and retired; upon which he said to the congregation, 'See how this man trembles at the Word of God.' Truly did one of his friends say, 'he had a sharp, quick eye.' But being commanded in the king's name, he went with the officer, accompanied by some of his friends, to the magistrate's residence. Before they left, the constable allowed him to speak a few words to the people of counsel and encouragement. He declared that it was a mercy when called to suffer upon so good an account; that it was of grace that they had been kept from crimes, which might have caused their apprehension as thieves and murderers, or for some wickedness; but by the blessing of God it was not so, but, as Christians, they were called to suffer for well-doing; and that we had better be persecuted than the persecutors. The constable took him to the justice's house, but as he was from home, to save the expense and trouble of charging a watch to secure his prisoner, he allowed him to go home, one of his friends undertaking to be answerable for his appearance the next day. On the following morning they went to the constable and then to the justice. The celebrated Quaker, John Roberts, managed an affair of that kind better. There was plenty of time to have held and dismissed the meeting before the constable arrived, and then he might have done as Roberts did—made the best of his way to the magistrate's house, and demanded, 'Dost thou want me, old man?' and when asked whether or not he went to church, his ready reply was, 'Yes, sometimes I go to the church, and sometimes the church comes to me.'[216]
When Bunyan and the constable came before Justice Wingate, he inquired what the meeters did, and what they had with them; suspecting that they met armed, or for treasonable practices: but when the constable told him that they were unarmed, and merely assembled to preach and hear the Word, he could not well tell what to say. Justice Wingate was not the only magistrate who had felt difficulties as to the construction of the persecuting acts of 35 Eliz. and 15 Chas. II. Had he taken an opinion, as one of the justices at that time did, it might have saved him from the infamy and guilt of punishing an innocent man. The case was this:—'Two persons of insolent behaviour, calling themselves informers, demanded, on their evidence of having been present, without summons or hearing in presence of the accused, that a fine of Ł100 should be levied; they were at the meeting and heard no Common Prayer service.' The opinion was that there must be evidence showing the intent, and that the meeting was held under colour and pretence of any exercise of religion to concoct sedition.[217] Mr. Wingate asked Bunyan why he did not follow his calling and go to church? to which he replied, that all his intention was to instruct and counsel people to forsake their sins, and that he did, without confusion, both follow his calling and preach the Word. At this the angry justice ordered his commitment to jail, refusing bail, unless he would promise to give up preaching. While his mittimus was preparing, he had a short controversy with an old enemy of the truth, Dr. Lindale, and also with a persecuting justice, Mr. Foster, who, soon after, sorely vexed the people of God at Bedford. They tried their utmost endeavours to persuade him to promise not to preach; a word from him might have saved his liberty; but it was a word which would have sacrificed his religious convictions, and these were dearer to him than life itself. This was a trying moment, but he had been forewarned of his danger by the extraordinary temptation to sell Christ narrated in his Grace Abounding. His feelings, while they were conducting him to the prison, were so cheering as to enable him to forget his sorrows; he thus describes them—'Verily, as I was going forth of the doors I had much ado to forbear saying to them, that I carried the peace of God along with me; and, blessed be the Lord, I went away to prison with God's comfort in my poor soul.'[218]
Tradition points out the place in which this eminently pious man was confined, as an ancient prison, built with the bridge over the river Ouse, supported on one of the piers near the middle of the river.[219] As the bridge was only four yards and a half wide, the prison must have been very small. Howard, the philanthropist, visited the Bedford prison, that which was dignified as the county jail about 1788, and thus describes it:—'The men and women felons associate together; their night-rooms are two dungeons. Only one court for debtors and felons; and no apartment for the jailer.'[220] Imagination can hardly realize the miseries of fifty or sixty pious men and women, taken from a place of public worship and incarcerated in such dens or dungeons with felons, as was the case while Bunyan was a prisoner. Twelve feet square was about the extent of the walls; for it occupies but one pier between the center arches of the bridge. How properly does the poor pilgrim call it a certain DEN! What an abode for men and women who had been made by God kings and priests—the heirs of heaven! The eyes of Howard, a Dissenter, penetrated these dens, these hidden things of darkness, these abodes of cruelty. He revealed what lay and clerical magistrates ought to have published centuries before, that they were not fit places in which to imprison any, even the worst of criminals. He denounced them, humanity shuddered at the discovery, and they were razed to their foundations. In this den God permitted his honoured servant, John Bunyan, to be incarcerated for more than twelve years of the prime of his life. A man, whose holy zeal for the salvation of sinners, whose disinterested labours, whose sufferings for Christ prove his apostolical descent much better than those who claim descent from popes, and Wolsey or Bonner—those fiends in human shape.
Bedford bridge was pulled down in the year 1811, when the present handsome bridge was built. One of the workmen employed upon the ruins found, among the rubbish, where the prison had stood, a ring made of fine gold, bearing an inscription which affords strong presumptive evidence that it belonged to our great allegorist. Dr. Abbot, a neighbouring clergyman, who had daily watched the labours of the workmen, luckily saw it, and saved it from destruction. He constantly wore it, until, drawing near the end of his pilgrimage, in 1817, he took it off his own finger and placed it upon that of his friend Dr. Bower, then curate of Elstow,[221] and at present the dean of Manchester, charging him to keep it for his sake. This ring must have been a present from some person of property, as a token of great respect for Bunyan's pious character, and probably from an indignant sense of his unjust and cruel imprisonment. By the kind permission of the dean, we are enabled to give a correct representation of this curious relic.[222][223]
Bunyan was thirty-two years of age when taken to prison. He had suffered the loss of his pious wife, whose conversation and portion had been so blessed to him. It is not improbable that her peaceful departure is pictured in Christiana's crossing the river which has no bridge. She left him with four young children, one of whom very naturally and most strongly excited his paternal feelings, from the circumstance of her having been afflicted with blindness. He had married a second time, a woman of exemplary piety and retiring modesty; but whose spirit, when roused to seek the release of her beloved husband, enabled her to stand unabashed, and full of energy and presence of mind, before judges in their courts, and lords in their mansions. When her partner was sent to jail, she was in that peculiar state that called for all his sympathy and his tenderest care. The shock was too severe for her delicate situation; she became dangerously ill, and, although her life was spared, all hopes had fled of her maternal feelings being called into exercise. Thus did one calamity follow another; still he preserved his integrity.[224]
Bunyan was treated with all the kindness which many of his jailers dared to show him. In his times, imprisonment and fetters were generally companions. Thus he says—'When a felon is going to be tried, his fetters are still making a noise on his heels.'[225] So the prisoners in the Holy War are represented as being 'brought in chains to the bar' for trial. 'The prisoners were handled by the jailer so severely, and loaded so with irons, that they died in the prison.'[226] In many cases, prisoners for conscience' sake were treated with such brutality, before the form of trial, as to cause their death. By Divine mercy, Bunyan was saved from these dreadful punishments, which have ceased as civilization has progressed, and now cloud the narratives of a darker age.
After having lain in prison about seven weeks, the session was held at Bedford, for the county; and Bunyan was placed at the bar, indicted for devilishly and perniciously abstaining from coming to church to hear Divine service, and as 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 laws of our sovereign lord the king. In this indictment Bunyan is not described as 'of Elstow' but 'of Bedford.' Probably he had removed to Bedford soon after he joined Gifford's church. The bench was numerous, and presided over by Justice Keelin.[227] If this was Sergeant Kelynge who, the following year, was made Lord
