods and a prison will not do; when loss of country and of friends will not do; when nothing else will do, then willingly to lay down our lives for his name.'[235] In the midst of all these dread uncertainties, his soul was raised to heavenly contemplations of the future happiness of the saints of God.
It is deeply impressive to view a man, with gigantic intellect, involved in the net which was laid to trammel his free spirit, disregarding his own wisdom; seeking guidance from heaven in earnest prayer, and in searching the sacred Scriptures; disentangling himself, and calmly waiting the will of his heavenly Father. Still he severely felt the infirmities of nature. Parting with his wife and children, he described as 'the pulling the flesh from the bones. I saw I was as a man who was pulling down his house upon the head of his wife and children; yet, thought I, I must do it.'[236] His feelings were peculiarly excited to his poor blind Mary.[237] 'O! the thoughts of the hardships my poor blind one might go under, would break my heart in pieces.' It is one of the governing principles of human nature, that the most delicate or afflicted child excites our tenderest feelings. 'I have seen men,' says Bunyan, 'take most care of, and best provide for those of their children that have been most infirm and helpless; and our Advocate "shall gather his lambs with his arms, and carry them in his bosom."'[238] While in this state of distress, the promise came to his relief—'Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.' He had heard of the miseries of those banished Christians who had been sold into slavery, and perished with cold and calamities, lying in ditches like poor, forlorn, desolate sheep.
At the end of three months he became anxious to know what the enemies of the cross intended to do with him. His sentence was transportation and death, unless he conformed. To give up or shrink from his profession of Christ, by embracing the national forms and submitting his conscience to human laws, he dared not. He resolved to persevere even at the sacrifice of his life. To add to his distress, doubts and fears clouded his prospects of futurity; 'Satan,' said he, 'laid hard at me to beat me out of heart.' At length he came to the determination to venture his eternal state with Christ, whether he had present comfort or not. His state of mind he thus describes—'If God doth not come in (to comfort me) I will leap off the ladder, even blindfold, into eternity, sink or swim, come heaven, come hell. Lord Jesus, if thou wilt catch me, do; I will venture all for thy name.' From this time he felt a good hope and great consolation.
The clerk of the peace, Mr. Cobb, was sent by the justices to persuade him to conform, and had a very long and interesting conference with him in the prison. This shows that the magistrates were well convinced that he was a leader in nonconformity, who, if brought over, would afford them a signal triumph. In fact, he was called, by a beneficed clergyman, 'the most notorious schismatic in all the county of Bedford.'[239] It is perhaps to the arguments of Cobb that he refers in his Advice to Sufferers. 'The wife of the bosom lies at him, saying, O do not cast thyself away; if thou takest this course, what shall I do? Thou hast said thou lovest me; now make it manifest by granting this my small request—Do not still remain in thine integrity. Next to this come the children, which are like to come to poverty, to beggary, to be undone, for want of wherewithal to feed, and clothe, and provide for them for time to come. Now also come kindred, and relations, and acquaintance; some chide, some cry, some argue, some threaten, some promise, some flatter, and some do all to befool him for so unadvised an act as to cast away himself, and to bring his wife and children to beggary for such a thing as religion. These are sore temptations.'[240] It was during this period of his imprisonment that the mad attempt was made, by Venner and his rabble, to overturn the government. This was pressed upon Bunyan as a reason why he should not hold meetings for religious exercises, but rely upon his more private opportunities of exhorting his neighbours. In reply to this, Mr. Cobb is reminded of Bunyan's well-known loyalty, which would become useful in proportion to his public teaching. It was a pleasing interview, which, while it did not for a moment shake his determination, led him to thank Mr. Cobb for his civil and meek discourse, and to ejaculate a heartfelt prayer—'O that we might meet in heaven.'[241] The whole of it is reprinted at the end of the Grace Abounding, and it shows that God gave him favour even with his persecutors. It Is not surprising that such a prisoner should have won the good opinion of his jailer, so that he was permitted the consolation of seeing his relatives and friends, who ministered to his comforts.
When the time arrived for the execution of the bitterest part of his sentence, God, in his providence, interposed to save the life of his servant. He had familiarized his mind with all the circumstances of a premature and appalling death; the gibbet, the ladder, the halter, had lost much of their terrors; he had even studied the sermon he would then have preached to the concourse of spectators. At this critical time the king's coronation took place, on April 23, 1661. To garnish this grand ceremony, the king had ordered the release of numerous prisoners of certain classes, and within that description of offences was that for which Bunyan was confined. The proclamation allowed twelve months' time to sue out the pardon under the great seal, but without this expensive process thousands of vagabonds and thieves were set at liberty, while, alas, an offence against the church was not to be pardoned upon such easy terms. Bunyan and his friends were too simple, honest, and virtuous, to understand why such a distinction should be made. The assizes being held in August, he determined to seek his liberty by a petition to the judges. The court sat at the Swan Inn, and as every incident in the life of this extraordinary man excites our interest, we are gratified to have it in our power to exhibit the state of this celebrated inn at that time.
Having written his petition, and made some fair copies of it, his modest, timid wife determined to present them to the judges. Her heroic achievements—for such they deserve to be called—on behalf of her husband, are admirably narrated by Bunyan, the whole of which is reprinted in our first volume,[243] and deserves a most attentive perusal. Want of space prevents us repeating it here, or even making extracts from it. She had previously traveled to London with a petition to the House of Lords, and entrusted it to Lord Barkwood, who conferred with some of the peers upon it, and informed her that they could not interfere, the king having committed the release of the prisoners to the judges. When they came the circuit and the assizes were held at Bedford; Bunyan in vain besought the local authorities that he might have liberty to appear in person and plead for his release. This reasonable request was denied, and, as a last resource, he committed his cause to an affectionate wife. Several times she appeared before the judges; love to her husband, a stern sense of duty, a conviction of the gross injustice practiced upon one to whom she was most tenderly attached, overcame her delicate, modest, retiring habits, and forced her upon this strange duty. Well did she support the character of an advocate. This delicate, courageous, high-minded woman appeared before Judge Hale, who was much affected