WHEN Bunyan laid down the pen that gave to the world his immortal allegory, he promised his readers that, should it be his lot to go the way again, he would give an account of Christiana’s four boys, with their wives and children, who were down at the river when the pilgrims were passing over. That intention was never realised, and though many attempts have been made to continue the story, none has yet appeared who has the skill of the great master-hand that gave to the world one of the most realistic and fascinating writings in the realms of literature, and a religious classic that has been rightly acknowledged as well-nigh unapproachable among uninspired writings. It may
* The Story of Matthew and Mercy: A Third Part to Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress.” By the Rev. James E. Walker, M.A. (Oxon.), Cheltenham. Stirling: Drummond’s Tract Depot. 2/6.
therefore appear somewhat out of place to speak of a successor to John Bunyan, and the man who has the courage to speak of his work as “a Third Part to the Pilgrim’s Progress” may be regarded as having a very high idea of his own work. But we are persuaded, after reading the Story of Matthew and Mercy, that here at last we have a writer who has succeeded where so many have failed. The author, the Rev. James Walker, is fully conscious of the difficulty of the task he has undertaken, and in his Preface he writes:—”He must therefore confess how painfully conscious he is that this endeavour may but add another witness to the presumption of taking up the pen dropped by the master hand.” If Bunyan’s extraordinary power of giving life and reality to the experiences of the Christian are wanting, yet there runs through this Third Part of the Pilgrim’s Progress a fragrant spirit of piety and a winsome tenderness which tell us that the writer had been in the ivory palaces of the King and had been made glad. For those who have been called to the banks of the bridgeless and silent river, and have wept as the pilgrims passed over, this is a book that will not be read without emotion. Mr. Walker was out of sympathy with many of the new movements in Church life which, under the name of religion, are only a thin veneer to hide the ugliness of worldliness in the professing Church of Christ, and his description of Vanity Fair in its modern aspect is peculiarly happy:—”Now, it was not long ere they came into the suburbs of Vanity Fair, and this had grown from a township into a populous city. In truth, it had all the world for its burgesses, and of this great city Worldly Religion was mayor, having taken the oath of service to its prince.” This is the opening sentence of a passage well worth reading, in which the author deals with the spirit of worldliness in the Church in a fresh and arresting way. The reader versed in such matters may have some idea of the book from the various characters which appear in these pages, such as Trembling, False Assurance, Experience, Truth, Prophecy, Faith, Humility, Stand-well-with-all-Men, Love of the Truth, Worldly Loss, Vain Curiosity, Doubt, False Spirituality, etc. Stand-well-with-all-Men is described as a “man of good liking, as if he fared well every day—and indeed he did—for his name was Stand-well-with-all-Men, and his one desire to be on good terms with himself first, and all the world thereafter.” On being questioned by Mercy as to his name, he informed her that it was Stand-well-with-all-Men, that he came of a good stock, and that Charity was his mother. “‘Nay,’ said Grace, ‘but he who gave us this key told us we might meet such as thou art, and said withal that thy mother’s name was Indifference and thy father’s Demas, who loved this present world.'” After some faithful dealing by Mercy, “he went on his way to the inn he kept, wherein all were alike welcome, if they did but add their mite to his revenue of worldly estate and self-praise. Only the friends of the King found themselves little desired, and being hardly handled
at times—for this sort can worry and harm many a better man than themselves, for all their honeyed speeches—learned never to call again when, peradventure, they might have occasion to pass that way.”
In portraying False Spirituality, Mr. Walker has evidently his mind on a devout French lady, who has been admired by many, but some of whose beliefs are dangerous. In a footnote he says that in the exposition of the Song of Solomon she “rises to an appalling height of blasphemy.” This is strong language, but, in our estimation, not too strong. Our author tells how Mercy was carried away by her wiles until at length she found herself chilled and benumbed in a cave. The description of the passing of the pilgrims, and especially that of Trembling, is very fine: “Then said Mercy: The gentle pilgrim hath seen the King’s face in peace, the face which he trembled lest he should never see; for yesternight the river flowed again where the white road goeth ever upward towards the Dawn, and the horn was sounded without. So the token was given—a white stone, and upon it the name of the King, which none might know save he only who receiveth it. With this was the message also, which thou knowest he gathered as a sweet cluster in the vineyard: ‘O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, the mountains shall depart and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee. And I will make thy windows agate, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones.’” (Isaiah liv. 10-12.) Devotional literature has been enriched by the publication of this beautiful book, and its saintly author, who had an interesting life history, traversed the white road which is going ever upward until it changes into the dark river ere his book was issued to the public.
Mr. Walker was educated in the Church of England, being a son of the Rev. Dr. Walker, Rector of Cheltenham. During his college life at Oxford he was brought into contact with Mr. Johnston, afterwards Minister of Harryay and Birsay, and latterly Professor in Aberdeen University. He here also met Henry Bazely, “the Oxford Evangelist,” the son of an Episcopalian minister like himself. Through their influence and by his own reading, he became convinced that Presbyterianism was the only scriptural form of church government, and that the standards of the Scottish Church set forth most fully the truth of Holy Scripture on doctrine, worship and discipline. Like Dr. Johnston and the Rev. Henry Bazely, he not only embraced Presbyterianism but held it in its strictest forms—discarding instrumental music and hymns in the worship of God. Having his attention directed by Dr. Johnston to the Original Secession Magazine (which, in its May issue, contains a very interesting notice of our author, and to which we are indebted for some of the biographical details of this
sketch), he accepted the testimony of that Church, and was licensed and afterwards ordained by the Edinburgh Presbytery. Having private means, he purchased an iron church in the village of Woodmancote, three miles distant from Cheltenham, and afterwards built one in Cheltenham itself which was opened by the Rev. Prof. Aitken of Main Street, Glasgow. Here he laboured many years, conducting services according to the most approved scriptural form. As time went on his isolation from the Church of his adoption operated injuriously on his earlier convictions, and when he failed to get a godly precentor—and he thought no other should lead the praises—he introduced an instrument into his church. And on doing so, as a matter of consistency, he withdrew from the Original Secession Church. He then became connected with the Church of Scotland, and though on the matter of instrumental music he had departed from the old paths, he still held that the inspired Psalms should alone be used in the praise of the sanctuary. He was an ardent Protestant and held firmly by the great doctrines of Calvinism. D. B.