CHAPTER XXXI. BUNYAN'S PRISON THOUGHTS. BUNYAN little dreamt, glorious dreamer as he was, that his prison would one day give the philanthropy of HowARD both an impulse and a direction, which should improve all the prisons of Europe. It was, however, the old Jail on Bedford Bridge, which was almost damp enough to make "the moss grow upon the eyebrows" of the prisoners, that fully awoke Howard to his great enterprise. His first act, when appointed High Sheriff of the county, was to improve the Jail. And it derogates nothing from the purity of his motives, or from the catholicity of his spirit, or from the splendor of his fame, to proclaim the fact, that his principles as a Dissenter heightened all his sympathies as a man and a Christian. Had Bunyan never been in Bedford Jail, nor Howard been a nonconformist, that Jail would indeed have been improved; but not so promptly, nor with such a bearing upon the prison-houses of the world. Howard's strong sympathies with Bunyan's principles, naturally expanded into universal philanthropy. For although no character could be more unlike Bunyan's, than that of prisoners in general, the very contrast gave power to pity: because if a holy prisoner, with a good conscience and a hope full of immortality, was yet a sad man often, and at times ready to sink, what wretched men must guilty and ungodly prisoners be! This was the line of Howard's logic! It is well known that Bunyan was not idle in prison. It is not, however, every one who knows the number and the names of the Books he wrote in Jail, that has an acquaintance with either their origin or progress. None of his Biographers have led us into his cell, or enabled us to see him musing, writing, or expounding. Indeed, it was long before I could find out enough of the Chronology of his works to obtain vivid or definite glimpses of the student or the study. I have often wished that Howard had not pulled down the old Jail; just that we might have seen and shown how Bunyan sat at his table-and how the light fell upon his Bible and papers-and what room he had for walking when his limbs ached with sitting-and whether the fire-place was smoky-and how far his bed was out of the draught. Biography is as tedious to write, as it is to read, when we cannot get thus to a man's side, and peep at all his circumstances. It will not, however, be for want of trying to do so, that I shall fail to give life to my picture. Bunyan's first deep thoughts in prison, so far as they did not regard himself and his family, were peculiar, and came very unexpectedly upon him. One Sabbath, when it was his turn to expound the Scriptures to his fellow prisoners, he found himself "so empty, spiritless, and barren," that he verily thought he could not speak five words of edifying truth, with either "life or evidence." But it was his turn; and he had no alternative; for his brethren and companions in tribulation for the kingdom of God, "expected to be refreshed" by him. "Providentially it so fell out at last," he says, "that I cast my eye upon the 11th verse of the 20th Chapter of the Revela- ́ tions: upon which when I had considered awhile, methought I perceived something of the JASPER in whose light you there find that this Holy City is said, to come and descend. Wherefore, having got in my eye some dim glimmerings thereof, and finding in my heart a desire to see further thereinto, I with a few groans did carry my meditations to the Lord Jesus for a blessing, which he did forthwith grant according to his grace." Such was the origin of his HOLY CITY. That work is often called "The Holy City's Resurrection:" but Bunyan does not give it that title in the first Edition; which is now before me. I have already hinted that it was a favorite with him, because it burst upon him unexpectedly, and flowed from long cherished recollections of sick-bed meditations. Accordingly, he dedicated it to "four sorts of readers." The fourth epistle is addressed to "The Mother of Harlots," thus; "Mistress, I suppose I have nothing here, that will either please your wanton eye, or go down with your voluptuous palate. Here is bread indeed, as also milk and meat: but here is neither paint to adorn thy wrinkled face, nor crutch to uphold or undershore thy shaking, tottering, staggering kingdom of Rome; but rather a certain presage of thy sudden and fearful final downfall; and of the exaltation of that Holy Matron whose chastity thou doest abhor, because by it she reproveth and condemneth thy lewd and stubborn life. Wherefore, Lady,-smell thou mayst of this; but taste thou wilt not. Thou wilt at the sight of so homely a dish as this, snuff, and cry 'Foh;'-put the branch to the nose, and say 'Contemptible!" But Wisdom is justified of all her children. The Virgin daughter of Zion hath despised, thee and laughed thee to scorn; Jerusalem hath shaken her head at thee; yea, her God hath smitten his hands at thy dishonest gains and freaks." This "homely dish," as Bunyan calls the Treatise, must have made his fellow prisoners turn up their eyes in wonder, whether it made the Scarlet Lady turn up her nose in disgust or not. It is really an amazing Commentary, and must have bad an electrical effect upon his companions. Even the scholars and theologians amongst them, must have felt that they had no such knowledge of the letter of Scripture, and no such power of assimilating and combining scriptural facts and figures. For in none of his works has Bunyan shown such an acquaintance with the language of the Bible; or such dexterity in harmonizing Old Testament types with New Testament symbols, in the interpretation of prophecy. The old and new imagery of Revelation, almost ceases to be mystical in his hands, and becomes as intelligible as ordinary words. It is, of course, impossible to illustrate this here. It would, however, be wrong not to mention the fact. No reader of the "HOLY CITY" may agree with Bunyan's theory of Apocalyptic visions; but every reader of it must feel, with all the force of a sensation, that he never saw the man who had such command over sacred phraseology. It was well that Bunyan had no Millenarian vagaries; for with his power over the harp of prophecy, he would have been a bewitching minstrel in the Vatican of that School. Bunyan's friends did not forget him when he became a prisoner. Some of them visited him, and others remembered his bonds as if they had been bound with him. He felt their kindness; and as the least suspicious mode of answering the Letters he received, he published a poetical Epistle, dedicated to "The Heart of Suffering Saints and Reigning Sinners." There are some verses of this poem deserve preservation; especially as we have so few specimens of Bunyan's correspondence. "Friend, I salute thee in the Lord, And wish thou mayst abound In faith, and have a good regard To keep on holy ground. Thou dost encourage me to hold My head above the flood. Thy counsel better is than gold In need thereof I stood! "I take it kindly at thy hand, I am indeed in prison now, In body; but my mind Is free to study Christ, and how Unto me He is kind. "For though men keep my outward man Within their bolts and bars; Yet by the faith of Christ I can Mount higher than the stars. Their fetters cannot spirits tame, Nor tie up God from me. My faith and hope they cannot lame: "I here am very much refreshed To think, 'When I was out, I preached life, and peace and rest, To sinners round about.' My business then was souls to save, Of which the comfort now I have "Alas, they little think what peace They help me to: for by Their rage, my comforts do increase. Bless God, therefore, do I! Though they say, then, that we are fools, Because we here do lie, I answer, Jails are Jesus' schools; In them we learn to die. "Tis not the baseness of this State Doth hide from us God's face: He frequently, both soon and late, Doth visit us with grace. Here come the Angels, here come Saints; Here comes the Spirit of God, To comfort us in our restraints Under the Wicked's rod. "To them that here for evil lie, This place is comfortless: |