The Life of John Bunyan [22]
to the army under
Fairfax, roused the indignation of his orthodox parishioners by
allowing him - "one Bunyon of Bedford, a tinker," as he is
ignominiously styled in the petition sent up to the House of Lords
in 1660 - to preach in his parish church on Christmas Day. But,
generally, the parochial clergy were his bitterest enemies. "When
I first went to preach the word abroad," he writes, "the Doctors
and priests of the country did open wide against me." Many were
envious of his success where they had so signally failed. In the
words of Mr. Henry Deane, when defending Bunyan against the attacks
of Dr. T. Smith, Professor of Arabic and Keeper of the University
Library at Cambridge, who had come upon Bunyan preaching in a barn
at Toft, they were "angry with the tinker because he strove to mend
souls as well as kettles and pans," and proved himself more skilful
in his craft than those who had graduated at a university. Envy is
ever the mother of detraction. Slanders of the blackest dye
against his moral character were freely circulated, and as readily
believed. It was the common talk that he was a thorough reprobate.
Nothing was too bad for him. He was "a witch, a Jesuit, a
highwayman, and the like." It was reported that he had "his misses
and his bastards; that he had two wives at once," &c. Such charges
roused all the man in Bunyan. Few passages in his writings show
more passion than that in "Grace Abounding," in which he defends
himself from the "fools or knaves" who were their authors. He
"begs belief of no man, and if they believe him or disbelieve him
it is all one to him. But he would have them know how utterly
baseless their accusations are." "My foes," he writes, "have
missed their mark in their open shooting at me. I am not the man.
If all the fornicators and adulterers in England were hanged by the
neck till they be dead, John Bunyan would be still alive. I know
not whether there is such a thing as a woman breathing under the
copes of the whole heaven but by their apparel, their children, or
by common fame, except my wife." He calls not only men, but
angels, nay, even God Himself, to bear testimony to his innocence
in this respect. But though they were so absolutely baseless, nay,
the rather because they were so baseless, the grossness of these
charges evidently stung Bunyan very deeply.
So bitter was the feeling aroused against him by the marvellous
success of his irregular ministry, that his enemies, even before
the restoration of the Church and Crown, endeavoured to put the arm
of the law in motion to restrain him. We learn from the church
books that in March, 1658, the little Bedford church was in trouble
for "Brother Bunyan," against whom an indictment had been laid at
the Assizes for "preaching at Eaton Socon." Of this indictment we
hear no more; so it was probably dropped. But it is an instructive
fact that, even during the boasted religious liberty of the
Protectorate, irregular preaching, especially that of the much
dreaded Anabaptists, was an indictable offence. But, as Dr. Brown
observes, "religious liberty had not yet come to mean liberty all
round, but only liberty for a certain recognized section of
Christians." That there was no lack of persecution during the
Commonwealth is clear from the cruel treatment to which Quakers
were subjected, to say nothing of the intolerance shown to
Episcopalians and Roman Catholics. In Bunyan's own county of
Bedford, Quakeresses were sentenced to be whipped and sent to
Bridewell for reproving a parish priest, perhaps well deserving of
it, and exhorting the folks on a market day to repentance and
amendment of life. "The simple truth is," writes Robert Southey,
"all parties were agreed on the one catholic opinion that certain
doctrines were not to be tolerated:" the only points of difference
between them were "what those doctrines were," and how far
intolerance might
Fairfax, roused the indignation of his orthodox parishioners by
allowing him - "one Bunyon of Bedford, a tinker," as he is
ignominiously styled in the petition sent up to the House of Lords
in 1660 - to preach in his parish church on Christmas Day. But,
generally, the parochial clergy were his bitterest enemies. "When
I first went to preach the word abroad," he writes, "the Doctors
and priests of the country did open wide against me." Many were
envious of his success where they had so signally failed. In the
words of Mr. Henry Deane, when defending Bunyan against the attacks
of Dr. T. Smith, Professor of Arabic and Keeper of the University
Library at Cambridge, who had come upon Bunyan preaching in a barn
at Toft, they were "angry with the tinker because he strove to mend
souls as well as kettles and pans," and proved himself more skilful
in his craft than those who had graduated at a university. Envy is
ever the mother of detraction. Slanders of the blackest dye
against his moral character were freely circulated, and as readily
believed. It was the common talk that he was a thorough reprobate.
Nothing was too bad for him. He was "a witch, a Jesuit, a
highwayman, and the like." It was reported that he had "his misses
and his bastards; that he had two wives at once," &c. Such charges
roused all the man in Bunyan. Few passages in his writings show
more passion than that in "Grace Abounding," in which he defends
himself from the "fools or knaves" who were their authors. He
"begs belief of no man, and if they believe him or disbelieve him
it is all one to him. But he would have them know how utterly
baseless their accusations are." "My foes," he writes, "have
missed their mark in their open shooting at me. I am not the man.
If all the fornicators and adulterers in England were hanged by the
neck till they be dead, John Bunyan would be still alive. I know
not whether there is such a thing as a woman breathing under the
copes of the whole heaven but by their apparel, their children, or
by common fame, except my wife." He calls not only men, but
angels, nay, even God Himself, to bear testimony to his innocence
in this respect. But though they were so absolutely baseless, nay,
the rather because they were so baseless, the grossness of these
charges evidently stung Bunyan very deeply.
So bitter was the feeling aroused against him by the marvellous
success of his irregular ministry, that his enemies, even before
the restoration of the Church and Crown, endeavoured to put the arm
of the law in motion to restrain him. We learn from the church
books that in March, 1658, the little Bedford church was in trouble
for "Brother Bunyan," against whom an indictment had been laid at
the Assizes for "preaching at Eaton Socon." Of this indictment we
hear no more; so it was probably dropped. But it is an instructive
fact that, even during the boasted religious liberty of the
Protectorate, irregular preaching, especially that of the much
dreaded Anabaptists, was an indictable offence. But, as Dr. Brown
observes, "religious liberty had not yet come to mean liberty all
round, but only liberty for a certain recognized section of
Christians." That there was no lack of persecution during the
Commonwealth is clear from the cruel treatment to which Quakers
were subjected, to say nothing of the intolerance shown to
Episcopalians and Roman Catholics. In Bunyan's own county of
Bedford, Quakeresses were sentenced to be whipped and sent to
Bridewell for reproving a parish priest, perhaps well deserving of
it, and exhorting the folks on a market day to repentance and
amendment of life. "The simple truth is," writes Robert Southey,
"all parties were agreed on the one catholic opinion that certain
doctrines were not to be tolerated:" the only points of difference
between them were "what those doctrines were," and how far
intolerance might