The Life of John Bunyan [31]
his friends,
Bunyan returned with them, though not with any expectation that the
engagement proposed to him would be such as he could lawfully take.
"If the words were such as he could say with a good conscience he
would say them, or else he would not."
After all this coming and going, by the time Bunyan and his friends
got back to Harlington House, night had come on. As he entered the
hall, one, he tells us, came out of an inner room with a lighted
candle in his hand, whom Bunyan recognized as one William Foster, a
lawyer of Bedford, Wingate's brother-in-law, afterwards a fierce
persecutor of the Nonconformists of the district. With a simulated
affection, "as if he would have leapt on my neck and kissed me,"
which put Bunyan on his guard, as he had ever known him for "a
close opposer of the ways of God," he adopted the tone of one who
had Bunyan's interest at heart, and begged him as a friend to yield
a little from his stubbornness. His brother-in-law, he said, was
very loath to send him to gaol. All he had to do was only to
promise that he would not call people together, and he should be
set at liberty and might go back to his home. Such meetings were
plainly unlawful and must be stopped. Bunyan had better follow his
calling and leave off preaching, especially on week-days, which
made other people neglect their calling too. God commanded men to
work six days and serve Him on the seventh. It was vain for Bunyan
to reply that he never summoned people to hear him, but that if
they came he could not but use the best of his skill and wisdom to
counsel them for their soul's salvation; that he could preach and
the people could come to hear without neglecting their callings,
and that men were bound to look out for their souls' welfare on
week-days as well as Sundays. Neither could convince the other.
Bunyan's stubbornness was not a little provoking to Foster, and was
equally disappointing to Wingate. They both evidently wished to
dismiss the case, and intentionally provided a loophole for
Bunyan's escape. The promise put into his mouth - "that he would
not call the people together" - was purposely devised to meet his
scrupulous conscience. But even if he could keep the promise in
the letter, Bunyan knew that he was fully purposed to violate its
spirit. He was the last man to forfeit self-respect by playing
fast and loose with his conscience. All evasion was foreign to his
nature. The long interview came to an end at last. Once again
Wingate and Foster endeavoured to break down Bunyan's resolution;
but when they saw he was "at a point, and would not be moved or
persuaded," the mittimus was again put into the constable's hands,
and he and his prisoner were started on the walk to Bedford gaol.
It was dark, as we have seen, when this protracted interview began.
It must have now been deep in the night. Bunyan gives no hint
whether the walk was taken in the dark or in the daylight. There
was however no need for haste. Bedford was thirteen miles away,
and the constable would probably wait till the morning to set out
for the prison which was to be Bunyan's home for twelve long years,
to which he went carrying, he says, the "peace of God along with
me, and His comfort in my poor soul."
CHAPTER V.
A long-standing tradition has identified Bunyan's place of
imprisonment with a little corporation lock-up-house, some fourteen
feet square, picturesquely perched on one of the mid-piers of the
many-arched mediaeval bridge which, previously to 1765, spanned the
Ouse at Bedford, and as Mr. Froude has said, has "furnished a
subject for pictures," both of pen and pencil, "which if correct
would be extremely affecting." Unfortunately, however, for the
lovers of the sensational, these pictures are not "correct," but
are based on a false assumption which grew up out of a desire to
heap contumely on Bunyan's enemies by exaggerating
Bunyan returned with them, though not with any expectation that the
engagement proposed to him would be such as he could lawfully take.
"If the words were such as he could say with a good conscience he
would say them, or else he would not."
After all this coming and going, by the time Bunyan and his friends
got back to Harlington House, night had come on. As he entered the
hall, one, he tells us, came out of an inner room with a lighted
candle in his hand, whom Bunyan recognized as one William Foster, a
lawyer of Bedford, Wingate's brother-in-law, afterwards a fierce
persecutor of the Nonconformists of the district. With a simulated
affection, "as if he would have leapt on my neck and kissed me,"
which put Bunyan on his guard, as he had ever known him for "a
close opposer of the ways of God," he adopted the tone of one who
had Bunyan's interest at heart, and begged him as a friend to yield
a little from his stubbornness. His brother-in-law, he said, was
very loath to send him to gaol. All he had to do was only to
promise that he would not call people together, and he should be
set at liberty and might go back to his home. Such meetings were
plainly unlawful and must be stopped. Bunyan had better follow his
calling and leave off preaching, especially on week-days, which
made other people neglect their calling too. God commanded men to
work six days and serve Him on the seventh. It was vain for Bunyan
to reply that he never summoned people to hear him, but that if
they came he could not but use the best of his skill and wisdom to
counsel them for their soul's salvation; that he could preach and
the people could come to hear without neglecting their callings,
and that men were bound to look out for their souls' welfare on
week-days as well as Sundays. Neither could convince the other.
Bunyan's stubbornness was not a little provoking to Foster, and was
equally disappointing to Wingate. They both evidently wished to
dismiss the case, and intentionally provided a loophole for
Bunyan's escape. The promise put into his mouth - "that he would
not call the people together" - was purposely devised to meet his
scrupulous conscience. But even if he could keep the promise in
the letter, Bunyan knew that he was fully purposed to violate its
spirit. He was the last man to forfeit self-respect by playing
fast and loose with his conscience. All evasion was foreign to his
nature. The long interview came to an end at last. Once again
Wingate and Foster endeavoured to break down Bunyan's resolution;
but when they saw he was "at a point, and would not be moved or
persuaded," the mittimus was again put into the constable's hands,
and he and his prisoner were started on the walk to Bedford gaol.
It was dark, as we have seen, when this protracted interview began.
It must have now been deep in the night. Bunyan gives no hint
whether the walk was taken in the dark or in the daylight. There
was however no need for haste. Bedford was thirteen miles away,
and the constable would probably wait till the morning to set out
for the prison which was to be Bunyan's home for twelve long years,
to which he went carrying, he says, the "peace of God along with
me, and His comfort in my poor soul."
CHAPTER V.
A long-standing tradition has identified Bunyan's place of
imprisonment with a little corporation lock-up-house, some fourteen
feet square, picturesquely perched on one of the mid-piers of the
many-arched mediaeval bridge which, previously to 1765, spanned the
Ouse at Bedford, and as Mr. Froude has said, has "furnished a
subject for pictures," both of pen and pencil, "which if correct
would be extremely affecting." Unfortunately, however, for the
lovers of the sensational, these pictures are not "correct," but
are based on a false assumption which grew up out of a desire to
heap contumely on Bunyan's enemies by exaggerating