صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

especially such of their ministers who were not killed upon the place, as very many were, had very notable marks about the head and the face, that anybody might know that they were not hurt by chance, or in the crowd, but by very good will. All the cannon, ammunition, carriages, and baggage were entirely taken, and Cromwell, with his victorious army, marched directly to Edinburgh; where he found plenty of all things which he wanted, and good accommodation for the refreshing his army, which stood in need of it.1

3. ADVENTURES OF CHARLES II. AFTER THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER.

When the darkness of the night was over, after the king had cast himself into that wood, he discerned another man who had gotten upon an oak in the same wood, near the place where the king had rested himself, and had slept soundly. The man upon the tree had first seen the king, and knew him and came down to him, and was known to the king, being a gentleman of the neighbour county of Staffordshire, who had served his late majesty during the war, and had now been one of the few who resorted to the king after his coming to Worcester. His name was Careless, who had had a command of foot, above the degree of a captain, under the Lord Loughborough. He persuaded the king, since it could not be safe for him to go out of the wood, and that as soon as it should be fully light, the wood itself would probably be visited by those of the country, who would be searching to find those whom they might make prisoners, that he would get up into that tree where he had been, where the boughs were so thick with leaves, that a man would not be discovered there without a narrower inquiry than people usually make in places which they do not suspect. The king thought it good counsel, and with the other's help climbed into the tree, and then helped his companion to ascend after him, where they sat all that day, and securely saw many who came purposely into the wood to look after them, and heard all their discourse, how they would use the king himself if they could take him.

The day being spent in the tree, it was not in the king's power to forget that he had lived two days with eating very little, and two nights with as little sleep, so that, when the night came, he was willing to make some provision for both; and he resolved, with the advice and assistance of his companion, to leave his blessed tree, and, when the night was dark, they walked through the wood into those enclosures which were farthest from any highway, and making a shift to get over hedges and ditches, after walking at least eight or nine miles, which were the more grievous to the king by the weight of his boots, for he could not put them off, when he cut off his hair, for want of shoes, before morning they came to a poor

1 This part of Clarendon's narrative, which differs from the usual account, rests on hearsay, and the blame of any inaccuracies must rest not with Clarendon, but with his informant.

ADVENTURES OF CHARLES II.

157

cottage, the owner whereof being a Roman Catholic was known to Careless. He was called up, and as soon as he knew one of them, he easily concluded in what condition they both were, and presently carried them into a little barn, full of hay, which was a better lodging than he had for himself. But when they were there, and had conferred with their host of the news and temper of the country, it was resolved that the danger would be the greater if they stayed together, and therefore that Careless should presently be gone, and should within two days send an honest man to the king, to guide him to some other place of security, and in the meantime his majesty should stay upon the hay-mow. The poor man had nothing for him to eat, but promised him good buttermilk the next morning; and so he was once more left alone, his companion, how weary soever, departing from him before day, the poor man of the house knowing no more than that he was a friend of the captain's, and one of those who had escaped from Worcester. The king slept very well in his lodging, till the time that his host brought him a piece of bread and a great pot of buttermilk, which he thought the best food he ever had eaten.

After he had rested upon this hay-mow, and fed upon this diet two days and two nights, in the evening before the third night, another fellow, a little above the condition of his host, came to the house, sent from Careless, to conduct the king to another house, more out of any road near which any part of the army was like to march. It was above twelve miles that he was to go, and was to use the same caution he had done the first night, not to go in any common road, which his guide knew well how to avoid. Here he new dressed himself, changing clothes with his landlord, and putting on those which he usually wore; he had a great mind to have kept his own shirt, but he considered that men are not sooner discovered by any mark in disguises, than by having fine linen in ill clothes, and so he parted with his shirt too, and took the same his poor host had then on. Though he had foreseen that he must leave his boots, and his landlord had taken the best care he could to provide an old pair of shoes, yet they were not easy to him when he first put them on, and, in a short time after, grew very grievous to him. In this equipage he set out from his first lodging in the beginning of the night, under the conduct of this comrade, who guided him the nearest way, crossing over hedges and ditches, that they might be in least danger of meeting passengers. This was so grievous a march, and he was so tired, that he was even ready to despair, and to prefer being taken and suffered to rest, before purchasing his safety at that price. His shoes had, after the walking a few miles, hurt him so much, that he had thrown them away, and walked the rest of the way in his ill stockings, which were quickly worn out; and his feet, with the thorns in getting over hedges, and with the stones in other places, were so hurt and wounded, that he many times cast himself upon the ground, with a desperate and obstinate resolution to rest there till the morning, that he might shift with

less torment, what hazard soever he might run.
But his stout guide
still prevailed with him to make a new attempt, sometime promising
that the way should be better, and sometimes assuring him that he
had but little further to go; and in this distress and perplexity,
before the morning, they arrived at the house designed, which,
though it was better than that which he had left, his lodging was
still in the barn, upon straw instead of hay, a place being made as
easy in it as the expectation of a guest could dispose it. Here he
had such meat and porridge as such people used to have, with
which, but especially with the butter and the cheese, he thought
himself well feasted, and took the best care he could to be supplied
with other, little better, shoes and stockings; and after his feet
were enough recovered that he could go, he was conducted from
thence to another poor house, within such a distance as put him not
to much trouble; for having not yet in his thought which way, or
by what means to make his escape, all that was designed was only,
by shifting from one house to another, to avoid discovery.

XIV. JOHN BUNYAN.

JOHN BUNYAN was born at Elstow, a small village near Bedford, in 1628. His father was a gipsy, and followed the humble craft of a tinker, which young Bunyan also practised for some time, with the usual profligacy and immorality of his race. Marrying, however, at an early age, he was reformed by the counsels of his wife, and joined a congregation of Baptists that assembled at Bedford. His ability soon became known, and at the request of the congregation he became a preacher, to the great delight of the common people, who resorted in immense crowds to the ministry of the reformed profligate whose words were so singularly powerful and attractive. Even during the Commonwealth he was threatened with legal proceedings, and after the Restoration, when all nonconforming assemblies were forbidden by Parliament, so conspicuous an offender as Bunyan was of course not allowed long to escape. He was condemned to imprisonment, and was accordingly committed to Bedford jail, where he remained nearly thirteen years. His confinement was not, however, very rigorous, as, through the connivance of his jailor, he was for nearly half the time allowed to itinerate and preach as usual. It was while in Bedford jail that he composed his "Pilgrim's Progress," aided only by the fervour of his own imagination, and the constant perusal of his Bible and Foxe's Book of Martyrs, which formed his whole library. He was at length liberated, and resumed his occupation as an itinerant preacher, but on the proclamation of toleration by James II., a chapel was erected for him at Bedford, where he preached during the rest of his life. While on a visit to some religious brethren in London, he turned suddenly ill and died 1688. Besides the "Pilgrim's Progress," he wrote "The Holy War," an allegorical work of a similar kind, and some minor productions. It is unnecessary to praise the "Pilgrim's Progress;" it is more generally known, not only in England, but all over the

i

CHRISTIAN AT THE CROSS.

159

world, than any other English book, and is universally admitted to be the finest of all allegories. It has been translated into almost every language, and has been found to be equally intelligible and pleasing in every country.

1. CHRISTIAN AT THE CROSS.—(" PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.")

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called Salvation. Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back. He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending; and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble; and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre where it fell in, and I saw it no

more.

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said, with a merry heart, “He hath given me rest by His sorrow, and life by His death.” Then he stood still awhile to look and wonder; for it was very surprising to him, that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden. He looked therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down his cheeks. Now, as he stood looking and weeping, behold three shining ones came to him, and saluted him with "Peace be to thee;" so the first said to him, "thy sins be forgiven thee;" the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with change of raiment; the third also 66 set a mark on his forehead,” and gave him a roll, with a seal upon it, which he bid him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the celestial gate: so they went their way. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing,—

Thus far did I come loaden with my sin;
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in,
Till I came hither: what a place is this!
Must here be the beginning of my bliss?
Must here the burden fall from off my back?
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack?
Bless'd Cross! bless'd Sepulchre! bless'd rather be
The Man that there was put to shame for me!

I saw, then, in my dream, that he went on thus, even until he came at a bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep with fetters upon their heels. The name of the one was Simple, another Sloth, the third Presumption. Christian then seeing them lie in this case went to them, if peradventure he might awake them; and cried, "You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast; for the Dead Sea is under you, a gulph that hath no bottom; awake, therefore, and come away; be willing also, and I

will help you off with your irons." He also told them, “if he that goeth about like a roaring lion comes by, you will certainly become a prey to his teeth." With that they looked upon him, and began to answer him in this sort: Simple said, “ I see no danger;" Sloth said, "yet a little more sleep ;" and Presumption said, " every vat must stand upon its own bottom." And so they laid1 down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way.

2. CHRISTIAN CLIMBS THE HILL DIFFICULTY, AND ARRIVES AT THE

PALACE BEAUTIFUL.

I looked after Christian to see him go up by the hill, where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now, about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbour, made by the Lord of the hill, for the refreshment of weary travellers, thither, therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him. Then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his comfort; he also now began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that was given to him as he stood by the cross. Thus pleasing himself a while, he at last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him in that place until it was almost night; and in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping, there came one to him, and awaked him, saying, "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise;" and with that Christian suddenly started up and sped him on his way, and went apace till he came to the top of the hill.

Now, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two men running to meet him amain; the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust; to whom Christian said, "Sirs, what is the matter? you run the wrong way." Timorous answered that they were going to the city of Zion, and had got up that difficult place; "but," said he," the farther we go, the more danger we meet with, wherefore we turned, and are going back again."

"Yes," said Mistrust, "for just before us lie a couple of lions in the way; whether sleeping or waking we know not; and we could not think, if we came within reach, but they would presently pull us in pieces."

Then said Christian, "You make me afraid; but whither shall I flee to be safe? If I go back to my own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there: if I can get to the celestial city, I am sure to be in safety there. I must venture: to go back is nothing but death; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it; I will yet go forward."

So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But thinking again of what he had heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein

1 This use of the active verb lay instead of the neuter verb lie was common in Bunyan's time, and was not by any means considered inaccurate or vulgar, as at present it is.

« السابقةمتابعة »