title: Studies in the English of Bunyan.
text: *J»] 'Ip^- * ^^'\ '^0^ ^oK r$* A^ * fC(\ «» A <^i% <:^ ♦ ,^^^^ V^^^%^' 4^ ♦' *>t- <^ lO-t!, O N O o • « L^ ^5°^ •^^^■? oV'^'^W. V^^-^- <m^r^. '^^^ - 1 * O. » » ■> « ^^^'V '^. .<£. •^ WO ^^> ^^ • * • » •» 'oK O M O .<^' ". ^ »«o' ^V^ ;^ >* ^^ o >* o '^- O • K v-s^ <*--. >^. .* -^^ ^^ " o ^^^^ oV^^^^a'. ^^<-^^ '^0^ T^s* A *o - 1. >» .C' ■^ STUDI ES IN THE ENGLISH OF BUNYAN. BY J. B.GRIER, TUTOR IN MODERN LANGUAGES, LAFAYETTE COLLEGE, EASTON, PA. .-. '^S) PHILADELPHIA: J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 1S72. TK3 3^'' .(^1 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., In the Ofifice of the Librarian of Concrress at Washington. CONTENTS. FACE Biographical 9 From Bunyan's Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners 15 Tributes to Bunyan's Genius 55 From The Pilgrim's Progress 6-^ Grammatical, Philological, and Rhetorical Anal- ysis . 68-129 CHRisTfAN in Doubting Castle 130 Appendix A 141 V Syntax of Simple Sentences ..... 143 Syntax of Compound Sentences .... 144 Co-ordinate Clauses ..... 145 Subordinate Clauses ..... 146 Appendix B: Grimm's Law. — Law of Convertibility in the Latin, English, and German ..... 147 (3) PREFACE. The following pages contain the results of one term's work in the class-room, on the English of Bunyan. So much interest was manifested in these minute inves- tigations into words and sentences that I have been led to gather up such results of our study, however slight and incomplete, as might attract the attention of teachers who care for any methods of training young scholars to habits of fine literary discrimination, and greater pains- taking in their own composition. The plan of study here adopted calls first for the parsing of the sentence. Find the predicative combi nation, which is the framework of the sentence. Then fit in the other words where they belong, to the subject or to the predicate. If it be a compound sentence, take up the next clause, and define it as co-ordinate or subordinate to the principal or other clause, and then analyze as before. After the grammatical analysis, the sentence should be reviewed for the sake of the ety- mology of every word, and whatever philological prin- ciples can be applied to it. Then the rhetorical analysis. The force of a sentence may be tested by weighing any important words in it with synonymous words, or put- ting the thought in other language and then contrasting the two expressions, discussing them, and bringing out as many points as possible wherein one expression is I* (v) yi PREFACE. more appropriate to the thought and better than the other. A regular lesson in a good grammar should be assigned in connection with the grammatical analysis, and the grammatical principles, as fast as they are learned, be applied to the text in parsing. The chap- ter in Appendix A, which is adapted from Fowler's English Grammar, might well be given out in successive lessons till it is committed to memory. It contains the principles of the syntax of simple and compound sentences. Let the student write paraphrases of any chapters, and weekly exercises on any topics in connection with Bunyan's life, or suggested by the class-room discus- sions on his language ; and make ready for a more comprehensive essay, it may be at the close of the term, on the Life and Times of Bunyan. He should be in- forming himself meanwhile about the times in which Bunyan lived, if such a history of England is available; about his birthplace, the books he had, his contempo- raries, and whatever personal experiences and domestic and social and political influences there were which would be likely to affect his character. Read at least The Pilgrim^ s Progress, of all Bunyan's works, not only for the sake of the story, but to get into the spirit of the writer ; and thus be prepared not merely to detail the incidents of his life, but to make something of a philosophical estimate of his character and life, to write a critical and thoughtful essay on the man. The biographical notes will offer the student material for writing an essay on Bunyan. The chapter contains a slight outline of Bunyan's career, a list of his literary PREFACE. vii productions in chronological order, and then extracts from his own account of his conversion, entitled Grace Aboundi?ig to the Chief of Sinnei's. The first of these extracts will fill up the outline notes on his early life, in so far as they make us acquainted with his humble parentage and schooling, his vices of profanity and Sabbath-breaking, his reformation after marriage, the working of his mind, and his progress in religious life. Having his confessions, and his own study of his experiences, we can get nearer the truth, and make a better estimate of his character than if we had to take the word of a strange biographer. But when we read those touching confessions of youthful depravity, we have to remember that the writer of them was also the author of The Pilgrim' s Progress. Here we are willingly bound in the weavings of a powerful imagination, but in the autobiography we must be aware of that spell, and read the second time with discrimination, to judge whether Bunyan's pictures of himself are not vividly drawn and colored out of his great imagination. We know Bunyan too well to follow him in such condemnation of himself. His great charm as a writer is simplicity. But his heart was as guileless as his pen. He formed his style not from books, save the Bible, but out of his pure, warm h^art, and life, and religious experience. BIOGRAPHICAL. John Bunyan was born in the year 1628, in the village of Elstow, a mile distant from Bedford, England. His father was a brazier or tinker, and the son followed the same calling. Bunyan lived in a stormy time of England's political history. Three years before his birth Charles I. became king. His tyrannical reign of twenty-four years ended in civil war between the king and the royal army on the one side, and the Parliament on the other, supported by the Puritans and law-abiding people of the kingdom. At first the royal forces were successful ; but in the deci- sive battle of Naseby, 14th of June, 1645, they were routed, the king was captured, and was exe- cuted as a tyrant on the 30th of January, 1649. Bunyan had served in this war as a private soldier in the Parliamentary army. At the age of nineteen he was married. At twenty-five, he united with the Baptists in Bedford, and became an itinerant preacher. These years of ministerial labor Avere spent under the Protectorate of Cromwell. But when the Com- A* (9) \ lO BIOGRAPHICAL. monwealth was overthrown, in 1660, the govern- ment of the Restoration, under Charles IL; began to persecute the dissenting sects for their adherence to the pohtical doctrines of the Commonwealth. Charles 11. was a dissolute monarch, and no less tyrannical than Charles I. During his reign of twenty-five years the Puritans were sorely perse- cuted. Bunyan had become a powerful preacher, and attracted thousands to his audience. His elo- quence and wide popularity among the masses drew attention to him as an influential noncon- formist, and on the 12th of November, 1660, he was arrested on the warrant of a country magis- trate. He was preaching at a country place in Bedfordshire, when the services were rudely inter- rupted by constables, and Bunyan was taken be- fore the Justice, Wingate, who, as he said, ''had resolved to break the neck of such meetings." The Justice could not make him promise to desist from preaching, and, as bail was refused him, he was committed to prison, the Bedford jail. The bill of indictment against him read: "That John Bunyan, of the town of Bedford, laborer, hath devil- ishly and perniciously abstained from coming to church* to hear divine service, and is a common upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventi- cles, to the great disturbance and distraction of the * The Established Church. BIOGRAPHICAL, 1 1 good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king." Efforts were made by his wife to effect his re- lease. This was his second wife, to whom he had been married only a year or two before his impris- onment. She appeared more than once before the great Sir Matthew Hale, whose sympathies were awakened by the woman's appeals, but the other judges were immovable. Bunyan was in prison twelve years, engaged in literary labors, and supporting his family by mak- ing tagged laces. His personal friend and first biographer, Mr. Doe, who saw him in prison, says, " Nor did he spend his time in a supine and care- less' manner, or eat the bread of idleness. For there I have been witness, that his own hands have ministered to his and to his family's necessities, by making many hundred gross of long, tagged, thread laces, to fill up the vacancies of his time, which he had learned for that purpose, since he had been in prison. There, also, I surveyed his library, the least and yet the best that ever I saw, consisting only of two books, — a Bible and the Book of Martyrsr''^ He frequently enjoyed the company of his wife and children, and toward the end of his imprisonment he was allowed unusual freedom, even to occasional preaching in the neigh- borhood, and spending some of his nights at home. * Bunyan had also a Concordance. He says, " My Bible and my Concordance are my only library in my writings." 1 2 BIO GRAPHICAL. In the last year of his imprisonment, the pastor of the Bedford congregation died, and Bunyan was called to succeed him. He was liberated in Sep- tember, 1672, and immediately resumed his minis- terial labors in Bedford, which were continued sixteen years, till his death. Once a year he would visit London, when thousands of people crowded to hear him. Among his admirers in London was the celebrated Dr. Owen. Once he was asked by Charles II. how so learned a man as he could " sit and hear an illiterate tinker prate." To this he replied, " May it please your Majesty, could I pos- sess that tinker's abilities for preaching, I would most gladly relinquish all my learning." In the summer of 1688, Bunyan went to Reading, in Berkshire, to reconcile a father and son. His mission was successful ; but as he was returning on horseback, a violent storm overtook him, and all drenched with rain he stopped at the house of a friend, a Mr. Straddock, on Snowhill, London. Here he fell sick of a violent fever, and died, at the age of sixty. Bunyan was a voluminous writer. His first literary production was entitled Some Gospel Trutlis Opened according to the Scriptures. This brought him into controversy with the Quakers. Two years after, when he was thirty years of age, he published a treatise, entitled A Few Sighs from Hell, or the Groans of a Damned Soul More than BIO GRAPHICAL. I ^ nine editions were sold during the author's life- time. A copy of the first edition, which once be- longed to Charles II., is in the Royal Library of the British Museum. But the great work by which Bunyan is known all over the enlightened world is TJic Pilgrini's Progress^ which was composed in Bedford jail, and published in 1678, six years after his release.* It has been translated into ail the European languages, and, excepting only the Bible, it has gained a wider circulation than anything else in English literature. The eleventh edition was published in the year of Bunyan's death, 1688. It was the uneducated among whom this book at first was so popular. After many years, cultivated people began to take it up, and critics had to pronounce it one of the greatest works in all literature. Among other works composed in prison are his treatises on The Holy City, CJuistian Behaviour, Justification by Fait Ji, TJie Resurrectiojt of the Dead, A Discourse Touching Prayer, Confession of Ids Faith and Reason of his Practice, together with that remarkable history of his conversion, entitled Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners. In 1675 appeared a discourse, Saved by Grace. * His biographer, Philip, says that it was no doubt partly- dreamt in" prison, but that it was probably not written till after his release in 1672, " and then his other works amounted to twenty-two in all. Thus it is unwise to speak of The Pilgrim as if it were not the work of a practiced writer." 2 J . BIOGRAPHICAL. In 1680, The Life and Death of Mr. B adman was published. This work is in the form of a dialogue. In 1 68 1, a treatise entitled Come and Welcome to Jesns Christ, of which four large editions were issued in Bunyan's lifetime. In 1682, in a small octavo volume, The Holy War, made by Shaddai upon Diabolus, for the Regaining of the Metropolis of the World, or the Losing and Tak- ing again of the Toivn of Mansoid. This work stands alongside of The Pilgrim's Progress. Ma- caulay says that if the The Pilgrim's Progress did not exist, this would be the best allegory that ever was written. In the same year appeared two works, enlarged from pulpit discourses, one on The Greatness of the Sold and the Unspeakablcness of the Loss thereof. The other. The Barren Fig-Tree, or the Doom and Doivnfall of the Fndtless Professor. In 1684, another extended discourse was pub- lished, entitled Seasonable Counsels, or Advice to Sufferers. In the same year, A Holy Life the Beauty of Christianity. In the same year also, the second part of The Pilgrim's Progress was published. In 1688 were published separately, The Jeru- salem Sinner Saved, Solomon's Temple Spiritualized, and A Discourse on the Water of Life. Besides these, with some other published works, Bunyan left behind him a number of discourses in manuscript, which were published in 1692 by his friend and biographer, Mr. Doe. FROAI BUNYAN S GRACE ABOUNDING TO THE CHIEF OF SINNERS. For my descent then, it was, as is well known to many, of a low and inconsiderable generation ; my father's house being of that rank that is mean-est and most despised of all the families in the land. But yet, notwithstanding the meanness and in- considerableness of my parents, it pleased God to put it into their hearts to put me to school, to learn me both to read and write ; the which I also attained, according to the rate of other poor men's children, though to my shame I confess, I did soon lose that little I learnt, even almost utterly, and that long before the Lord did work his gracious work of conversion upon my soul. As for my own natural life, for the time that I was without God in the world, it was, indeed, ac- cording to the course of this ivorld, and the spirit that nozv worketh in the children of disobedience. It was my delight to be taken captive by the devil at his will, — being filled with all unrighteousness ; the which did also so strongly work, and put forth itself, both in my heart and life, and that from a child, that I had but a few equals (especially con- (IS) J 5 CLASS-ROOM DRILL sldering my years, which were tender, being few), both for cursing, swearing, lying, and blaspheming the holy name of God. Yea, so settled and rooted was I in these things, that they became as a second nature to me ; the which, as I have also with soberness considered since, did so offend the Lord, that even in my child- hood he did scare and affrighten me with fearful dreams, and did terrify me with fearful visions. For often, after I had spent this and the other day in sin, I have in my bed been greatly afflicted, while asleep, with the apprehensions of devils and wicked spirits, who still, as I then thought, laboured to draw me away with them, of which I could never be rid. Also I should at these years be greatly afflicted and troubled with the thoughts of the fearful tor- ments of hell-fire ; still fearing that it would be my lot to be found at last among those devils and hellish fiends, who are there bound down with the chains and bonds of darkness, unto the judgment of the great day. These things^ I say, when I was but a child, but nine or ten years old, did so distress my soul, that then in the midst of my many sports and childish vanities, amidst my vain companions, I was often much cast down, and afflicted in my mind there- with; yet I could not let go my sins. Yea, I was also then so overcome with despair of life and heaven, that I should often wish, either that there ON THE ENGLISH OF BUN VAN ly had been no hell, or that I had been a devil,— sup- posing they were only tormentors ; that if it must needs be that I went thither, I might be rather a tormentor, than be tormented myself. A while after those terrible dreams did leave me, which also I soon forgot; for my pleasures did quickly cut off the remembrance of them, as if they had never been : wherefore with more greediness, according to the strength of nature, I did still let loose the reins of my lust, and delighted in all transgressions against the law of God; so that until I came to the state of marriage, I was the very ringleader of all the youth that kept me com- pany, in all manner of vice and ungodliness.. In these days the thoughts of religion were very grievous to me ; I could neither endure it myself, nor that any other should ; so that when I have seen some read in those books that concerned Christian piety, it would be as it were a prison to me. Then I said unto God, Depait from me, for I desire not the knowledge of thy ivays. I was now void of all good consideration, heaven and hell were both out of sight and mind; and as for saving and damning, they were least in my thoughts. Lord, thou knozuest my life, and my ways were not Jddfroni thee. But this I well remember, that though I could myself sin with the greatest delight and ease, and also take pleasure in the vileness of my compan- ions; yet, even then, if I had at any time seen 1 3 CLASS-ROOM DRILL wicked things, by those who professed goodness, it would make my spirit tremble. As once above all the rest, when I was in the height of vanity, yet hearing one to swear, that was reckoned for a re- ligious man, it had so great a stroke upon my spirit that it made my heart ache. But God did not utterly leave me, but followed me still, not with convictions, but with judgments; yet such as were mixed with mercy. For once I fell into a creek of the sea, and hardly escaped drowning. Another time I fell out of a boat into Bedford River, but mercy yet preserved me alive. Besides, another time, being in the field with one of my companions, it chanced that an adder passed over the highway, so I, having a stick in my hand, struck her over the back ; and having stunned her, I forced open her mouth with my stick, and plucked her sting out with my fingers ; by which act, had not God been merciful unto me, I might by my desperateness, have brought myself to my end. This also I have taken notice of, with thanks- giving. When I was a soldier, I, with others, were drawn out to go to such a place to besiege it ; but when I was just ready to go, one of the company desired to go in my room : to which, when I had consented, he took my place ; and coming to the siege, as he stood sentinel, he was shot in the head with a musket-bullet, and died. Here, as I said, were judgments and mercy, but neither of them did awaken my soul to righteous- ON THE ENGLISH OF BUNYAN 19 ness ; wherefore I sinned still, and grew more and more rebellious against God, and careless of my own salvation. Presently after this, I changed my condition into a married state, and my mercy was to light upon a wife whose father was counted godly; this woman and I, 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; the Practice of Piety ;" which her father had left her when he died. In these two books I should sometimes read with her, wherein I also found some things that were somewhat pleasing to me; but all this while I met with no conviction. She also would be often telling me of what a godly man her father was, and how he would reprove and correct vice, both in his house, and among his neighbors, what a strict and holy life he led in his days, both in word and deed. Wherefore these books, with the relation, though 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, aitd that, too, with the foremost ; and there should very devoutly both say and sing, as others did, yet retaining my wicked life ; but withal, I was so overrun with the spirit of superstition, that I adored, and that with 20 CLASS-ROOM DRILL great devotion, even all things (both the high place, priest, clerk, vestment service, and what else) be- longing 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 the holy temple to do his work therein. This conceit grew so strong in a little time 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 on by them ; their name, their garb, and work did so intoxicate and bewitch me. . .. But one day, amongst all the sermons our par- son made, his subject was to treat of the Sabbath- day, and of the evil of breaking that, either with labor, sports, or otherwise (now I was, notwith- standing my religion, one that took much delight in all manner of vice, and especially that was the day that I did solace myself therewith) : wherefore I fell \w my conscience under this sermon, think- ing and believing that he made that sermon on purpose to show me my evil doing. And at that time I felt what guilt was, though never before, that I can remember; but then I was, for the present, greatly loaded therewith, and so went ON THE ENGLISH OF BUN VAN. 2 1 home when the sermon was ended, with a great burthen upon my spirit. This, for an instant, did benumb the sinews of my best deh'ghts, and did embitter my former pleasures to me ; but hold, it lasted not ; for before I had dined, the trouble began to go off my mind, and my heart returned to its old course. But, oh, how glad was I, that this trouble was gone from me, and that the fire was put out, that I might sin again without controul ! Wherefore, when I had satisfied nature with my food, I shook the sermon out of my mind, and to my old custom of sports and gaming I returned with great delight. But the same day, as I was in the midst of a game of Cat, and having struck it one blow from the hole, just as I was about to strike it the 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 ?" At this I was put to an exceeding amaze ; where- fore, leaving my cat upon the ground, I looked up to heaven, and was, as if I had, with the eyes of my understanding, seen the Lord Jesus looking down upon me, as being very hotly displeased with me, and as if he did severely threaten me with some grievous punishment for these and other ungodly practices. I had no sooner thus conceived in my mind but suddenly this conclusion was fastened on my spirit (for the former hint did set my sins again before 22 CLASS-ROOM DRILL my face), that I had been a great and grievous sinner, and that it was now too late for me to look after heaven; for Christ would not forgive me, nor pardon my transgressions. Then I fell to musing on this also ; and while I was thinking of it, and fearing lest it should be so, I felt my heart sink in despair, concluding it was too late; and therefore I resolved in my mind to go on in sin. For, thought I, if the case be thus, my state is surely miserable ; miserable if I leave my sins, and but miserable if I follow them. I can but be damned, and if I must be so, I had as good be damned for many sins as be damned for few. Thus 1 stood in the midst of my play, before all that then were present ; but yet I told them nothing ; but I say, having made this conclusion, I returned desperately to my sport again ; and I well remember, that presently this kind of despair did so possess my soul that I was persuaded I could never attain to other comfort than what I should get in sin ; for heaven was gone already, so that on that I must not think. Wherefore I found within me great desire to have my fill of sin, still studying what sin was yet to be committed, that I might taste the sweetness of it; and I made as much haste as I could to fill my belly with its delicacies, lest I should die before I had my desires ; for that I feared greatly. In these things, I protest before God I lie not, neither do I frame this sort of speech ; these were really, strongly, and with all my heart my ON THE ENGLISH OF BUN VAN 23 desires. The good Lord, whose mercy is unsearch- able, forgive my transgressions. . .. Now therefore I went on in sin with great greedi- ness of mind, still grudging that I could not be satisfied with it as I would. This did continue with me about a month, or more ; but one day, as I was standing at a neighbor's shop-window, and there cursing and swearing, and playing the mad- man, after my wonted manner, there sat within the woman of the house, and heard me ; who, though she was a very loose and ungodly wretch, yet protested that I swore and cursed at the most ungodly rate, that she was made to tremble to hear me ; and told me further, that I was the ungodliest fellow for swearing that she 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 came but in my company. At this reproof I was silenced, and put to secret shame ; and that too, as I thought, before the God of heaven ; wherefore, while I stood there, and hanging down my head, I wished with all my heart that I might be a little child again, that my father might teach me to speak without this wicked way of swearing ; for, thought I, I am so accustomed to.it, that it is in vain for me to think of a reforma- tion, for I thought that could never be. But how it came to pass I know not ; I did from this time forward, so leave my swearing, that it was a great wonder to myself to observe it ; and whereas, before I knew not how to speak unless I 24 CLASS-ROOM DRILL put an oath before and another one behind, to make my words have authority ; now I could, with- out it, speak better, and with more pleasantness than ever I could before. All this while I knew not Jesus Christ, neither did I leave my sports and plays. But quickly after this, I fell into company with one poor man that made profession of religion ; who, as I then thought, did talk pleasantly of the Scriptures, and of the matter of religion; wherefore, falling into some love and liking to what he said, I betook me to my Bible, and began to take great pleasure in reading, but especially with the his- torical part thereof; for as for St. Paul's Epistles, and suchlike Scriptures, I could not away with them, being as yet ignorant, either of the corrup- tions of my nature, or of the want and worth of Jesus Christ to save us. Wherefore I fell to some outward reformation both in my words and life, and did set the com- mandments before me for my way to heaven ; which commandments I also did strive to keep, and, as I thought, did keep them pretty well some- times, and then I should have comfort ; yet now and then should break one, and so afflict my con- science; but then I should repent, and say, I was sorry for it, and promised God to do better next time, and there get help again; for then I thought I pleased God as well as any man in Eng- land. . . . But, I say, my neighbours were amazed at ON THE ENGLISH OF BUN VAN. 25 this my great conversion from prodigious profane- ness to something hke a moral hfe ; and truly, so they well might ; for this my conversion was as great as for Tom of Bedlam to become a sober man. Now therefore they began to praise, to com- mend, and to speak well of m.e, 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 oh ! 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 to be well spoken of by men ; and thus I continued for about a twelvemonth, or more. Now you must know, that before this I had taken much delight in ringing the bell, but my conscience beginning to be tender, I thought such a practice was but vain, and therefore forced my- self to leave it ; yet my mind hankered ; wherefore, I would now go to the steeple-house and look on, though I durst not ring; but I thought this did not become religion neither ; yet I forced myself, and would look on still. . .. Another thing was my dancing. I was full a year before I could quite leave that; but all this while, when I thought I kept this or that command- ment, or did, by word or deed, anything that I thought was good, I had great peace in my con- B* 3 26 CLASS-ROOM DRILL science ; and should think with myself God cannot but be now pleased with me ; yea, to relate it in mine own way, I thought no man in England could please God better than I. . .. But upon a day, the good providence of God called me to Bedford, to work on 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 of myself, in the matter of religion ; but I may say, / heai'd, but tniderstood 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 con- vinced 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 dis- coursed of their own wretchedness of heart, and of their unbelief; and did contemn, slight, and abhoi * Bunyan followed his father's trade, which was that of abrazic or tinker. ON THE ENGLISH OF BUNYAN. 27 their own righteousness, as filthy, and insufficient to do them any good. And 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 they had found a new world ; as if they were people that divelt 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 into my mind ; neither knew I the comfort of the word and promise, nor the deceitfulness and treachery 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. Thus, therefore, when I had heard and consid- ered what they said, I left them, and went about my employment again ; but their talk and discourse went with me; also my heart would tarry with them, for I was greatly affected with their words, both because by them I was convinced that I wanted the true 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 an one. Therefore I would often make it my business to be going again and again into the company of 23 CLASS-ROOM DRILL these poor people ; for I could not stay away ; and the more I went among them the more I did ques- tion 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 great bending in my mind, to a continually meditating on it, and on all other good things which at any time I heard or read of . .. One thing I may not omit : there was a young man in our town, to whom my heart before was knit more than to any other, but he being a most wicked creature for cursing, and swearing, and whoring, I now shook him off, and forsook his company ; but about a quarter of a year after I had left him, I met him in a certain lane, and asked him how he did ; he, after his old swearing and mad way answered, he was well. ''But, Harry," said I, '* Why do you curse and swear thus ? What will become of you if you die in this con- dition ?" He answered me in a great chafe, "What would the devil do for company if it were not for such as I am?" About this time I met with some Ranters' books, that were put forth by some of our countrymen, which books were also highly in esteem by several ON THE ENGLISH OF BUNYAN. 29 old professors ; some of these I read but was not able to make a judgment about them ; wherefore as I read in them, and thought upon them, seeing myself unable to judge, I would betake myself to hearty prayer in this manner: "O Lord, I am a fool, and not able to know the truth from error : Lord, leave me not to my own blindness, either to approve of, or condemn this doctrine ; if it be of God, let me not despise it ; if it be of the devil, let me not embrace it. Lord, I lay my soul in this matter only at thy foot, let me not be deceived, I humbly beseech thee." I had one religious inti- mate companion all this while, and that was the poor man I spoke of before ; but about this time, he also turned a devilish Ranter, and gave himself up to all manner of filthiness, especially unclean- ness. He would also deny that there was a God, angel, or spirit ; and would laugh at all exhorta- tions to sobriety : when I labored to rebuke his wickedness, he would laugh the more, and pretend that he had gone through all . religions, and could never hit upon the right till now. He told me also, that in a little time I should see all professors turn to the ways of the Ranters. Wherefore abominat- ing these cursed principles, I left his company forthwith, and became to him as great a stranger, as I had been before a familiar. Neither was this man only a temptation to me, but my calling being in the country, I happened to come into several people's company, who though 3* qo CLASS-ROOM DRILL strict in religion formerly, yet were also drawn away by these Ranters. These would also talk with me of their ways, and condemn me as legal and dark : pretending that they only had attained to perfection, that could do what they would and not sin. Oh! these temptations were suita'ble to my flesh, I being but a young man, and my nature in its prime ; but God, who had, as I hoped, de- signed me for better things, kept me in the fear of his name, and did not suffer rhe to accept such cursed principles. And blessed be God, who put it into my heart to cry to him to be kept and directed, still distrusting mine own wisdom ; for I have since seen even the effects of that prayer, in his preserving me, not only from Ranting errors, but from those also that have sprung up since. . — The Bible was precious to me in those days. About this time, the state and happiness of those poor people at Bedford was thus, in a kind of a vision, presented to me. I saw as if they were on the sunny side of some high mountain, there re- freshing 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 ; con- cluding, that if I could, I would even go into the very midst of them, and there also comfort myself with the heat of their sun. ON THE ENGLISH OF BUN VAN. .^T About this wall I bethought myself to go again and again, still praying 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 doorway in the wall, through which I at- tempted to pass : now the passage being very straight and narrow, I made many offers to get in, but all in vain, even until I was well nigh quite beat out, by striving to get in; 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, 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, &c., was thus made out to me: the mountain signified the church of the living God ; the sun that shone thereon, the comfortable shining of his merciful face on them that were therein ; the wall I thought was the world, that did make separation between the Chris- tians and the world ; and the gap which was in the wall, I thought, was Jesus Christ, who is the way to God the Father. (John, xiv. 6; Matt. vii. 14.) But forasmuch as the passage was wonderfully 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 unless also they left that wicked world behind them ; for here was only 32 CLASS-ROOM DRILL 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 a vehement hunger and desire to be one of that number that did sit in the sunshine : now also would I pray wherever I was ; whether at home or abroad ; in house or field ; and would also often, with lifting up of heart sing that of the fifty-first Psalm, Lord consider my distress ; for as yet I knew not where I was. . .. 