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ful rate, that she used to tremble to hear him; and told him, that he was the ungodliest fellow for swearing that she ever heard in all her life; and that he, by thus doing, was able to spoil all the youth in the whole town."

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The woman whom Bunyan married had been trained up religiously; but, to use his own words, when they came together, they were as poor as poor might be, not having so much household stuff as a dish or spoon betwixt them both." She had, however, two books,-"The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven," and "The Practice of Piety," which her father had left her when he died. The latter book, now out of date, was written by Bishop Bayly; and, Dr. Southey adds, has been translated into Welsh, Polish, and Hungarian, and passed through more than fifty editions. Bunyan read these books; and though he says, in his "Grace abounding," "they did not reach my heart, to awaken it about my sad and sinful state, yet they did beget within me some desires to reform my vicious life, and fall in very eagerly with the religion of the times; to wit, to go to church twice a day, and there very devoutly both say and sing as others did, yet retaining my wicked life; but, withal, was so overrun with the 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) belonging 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 his holy temple, to do his work therein. This conceit grew so strong upon my spirit, that, had I but seen a Priest, (though never so sordid and debauched in his life,) 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 laid down at their feet, and have been trampled upon by them; their

name, their garb, and work did so intoxicate and bewitch me."

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Bunyan goes on to say, in his own narrative, that the first time he ever remembered feeling what guilt was," was one day while "our Parson was treating in his sermon of the Sabbath-day, and of the evil of breaking it, either with labour, sports, or otherwise." This sermon greatly troubled his conscience; but the burden, he says, "lasted not; for before I had well dined, the trouble began to go off my mind, and my heart returned to its old course;" in reference to which Dr. Southey observes, as if conviction of sin were nothing but a fit of nervous sensitiveness, or vapours, for which a good dinner, with an extra glass of wine, was the best remedy, "Dinner removed that burden: his animal spirits recovered from their depression.'

The Spirit of the Holy One continued to follow Bunyan. He saw "men as trees walking." "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God; for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned." He consequently fell into some outward reformation, and "set the commandments of God before him as his way to heaven;" going about ignorantly to establish his own righteousness, and not knowing or submitting himself to the righteousness of God. He thus describes his condition: "Which commandments I also did strive to keep, and, as I thought, did keep them pretty well sometimes, and then I should have comfort; yet now and then should break one, and so afflict my conscience; but then I should repent, and say I was sorry for it, and promised God to do better next time, and then get help again; for then I thought I pleased God as well as any man in England. Thus I continued about a year; all which time our neighbours did take me to be a very godly and religious man, and did marvel much to see such great alteration in my life and manners; and, indeed, so it was, though I knew not Christ, nor grace, nor

faith, nor hope; for, as I have since seen, had I then died, my state had been most fearful. But, I say, my neighbours were amazed at this my great conversion from prodigious profaneness, to something like a moral life and a sober man. Now, therefore, they began to praise, to commend, to speak well of me, both to my face and behind my back. Now I was, as they said, become godly; now I was become a right honest man. But 0, when I understood those were their words and opinions of me, it pleased me mighty well; for though as yet I was nothing but a poor painted hypocrite, yet I loved to be talked of as one that was truly godly. I was proud of my godliness; and, indeed, I did all I did, either to be seen of, or well spoken of by, men; and thus I continued for about a twelvemonth or more." An early and natural impression on the mind of a partially-awakened sinner is, so far to reform his life, that he may approach his Maker with some degree of confidence, instead of drawing near, from first to last, with the plea of the broken-hearted publican,"God be merciful to me a sinner;" not relying, in whole or in part, on any weak or sinful performance of his own, as a claim to justification, but solely and entirely on the great atonement made by the Lord Jesus Christ. The spiritual pride which Bunyan so graphically describes, alternating with seasons of alarm and despondency, was the result of this legal and pharisaical system; and it is not until an individual is brought to understand the Gospel as a dispensation of grace, as well as of holiness, and is led to embrace it by an act of appropriating and energetic faith, that he walks not only holily, but happily; abounding equally in faith, love, and joy, as in prayer, vigilance, and humility; bringing forth, in rich abundance, the clustering fruits of righteousness, which are to the praise and glory of God.

Bunyan's mind was instructed and comforted by his falling in with three or four simple-hearted, religious women, who belonged to the

Baptist congregation at Bedford. He describes the benefits which he derived from this incipient communion of saints as follows:-" But, 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, I came where there were three or four poor women sitting at a door, in the sun, talking about the things of God; and, being now willing to hear their discourse, I drew near to hear what they said; for I was now a brisk talker myself in the matters of religion; but they were far above 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 words and promises they had been refreshed, comforted, and supported against the temptations of the devil; moreover, 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. And methought 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 they had found a new world,-as if they were people that dwelt alone, and were not to be reckoned among their neighbours. At this I felt my own heart begin to shake; for I saw that, in all my thoughts about religion and salvation, the new birth did never enter into my mind; neither knew I the comfort of the word and promise, nor the deceitfulness and treachery of my own wicked heart. 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 do remember, presently I found two things within me, at which I did sometimes marvel; especially considering what a blind, ignorant, sordid, and ungodly wretch but just before I was the one was a very great softness and tenderness of heart, which caused me to fall under the conviction of what by Scripture they asserted; and the other was a bending in my mind, a continual meditating on it, and on all other good things which at that time I heard or read of."

It was about this period that Bunyan fell in with a company of Antinomian fanatics, called Ranters," who told him he was "legal and dark," and that they could do what they would, and not sin; and their scheme of joining high pretensions to religion with the unrestrained indulgence of every licentious passion, he says, was congenial enough to his age and temper; "but God," he adds, "who had, as he hoped, designed him for better things, kept him in the fear of his name, and did not suffer him to accept such cursed principles."

When Bunyan was thus alternating between fear and hope, being deeply convinced of his sinfulness, and earnestly desirous of the Gospel salvation, the great civil war was fast approaching," the land was burning." The whole country was divided on political and ecclesiastical questions, which doubtless tended, in no small degree, to feed the anxiety and distress of his mind, already severely sensitive and conscientious. He has attempted a description of his feelings, in a species of vision, or waking reverie; in which he compares his own unsettled state with the sanctified repose of the members of the little Baptist congregation which he had recently joined. Dr. Southey and others profess to discover, in this loose musing, the germ of the "Pilgrim's Progress."

"I saw," he says, "as if they were on the sunny side of some high mountain, there refreshing themselves with the pleasant beams of the sun; while I was shivering and shrinking in the cold, afflicted with


frost, snow, and dark clouds. Methought, also, betwixt me and them I saw a wall, that did compass about this mountain: now, through this wall my soul did greatly desire to pass; concluding that if I could, I would there also comfort myself with the heat of their sun. About this wall I bethought myself to go again and again, still prying as I went, to see if I could find some way or passage by which I might enter therein; but none could I find for some time. At the last I saw, as it were, a narrow gap, like a little door-way, in the wall, through which I attempted to pass now, the passage being very strait and narrow, I made many efforts to get in, but all in vain at last, with great striving, methought I at first did get in my head, and after that, by a sideling striving, my shoulders, and my whole body. Then I was exceeding glad, and went and sat down in the midst of them; and so was comforted with the light and heat of their sun. Now, this mountain and wall was thus made out to me: The mountain signified the church of the living God; the sun that shone thereon, the shining of his merciful face on them that were therein; the wall, I thought, was the world, that did make separation between the Christians and the world; and the gap which was in the wall, I thought, was Jesus Christ, who is the way to God the Father. But as the passage was wonderful narrow, even so narrow that I could not but with great difficulty enter in thereat, it showed me that none could enter into life but those that were in downright earnest, and left the wicked world behind them; for here was only room for body and soul, but not for body, and soul, and sin. This resemblance abode upon my spirit many days; all which time I saw myself in a forlorn and sad condition; but yet was provoked to vehement hunger and desire to be one of that number that did sit in the sunshine.”

It was at a meeting with the poor people of Bedford, as he terms them, that Bunyan passed from a state of spiritual bondage into the liberty of

the children of God. "The words," to adopt his own language, "broke in upon him,'My grace is sufficient for thee,'-three times together." He was then as though he had seen the Lord look down from heaven upon him "through the tiles," and direct these words to him. It sent him mourning home; it broke his heart, and filled him full of joy.

Shortly after this, Bunyan received a roving commission from the Bedford Meeting to itinerate in the villages round about, and preach the Gospel to the poor. But, whilst he was thus usefully employed, "the Doctors and Priests of the country," he says, began to open wide against him; "and, in the year 1657, an indictment was preferred against him at the assizes, for preaching at Eaton;" for though this was in the golden days of Oliver Cromwell, when, as Mr. Ivimey, in his "History of the Baptists," informs us, "there was no persecution," the same writer afterwards observes, that "the Presbyterian Ministers who were then in possession of the livings could not bear with the preaching of an illiterate tinker and an unordained Minister." This attempt to silence Bunyan was defeated; but a few months only elapsed subsequent to the Restoration, when he was one of the first who suffered on account of his nonconformity, being cast into prison, where he remained twelve years: during the last four he regularly attended the Baptist Meeting, his name being always in the records; and in the eleventh year, the congregation chose him for their Pastor. A cogent proof this, that, during the later years of his incarceration, his captivity was not rigorous. The Bedford jailer was a gentle Provost," who indulged Bunyan with all the liberty he could grant with safety to himself. He was a prisoner on parole; and, having accepted the office of Pastor of the Baptist church, he discharged the duties of that station freely and usefully. There is a print extant, in which he is represented as pursued by a rabble to his own door; but

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there is no allusion to any such outrage in any part of his works. His character had by this time obtained respect; his books had attracted notice; and Dr. Barlow, then Bishop of Lincoln, and other Churchmen, are said to have pitied "his hard and unreasonable sufferings, so far as to stand very much his friends in procuring his enlargement." This statement Mr. Ivimey endeavours to invalidate. He was liberated from confinement in 1672. It is unknown in what year the 'Pilgrim's Progress" was first published, no copy of the first edition having as yet been discovered; the second I have seen in the British Museum; it is "with additions," and its date is 1678; but as the book is known to have been written during Bunyan's imprisonment, which terminated in 1672, it was probably published before his release, or, at latest, immediately after it. The earliest copy with which Dr. Southey was furnished was that 'eighth e-di-ti-on," humorously introduced by Gay, and printed, not for Ni-cho-las Bodding-ton, but for Nathanael Ponder, at the Peacock, in the Poultry, near the church, 1682; for whom, also, a very early copy, which is in my possession, was published; and the tenth in 1685. All these were, doubtless, large impressions.

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The noted eighth edition was published "with additions;" but there is little, if any, reason to suppose that they were "new

ones never made before;" for the tenth bears the same promise, and contains no alteration whatever. One passage of considerable length was added after the second edition, -the whole scene between Mr. By-Ends and his three friends, and their subsequent discourse with Christian and Faithful. Dr. Southey remarks, that it was written with reference to some particular case; and, in Bunyan's circle, the name of the person intended was probably well known. Perhaps it was first inserted in the fourth impression, "which had many additions more than any preceding:" this is stated in an advertisement on the back of

the frontispiece to the eighth; where it is also said, "The publisher, observing that many persons desired to have it illustrated with pictures, hath endeavoured to gratify them therein; and besides those that are ordinarily printed to the fifth impression, hath provided thirteen copper-cuts, curiously engraven, for such as desire them." This notice is repeated in the next edition, with this alteration,-that the seventh, instead of the fourth, is named as having the additions, and the eighth as that which had the ordinary prints. "I can only say with certainty," observes Dr. Southey, "that no additions have been made subsequently to the eighth; and no other alterations than such verbal ones as an editor has sometimes thought proper to make, or as creep into all books which are reprinted without a careful collation of the text."

Mr. Jabez Allies, of Worcester, in a communication addressed to the editor of the Gentleman's Magazine, (vol. xx., New Series, page 261,) mentions having recently received an old duodecimo copy of the " Pilgrim's Progress," which, he remarks, **if not the first, is one of the early editions." Unfortunately, the titlepage and part of the author's Apology for his book are lost; but, from internal evidence, as stated by Mr. Allies, I should conclude that it is a copy of the fifth, or, at any rate, that it is not of earlier date than the fourth impression; and, from the rough and unpolished character of the engravings, it may be that edition in which these embellishments first appeared; an amusing description of which is given by the writer in his account of the book. After the Apology, the book commences at page 1 thus :

66 THE




Page 5 (p. 3 in my copy) contains a very rude wood-cut, representing Evangelist with a scroll in his hand, meeting Christian. The scroll contains the words, "Fly from ye wroth

to come." Christian has an open Bible in his hand, containing clasps; and there is a burden on his back. In the back-ground there are the beams of the eye of Providence; and at the foot of the picture the following lines are printed :—

"Christian no sooner leaves the world but meets

Evangelist, who lovingly him greets
With tydings of another: and doth show
Him how to mount to that from this below."

Page 17 (p. 19 in my copy) contains the second picture, representing Evangelist meeting Christian in his way to Legality-House, whither he was going by the advice of Worldly-Wiseman. Mount Sinai is impending over his head; and the following lines are at the foot of the picture :"When Christians unto carnal men give ear,

Out of their way they go, and pay for 't dear.
For Master Worldly-Wiseman can but show
A saint the way to bondage and to woe."

Page 23 (p. 26 of my copy) contains the third picture, representing Christian knocking at the wicketgate. The Celestial City is in the distance; and two persons are crossing towards the road, without entering at the wicket-gate. There is written on the door of the gate, " Knock, and it shall be opened." The following lines are at the foot of this picture :

"He that will enter in, must first without

Stand knocking at the gate; nor need he


That is a knocker, but to enter in :

For God can love him, and forgive his sin."

Page 40 (p. 45 in my copy) contains the fourth picture, representing Christian coming to the cross with a fine robe on. His burden has fallen from off his back into the sepulchre, and old rags are lying about; but, curious enough, the cross is either not represented, or it is lost in the confused back-ground of the hill. The following lines are at the foot of this picture :

"Who's this? The Pilgrim. How! 'tis very true,

Old things are past away; all's become new.
Strange! he's another man, upon my word;
They be fine feathers that make a fine bird."

Page 45 (p. 54 in my copy) contains the fifth picture, representing Christian passing the lions at the Hill Difficulty, with the palace in the back

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