The Life of John Bunyan [28]
use it? As Mr. J. R. Green has said: "The Puritan, the
Presbyterian, the Commonwealthsman, all were at their feet. . .
Their whole policy appeared to be dictated by a passionate spirit
of reaction. . . The oppressors of the parson had been the
oppressors of the squire. The sequestrator who had driven the one
from his parsonage had driven the other from his manor-house. Both
had been branded with the same charge of malignity. Both had
suffered together, and the new Parliament was resolved that both
should triumph together."
The feeling thus eloquently expressed goes far to explain the
harshness which Bunyan experienced at the hands of the
administrators of justice at the crisis of his life at which we
have now arrived. Those before whom he was successively arraigned
belonged to this very class, which, having suffered most severely
during the Puritan usurpation, was least likely to show
consideration to a leading teacher of the Puritan body. Nor were
reasons wanting to justify their severity. The circumstances of
the times were critical. The public mind was still in an excitable
state, agitated by the wild schemes of political and religious
enthusiasts plotting to destroy the whole existing framework both
of Church and State, and set up their own chimerical fabric. We
cannot be surprised that, as Southey has said, after all the nation
had suffered from fanatical zeal, "The government, rendered
suspicious by the constant sense of danger, was led as much by fear
as by resentment to seventies which are explained by the
necessities of self-defence," and which the nervous apprehensions
of the nation not only condoned, but incited. Already Churchmen in
Wales had been taking the law into their own hands, and manifesting
their orthodoxy by harrying Quakers and Nonconformists. In the May
and June of this year, we hear of sectaries being taken from their
beds and haled to prison, and brought manacled to the Quarter
Sessions and committed to loathsome dungeons. Matters had advanced
since then. The Church had returned in its full power and
privileges together with the monarchy, and everything went back
into its old groove. Every Act passed for the disestablishment and
disendowment of the Church was declared a dead letter. Those of
the ejected incumbents who remained alive entered again into their
parsonages, and occupied their pulpits as of old; the surviving
bishops returned to their sees; and the whole existing statute law
regarding the Church revived from its suspended animation. No new
enactment was required to punish Nonconformists and to silence
their ministers; though, to the disgrace of the nation and its
parliament, many new ones were subsequently passed, with ever-
increasing disabilities. The various Acts of Elizabeth supplied
all that was needed. Under these Acts all who refused to attend
public worship in their parish churches were subject to fines;
while those who resorted to conventicles were to be imprisoned till
they made their submissions; if at the end of three months they
refused to submit they were to be banished the realm, and if they
returned from banishment, without permission of the Crown, they
were liable to execution as felons. This long-disused sword was
now drawn from its rusty sheath to strike terror into the hearts of
Nonconformists. It did not prove very effectual. All the true-
hearted men preferred to suffer rather than yield in so sacred a
cause. Bunyan was one of the earliest of these, as he proved one
of the staunchest.
Early in October, 1660, the country magistrates meeting in Bedford
issued an order for the public reading of the Liturgy of the Church
of England. Such an order Bunyan would not regard as concerning
him. Anyhow he would not give obeying it a thought. One of the
things we least like in Bunyan is the feeling he exhibits towards
the Book of Common Prayer. To him it was an
Presbyterian, the Commonwealthsman, all were at their feet. . .
Their whole policy appeared to be dictated by a passionate spirit
of reaction. . . The oppressors of the parson had been the
oppressors of the squire. The sequestrator who had driven the one
from his parsonage had driven the other from his manor-house. Both
had been branded with the same charge of malignity. Both had
suffered together, and the new Parliament was resolved that both
should triumph together."
The feeling thus eloquently expressed goes far to explain the
harshness which Bunyan experienced at the hands of the
administrators of justice at the crisis of his life at which we
have now arrived. Those before whom he was successively arraigned
belonged to this very class, which, having suffered most severely
during the Puritan usurpation, was least likely to show
consideration to a leading teacher of the Puritan body. Nor were
reasons wanting to justify their severity. The circumstances of
the times were critical. The public mind was still in an excitable
state, agitated by the wild schemes of political and religious
enthusiasts plotting to destroy the whole existing framework both
of Church and State, and set up their own chimerical fabric. We
cannot be surprised that, as Southey has said, after all the nation
had suffered from fanatical zeal, "The government, rendered
suspicious by the constant sense of danger, was led as much by fear
as by resentment to seventies which are explained by the
necessities of self-defence," and which the nervous apprehensions
of the nation not only condoned, but incited. Already Churchmen in
Wales had been taking the law into their own hands, and manifesting
their orthodoxy by harrying Quakers and Nonconformists. In the May
and June of this year, we hear of sectaries being taken from their
beds and haled to prison, and brought manacled to the Quarter
Sessions and committed to loathsome dungeons. Matters had advanced
since then. The Church had returned in its full power and
privileges together with the monarchy, and everything went back
into its old groove. Every Act passed for the disestablishment and
disendowment of the Church was declared a dead letter. Those of
the ejected incumbents who remained alive entered again into their
parsonages, and occupied their pulpits as of old; the surviving
bishops returned to their sees; and the whole existing statute law
regarding the Church revived from its suspended animation. No new
enactment was required to punish Nonconformists and to silence
their ministers; though, to the disgrace of the nation and its
parliament, many new ones were subsequently passed, with ever-
increasing disabilities. The various Acts of Elizabeth supplied
all that was needed. Under these Acts all who refused to attend
public worship in their parish churches were subject to fines;
while those who resorted to conventicles were to be imprisoned till
they made their submissions; if at the end of three months they
refused to submit they were to be banished the realm, and if they
returned from banishment, without permission of the Crown, they
were liable to execution as felons. This long-disused sword was
now drawn from its rusty sheath to strike terror into the hearts of
Nonconformists. It did not prove very effectual. All the true-
hearted men preferred to suffer rather than yield in so sacred a
cause. Bunyan was one of the earliest of these, as he proved one
of the staunchest.
Early in October, 1660, the country magistrates meeting in Bedford
issued an order for the public reading of the Liturgy of the Church
of England. Such an order Bunyan would not regard as concerning
him. Anyhow he would not give obeying it a thought. One of the
things we least like in Bunyan is the feeling he exhibits towards
the Book of Common Prayer. To him it was an