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ART. V. The Pilgrim's Progress, with a Life of John Bunyan. By Robert Southey, Esq. L.L.D. 8vo. Illustrated with engravings. London Murray and John Major. 1830.

It was every way worthy the enterprize of the present day to present the Pilgrim's Progress,-so long the favourite classic of the people,-to the world in a form suited to its established character. The pencils of Mr. Martin and other distinguished artists have been employed to give pictorial shape and definition to the strange imaginations of Bunyan, and the life of the hero himself comes bofore us in all the vivid and attractive colours of Mr. Southey's pen.

Examined as a source of moral instruction, the biography of John Bunyan, not as it is clipped by some former writers, but as it is honestly delivered to us by Mr. Southey, will be admitted to be exceedingly valuable. He began his existence with the dispositions calculated to make him a brute; these propensities he overcame, not through the instrumentality of others or by means of propitious circumstances, but by an effort of native intelligence working its forward way through darkness and adversity, and attaining, at last, that sphere of light with which alone it could be satisfied. The humble parentage of Bunyan is well known; the stories that are told of his early conversion from an immoral life to a religious one, only shew, when strictly considered, that the whole miracle proceeded from himself, and was the result of his own keen perception. Some curious traits mark the weakness of Bunyan's imagination.

Bunyan had formerly taken great delight in bell ringing; but now that his conscience" began to be tender," he thought it "a vain practice," in other words a sin; yet he so hankered after this his old exercise, that though he durst not pull a rope himself, he would go and look at the ringers, not without the secret feeling that to do so was unbecoming the religious character which he now professed. A fear came upon him that one of the bells might fall: to secure himself against such an accident, he stood under a beam that lay athwart the steeple, from side to side; but his apprehensions being once awakened, he then considered that the bell might fall with a swing, hit the wall first, rebound, and so strike him in its descent. Upon this he retired to the steeple door, thinking himself safe enough there, for if the bell should fall he could slip out. Further than the door he did not venture, nor did he long continue to think himself secure there; for the next fancy which possessed him was that the steeple itself might fall; and this so possessed him and so shook his mind, that he dared not stand at the door longer, but fled, for fear the tower should come down upon him,-to such a state of nervous weakness had a diseased feeling brought his strong body and strong mind. The last amusement from which he weaned himself was that of dancing; it was a full year before he could quite leave that: but in so doing, and in any thing in which he thought he was performing his duty, he had such peace of mind,

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such satisfaction, that," to relate it," he says, "in mine own way, I thought no man in England could please God better than 1.-Poor wretch as I was, I was all this while ignorant of Jesus Christ, and going about to establish my own righteousness, and had perished therein, had not God in mercy shewed me more of my state by nature."'—pp. xiii., xiv.

We do not intend to follow Mr. Southey through the history of Bunyan's "Spiritual wrestlings," the effect of which had nigh unseated his reason-or of his controversies with the Quakers. A more interesting part of his life is that which describes his troubles, encountered at the hands of a fanatic government.

'A warrant was issued against Bunyan, as if he had been a dangerous person, because he went about preaching; this office was deemed (and well it might be) incompatible with his calling; he was known to be hostile to the restored Church, and probably it might be remembered that he had served in the Parliament's army. Accordingly he was arrested at a place called Samsell in Bedfordshire, at a meeting in a private house. He was aware of this intention, but neither chose to put off the meeting, nor to escape, lest such conduct on his part should make "an ill savour in the country;" and because he was resolved "to see the utmost of what they could say or do to him;" so he was taken before the justice, Wingate by name, who had issued the warrant. Wingate asked him why he did not content himself with following his calling, instead of breaking the law; and Bunyan replied that he could both follow his calling, and preach the word too. He was then required to find sureties; they were ready, and being called in were told they were bound to keep him from preaching, otherwise their bonds would be forfeited. Upon this Bunyan declared that he would not desist from speaking the word of God. While his mittimus was making in consequence of this determination, one whom he calls an old enemy of the truth, entered into discourse with him, and said he had read of one Alexander the coppersmith who troubled the Apostles,-aiming 'tis like at me," says Bunyan," because I was a tinker; to which I answered that I also had read of priests and Pharisees that had their hands in the blood of our Lord." Aye, was the rejoinder, and you are one of those Pharisees, for you make long prayers to devour widows' houses. "I answered," says Bunyan, "that if he had got no more by preaching and praying than I had done, he would not be so rich as now he was. This ended in his committal to Bedford jail, there to remain till the quarter-sessions. He was offered his liberty if he would promise not to call the people together, but no such promise would he make; and when he was told that none but poor, simple, ignorant people came to hear him, he replied that such had most need of teaching, and therefore it was his duty to go on in that work. It appears, however, that, after a few days, he listened to his friends, and would have given bond for his appearance at the sessions, but the magistrate to whom they applied was afraid to take it. "Whereat," says Bunyan, "I was not at all daunted, but rather glad, and saw evidently that the Lord had heard me. For before I went down to the justice, I begged of God that if I might do more good by being at liberty than in prison, that then I might be set at liberty; but, if not, His will be done; for I was not altogether without hopes, but that my imprisonment might be an awakening to the saints in the country: therefore

I could not tell which to chuse; only I in that manner did commit the thing to God. And verily at my return, I did meet my God sweetly in the prison again, comforting of me, and satisfying of me that it was His will and mind that I should be there."

'Some seven weeks after this, the Sessions were held, and John Bunyan was indicted as a person who "devilishly and perniciously abstained from coming to Church to hear divine service, and who was a common upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles to the great disturbance and distraction of the good subjects of this kingdom." He answered, that as to the first part of this, he was a common frequenter of the Church of God but being demanded whether he attended the parish Church, he replied that he did not, and for this reason, that he was not commanded so to do in the word of God; we were commanded there to pray, but with the spirit, not by the common prayer book, the prayers in that book being made by other men, and not by the motion of the Holy Spirit within our hearts. And as to the Lord's prayer, said he, "there are very few that can, in the Spirit, say the two first words of that prayer; that is, that can call God their father, as knowing what it is to be born again, and as having experience that they are begotten of the Spirit of God; which if they do not, all is but babbling." Having persuaded himself by weak arguments, Bunyan used them as if they had been strong ones; "Shew," he said, "the place in the Epistles where the Common Prayer Book is written, or one text of Scripture that commands me to read it, and I will use it. But yet, notwithstanding, they that have a mind to use it, they have their liberty; that is, I would not keep them from it. But for our parts, we can pray to God without it. Blessed be his name!" But the Sectaries had kept their countrymen from it, while they had the power; and Bunyan himself in his sphere laboured to dissuade them from it.'-pp. lix.-lxi.

It is an admirable proof of Bunyan's honesty and courage, that in none of his writings was he so bold and determined, or so little tolerant, as he was before the officers of justice. He had been now married to his second wife some time, and although he speaks harshly of the sex, the conduct of this woman called for the loudest approbation. Her exertions in behalf of her incarcerated husband, are affectingly described.

"With abashed face and a trembling heart," she entered the Swan Chamber, where the two Judges and many magistrates and gentry of the country were in company together. Trembling however as she was, Elizabeth Bunyan had imbibed something of her husband's spirit. She had been to London to petition the House of Lords in his behalf, and had been told by one whom she calls Lord Barkwood, that they could do nothing, but that his releasement was committed to the Judges at these next assizes, and now I am come to you she said, and you give neither releasement, nor relief! And she complained to Hale that he was kept unlawfully in prison, for the indictment was false, and he was clapped up before there were any proclamations against the meetings. One of the Judges then said he had been lawfully convicted. "It is false," replied the woman: "for when they said to him do you confess the indictment, he said only this, that he had been at several meetings both when there was preaching the Word and prayer, and that they had God's presence among them."

Will your husband leave preaching? said Judge Twisden; if he will do so, send for him. "My Lord," said she, "he dares not leave preaching,

as long as he can speak."

Sir Matthew himself was not likely to be favourably impressed by this sort of pleading. But he listened sadly when she told him that there were four small children by the former wife, one of them blind; that they had nothing to live upon while their father was in prison, but the charity of good people; and that she herself "smayed" at the news when her husband was apprehended, being but young and unaccustomed to such things, fell in labour, and continuing in it for eight days was delivered of a dead child. Alas, poor woman! said Hale. But Twisden said poverty was her cloak, for he understood her husband was better maintained by running up and down a-preaching, than by following his calling. Sir Matthew asked what was his calling, and was told that he was a tinker. Yes, observed his wife, and because he is a tinker and a poor man, therefore he is despised and cannot have justice. The scene ended in Sir Matthew's mildly telling her he was sorry he could do her no good; that what her husband had said was taken for a conviction, and that there was no other course for her than either to apply to the king, or sue out his pardon, or get a writ of error, which would be the cheapest. She urged them to send for Bunyan that he might speak for himself: his appearance however would rather have confirmed those in their opinions who said that there was not such another pestilent fellow in the country, than have moved the Judges in his favour. Elizabeth Bunyan concludes her account by saying "this I remember, that though I was somewhat timorous at my first entrance into the chamber, yet before I went out I could not but break forth into tears; not so much because they were so hard hearted against me and my husband, but to think what a sad account such poor creatures will have to give at the coming of the Lord!"'—pp. lxiv., Ixv.

Mr. Southey seems desirous of excusing the persecution of Bunyan, on the ground that he and others, who were made victims of its edge, inculcated among their hearers an abhorrence of the Protestant Church, "which is essentially part of the constitution of this kingdom." Not at all agreeing that even such an offence would justify persecution, we beg to say that we are not at liberty to take Mr. Southey's authority on the matter, inasmuch as we have the words of the indictment on which Bunyan was condemned at Sessions, and in which there is no allusion whatever to the antiepiscopal tendency of his preaching. The indictment set forth that he, Bunyan, "devilishly and perniciously abstained from coming to church to hear divine service, and was a common upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction of the good subjects of this kingdom." So that the very head and front of his offence was his abstaining from going to Church. If this be not merely religious persecution, we do not understand what it is. It should be remembered that Bunyan was persecuted under the new order of things, after the Restoration. The dark spots in the pages of our ecclesiastical annals, where the name of John Bunyan is written in tears, and the

names of many other virtuous men are traced in blood, every Protestant ought to blush to remember: he may, indeed, be ashamed of the errors of his forefathers, but he has no right to distort or palliate the causes of them. The following is a beautiful lamentation of Bunyan's under his privations :—

"I found myself," he says, "a man encompassed with infirmities. The parting with my wife and poor children, hath often been to me in this place, as the pulling the flesh from the bones; and that not only because I am somewhat too fond of these great mercies, but also because I should have often brought to my mind the many hardships, miseries, and wants that my poor family was likely to meet with, should I be taken from them; especially my poor blind child, who lay nearer my heart than all besides. Oh, the thoughts of the hardships I thought my poor blind one might go under would break my heart to pieces!-Poor child! thought I, what sorrow art thou like to have for thy portion in this world! Thou must be beaten ; must beg; suffer hunger, cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, though I cannot now endure the wind should blow upon thee! But yet, recalling myself, thought I, I must venture you all with God, though it goeth to the quick to leave you! Oh, I saw in this condition I was as a man who was pulling down his house upon the heads of his wife and children: yet, thought I, I must do it, I must do it! And now I thought on those two milch-kine that were to carry the Ark of God into another country and to leave their calves behind them.” —pp. lxx., lxxi.

He was kept in prison for twelve years, and it is not clear to what causes he owed his liberation.

There is a copious account of the various editions of the celebrated Pilgrim's Progress given by Mr. Southey, but we believe there has been no one which is calculated to do the same justice to the great author, as the edition we have before us. Bunyan died in London, at the sign of the Star, on Snow-hill, and was buried in Bunhill-fields.

ART. VI.-A Treatise on Pulmonary Consumption: its Prevention and Remedy. By John Murray, F.S.A. F.L.S. &c. pp. 156. London: Whittaker and Co. 1830.

If it be true, or any thing like the truth, that consumption carries off, by its open or insidious operations, not fewer than sixty thousand of the subjects of William the Fourth, every year, and these consisting, for the most part, of the fairest flowers of British beauty, surely nobody will find fault with us for importuning the public on a subject of such momentous importance. The author before us claims to be the discoverer of a remedy for consumption. Although we are not prepared to concede to him the full measure of credit which he demands, and although we might shew that, instead of an inventor, he is merely a successful analogist; still his experiments, his labours, and his sacrifices too, require from us, on the part of the public, the acknowledg