We shall understand a little more clearly why so many of what we should call Bunyan's best years were spent in prison, when we remember that The Pilgrim's Progress was written in Bedford jail. We shall see the hand of God in his long imprisonment, giving him time and leisure during the weary years he spent in his prison cell to write a book that has been read and enjoyed by countless thousands.
About the time of which I am writing, great changes had taken place in England. Oliver Cromwell had died, and the people soon grew tired of the time of misrule and lawlessness that followed his death. Thinking it would be much better to have a crowned king again, Charles Stuart, who was at that time in exile, was invited to occupy the throne of his father, Charles I. In this way the period of English history called the Restoration began.
Within six months of his landing on British ground Charles II issued an order that all preachers must use what was called The Book of Common Prayer, and that all preaching must be on lines ordered by the king. Any who refused to obey were liable to be sent to prison.
There were many godly men who felt that even when commanded by the king they must not, dared not, disobey God. These soon became known as Nonconformists. Among them John Bunyan was perhaps one of the best known in Bedford and the neighborhood. For five or six years he had been preaching the gospel; God had blessed his labors, and many people had been led to a saving knowledge of Christ.
He knew that the time of trial might be very near, and doubtless he often prayed that, if called upon to suffer for Christ's sake, he might be found faithful and not be allowed to deny or dishonor his Lord and Master. On November 13, 1660, Bunyan was expected to preach at a small country place near Huntingdon. As soon as it became known that a meeting was to be held, some people, who wished to put a stop to all preaching except in churches, went to the magistrate and told him that the people who attended such meetings usually carried firearms, were disturbers of the peace, and might even lay plots for the overthrow of the newly-crowned king.
Of course such charges were untrue, but the magistrate believed them and issued an order for Bunyan's arrest. A few of his friends heard of the danger and whispered to him that perhaps it might be better not to hold the meeting.
Some advised his escape; even the brother in whose house the meeting was to be held thought that to escape would be the best thing he could do.
"I might have escaped," he himself said, "had I been minded to play the coward."
It must have been a trying moment for the man whom God intended should write The Pilgrim's Progress, and write it, too, not by his cottage fireside, but in a cold, damp cell in Bedford prison. How should he act? What ought he to do? If he was shut up in prison, who would provide for his wife and four children?
It was still some time to the hour when the meeting was to begin. He would commit his way unto the Lord and ask counsel of the Most High. Leaving the house he went alone into a field close by. It was not long before he saw clearly that as a preacher of the glad tidings he had not said or done anything evil, and that if he had to suffer it would be "according to the will of God," and that if the meeting were not held, many timid believers, or those who had been newly converted, might be discouraged and turned back.
Returning to the house, without any show of fear, he opened the meeting in the usual way with prayer; he read a few verses of Scripture and was beginning to preach when the constable arrived with the warrant for his arrest. Bunyan asked to be allowed to say a few parting words to his sorrowing friends. Permission was granted, and he told them it was far better to suffer for the name and sake of Christ, than it would have been for him, or any of them, to have gone to prison as evildoers. He would have said more, but the constable grew impatient and "would not," Bunyan said, "be quiet till they had taken me away from the house."
A few of Bunyan's friends went with him to the house of the magistrate who had given the order for his arrest, but finding that he was not at home, one of his friends who lived near was allowed to find him shelter for the night on the understanding that he should not fail to appear the following morning.
A few truthfully-answered questions were enough to show the magistrate that he had made a mistake in giving the order for Bunyan's arrest. The meeting was not such as he had been led to suppose. Bunyan and his friends were loyal, God-fearing subjects. They did not carry firearms, lay plots or even wish to overthrow the king and his government.
The magistrate, seeing himself in the wrong, lost his temper. The whole of the following day was spent in long and trying interviews, and as Bunyan would not, could not, promise to stop preaching, he was sent to prison until the next time the court would be in session.