John Bunyan
Life and Death of Mr. Badman
Now he would hear her talk to him, and he would lie sighing by her while she so did. Now he would bid her pray for him, that he might be delivered from Hell. 465
He would also now consent, that some of her good Ministers might come to him to comfort him; and he would seem to shew them kindness when they came, for he would treat them kindly with words, and hearken diligently to what they said, only he did not care that they should talk much of his ill spent life, because his conscience was clogged with that already; he cared not now to see his old companions, the thoughts of them was a torment to him: and now he would speak kindly to that child of his that took after its mothers steps, though he could not at all abide it before.
He also desired the prayers of good people, that God of his mercy would spare him a little longer, promising that if God would but let him recover this once, what a new, what a penitent man he would be toward God, and what a loving husband he would be to his wife: what liberty he would give her, yea how he would goe with her himself to hear her Ministers, and how they should go hand in hand in the way to heaven together.
Atten. Here was a fine shew of things; I’le warrant you, his wife was glad for this.
Wise. His wife! Aie, and a many good people besides: it was noysed all over the Town, 466 what a great change there was wrought upon Mr. Badman; how sorry he was for his sins, how he began to love his wife, how he desired good men should pray to God to spare him; and what promises he now made to God in his sickness, that if ever he should raise him from his sick bed to health again, what a new penitent man he would be towards God, and what a loving husband to his good wife.
Well, ministers prayed, and good people rejoyced, thinking verily that they now had gotten a man from the Devil; nay, some of the weaker sort did not stick to say that God had began a work of Grace in his heart; and his wife, poor woman, 467 you cannot think how apt she was to believe it so; she rejoyced, and she hoped as she would have it. But, alas! alas! in little time things all proved otherwise.
After he had kept his Bed a while, his distemper began to abate, and he to feel himself better, so he in little time was so finely mended, that he could walk about the house, and also obtained a very fine stomach to his food: 468 and now did his wife and her good friends stand gaping, to see Mr. Badman fulfill his promise of becoming new towards God, and loving to his wife: but the contrary only shewed it self. For so soon as ever he had hopes of mending, and found that his strength began to renew, his trouble began to goe off his heart, and he grew as great a stranger to his frights and fears, as if he had never had them.
But verily, I am apt to think, that one reason of his no more regarding, or remembring of his sick-bed fears, and of being no better for them, was, some words that the Doctor that supplied him with Physick said to him when he was mending. For as soon as Mr. Badman began to mend, the Doctor comes and sits him down by him in his house, and there fell into discourse with him about the nature of his disease; and among other things they talked of Badmans trouble, and how he would cry out, tremble, and express his fears of going to Hell when his sickness lay pretty hard upon him. To which the Doctor replyed: 469 That those fears and Out-cries did arise from the height of his distemper, for that disease was often attended with lightness of the head, by reason the sick party could not sleep, and for that the vapours disturbed the brain: But you see Sir, quoth he, that so soon as you got sleep and betook your self to rest, you quickly mended, and your head settled, and so those frenzies left you.
And was it so indeed, thought Mr. Badman; was my troubles, only the effects of my distemper, and because ill vapours got up into my brain? Then surely, since my Physician was my Saviour, my Lust again shall be my God. So he never minded Religion more, but betook him again to the world, his lusts and wicked companions: And there was an end of Mr. Badmans Conversion.
Atten. I thought, (as you told me of him) that this would be the result of the whole; for I discerned by your relating of things, that the true symptoms of conversion were wanting in him, and that those that appeared to be any thing like them, were only such as the reprobates may have.
Wise. You say right, for there wanted in him, when he was most sensible, a sence of the pollution of his Nature; he only had guilt for his sinful actions, the which Cain, and Pharaoh, and Saul, and Judas, those reprobates, have had before him. 470
Besides, the great things that he desired, were, to be delivered from going to Hell, (and who would willingly?) and that his life might be lengthened in this world. We find not by all that he said or did, that Jesus Christ the Saviour was desired by him, from a sence of his need of his Righteousness to cloath him, and of his Spirit to sanctifie him. 471
His own strength was whole in him, he saw nothing of the treachery of his own heart; for had he, he would never have been so free to make promises to God of amendment. He would rather have been afraid, that if he had mended, he should have turned with the dog to his vomit, and have begged prayers of Saints, and assistance from heaven upon that account, that he might have been kept from doing so.
’Tis true he did beg prayers of good people, and so did Pharaoh of Moses and Aaron, and Simon Magus of Simon Peter. 472
His mind also seemed to be turned to his wife and child; but alas! ’twas rather from conviction that God had given him concerning their happy estate over his, than for that he had any true love to the work of God that was in them. True, some shews of kindness he seemed to have for them, and so had rich Dives, when in Hell, to his five brethren that were yet in the world; yea he had such love, as to wish them in Heaven, that they might not come thither to be tormented. 473
Atten. Sick-bed Repentance is seldom good for any thing.
Wise. You 474 say true, it is very rarely good for any thing indeed. Death is unwelcom to Nature, and usually when sickness and death visit the sinner; the first taking of him by the shoulder, and the second standing at the Bed-chamber door to receive him; then the sinner begins to look about him, and to bethink with himself, These will have me away before God; and I know that my Life has not been as it should, how shall I do to appear before God! Or if it be more the sence of the punishment, and the place of the punishment of sinners, that also is starting to a defiled conscience, now rouzed by deaths lumbring at the door.
And hence usually is sick-bed Repentance, and the matter of it: To wit, to be saved from Hell, and from Death, and that God will restore again to health till they mend; concluding that it is in their power to mend, as is evident by their large and lavishing promises to do it.
I have known many, that, when they have been sick, have had large measures of this kind of Repentance, and while it has lasted, the noyse and sound thereof, has made the Town to ring again: but alas! how long has it lasted? oft-times scarce so long as untill the party now sick has been well. It has passed away like a mist or a vapour, it has been a thing of no continuance. But this kind of Repentance is by God compared to the howling of a dog. And they have not cried unto me with their heart, when they howled upon their bed. 475
Atten. Yet one may see, by this, the desperateness of mans heart: 476 for what is it but desperate wickedness, to make promise to God of amendment, if he will but spare them; and yet so soon as they are recovered (or quickly after,) fall to sin as they did before, and never to regard their promise more.
Wise. It is a sign of desperateness indeed; yea, of desperate madness. For surely, they must needs think, that God took notice of their promise, that he heard the words that they spake, 477 and that he hath laid them up against the time to come; and will then bring out, and testifie to their faces, that they flattered him with their mouth, and lyed unto him with their tongue, 478 when they lay sick, to their thinking, upon their death-bed, and promised him that if he would recover them they would repent and amend their ways. But thus, as I have told you, Mr. Badman did. He made great promises that he would be a New man, that he would leave his sins, and become a Convert, that he would love, &c. his godly wife, &c. Yea many fine words had Mr. Badman in his sickness, but no good actions when he was well.
Atten. And how did his good wife take it, when she saw that he had no Amendment, but that he returned with the Dog to his vomit, to his old courses again?
Wise. Why it 479 broke her heart, it was a worse disappointment to her than the cheat that he gave her in marriage: At least she laid it more to heart, and could not so well grapple with it. You must think that she had put up many a prayer to God for him before, even all the time that he had carried it so badly to her, and now when he was so affrighted in his sickness, and so desired that he might live and mend, poor woman, she thought that the time was come for God to answer her prayers; nay, she did not let with gladness, to whisper it out amongst her Friends, that ’twas so: but when she saw her self disappointed by her husbands turning Rebel again, she could not stand up under it, but falls into a languishing distemper, and in a few weeks gave up the Ghost.
Atten. Pray how did she dye?
Wise. Die! she dyed bravely; full of comfort of the faith of her Interest in Christ, and by him, of the world to come: she had many brave Expressions in her sickness, and gave to those that came to visit her many signs of her salvation; the thoughts of the Grave, but specially of her Rising again, were sweet thoughts to her. She would long for Death, because she knew it would be her Friend. She behaved her self like to some that were making of them ready to go meet their Bridegroom. 480 Now, said she, I am going to rest from my sorrows, my sighs, my tears, my mournings and complaints: I have heretofore longed to be among the Saints, but might by no means be suffered to goe, but now I am going, (and no man can stop me) to the great Meeting, to the general Assembly, and Church of the first-born which are written in Heaven. 481 There I shall have my hearts desire; there I shall worship without Temptation or other impediment; there I shall see the face of my Jesus, whom I have loved, whom I have served, and who now, I know, will save my soul. 482 I have prayed often for my husband, that he might be converted, but there has been no answer of God in that matter; Are my prayers lost? are they forgotten? are they thrown over the barr? No; they are hanged upon the horns of the golden Altar, and I must have the benefit of them my self, that moment that I shall enter into the gates, in at which the righteous Nation that keepeth truth shall enter: I say, I shall have the benefit of them. I can say as holy David; I say, I can say of my husband, as he could of his enemies. As for me, when they were sick my cloathing was of sack-cloth, I humbled my soul with fasting, and my prayer returned into my bosom. 483 My prayers are not lost, my tears are yet in God’s bottle; I would have had a Crown, and Glory for my husband, and for those of my children that follow his steps; but so far as I can see yet, I must rest in the hope of having all my self.
Atten. Did she talk thus openly?
Wise. No; this she spake but to one or two of her most intimate acquaintance, who were permitted to come and see her, when she lay languishing upon her death-bed.
Atten. Well, but pray go on in your relation, this is good: I am glad to hear it, this is as a cordial to my heart while we sit thus talking under this tree.
Wise. When she drew near her end, she called for her husband, and when he was come to her, she told him, 484 That now he and she must part, and said she, God knows, and thou shalt know, that I have been a loving, faithful Wife unto thee; my prayers have been many for thee; and as for all the abuses that I have received at thy hand, those I freely and heartily forgive, and still shall pray for thy conversion, even as long as I breathe in this world. But husband, I am going thither, where no bad man shall come, and if thou dost not convert, thou wilt never see me more with comfort; let not my plain words offend thee: I am thy dying wife, and of my faithfulness to thee, would leave this Exhortation with thee: Break off thy sins, fly to God for mercy while mercies gate stands open; remember, that the day is coming, when thou, though now lusty and well, must lye at the gates of death, as I do: And what wilt thou then do, if thou shalt be found with a naked soul, to meet with the Cherubims with their flaming swords? yea, what wilt thou then do, if Death and Hell shall come to visit thee, and thou in thy sins, and under the Curse of the Law?
Atten. This was honest and plain: but what said Mr. Badman to her?
Wise. He did what he could to divert her talk, 485 by throwing in other things; he also shewed some kind of pity to her now, and would ask her, What she would have? and with various kind of words put her out of her talk; for when she see that she was not regarded, she fetcht a deep sigh, and lay still. So he went down, and then she called for her Children, and began to talk to them. And first she spake to those that were rude, 486 and told them the danger of dying before they had grace in their hearts. She told them also, that Death might be nearer them than they were aware of; and bid them look, when they went through the Church-yard again, if there was not little graves there. And, ah children, said she, will it not be dreadful to you, if we only shall meet at the day of Judgment, and then part again, and never see each other more? And with that she wept, the Children (also) wept; so she held on her discourse: Children, said she, I am going from you, I am going to Jesus Christ, and with him there is neither sorrow, nor sighing, nor pain, nor tears, nor death. 487 Thither would I have you go also, but I can neither carry you, nor fetch you thither; but if you shall turn from your sins to God, and shall beg mercy at his hands by Jesus Christ, you shall follow me, and shall, when you dye, come to the place where I am going, that blessed place of Rest: and then we shall be for ever together, beholding the face of our Redeemer, to our mutual and eternal joy. So she bid them remember the words of a dying mother when she was cold in her grave, and themselves were hot in their sins, if perhaps her words might put check to their vice, and that they might remember and turn to God.
Then they all went down; but her 488 Darling, to wit, the child that she had most love for, because it followed her ways. So she addressed her self to that. Come to me, said she, my sweet child, thou art the child of my joy: I have lived to see thee a Servant of God; thou shalt have eternal life. I, my sweet heart, shall goe before, and thou shalt follow after; if thou shalt hold the beginning of thy confidence stedfast to the end. 489 When I am gone, do thou still remember my words, love thy Bible, follow my Ministers, deny ungodliness still, and if troublous times shall come, set an higher price upon Christ, his Word and Wayes, and the testimony of a good conscience, than upon all the world besides. Carry it kindly and dutifully to thy Father, but choose none of his ways. If thou mayest, goe to service, choose that, rather than to stay at home; but then be sure to choose a service where thou mayest be helped forwards in the way to heaven; and that thou mayest have such a service, speak to my Minister, he will help thee, if possible, to such an one.
I would have thee also, my dear child, to love thy Brothers and Sisters, but learn none of their naughty tricks. Have no fellowship with the unfruitfull works of darkness, but rather reprove them. 490 Thou hast Grace, they have none: do thou therefore beautifie the way of salvation before their eyes, by a godly life, and conformable conversation to the revealed will of God, that thy Brothers and Sisters may see and be the more pleased with the good wayes of the Lord.
If thou shalt live to marry, take heed of being served as I was; that is, of being beguiled with fair words, and the flatteries of a lying tongue. But first be sure of godliness. Yea, as sure as it is possible for one to be in this world: trust not thine own eyes, nor thine own Judgment; I mean as to that persons godliness that thou art invited to marry. Ask counsel of good men, and do nothing therein, if he lives, without my Ministers advice. I have also my self desired him to look after thee. Thus she talked to her children, and gave them counsel, and after she had talked to this a little longer, she kiss’d it, and bid it go down.
Well, in short, her time drew on, and the day that she must die. So she 491 died with a soul full of Grace, an heart full of comfort, and by her death ended a life full of trouble. Her husband made a Funerall for her, perhaps because he was glad he was rid of her, but we will leave that to be manifest at Judgment.
Atten. This Woman died well: And now we are talking of the dying of Christians, I will tell you a story of one that died some time since in our Town. The man was a godly old Puritan, for so the godly were called in time past. This man after a long, and godly life, fell sick, of the sickness, whereof he died. And as he lay drawing on, the woman that looked to him thought she heard Musick, and that the sweetest that ever she heard in her life, which also continued untill he gave up the Ghost: ☛ now when his soul departed from him, the Musick seemed to withdraw and to go further and further off from the house, and so it went untill the sound was quite gone out of hearing.
Wise. What do you think that might be?
Atten. For ought I know, the melodious Notes of Angels, that were sent of God to fetch him to Heaven.
Wise. I cannot say but that God goes out of his Ordinary Road with us poor mortals sometimes. I cannot say this of this woman, but yet she had better musick in her heart than sounded in this womans ears.
Atten. I believe so; but pray tell me, did any of her other children hearken to her words, so as to be bettered in their souls thereby?
Wise. One of them did, 492 and became a very hopefull young man: but for the rest I can say nothing.
Atten. And what did Badman do after his wife was dead?
Wise. Why even as he did before, he scarce mourned a fortnight for her, and his mourning then was, I doubt, more in fashion than in heart.
Atten. Would he not sometimes talk of his Wife, when she was dead?
Wise. Yes, when the fit took him, and could commend her too extremely; saying, she was a good, godly, vertuous woman. But this is not a thing to be wondred at: It is common with wicked men, to hate Gods Servants while alive, and to commend them when they are dead. So served the Pharisees the Prophets: Those of the Prophets that were dead, they commended; and those of them that were alive they condemned. 493
Atten. But did not Mr. Badman marry again quickly?
Wise. No, not a good while after: and when he was asked the reason, he would make this slighty answer, Who would keep a Cow of their own, that can have a quart of milk for a penny? 494 Meaning, Who would be at the charge to have a Wife, that can have a Whore when he listeth? So villanous, so abominable did he continue after the death of his wife. Yet at last there was one was too hard for him. For, getting of him to her upon a time, and making of him sufficiently drunk, she was so cunning as to get a promise of marriage of him, and so held him to it, and forced him to marry her. 495 And she, as the saying is, was as good as he, 496 at all his vile and ranting tricks: she had her companions as well as he had his, and she would meet them too at the Tavern and Ale-house, more commonly than he was aware of. To be plain, she was a very Whore, and had as great resort came to her, where time and place was appointed, as any of them all. Aie, and he smelt it too, but could not tell how to help it. For if he began to talk, she could lay in his dish the whores that she knew he haunted, and she could fit him also with cursing and swearing, for she would give him Oath for Oath, and Curse for Curse.
Atten. What kind of oaths would she have?
Wise. Why damn her, and sink her, and the like.
Atten. These are provoking things.
Wise. So they are: but God doth not altogether let such things goe unpunished in this life. Something of this I have shewed you already, and will here give you one or two Instances more.
There lived, saith one, 497 in the year 1551. in a city of Savoy, a man who was a monstrous Curser and Swearer, and though he was often admonished and blamed for it, yet would he by no means mend his manners. At length a great plague happening in the City, he withdrew himself into a Garden, where being again admonished to give over his wickedness, he hardned his heart more, Swearing, Blaspheming God, and giving himself to the Devil: And immediately the Devil snatched him up suddenly, his wife and kinswoman looking on, and carried him quite away. The Magistrates advertised hereof, went to the place and examined the Woman, who justified the truth of it.
Also at Oster in the Dutchy of Magalapole, (saith Mr. Clark) a wicked Woman, used in her cursing to give herself body and soul to the Devil, and being reproved for it, still continued the same; till (being at a Wedding-Feast) the Devil came in person, and carried her up into the Air, with most horrible outcries and roarings: And in that sort carried her round about the Town, that the Inhabitants were ready to dye for fear: And by and by he tore her in four pieces, leaving her four quarters in four several high-wayes; and then brought her Bowels to the Marriage-feast, and threw them upon the Table before the Maior of the Town, saying, Behold, these dishes of meat belong to thee, whom the like destruction waiteth for, if thou dost not amend thy wicked life.
Atten. Though God forbears to deal thus with all men that thus rend and tare his Name, and that immediate Judgments do not overtake them; yet he makes their lives by other Judgments bitter to them, does he not?
Wise. Yes, yes. And for proof, I need goe no further than to this Badman and his wife; for their railing, and cursing, and swearing ended not in words: They would fight and fly at each other, and that like Cats and Dogs. But it must be looked upon as the hand and Judgment of God upon him for his villany; he had an honest woman before, but she would not serve his turn, and therefore God took her away, and gave him one as bad as himself. Thus that measure that he meted to his first wife, this last did mete to him again. And this is a punishment, wherewith sometimes God will punish wicked men. So said Amos to Amaziah: Thy wife shall be an Harlot in the City. 498 With this last wife Mr. Badman lived a pretty while; but, as I told you before, in a most sad and hellish manner. And now he would bewail his first wifes death: not of love that he had to her Godliness, for that he could never abide, but for that she used alwayes to keep home, whereas this would goe abroad; his first wife was also honest, and true to that Relation, but this last was a Whore of her Body: The first woman loved to keep things together, but this last would whirl them about as well as he: The first would be silent when he chid, and would take it patiently when he abused her, but this would give him word for word, blow for blow, curse for curse; so that now Mr. Badman had met with his match: 499 God had a mind to make him see the baseness of his own life, in the wickedness of his wives. 500 But all would not do with Mr. Badman, he would be Mr. Badman still: This Judgment did not work any reformation upon him, no, not to God nor man.
Atten. I warrant you that Mr. Badman thought when his wife was dead, that next time he would match far better.
Wise. What he thought I cannot tell, but he could not hope for it in this match. For here he knew himself to be catcht, he knew that he was by this woman intangled, and would therefore have gone back again, but could not. He knew her, I say, to be a Whore before, and therefore could not promise himself a happy life with her. For he or she that will not be true to their own soul, will neither be true to husband nor wife. And he knew that she was not true to her own soul, and therefore could not expect she should be true to him but Solomon says, An whore is a deep pit, and Mr. Badman found it true. For when she had caught him in her pit, she would never leave him till she had got him to promise her Marriage; and when she had taken him so far, she forced him to marry indeed. And after that, they lived that life that I have told you.
Atten. But did not the neighbours take notice of this alteration that Mr. Badman had made?
Wise. Yes; and many of his Neighbours, yea, many of those that were carnal said, 501 ’Tis a righteous Judgment of God upon him, for his abusive carriage and language to his other wife: for they were all convinced that she was a vertuous woman, and he, vile wretch, had killed her, I will not say, with, but with the want of kindness.
Atten. And how long I pray did they live thus together?
Wise. Some fourteen or sixteen years, even untill (though she also brought somthing with her) they had sinned all away, and parted as poor as Howlets. 502 And, in reason, how could it be otherwise? he would have his way, and she would have hers; he among his companions, and she among hers; he with his Whores, and she with her Rogues; and so they brought their Noble to Nine-pence.
Atten. Pray of what disease did Mr. Badman die, for now I perceive we are come up to his death?
Wise. I cannot so properly say that he died of one disease, 503 for there were many that had consented, and laid their heads together to bring him to his end. He was dropsical, he was consumptive, he was surfeited, was gouty, and, as some say, he had a tang of the Pox in his bowels. Yet the Captain of all these men of death that came against him to take him away, was the Consumption, for ’twas that that brought him down to the grave.
Atten. Although I will not say, but the best men may die of a consumption, a dropsie, or a surfeit; yea, that these may meet upon a man to end him: yet I will say again, that many times these diseases come through mans inordinate use of things. Much drinking brings dropsies, consumptions, surfeits, and many other diseases; and I doubt, that Mr. Badman’s death did come by his abuse of himself in the use of lawfull and unlawfull things. I ground this my sentence upon that report of his life that you at large have given me.
Wise. I think verily that you need not call back your sentence; for ’tis thought by many, that by his Cups and his Queans he brought himself to this his destruction: he was not an old man when he dyed, nor was he naturally very feeble, but strong, and of a healthy complexion: Yet, as I said, he moultered away, and went, when he set a going, rotten to his Grave. And that which made him stink when he was dead, I mean, that made him stink in his Name and Fame, was, that he died with a spice of the foul disease upon him: A man whose life was full of sin, and whose death was without repentance.
Atten. These were blemishes sufficient to make him stink indeed.
Wise. They were so, and they did do it. No man could speak well of him when he was gone. 504 His Name rotted above ground, as his Carkass rotted under. And this is according to the saying of the wise man: The memory of the just is blessed, but the name of the wicked shall rot. 505
This Text, in both the parts of it, was fulfilled upon him and the woman that he married first. For her Name still did flourish, though she had been dead almost seventeen years; but his began to stink and rot, before he had been buried seventeen dayes.
Atten. That man that dieth with a life full of sin, and with an heart void of repentance, although he should die of the most Golden disease (if there were any that might be so called) I will warrant him his Name shall stink, and that in Heaven and Earth.
Wise. You say true; and therefore doth the name of Cain, Pharaoh, Saul, Judas, and the Pharisees, though dead thousands of years agoe, stink as fresh in the nostrils of the world as if they were but newly dead.
Atten. I do fully acquiesce with you in this. But, Sir, since you have charged him with dying impenitent, pray let me see how you will prove it: 506 not that I altogether doubt it, because you have affirmed it, but yet I love to have proof for what men say in such weighty matters.
Wise. When I said, he died without repentance, I meant, so far as those that knew him, could judge, when they compared his Life, the Word, and his Death together.
Atten. Well said, they went the right way to find out whether he had, that is, did manifest that he had repentance or no. Now then shew me how they did prove he had none?
Wise. So I will: And first, 507 this was urged to prove it. He had not in all the time of his sickness, a sight and sence of his sins, but was as secure, and as much at quiet, as if he had never sinned in all his life.
Atten. I must needs confess that this is a sign he had none. For how can a man repent of that of which he hath neither sight nor sence? But ’tis strange that he had neither sight nor sence of sin now, when he had such a sight and sence of his evil before: I mean when he was sick before.
Wise. He was, as I said, as secure now, as if he had been as sinless as an Angel; though all men knew what a sinner he was, for he carried his Sins in his Forehead. His debauched Life was read and known of all men; but his Reputation was read and known of no man; for, as I said, he had none. And for ought I know, the reason he had no sence of his sins now, was because he profited not by that sence that he had of them before. He liked not to retain that knowledge of God then, that caused his sins to come to remembrance: Therefore God gave him up now to a reprobate mind, to hardness and stupidity of Spirit; and so was that Scripture fulfilled upon him, He hath blinded their eyes. And that, Let their eyes be darkned that they may not see. 508 Oh! for a man to live in sin, and to go out of the world without Repentance for it, is the saddest Judgement that can overtake a man.
