first. That
done, all other religious denominations would follow. All that the
Nonconformists would gain by yielding, was the favour Polyphemus promised
Ulysses, to be devoured last. Zealous as he was for the "liberty of
prophesying," even that might be purchased at too high a price. The boon
offered by the king was "good in itself," but not "so intended." So, as
his biographer describes, when the regulators came, "he expressed his
zeal with some weariness as perceiving the bad consequences that would
ensue, and laboured with his congregation" to prevent their being imposed
on by the fair promises of those who were at heart the bitterest enemies
of the cause they professed to advocate. The newly-modelled corporation
of Bedford seems like the other corporations through the country, to have
proved as unmanageable as the old. As Macaulay says, "The sectaries who
had declared in favour of the Indulgence had become generally ashamed of
their error, and were desirous to make atonement." Not knowing the man
they had to deal with, the "regulators" are said to have endeavoured to
buy Bunyan's support by the offer of some place under government. The
bribe was indignantly rejected. Bunyan even refused to see the
government agent who offered it,--"he would, by no means come to him, but
sent his excuse." Behind the treacherous sunshine he saw a black cloud,
ready to break. The Ninevites' remedy he felt was now called for. So he
gathered his congregation together and appointed a day of fasting and
prayer to avert the danger that, under a specious pretext, again menaced
their civil and religious liberties. A true, sturdy Englishman, Bunyan,
with Baxter and Howe, "refused an indulgence which could only be
purchased by the violent overthrow of the law."

Bunyan did not live to see the Revolution. Four months after he had
witnessed the delirious joy which hailed the acquittal of the seven
bishops, the Pilgrim's earthly Progress ended, and he was bidden to cross
the dark river which has no bridge. The summons came to him in the very
midst of his religious activity, both as a preacher and as a writer. His
pen had never been more busy than when he was bidden to lay it down
finally. Early in 1688, after a two years' silence, attributable perhaps
to the political troubles of the times, his "Jerusalem Sinner Saved, or a
Help to Despairing Souls," one of the best known and most powerfully
characteristic of his works, had issue