Citation
The pilgrim's progress

Material Information

Title:
The pilgrim's progress from this world to that which is to come
Added title page title:
Little pilgrim
Creator:
Bunyan, John, 1628-1688
Barnard, Frederick, 1846-1896 ( Illustrator )
Landels, William ( Author of introduction )
Green, Townley ( Illustrator )
Small, William, 1843-1929 ( Illustrator )
Dalziel, Edward Gurdon, 1849-1889 ( Illustrator )
John C. Winston Company ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Armstrong & Co. (Boston, Mass.) ( printer of plates )
Riverside Press (Cambridge, Mass.) ( Printer of plates )
Place of Publication:
Philadelphia ;
Chicago
Publisher:
J.C. Winston & Co.
Publication Date:
Copyright Date:
1890
Language:
English
Edition:
Peerless ed.
Physical Description:
327 p., [4] leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 28 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Christian life -- Fiction ( lcsh )
Salvation -- Fiction ( lcsh )
Christian pilgrims and pilgrimages -- Fiction ( lcsh )
Allegories -- 1892 ( rbgenr )
Dialogues -- 1892 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1892
Genre:
Allegories ( rbgenr )
Dialogues ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
United States -- Massachusetts -- Cambridge

Notes

General Note:
Plates chromo-lithographed by Armstrong & Co., Lith and Riverside Press.
General Note:
Some ilustrations by Towley Green, W. Small, and E.G. Dalziel.
Statement of Responsibility:
by John Bunyan ; with over one hundred illustrations designed by Frederick Barnard and others, engraved by Dalziel brothers ; chromolithograph plates in nine colors ; an introductory notice of the author by William Landels ; to which is added The little pilgrim - a poem.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
002471097 ( ALEPH )
AMH6615 ( NOTIS )
49534041 ( OCLC )
26001736 ( LCCN )

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Full Text
See CMa tare RTT
HORA PRS
ei
























CoryRicHT 1890 By JoHN C.WINSTON & Co.

ARMSTRONG 2 GO. LITH BOSTON AND RIVERSIDE PRESS

TO THE WICKET GATE.



EVANGELIST POINTS CHRISTIAN





HE PEERKESS EDITION.

THE

PILGRIM’S PROGRESS,

FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME.

By JOHN BUNYAN.

WITH OVER ONE HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS DESIGNED

By PRE DERICK BARNARD AND. OTHERS

ENGRAVED BY DALZIEL BROTHERS.

CHROMO-LITHOGRAPH PLATES IN NINE COLORS,

AN INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR

BY

REV WIEEIAM LANDELS, DD



TO WHICH IS ADDED

THE LITTLE PILGRIM—A Porm.’

JOHN C. WINSTON & CO.,
PHILADELPHIA AND CHICAGO.
1892.





ENTERED, ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR 1890, BY
JOHN C. WINSTON,
IN THE OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS, AT WASHINGTON,









LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS,

PART I.

“As J slept, [ dreamed a dream,”

Christian as seen by Bunyan in his dream, 5 :
HeEapina—tThe City of Destruction,

Christian tells his wife and children of his ce

‘* Fie began to retire himself to his chamber to pray,”’
Evangelist points Christian to the wicket gate, .
Qbstinate, .

Pliable,

Christian and Pliable i in the Slough of Despont

Mr. Worldly Wiseman,

“When Christian was stepping in, he oihee gave in a il 2

* Beelzebub and they that are with him shoot arrows,”’
Despair in an iron cage,
Christian before the Cross,

‘The bottomless pit opened just ee I oa a
Christian and the Angels, .
Hypocrisy, . : i : i : : : : 3
Formailist, . ; : : a
Christian climbing the hill of difficulty, : .

‘* He stumbled and fell, and rose no more,’’

“Fe at last fell into.a slumber,’ . . : A :
Mistrust, . e . e e 3 Fi

Timorous, . : d 3 é : : :
Watchful the eee ; ; : z i 3

““ Christian sees lions in his ae y

The porter meets Christian and calls Discretion to the palace door, . : :
Discretion, Piety, Charity, and Prudence instruct Christian at the Palace Beauti-

fut ae : § 5 2 ; : : : s
Giving thanks for his deliverance from Apollyon, .
“A company of fiends,”’ . i : F : ;
“Tn the valley of the shadow of on ios ; : :

ARTIST
F. Barnarn,
E.F. Baewrnaws,
TF. Barnarp,
TOWNLEY GREEN,.
F. Barnarp,
W. SMALL,
FE. Barnarp,
Ditto,
W. SMALn,
F. BaRnarp,
Ditto,
Ditto, :
KK. F. Brewtnatt,
TowNLEY GREEN,
F. BARNARD,
E. F. Brewrnary,
F, Barnarp,
Ditto,
iE. G. Dawzrer,
F. BARNARD,
Ditto,
Ditto,
Ditto,
Ditto,
J. Wour, :
J. M’L. Ratrsron,

Ditto,
F. Barwarp,
Ditto,

E. G. Dauzien,
(ix)

PAGE
20)
28
29
3
31
32

34
37
38
44
45
51
54
oo

57



x LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

“He can now do little more than sit in his cave’s mouth, grinning at pilgrims,”
Christian and Faithful join company,

Discontent, ; : : ; 5 5
Self-Conceit ; Worldly-Glory,

‘¢ A man whose name is Talkative,”

Pride; Arrogancy ;

Christian enters the town of Vanity Fair, .

Lord Hate-good, i ;

TuREE Witnesses: Envy, occ Bigeanne :

Tue Jury: My. Blind-man, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love- hes Mr. lhe: las
Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light,
and Mr. Implacable,

Faithful burned at the stake,

Hopeful joins Christian, :

Mr. By-ends meets Hold-the- World, ey ove val ee all, :

Christian and Hopeful are reminded of Lot’s wife,

Vain-confidence, i : : : ; : i : 5 .

Giant Despair, . : :

Shristian and Hopeful in ‘he er of Giant Despair, :

Ignorance, : ; : : : : : : ; : ;

‘A men whom seven fea ta bound,”’ : : i ; ‘ ;

Faint-heart, Mistrust and Guilt, attack Little-Faith, P 5 : 7 3 : :

Atheist laughing at Christian and Hopeful, —. : : : : : :

‘He said, No, for I was invited to come,” : rear 5 5

““T am always full of Bod motions,”

‘Thus they got over,’ , : :

‘¢ Christian brake out with a ee voice, ‘ Oh ! 1 see Hs again,’’

One of the King’s Trumpeters, : : j

“Then they took him up, and carried him en a air to the ioe that IT saw in
the side of the hill, and put him in there,”’

Tart-Prece—The Dreamer awaking, : : i 5 : : ,
PART IL

Heapine—Bunyan in Bedford Jail, . 5 : 6 : ‘ , y 5 ;

The Author and Mr. Sagacity, . : Z : 5 5 5

“Her thoughts began to work in her dl es A 5 : 0

Christiana opens her mind to her Children, 4 : : "

“Well, I see you have a mind to 0 a-fooling too,’ ’
Mrs. Trmonowus’s NE . Bat’s-eyes, Mrs. ees Mrs. Light-
mind and Mrs. roe ae



“© Come, let. us venture, only let us be wary,’’

The King’s Trumpeter, Q

Mercy fallen in a swoon at the Wicket ce

The ill-favored ones, : : : ;

‘* So Christiana’s boys, as ee are re to ae ‘hae seat with the trees, and the
fruit that did hang thereon, did plash them, and began to eat,’

ARTIST
F, BARNARD,

TowNLEY GREEN,
F. BARNARD,
Ditto,

Ditto,

Ditto,

Ditto,

F, BaRNARD,

Ditto,

Ditto,

TowNLEY GREEN,
FE. BaRNaARD,

E. G. DALzzEL,

F. BARNARD,
Ditto,

EB. G. Dauzrer,

F. BARNARD,
Ditto, . ;
Ditto,

Ditto, .
Ditto, . :

Ditto, . one
Ditto, j
E. G. DALZIEL, .
Ditto,

EK. F. Brewrnatt,
F. Barnarn,

F, BARNARD,
Ditto,

Ditto, . é ‘
KE. F. BrewrtNatt,
F. BARNARD,

Ditto,

Ditto,

J. D. Linton,

J. M’L. Ratsron,
F, BaRNarD,

KE. F. BRewtNatt,

PAGE

84
86
90
91
95
104
109
Tl

113
114
116
119
125
127
181
133
139
139
141
149
152
156
166
167
169

177
185
186
187
192

193
197
199
201
204

205



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xi

ARTIST PAGE

Innocent, . ; Pee eee : : : : : F. BARNARD, , 208
‘* A man that could lock no way but as ah a ae on fin US Gg DO, kg
Mr. Great-heart, : : f : : ; s ; : : : : : J. D. Linton, 219
Short-wind, : : : : i : : : : ‘ ; ; ‘ : I, BARNARD, EoD s
No-heart, . : : A : : : ; : ‘ : : : ; : Ditto, . : bo
Sleepy-head, . 5 : : : & ; : 5 “ A : ; : Ditto, . : 23}
Giant Grim, .. ; : ‘ : ; é : Ditto, . 2 ODT,
‘*T went on bemoaning ies Tne of my foe : : : , ; : : Ditto, . 5 23
Prudence questions Christiana’s Children, f : ; ; : : : : i. EF. Brewrtnann, 233
Mr. Brisk, . 2 0 i : : : 0 : ; : 5 ; ; : FE. BARNARD, eee 30)
Doctor Skill, . 5 Q : ; A 5 x ; : : = : ae : : eR)
The Shepherd Boy, . s : ee : 0 : : ; : : : KE. FE. Brewrnarn, 247
Heedless, . : : : : : c : : : : ; : : : F, cae 5) Baill
Giant Maul, . ; : ; : : ‘ , : ‘ : : Ditto, . : 2

Old Honest, . 5 5 é 5 ‘ : . 3 : : : : ‘ J. D. Linton, eee iG

Mr. Fearing, .- : 7 5 tee 5 : i ‘ : ; é " FE. Bannarp, 50)
Self-will, . . : : : : : : : : 3 7 : 5 : Ditto, . s fee 53)
Gaius, : 5 5 4 : : 5 E : : g : 5 5 : Ditto, . : pear 60)
Taste-that-which-is-good, . : : : : ; ; : : : 5 : Ditto, o ABT
Mercy and Matthew, . ; . : : 5 ‘ : : : : : Ditto, . ; . 270
‘* Mercy, as her custom was, eae making coatsand garments to give to the poor,”’ EB. EF Brewrnann, 271
Mr. Feeble-Mind and Mr. Ready-to-Hallt, . : : 5 i a ; i 5 F. BARNARD, ert
Despondency, . ‘ : : : : ; : a : 3 ; : : Ditto, . 3 . 286
Much-afraid, . : : : ; ; ; : : : : : : : Ditto, . : . 286
Prejudice, . : : : . 3 : : . : A is : : 5 Ditto, . 5 FAD
Ui-will, : ; Bee Seen cane ys : : a DW og SD
Turn-Away eae eee . : : ; : : : i : Ditto, . i . 298
Wild-head, : : é : : : 5 : 5 : : 3 3 : Ditto, ‘i . 294
Valiant-for-truth, . : : : : i : ; : : : i J.D. TANtON. eee aie

Madam Bubble and Mr. Stand- eer : : : : ' : : : : : F. BARNARD, 30D
Christiana Passes over the River to the Celestial City, . ee eats : : BE. ¥. Brewrnann, 306









INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.



ry) HE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS” is, without question, of all uninspired volumes,
5) the most extraordinary book in the English language. Regard being had to the
\ condition of its author, and the circumstances connected with its production, to
its widespread popularity, and its suitableness for readers of every class, there is
none to compare with it.

We shall probably find few readers who are not already acquainted with the
leading facts of Bunyan’s life; and to whom a record of them would not appear
® ike the rehearsal of an old story. It may suffice, therefore, if we present, in few

words, such a summary as will refresh the memory, dwelling only on those which are

fitted to shed a little light on his immortal production.
Born at Elstow in Bedfordshire in 1628, of parents who belonged to the humbler
walks of life, he received little early education worthy of the name; but grew up in the
ignorance which was then, and in England is still, common to his class, At an early age
he learned the trade of tinker, and by that occupation earned his livelihood for a few
years. Up to the time of his first marriage he lived, if not a desperately profligate, yet
a thoroughly godless and openly wicked life. And though the character and conversation of his
wife exerted a restraining influence, and awoke in him some desire for reformation, no real, and
but little apparent, change took place until some time afterwards, when he became the subject of
converting grace. The deep experiences through which he had passed in connection with this
change, combined with his natural gifts, qualified him for profitably addressing others; and he
very soon began, in an irregular way at first, to exercise the ministry, which ultimately became
his sole occupation, and in which he obtained to a proficiency unsurpassed by any preacher
of his time. His preaching, and consequent absence from the parish church, attracted the
notice of the ecclesiastical authorities of the neighborhood, at whose instigation he was thrown
into prison for twelve years, where he tagged laces to support his wife and blind child, and
conceived and wrote the wonderful allegory by which he has ranked himself forever among the
peers of the intellectual world, and secured for himself an ever-widening and undying fame. After
his release he preached with great acceptance and usefulness, statedly at Bedford, occasionally in
London and elsewhere; and composed and published various other works of great practical useful-
ness, some of which would no doubt have attained to a wide popularity had they not been eclipsed
by his greatest production. He diligently prosecuted his labors until he was sixty years of age,
when a severe cold caught in the discharge of a ministerial duty—a journey which he took for the

purpose of reconciling a father and son who had quarrelled—abruptly terminated his life.
(13)








e

14 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR

Tn the circumstances we have thus briefly narrated—especially in his imprisonment—some
writers see the discipline and training which were necessary to fit him for writing ‘The Pilgrim’s
Progress.” But though we cannot question that whatsoever God did for him and whatsoever men
were permitted to do, had some effect in fitting him for whatever work he was destined to perform,
it seems to us that such a discovery is but one of numerous instances in which men are wise after
the event, and that Bunyan’s great work is not to be accounted for except by a profounder phi-
losophy than such writers bring to the task. Few beforehand would have ventured to predict, from
anything in the antecedents of the man Bunyan, that he would be able to produce such a book; or
that anything in his circumstances and upbringing and parentage would produce sucha man. He
is a great creation, no more to be accounted for in such a manner than is the creation of a world.
Antecedents conduce to, but do not account for, it. He is a phenomenon only to be understood on
the principle that God, by a process which we cannot trace, and sometimes by means which appear
to us unsuitable, raises up great men for the performance of great works. Not only does He make
the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak to confound the mighty, but
gives us to find both wisdom and strength where such qualities are least likely to exist.

It is a fact significant of the nature of the times, that Christian England, which ought to have
been proud to rank him among her favored sons, had no better treatment for this man than the most
relentless persecution, no better home for twelve years than a damp cell in the gaol which stood on
the bridge over the Ouse at Bedford. His crime, as we have intimated, was that of absenting him-
self from the Established Church, and holding meetings where he preached the gospel, and conducted
worship in a manner which appeared to him more in accordance than the established service with
New Testament principles—one of the worst crimes, in the estimation of the authorities, of wuich a
man could be guilty. On the warrant of a Justice he was apprehended at a meeting in Sansell, and,
no bail being found, was thrown into prison to await his trial, which took place seven weeks after-
wards. His indictment set forth that “John Bunyan, of the town of Bedferd, laborer, hath devil-
ishly and perniciously abstained from coming to church to hear Divine service, and is a common
upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction of
the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king.” On this
indictment, without any examination of witnesses, he was found guilty. Justice Keeling, in a
savage tone strangely unbecoming in a judge passing sentence, said, “Hear your judgment: you
must be had back to prison, and there lie for three months following. And at three months’ end, if
you do not submit to go to church to hear Divine service, and leave your preaching, you must be
banished the realm; or be found to come back again without special license from the king, you must
stretch by the neck for it, I tell you plainly. Jailor, take him away.”

Bunyan’s reply was as worthy of his Christian chara: ter as the judge’s manner was unworthy of
his exalted office. All that he had to say in answer to such brutal browbeating was, ‘‘ If I was out
of prison to-day, I would preach again to-morrow, by the help of God!” Such a man was evidently
not to be frightened either by frowns or by threats; so they had him back to prison, of which he had
already tasted the sweets. But not all the horrors of prison—not the pain of separation from his
wife and four children, cculd move his dauntless soul. He felt that separation most keenly-—no -
man could have felt it more. Especially was he solicitous about his blind daughter, to whom he was
all the more tenderly attached because of her helplessness. “ Poor child, thought I; what sorrow
art thou like to have for thy portion in this world! Thou must be beaten, must beg, suffer hunger,
cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, though I cannot now endure the wind should blow upon
thee! Oh, the hardships I thought my blind one might go under would break my heart in pieces.”
Still he did not falter, for he could commit her as well as himself to God; and God’s peace was with



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 15

him. “ Verily, as I was going forth out of the doors, I had much ado to forbear saying to them that
I carried the peace of God along with me; and, blessed be the Lord, T went away to prison with
God’s comfort in my poor soul!”

His case seems to have given some trouble to the Justices. He was had up before them re-
peatedly, and always remanded. They were either unwilling or afraid to carry out Justice Keeling’s
threat of banishment. And as their prisoner would not promise to change his course, they kept
him where he was. His friends interceded for him. His wife, who was of a kindred spirit with
himself, came to London with a petition for his release, and had it presented to the House of Lords.
Although “a delicate young woman of retiring habits,” she appeared before the Judges and pleaded
his cause “in language worthy of the most talented counsel.” But all their efforts were in vain.
The one condition on which his release could be granted was the condition with which the prisoner
would not comply. “ Will your husband leave preaching?” said Judge Twisden to his wife; “aif
he will do so, then send for him.” “ My Lord,” she replied, “ he dares not leave preaching, so long
as he can speak.” “ My principles,” says Bunyan on another oceasion, “are such as lead me toa
denial to communicate in the things of the kingdom of Christ with ungodly and open profane ;
neither can I, in or by the superstitious inventions of this world consent that my soul should be
governed in any of my approaches to God, because commanded to the contrary, and commended for
so refusing. Wherefore, excepting this one thing, for which I ought not to be rebuked, I shall, I
trust, in despite of slander and falsehood, discover myself as a peaceable and obedient subject. But
if nothing will do unless I make my conscience a continual butchery and slaughter shop—unless,
putting out mine own eyes, I commit me to the blind to lead me (as I doubt is desired hy some)—I
have determined, the Almighty God being my help and shield, yet to suffer, and if frail life shall
continue so long, even till the moss shall grow on mine eyebrows, rather than violate my faith and
principles.”

He lay in prison for more than twelve years. Twelve years! How easy to write the words ; how
difficult to grasp all that they mean! The fifth part of his life at the season when life was in its
prime—when his. appreciation of nature was keenest—when free exercise would have proved the
greatest luxury to a stalwart frame like his-—-when he would have entered with the greatest zest into
home enjoyments—when his physical system was full of bounding life and capable of acting with the
greatest vigor—the fifth part of his life spent within the limits of a dungeon—the little cell which
he aptly calls hisden! What a testimony to the heroic endurance of the man! What a testimony
to his country’s disgrace! It is sad to think that England, with her Christian constitution, had no
better treatment than this for one of her noblest sons, whose worth, blinded as she was by flunkeyisms
and debaucheries in high places, she was unable to recognize.

To Bunyan it mattered little what they did. Happier far was he in prison than the clergyman
in his living, or the bishop in his palace, or the king on his throne. Yea, it may be questioned if in
all England there was a man so happy or so much to be envied as that prisoner on Bedford bridge.
The “ God’s peace ”——“ God’s comfort ”—-of which he speaks as dwelling in his “ poor soul,” is not
dependent on place or circumstances, cannot be disturbed by the treatment he receives. He who
hath it can defy the persecutor’s rage. Do to him what you will—strip him of his possessions and
friends—drive him into exile—make him a homeless wanderer—he is happier in his penury and
homelessness, than others in the abundance of their wealth and comfort. If, by prison walls, Bunyan
was shut out from nature’s beauty—from daylight and the fragrant air—still he has Jeft to him God
and himself. The soul’s freedom is unimpaired. It can soon soar above all restraint and enjey
Divine fellowship. No prison walls are so thick that prayer cannot pierce them. No dungeon
gloom so dark that it may not be radiated with celestial light.



1s INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.

‘Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage ;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for a hermitage.

‘For though men keep my outward man
Within their locks and bars,
Yet by the faith of Christ I can
Mount higher than the stars.”

These were no meaningless sounds to him—no poetical expression of the feelings which he
supposed might be experienced—no rhapsodical or exaggerated description of what he actually felt.
Poctry apart, he elsewhere tells us of the glorious visions with which he was favored there. “O
the Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and God the judge
of all; Jesus the mediator, and the spirits of just men made perfect! I have seen here what I
never can express. I have felt the truth of that Scripture ‘Whom having not seen, ye love; in
Whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.’”
Most of the day was spent in “ tagging laces,” with his blind girl by his side—an employment which
he learned in prison, that thereby he might help to support his family. But when evening came,
and the child was dismissed to her home with a parting benediction, his soul, free to soar where it
listed, saw those glorious visions, and indulged in those pious meditations which are embodied in his
immortal work. He had but to close his eyes, and he was no more the prisoner, but the pilgrim
whose progress he so graphically describes. Bedford gaol fades away, and his unfettered soul stands
on some mount of vision where, from its commencement to its close, the course of his pilgrim lies
open to his view. There he sees the City of Destruction, and remembers how he left it with the
burden on his back—the Slough of Despond, and the overhanging hill near the house of Mr. Legality,
with its deep rifts and flashing fires. He recalls his entrance at the wicket-gate—his visit to the
Iinterpreter’s house—his rapture when, standing at the foot of the Cross and gazing on the Crucified,
his burden fell from his shoulders and he was free. Again he is entertained at the Palace Beautiful,
finds there refreshment and repose, and at break of day wakes up singing in the chamber whose
name is Peace. Or he wanders among the Delectable Mountains with the shepherds for his com-
panions ; and from the hill Clear, looking through the glass of faith, discerns in the distance the
pearly gates, and golden turrets, and jasper walls, that surround the City of the Blest. Or he dwells
in the land of Beulah, where, not in imagination only, but in reality, his soul summers even now,
ripening for the heaven which is so near that already he inhales its fragrance, and walks in its light,
and holds converse with its shining ones—where the sun shineth night and day, and the birds sing
continually, and the flowers are ever fresh and fair, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land.
Or, the river crossed, he climbs the hill which leads up to the gate of the City, or rather glides
upward ; for the shining ones have clasped his hands, and the burden of mortality left in the river
no more clogs the movements of the ascending soul. The gates open at his approach—the trumpets
sound in honor of his coming. The bells of the city “ ring again for joy.” “ Angels meet him with
harp and crown, and give him the harp to praise withal and the crown in token of honor.” And
the hosts of the glorified standing round welcome him with acclamations to their exalted fellowship,
saying, “ Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”

All these are real to him—more real than the prison walls that surround him, or his prison
garb, or prison fare. These are but the illusions which shall vanish ; those the realities which shall
endure. And, being so vividly presented to his mind, he is constrained to imprint them on his page.
Rousing himself from his reverie, but with beaming eye and radiant countenance, for “he writes as



INTRODUCIORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 17

if joy did make him write,” he flings from his graphic and fluent pen those vivid, brilliant pictures,
over which, after his persecutors have perished, and his prison walls have crumbled into dust, and
the painful circumstances of his earthly life have receded into the dim and distant past,—in many
lands and throughout all generations—in the closet and the chamber—in the solitary hut and the
crowded city—young and old, rich and poor, learned and illiterate, shall bend with ever fresh
delight.

Without question Bunyan’s imprisonment was made conducive for the furtherance of the gospel.
The providence which controls the wrath of man, and makes it contribute to its own purposes, so
overruled the malice of his persecutors, as to make it serve the cause which they sought to destroy.
Not only may we see the Divine hand, in the fact that Bunyan’s imprisonment afforded him leisure
for the composition of those works which have made his name immortal; but an overruling Provi-
dence is specially seen in some of the circumstances which facilitated his work. Cruelties such as
were perpetrated in other prisons would probably have shortened his days, or at least have rendered
writing and study impossible; but in the gaol at Bedford where he was confined, though the place
was loathsome in the extreme, the jailor treated the prisoners with such humanity that he incurred
the displeasure of the Justices. Bunyan was allowed to visit his family occasionally, and it was on
one of his visits that the circumstance occurred which most people would consider peculiarly provi-
dential. A neighboring priest heard of his absence from prison, and immediately despatched a
messenger that he might bear witness against the jailor. Meanwhile Bunyan, feeling uneasy at home,
had returned to prison sooner than was intended, so that when the messenger demanded, “ Are all
the prisoners safe?” the jailor could answer “Yes.” “Ts John Bunyan safe?” “ Yes.” Bunyan,
on being called, appeared ; and, said the jailor afterwards, “You may go out when you will, for you
know much better when to return than I can tell you.” Thus were his health and life preserved,
and the man who was forbidden to speak to a few assembled in a peasant’s cottage, furnished with
facilities for writing a book by which he speaks to millions in every land, and through all succeeding
generations ; while the men who sought to silence him have been all but forgotten. So do the
enemies of the gospel frustrate their own schemes. So does the right live on, emerging into ever-
increasing splendor, while the wrong sinks into merited oblivion.

The acceptance which his “ Pilgrim’s Progress” has met with is altogether unparalleled.
During the Author’s lifetime many copies are said to have been circulated in England—and that
was at a time when books and readers were comparatively scarce. Several editions—some of them
got up, as booksellers would say, in very superior style—were published in North America, and
translations were issued in French and Flemish, Dutch, Welsh, Gaelic, and Irish. Nor does time
show any abatement of its popularity. Among all the competitors for public favor which have since
issued from the press, it retains its pre-eminence. There is scarcely a known language into which
+t has not been rendered. Wherever English is spoken it is familiar as a household word. Not-
withstanding the millions in circulation, and the new editions which are constantly appearing,
publishers can still reckon on a sale of hundreds of thousands for one edition alone. It appears in
all forms, and is read by all classes. Richly illustrated and elegantly bound, it adorns the drawing-
room tables of the wealthy. Well-thumbed and sometimes tattered, as if from constant, if not
careless, usage, it lies on the shelf or the window-sill of the poor. Children are entranced with the
interest of the story; its tranquil or gloomy scenes, its pictures of danger and conflict—of triumph
and despair. Men too illiterate to account for the fascination, are attracted to its pages. And
learned men, who have little sympathy with its religious purpose, feel the spell of its genius, and
are compelled to admire it for the beauty or the awfulness of its creations, its vivid embodiments,

its clear insight and keen satire, its terse Saxon style. The young Christian, just starting on his
3



18 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. |

course, reads it for guidance and encouragement in his own conflicts and perils; and the aged saint
lingering for a while on the river’s brink, before the messenger summons him into the presence of
the King, testifies to the accuracy with which it pictures the serene and mellowed joys of the land of
Beulah—the celestial air which the pilgrim breathes, the celestial fragrance which is wafted from on
high, the celestial visitants with whom he holds converse as he nears his journey’s end; and the
dull eye brightens, and the withered countenance glows with rapture, as, by the pilgrim’s passage
of the river, and entrance at the gates, he is led to anticipate his own. It is wonderful that any
man should have written a book of such universal and enduring popularity. More wonderful still
that it should have been written in prison by an uneducated tinker, the descendant of a vagrant
tribe—written spontaneously and unconseiously—not as an effort, but as a relief from mental fulness
—as the thoughts came crowding up in all their freshness in an untrained but singularly original:
and fertile mind.

With all its popularity and excellence, it is easy to see that the book is not without faults, Its
theology, scriptural in the main, is colored by his own experience. The long and painful journey
which Christian makes with his burden before he finds relief at the cross, though it accords with
fact often, is somewhat at variance with the Scripture ideal. The Second Part shows some improve-
ment on the First in this respect; but there, too, the cross is placed too far on the way. It should
have been at the wicket-gate, and not at the further side of the Interpreter’s house; for there is
really no true progress heavenward until the cross is seen. As an allegory, moreover, it presents, as
it could scarcely fail, some obvious inconsistencies, The wicket-gate is the proper entrance to the
pilgrim’s course; and yet Hopeful enters it not through the wicket-gate, but at Vanity Fair, which
is far on the way. Faithful, again, leaves it not by the river, which represents death, but is taken
up in a chariot of fire. These and such like discrepancies are obvious to every reader ; and the best
excuse for them is that his purpose rendered them unavoidable. It was not possible by any consistent
allegory to set forth so many distinct phases of spiritual life.

The wonder is not that there are inconsistencies in the allegory, but that these are so few and
the beauties of the book so manifold. “It is the highest miracle of genius,” says Macaulay, “ that
things which are not should be as though they were, that the imagination of one mind should become
the personal recollections of another. And this miracle the tinker has wrought. There is no ascent,
no declivity, no resting-place, no turnstile, with which we are not per‘ectly acquainted.” His characters,
though some of them are mere embodiments of abstract qualities, are painted with equal vividness.
They are marked with individuality as much as if they were real personages who had sat for their
portraits. There is no danger of our mistaking one for another ; and such is the impression they
produce on our minds, that, when once we have made acquaintance with them, they are not easily
forgotten. Stern as he is in his treatment of wrong, and especially in peeling off the skin from
sanctimonious villainy, what a depth of tenderness there is in his nature, and what a keen apprecia-
tion of the beautiful he now and again displays! When he writes of Christiana in the Second Part
there is a perceptible softening in his tone; and the incidents of the journey are suited to the delicacy
of woman and the tenderness of youth; for the writer knew well, and had himself imbibed, the
spirit of Him “ Who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb”—“ Who gathers the lambs in His arms,
and carries them in His bosom.” The quiet beauty of some of his scenes, and the soft light which
falls on them, is perfectly charming; and all the more noticeable as contrasted with the lurid
grandeur of others. What a sweet picture is that Palace Beautiful, with its waiting damsels and its
chamber of peace—* the country birds that, in the spring-time, sing all day long in a most curious,
melodious note,” one carolling, as Christiana listens with words much like these :



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 19

“Through all my life Thy favor is
So frankly showed to me,
That in Thy house for evermore
My dwelling-place shall be.”’
And another responding,—
“For why? The Lord our God is good ;
His mercy is for ever sure:
His truth at all times firmly stood,
And shall from age to age endure.”

Not less lovely, when Christiana passes through, is the Valley of Humiliation, green and fertile, and
“ beautified with lilies,’ where “cur Lord formerly had his country house, and loved to walk the
meadows, for he found the air was pleasant,” where “laboring men have good estates,” where the
shepherd boy doth sing his artless song, giving utterance to his heart’s content,—

‘*He that is down needs fear no fall;
He that is poor no pride ;
He that is humble ever shall
Have God to be his guide.”’

And that land of Beulah, so near the gates of the city with only the river between, where the pilgrim,
after the toils of the way, rests and ripens for glory, is so vivid'y presented to us, that, forgetting
our surroundings, we can sometimes fancy ourselves in it, soothed and refreshed by its delicious in-
fluences, bathed in its golden light, and breathing its balmy air. And the Celestial City itself, shin-
ing like the sun, with its bells and trumpets, its golden pavement, its white-robed inhabitants, wearing
crowns and waving palms, with “harps to play withal”—what reader does not feel as if he stood
with the writer looking in at the open gate, and, sympathizing with his desire, when carried away by
his own imaginings, he says, “ which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.”

But time would fail and space forbids us to expatiate on the beauties of the book. The more
we study it, the more do we feel how much it deserves its matchless popularity ; and the more
cordially do we commend it to the careful perusal of our readers. Our desire and prayer is, that
some of them may be influenced by Bunyan’s pleasant companionship and wise guidance to commence,
or, if they have commenced already, to persevere in and complete the pilgrimage which he so
graphically describes.

















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“As I slept, I dreamed a dream.”



THE

AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.





2,
ay | HEN at the first I took my pen in hand
oF H Thus for to write, I did not understand
a % That I at all should make a little book
2 § In such a mode; nay, I had undertook
To make another; which when almost done,
Before I was aware, I this begun.
And thus it was: I, writing of the way
And race of saints, in this our Gospel day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,
In more than twenty things which I set down :
This done, I twenty more had in my crown ;
And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
Pll put you by, yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out
The book that I already am about.
Well, so I did; but yet I did not think
To show to all the world my pen and ink
In such a mode; I only thought to make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my neighbor: no, not I ;
I did it my own self to gratify.
Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my seribble; nor did I intend
But to divert myself in doing this
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss,
Thus I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white ;
For, having now my method by the end,
Still as I pulled, it came; and so I penned
It down; until it came at last to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.
Well, when I thus had put mine ends together,
I showed them others, that I might see whether
They would condemn them or them justify :

(21)



22

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.

And some said, “ Let them live ;” some, “ Let them die ;””
Some said, “ John, print it;” others said, “ Not so;”
Some said “Tt might do good ;” others said, “ No.”
Now was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me:
At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided,
I print it will, and so the case decided.
For, thought I, some, I see, would have it done,
Though others in that channel do not run:
To prove, then, who advisdd for the best,
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.
I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it, these to gratify,
I did not know but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight.
For those which were not for its coming: forth,
I said to them, Offend you I am loth.
Yet, since your brethren pleastd with it be,
Forbear to judge till you do further see.
If that thou wilt not read, let it alone:
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone,
Yea, that I might them better palliate,
I did too with them thus expostulate :
“ May I not write in such a style as this?
In such a method, too, and yet not miss
My end—thy good? Why may it not be done?
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none,
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops,
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either,
But treasures up the fruit they yield together ;
Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit
None can distinguish this from that: they suit
Her well when hungry; but, if she be full,
She spews out both, and makes their blessings null,
You see the ways the fisherman doth take
To catch the fish; what engines doth he make!
Behold how he engageth all his wits;
Also his snares lines, angles hooks and nets:
Yet fish there be that neither hook, nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine:
They must be groped for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be catched, whate’er you do.
How does the fowler seek to catch his game
By divers means! all which one cannot name:
His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell;



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK. 23

He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell
Of all his postures? Yet there’s none of these
Will make him master of what fowls he please.
Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this ;
Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss,
If that a pearl may in a toad’s head dwell,
And may be found too in an oyster-shell ;
If things that promise nothing do contain
What better is than gold; who will disdain,
That have an inkling of it, there to look,
That they may find it? Now, my little book
(Though void of all these paintings that may make
It with this or the other man to take)
Is not without those things that do excel
What do in brave but empty notions dwell.
“ Well, yet I am not fully satisfied
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried.”
Why, what’s the matter? “Tt is dark.” What though?
“But it is feignéd.” What of that? I trow
Some men, by feignéd words, as dark as mine
Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine.
“But they want solidness.” Speak, man, thy mind.
“They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind.”
Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men ;
But must I needs want solidness, because
By metaphors I speak? Were not God’s laws,
His Gospel laws, in olden time held forth
By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loth
Will any sober man be to find fault
With them, lest he be found for to assault
The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops,
And seeks to find out by what pins and loops,
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams,
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,
God speaketh to him; and happy is he
That finds the light and grace that in them be.
Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude
That I want solidness—that I am rude:
All things solid in show not solid be ;
All things in parables despise not we ;
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are, of our souls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.
The prophets uséd much by metaphors



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.

To set forth truth; yea, whoso considers
Christ, His apostles too, shall plainly see
That truths to this day in such mantles be.
Am I afraid to say that Holy Writ,
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,
Is everywhere so full of all these things—
Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs
From that same Book, that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.
Come, let my carper to his life now leok,
And find there darker lines than in my book
He findeth any ; yea, and let him know
That in his best things there are worse lines too,
May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I durst adventure ten
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines,
Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find,
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind ;
Pleases the understanding; makes the will
Submit; the memory also it doth fill
With what doth our imagination please ;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease,
Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives’ fables he is to refuse ;
But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid
The use of parables; in which lay hid
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones, that were
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.
Let me add one word more. O man of God,
Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had
Put forth my matter in another dress ?
Or that I had in things been more express ?
Three things let me propound; then I submit
To those that are my betters, as is fit.
1. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no abuse
Put on the words, things, readers; or be rude
In handling figure or similitude,
In application; but, all that I may
Seek the advance of truth this or that way.
Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave
(Example too, and that from them that have
God better pleasad, by their words or ways,
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days)
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee that excellentest are.



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK. 25

2. I find that men as high as trees will write
Dialogue-wise ; yet no man doth them slight
For writing so: indeed, if they abuse
Truth, curséd be they, and the craft they use
To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me
Which way it pleases God ; for who knows how
Better than He who taught us first to plough,
To guide our minds and pens for His design ?
And He makes base things usher in divine.

3. I find that Holy Writ in many places
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing, to set forth another.

Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother
‘Truth’s golden beams: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.
And now, before I do put up my pen,
I'll show the profit of my book, and then
Commit both thee and it unto that Hand
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand,

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize ;

It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes ;
What he leaves undone, also what he docs

It also shows you how he runs and runs

Till he uato the gate of glory comes.

It shows, too, who set out for life amain,

As if the lasting crown they would obtain ;

Here also you may sce the reason why

Shey lose their labor, and like fools do die,

This book will make a traveller of thee,

If by its counsels thou wilt ruléd he:

It will direct thee to the Holy Land,

If thou wilt its directions understand :
Yea, it will make the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.

Art thou for something rare and profitable?

Or wouldst thou see a truth within a fable?
Art thou forgetful? Or wouldst thou remember
From New Year’s Day to the last of December ?
Then read my fancies : they will stick like burrs,
And may be, to the helpless, comforters,

This book was writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect :

It seems a novelty, and yet contains

Nothing but sound and honest Gospel strains,
:



2§

VHE AUTHORS APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ?
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ?
Wouldst thou read riddles and their explanation ?

Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ?
Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see
A man 7?’ the clouds, and hear him speak to thee ?
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ?
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep ?
Wouldst thou lose thyself, and catch no harm ?
And find thyself again without a charm ?
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know’st not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not,
By reading the same lines? Oh, then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.

Joun Bunyan,



























































































































































Zoar Chapel, Southwark.

”



THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

EAI A

(27)































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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CHRISTIAN, AS SEEN BY BUNYAN IN HIS DREAM.

“T saw a man clothed with rags.”















































































































































































































































CHAPTER I.

I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place
where was a den,* and laid me down in that place to sleep; and, as I slept, I
dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags,



standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his
hand, and a great burden upon his back.’* I looked, and saw him open the book, and
read therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled; and, not being able longer to
contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, “ What shall I do?””

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained himself as long as he could,
that his wife and children should not perceive his distress; but he could not be silent
long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind to
his wife and children; and thus he began to talk to them: “O my dear wife,” said he,
“and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by
reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am certainly informed that
this our city will be burned with fire from heaven; in which fearful overthrow, both
myself, with thee, my wife, and you, my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin,
except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found whereby we may he
delivered.” At this his relations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that
what he had said to thenr was true, but because they thought that some frenzy dis-
temper had got into his head; therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping
that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But the night
was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in
sighs and tears. So when the morning was come, they would know how he did. [Le

* Bedford jail in which Bauyan was twelve years a prisoner,
+ See reterences to the Bible at the end.

(6295)



LTTE

Hi

Bee UT

ae























CHRISTIAN TELLS HIS Wirr AND CHILDREN OF HIS DIsTREss.

“At length he brake his mind to his wife and children.”























































3d



































































































CHRISTIAN’S DISTRESS OF MIND. ol

told them, Worse and worse; he also set to talking to them again; but they began to
be hardened. They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly
carriage to him: sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and some-
fines they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to his
chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he would also
walk solitary in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying; and thus for
some days he spent his time.

Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was (as he was

wont) reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as he read, he burst



out as he had done before, crying, “ What
shall I do to be saved?” ?

I saw also that he looked this way and that







SS




WSS]
SEE





LQG

\ . : \ Te





way, as if he would run; yet he stood still,
because (as I perceived) he could not tell
which way to go. I looked then, and saw a
man named Evangelist coming to him, who
asked, “Wherefore dost thou ery ?”

He answered, “Sir, I perceive by the book
in my hand, that I am condemned to die, and
after that to come to judgment;* and I find
that I am not willing to do the first,’ nor able
to do the second.” ®

Then said Evangelist, “Why not willing
to die, since this life is attended with so many



evils?” The man answered, “ Because I fear
that this burden that is upon my back will



sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall
into Tophet.** And, sir, if I be not fit to 20
to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution; and the
thoughts of these things make me cry.”

“He began to retire limself to his chamber to pray.”

Then said Evangelist, “If this be thy condition, why standest thon still?”

He answered, “ Because I know not whither to go.” Then he gave him a parchment
roll, and there was written within, “Flee from the wrath to come.” ®

The man, therefore, read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said,
“Whither must I fly?” Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a very



* Tophet bere means hell.







/

Wes



EVANGELIST POINTS CHRISTIAN TO THE WICKET-GATE,

“Do you see yonder wicket-gate?” (32)



CHRISTIAN FLEES FROM THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION. 83

wide field), “Do you see yonder wicket-gate?”’ The man said, “No.” Then said
the other, “ Do you see yonder shining light?” He said, “I think I do.” Then
‘gaid Evangelist, “Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto: so shalt
thou see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt
do.” So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not run far
from his own door, when his wife and children perceiving it, began to ery after him
to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, “Life! life!
eternal life!”™ So he looked not behind him,” but fled towards the middle of the
plain.

The neighbors also came out to see him run;” and as he ran, some mocked, others
threatened, and some cried after him to return ; and among those that did so there were
two that resolved to fetch him back by force. The name of the one was Obstinate,
and the name of the other Pliable. Now, by this time the man was got a good dis-
tance from them; but, however, they were resolved to pursue him, which they did,
and in a little time they overtook him. Then said the man, “ Neighbors, wherefore
are ye come?” They said, “To persuade you to go back with us.” But he said,
“That can by no means be: you dwell,” said he, “ in the City of Destruction, the
place also where I was born: I see it to be so; and, dying there, sooner or later, you
will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone. Be
content, good neighbors, and go along with me.”

Ozst. “What!” said Obstinate, “and leave our friends and comforts behind us?”

Curis. “ Yes,” said Christian (for that was his name), “because that all which you
forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy ;" and
if you would go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there,
where I go, is enough and to spare.” Come away, and prove my words.”

Oxsst. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them?

Curis. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away,”
and it is laid wp in heaven, and safe there,” to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on

them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book.

Oxst. “Tush!” said Obstinate, “away with your book: will you go back with us
or no?”

Ours. “No, not I,” said the other, “ because I have put my hand to the plough.”

Oxrst. Come, then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn again, and go home without him:
there is a company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that, when they take a fancy by
the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason.

Pu Then said Pliable, “ Don’t revile; if what the good Christian says is true, the
things le looks after are better than ours; my heart inclines to go with my neighbor.”

5



B4



Obstinate.

instructions about the way.

THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Oxst. What! more fools still? Be ruled
by me, and go back; who knows whither such
a brain-sick fellow will lead you? Go back, |
go back, and be wise.

Curis. Nay, but do thou come with thy
neighbor Pliable; there are such things to

be had which I spoke of, and many more

glories besides. If you believe not me, read
here in this book; and for the truth of what
is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed
by the blood of Him that made it.”

-Pur. “ Well, neighbor Obstinate,” said Pli-
able, “I begin-to come to a point; I intend
to go along with this good man, and to cast in
my lot with him. But, my good companion,
do you know the way to this desired place?”

Curis. I am directed by a man, whose
name is Eyangelist, to speed me to a little
gate that is before us, where we shall receive

Put. Come, then, good neighbor, let us be going.

Then they went both together.
“ And I will go back to my place,” said Obstinate ;
“J will be no companion of such misled, fantastical

fellows.”

Now, I saw in my dream, that, when Obstinate
was gone back, Christian and Pliable went talking
over the plain; and thus they began their discourse :

Curis. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do?
Tam glad you are persuaded to go along with me.
Had even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt
of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he
would not thus lightly have given us the back.

Purr. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are
none but us two here, tell me now further what the
things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are

going.

Ss

N
S

LIE



Pliable.



CHRISTIAN DISCOURSES WITH PLIABLE. 35

Curis. I can better conceive of them with my mind than speak of them with my
tongue; but yet, since you are desirous to know, I will read of them in my book.

Pur. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true?

Curis. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that cannot lie.”

Prt. Well said; what things are they ?

Curis. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life to be given
us, that we may inhabit that kingdom forever.”

Put. Well said; and what else?

Curis. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that will make us
shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven.”

Put. This is very pleasant; and what else?

Curis. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow; for he that is owner of the
place will wipe all tears from our eyes.”

Purr. And what company shall we have there?

Curis. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims,â„¢ creatures that shall
dazzle your eyes to look on them. There also you shall meet with thousands and ten
thousands that have gone before us to that place; none of them are hurtful, but [all]
loving and holy ; every one walking in the sight of God, and standing in His presence
with acceptance for ever. In a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden
crowns ;” there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps ;* there we shall
see men that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned
in the seas, for the love they bear to the Lord of the place,” all well, and clothed with
immortality as with a garment.”

Put. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one’s heart. But are these things to
be enjoyed? How shall we get to be sharers thereof?

Curis. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded that in this book ;”
the substance of which is, If we be truly willing to have it, He will bestow it upon us
freely,

Prt. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things; come on, let us
mend our pace.

Curis. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my back.

Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew nigh to a
very miry slough, that was in the midst of the plain; and they, being heedless, did
both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough was Despond. Here, there-
fore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian,
because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink into the mire.



36 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

Pur. Then said Pliable, “Ah! neighbor Christian, where are you now?”

Curis. “Truly,” said Christian, “I do not know.”

Prt. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his fellow, “Is this:
the happiness you have told me all this while of? If we have such ill speed at our
first setting out, what may we expect between this and our journey’s end? May I
get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me.” And
with that, he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of
the slough which was next to his own house: so away he went, and Christian saw him
no more.

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone; but still
he endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough which was farthest from his own
house, and next to the wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get out because
of the burden that was upon his back; but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to
him whose name was Help, and asked him, What he did there?

Curis. “Sir,” said Christian, “I was bid to go this way by a man called Evangelist,
who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape the wrath to come; and as
I was going there I fell in here.”

Here. But why did you not look for the steps?

Curis. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and fell in.

Hewr. Then said he, “Give me thine hand.” So he gave him his hand, and he
drew him out,” and set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way.

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, “Sir, wherefore, since over
this place is the way from the City of Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is
not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with more security?” And he said
unto me, “This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended; it is the descent
whither the scum and filth that attend conviction for sin do continually run, and there-
fore it is called the Slough of Despond ; for still, as the sinner is awakened by his lost
condition, there arise in his soul many fears, and doubts, and discouraging apprehen-
sions, which all of them get together, and settle in this place ; and this is the reason
of the badness of the ground. |

“Tt is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so bad.” His
laborers also have, by the direction of His Majesty’s surveyors, been for about these
sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have
been mended; yea, and to my knowledge,” said he, “here have been swallowed up at
least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions, of wholesome instructions, that have
at all seasons been brought from all places of the King’s dominions (and they that





























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































CHRISTIAN AND PLIABLE IN THE SLOUGH OF Desvonp.

“Christian still endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough that was farthest from his own house.” (37)



38 THE PILGRIM’?S PROGRESS.

can tell say they are the best materials to make good ground of the place), if 80 be it
might have been mended; but it is the Slough of Despond still, and so will be when
they have done what they can.

“True, there are, by the direction of the Law-giver, certain good and substantial
steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough; but at such time as this
place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth against change of weather, these steps
are hardly seen; or, if they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, step aside,
and then they are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there; but the

9? 82

ground is good when they are got in at the gate.

Now, I saw in my dream, that
by this time Pliable was got home
to his house. So his neighbors
came to visit him; and some of
them called him wise man for
coming back, and some called
him a fool for hazarding himself
with Christian ; others again did
mock at his cowardliness, saying,
“Surely since you began to ven-
ture, I would not have been so
base to have given out for a few
difficulties ;” so Pliable sat sneak-
ing among them. But at last he
got more confidence; and then
they all turned their tales, and
began to deride poor Christian
Mr. Worldly Wiseman. behind his back. And thus much

concerning Pliable.



Now, as Christian was walking solitary by himself, he espied one afar off come
crossing over the field to meet him; and their hap was to meet just as they were
crossing the way of each other. The gentleman’s name that met him was Mr. Worldly
Wiseman: he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a very great town, and also hard by
from whence Christian came. This man, then, meeting with Christian, and having
some inkling of him—(for Christian’s setting forth from the City of Destruction was
much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the
town-talk in some other places)—Mr. Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess.



WORLDLY WISEMAN’S COUNSEL. 39

of him, by beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs and groans, and the
like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian :

Worip. How now, good fellow! whither away after this burdened manner?

Curis. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I think poor creature had! And
whereas you ask me, Whither away? JI tell you, sir, Iam going to yonder wickct-
gate before me; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put into a way to be rid of my
heavy burden.

Worxp. Hast thou a wife and children ?

Curis. Yes; but Iam so laden with this burden, that I cannot take that pleasure
in them as formerly ; methinks I amas if I had none.®

Wortp. Wilt thou hearken to me, if I give thee counsel?

Curis. If it be good, £ will; for I stand in need of good counsel.

Worxp. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself rid of thy
burden ; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then; nor canst thou enjoy the
blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee till then.

Curis. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden; but get
it off myself I cannot; nor is there any man in our country that can take it off my
shoulders ; therefore am I going this way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden.

Worxp. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden?

Curis. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honorable person; his
name, as I remember, is Evangelist.

Wortp. J beshrew * him for his counsel! there is not a more dangerous and trouble-
some way in the world than is that into which he hath directed thee; and that thou
shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. Thou hast met with something, as I
perceive, already; for I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee; but that
slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way.
Hear me: Iam older than thou: thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou
goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons
darkness, and, in a word, death, and what not. These things are certainly true, having
been confirmed by many testimonies. And why should a man so carelessly cast away
himself, by giving heed to a stranger ?

Curis. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than all these
things which you have mentioned ; nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in the
way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden.

Wokrt.p. How camest thou by the burden at first ?

* Wish him ill.



40 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Curis. By reading this book in my hand.

Wortp. I thought so. And it has happened unto thee as unto other weak men,
who, meddling with things too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy distractions ;
which distractions do not only unman men, as thine I perceive have done thee, but
they run them upon desperate ventures, to obtain they know not what.

Curis. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease for my heavy burden.

Wortp. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers attend
it? Especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me), I could direct thee to the
obtaining of what thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run
thyself into. Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add that, instead of
those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content.

Curis. Sir, I pray, open this secret to me.

Wortp. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality), there dwells a gen-
tleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of very good name,
that has skill to help men off with such burdens as thine is from their shoulders; yea,
to my knowledge he hath done a great deal of good this way; aye, and besides, he
hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To
him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is not quite a mile
from this place; and if he should not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man
to his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gen-
tleman himself. There, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden; and if thou art
not minded to go back to thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee),
thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee in this village, where there are
houses now standing empty, one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable rate; provi-
sion is there also cheap and good; and that which will make thy life the more happy
is, to be sure there thou shalt live by honest neighbors, in credit and good fashion.

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he concluded, “If this be
true which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice;” and
with that, he thus further spake :

Curis. Sir, which is my way to this honest man’s house?

Wortp. Do you see yonder high hill?

Curis. Yes, very well.

Wortp. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come at is his.

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality’s house for help; but,
behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that side of
it that was next the wayside did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to ven-



CHRISTIAN ADMONISHED BY EVANGELIST. 41

ture farther, test the hill should fall on his head; wherefore there he stood still, and
wotted not what to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was
in his way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made Christian afraid
that he should be burnt: here, therefore, he sweat and did quake for fear.” And
now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly Wiseman’s counsel ; and with
that, he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom he began to
blush for shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer; and, coming up to him, he
looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus began to reason
with Christian :

Evan. “What dost thou here, Christian?” said he; at which words Christian knew
not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. Then said
Evangelist further, “Art thou not the man that I found crying without the walls of the
City of Destruction ?”

Curis. Yes, dear sir, I am the man.

Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate ?

Curis. “ Yes, dear sir,” said Christian.

Evan. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned aside? Tor thou art now
out of the way.

Curis. I met with a gentleman as soon as I had got over the Slough of Despond,
who persuaded me that 1 might, in the village before me, find a man that could take
off my burden.

Evan. What was he?

Curis. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and got me at last to
yield: so I came hither, but when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I
suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my head.

Evan. What said that gentleman to you?

Curis. Why, he asked me whither I was going, and I told him.

Evan. And what said he then?

Curis. He asked me if I had a family, and I told him. But, said I, T am so laden
with the burden that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly.
Evan. And what said he then ? .

Chris. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him it was case
that I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate to receive further
direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So he said that he would show
me a better way, and short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, that you
sent me in; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman’s house that hath skill

6



42 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

to take off these burdens. So I believed him, and turned out of that way into this, if
haply I might soon be eased of my burden. But, when I came to this place, and
beheld things as they are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger; but I now know
not what to do.

Evan. Then said Evangelist, “Stand still a little, that I may show thee the words
of God.” So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, “See that ye refuse not him
that speaketh ; for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much
more shall not we escape, if we turn away from Him that speaketh from heaven.” *
He said, moreover, “ Now, the just shall live by faith; but if any man draw back,

my soul shall have no pleasure in him.” ”

He also did thus apply them: ‘Thou art
the man that art running into misery; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the
Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of pee even almost to the
hazarding of thy perdition.”

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, “ Woe is me, for I am undone!”
At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, “All manner
of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men.”* “Be not faithless, but believ-
ing.’* ‘Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first,
before Evangelist.

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, “Give more earnest heed to the things that I
shall tell thee of. I will now show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who it was
also to whom he sent thee. That man that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman; and
rightly is he so called; partly because he savoreth only of the doctrine of this world‘*
(therefore he always goes to the town of Morality to church), and partly because he
loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him from the Cross ;*! and because he is of this
carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways, though right. Now there are
three things in this man’s counsel that you must utterly abhor :

“1. His turning thee out of the way.

“2. His laboring to render the Cross odious to thee.

“3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto the administration of death.

“ First,—Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way ; yea, and thine own con-
senting thereto; because this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel
of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, ‘Strive to enter in at the strait gate,’ the
gate to which I send thee; ‘for strait is the gate which leadeth unto life, and few there
be that find it’* From this little wicket-gate, and from the way thereto, hath this
wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost to destruction; hate, therefore,
his turning thee out of the way, and abhor thyself for hearkening to him.



EVANGELIST REPROVES CHRISTIAN. 43

“ Secondly,—Thou must abhor his laboring to render the Cross odious unto thee ;
for thou art to prefer it before the treasures of Egypt.“ Besides, the King of Glory
hath told thee that he that will save his life shall lose it; and he that comes after im,
and hates not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters,
yea, and his own life also, he cannot be His disciple.” I say, therefore, for man to
labor to persuade thee that that shall be thy death, without which the Truth hath said
thou canst not have eternal life, this doctrine thou must abhor.

“Thirdly,—Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that leadeth to the
ministration of death. And for this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and
also how unable that person was to deliver thee from thy burden.

“ He to whom. thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is the son of the
bondwoman which now is, and is in bondage with her children ;* and is in a mystery
this Mount Sinai, which thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she with her
children is in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made free? This
Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet
ever rid of his burden by him; no, nor ever is like to be: ye cannot be justified by
the works of the law; for by the deeds of the law no man living ean be rid of his bur-
den. Therefore, Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat; and,
for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but an hypocrite, and
cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard
of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from
the way in which I had set thee.” After this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens
for confirmation of what he had said; and with that there came words and fire out of
the mountain under which poor Christian stood, which made the hair of his flesh stand
up. The words were thus pronounced: “As many as are of the works of the law are
under the curse; for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in ali things
which are written in the book of the law to do them.” ”

Now, Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out lamentably ;
even cursing the time in which he met with Mr. Worldly Wiseman ; still calling him-
self a thousand fools for hearkening’ to his counsel. He also was greatly ashamed to
think that this gentleman’s arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the
prevalency with him so far as to cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he
applied himself again to Evangelist, in words and sense as follows :

Curis. Sir, what think you? Isthere any hope? May I now go back, and go up to the
wicket-gate? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back from thence ashamed ?
I am sorry I have hearkened to this man’s counsel; but may my sins be forgiven ?



44 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, “Thy sin is very great, for by it thou hast
committed two evils: thou hast forsaken the way that is gocd, to tread in forbidden
paths. Yet will the man at the gate receive thee, for he has good will for men; only,”
said he, “take heed that thou turn not aside again, lest thou perish from the way, when

his wrath is kindled but a little.”

CHAPTER II.



| HEN did Christian address himself to go back; and Evangelist, after he had
kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God speed; so he went on with

haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor, if any asked him, would

he vouchsafe them an answer.

He went like one that was all the while tread-

ing on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe, till again he was



























“When Christian was stepping in, the other gave
him a pull.”



got in the way which he had left to follow Mr.
Worldly Wiseman’s counsel: so in process
of time, Christian got up to the gate. Now,
over the gate there was written, “Knock, and
it shall be opened unto you.”

He knocked, therefore, more than once or
twice, saying:

‘“May I now enter here? Will He within
Open to sorry me, though I have been
An undeserving rebel? Then shall I
Not fail to sing His lasting praise on high.”

At last there came a grave person to the
gate named Goodwill, who asked who was
there, and whence he came, and what he would
have ?

Curis. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I
come from the City of Destruction, but am
going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered
from the wrath to come; I would therefore,



GOODWILL POINTS OUT THE WAY. 45

sir, since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing
to let me in.
Goon. “I am willing with all my heart,” said he ; and, with that, he opened the gate.
So, when Christian was stepping in, the



other gave him a pull. Then said Christian,
“ What means that?” The other told hin,
“A little distance from this gate there 1s
erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is
the captain; from whence both he and they
that are with him shoot arrows at those that
come up to this gate, if haply they may die
before they can enter in.” Then said Chris-
tian, “I rejoice and tremble.” So when he was
got in, the man of the gate asked him who
directed him thither.

Curis. Evangelist bid me come hither and
knock, as I did; and he said that you, sir,
would tell me what I must do.



Goop. An open door is set before thee, and
no man can shut it.
Curis. Now I begin to reap the benefit of



my hazards. « Beelzebub and they that are with him shoot arrows.”

Goop. But how is it that you came alone?

Curis. Because none of my neighbors saw their danger, as I saw mine.

Goop. Did any of them know you were coming? ’

Curis. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after me to turn
again; also some of my neighbors stood crying and calling after me to return; but I
put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my way.

Goop. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back?

Curis. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable: but, when they saw that they could not
prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but Pliable came with me a little way.

Goop. But why did he not come through ?

Curis. We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of Despond,
into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbor Pliable discouraged,
and would not venture farther. Wherefore, getting out again on the side next his



46 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

own house, he told me I should possess the brave country alone for him: so he went
his way, and I came mine; he after Obstinate, and I to this gate.

Goop. Then said Goodwill, “ Alas, poor man! is the celestial glory of so little
esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few difficulties
to obtain it?”

Curis. “ Truly,” said Christian, “I have said the truth of Phiable; and if I should
also say the truth of myself, it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him and
myself. “Tis true, he went on back to his own house; but I also turned aside to g0
into the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argument of one Mr.
Worldly Wiseman.” :

Goop. Oh! did he light upon you? What! he would have had you seek for ease
at the hands of Mr. Legality! They are both of them a very cheat. But did you
take his counsel ? ;

Curis. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr. Legality, until I thought that
the mountain that stands by his house would have fallen upon my head: wherefore
there I was forced to stop.

Goop. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of many
more; it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.

Curis. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there, had not Evan-
gelist happily met me again as I was musing in the midst of my dumps; but it was
God’s mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I
am come, such a one as I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than thus to
stand talking with my Lord. But, oh! what a favor this is to me, that yet I am
admitted entrance here!

Goop. We make no objections against any, notwithstandin g all that they have done
before they come hither; they in no wise are cast out.” And therefore, good Chris-
tian, come a little with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look
before thee: dost thou see this narrow way? That is the way thou must go. It was
cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ and His apostles, and it is as straight as a
rule can make it: this is the way thou must go.

Curis. “ But,” said Christian, “are there no turnings nor windings by which a
stranger may lose his way ?”

Goop. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are crooked and
wide; but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being
straight and narrow.”

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further if he could not help him



THE INTERPRETER’S HOUSE. 47

off with his burden that was upon his back. or as yet he had not got rid thereof,
nor could he by any means get it off without help.

He told him, “ As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou comest to the place
of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of itself.”

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey.

So the other told him that by that he was gone some distance from the gate, he
would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, and he
would show him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and he
again bid him God speea.

Then he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, where he knocked
over and over. At last one came to the door, and asked who was there.

Curis. Sir, here is a traveller who was bid by an acquaintance of the good man of
this house to call here for his profit ; I would therefore speak with the master of the house.

So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came to Christian,
and asked him whac he would have.

Curis. “Sir,” said Christian, “I am a man that am come from the City of Destrue-
tion, and am going to Mount Zion; and I was told by the man that stands at the gate
at the head of this way, that, if I called here, you would show me excellent things, such
as would be helpful to me on my journey.”

{wrer. Then said the Interpreter, “Come in; I will show thee that which will be
profitable to thee.” So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian
follow him; so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door; the
which when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hung up
against the wall; and this was the fashion of it: it had eyes lifted up to heaven, the
best of books in its hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world was
behind its back; it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang
over its head.

Curis. Then said Christian, “ What meaneth this?”

Iyrrr. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand. He can say, in the
words of the apostle, ‘Though ye have ten thousand instructcrs in Christ, yet have
you not many fathers; for in Christ Jesus I have begotten you through the Gospel.
My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you.” ™
And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his
hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips, it is to show thee that his work is to know
and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded
with men. And whereas thou seest the world is cast behind him, and that a crown



48 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

hangs over his head; that is to show thee that, slighting and despising the things that
are present, for the love that he hath to his Master’s service, he is sure in the world
that comes next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have
showed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the only man
whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be thy guide,
in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in thy way; wherefore take good heed to
what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy
journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down
to death. |

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlor, that was full
of dust, because never swept; the which after he had reviewed it a little while, the
Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began
so abundantly to fly about that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then
said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, “ Bring hither water, and sprinkle the
room ;” the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.

Curis. Then said Christian, “ What means this?”

Inrer. The Interpreter answered, “This parlor is the heart of a man that was
never sanctified by the sweet grace of the Gospel. The dust is his original sin, and
inward corruptions that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first
is the law; but she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now,
whereas thou sawest that, as soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about
that the room could not by him be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked there-
with ; this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working)
from sin, doth revive,” put strength into, and increase it in the soul,” even as it doth
discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to subdue. Again, as thou sawest
the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure ;
this is to show thee, that when the Gospel comes, in the sweet and gracious influences
thereof, to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by
sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made
clean through the faith of it, and, consequently, fit for the King of Glory to in-
habit.”

I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the hand, and had
him into a little room where sat two little children, each one in his own chair. The
name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed
to be much discontented, but Patience was very quict. Then Christian asked, “What
is the reason of the discontent of Passion?” The Interpreter answered, “ The governor



THE INTERPRETER’S HOUSE. 49

of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of next year; but
he will have all now. Patience is willing to wait.”

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure, and
poured it down at his feet; the which he took up, and rejoiced therein, and withal
laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but awhile, and he had lavished all away,
and had nothing left him but rags.

Cur. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, “Expound this matter more fully to me.”

Inter. So he said, “These two lads are figures: Passion, of the men of this world;
and Patience, of the men of that which is to come: for, as here thou seest, Passion will
have all now, this year, that is to say in this world; so are the men of this world: they
must have all their good things now; they cannot stay till the next year, that is, until
the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, ‘A bird in the hand is worth
two in the bush,’ is of more authority with them than all the Divine testimonies of the
good of the world tocome. But, as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away,
and had presently left him nothing but rags, so will it be with all such men at the end
of this world.”

Curis. Then said Christian, ‘‘ Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom, and that
upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also because
he will have the glory of his when the other has nothing but rags.”

Inter. Nay, you may add another; to wit, the glory of the next world will never
wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason
to laugh at Patience because he had his good things at first, as Patience will have to
laugh at Passion, because he had his best things last; for first must give place to last,
because last must have his time to come; but last gives place to nothing, for there is
not another to succeed: he, therefore, that hath his portion first, must needs have a
time to spend it; but he that hath his portion last, must have it lastingly ; therefore it
is said of Dives, “In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus
evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.” ”

Curtis. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are now, but to wait for
things to come.

Inter. You say truth; “for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things
that are not seen are eternal.”** But, though this be so, yet, since things present and
our fleshly appetite are such near neighbors one to another; and again, because things
to come and carnal sense are such strangers one to another ; therefore it is, that the first
of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued between the

second.”
7



50 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand and led
him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it, always
casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter.

Curis. Then said Christian, “ What means this?”

Ixrer. The Interpreter answered, “This fire is the work of grace that is wrought
in the heart: he that casts water upon it to extinguish and put it out, is the devil;
but, in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also
see the reason of that.” So then he had him about to the other side of the wall, where
he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually
cast, but secretly, into the fire.

Curis. Then said Christian, “ What means this?”

Tyrer. The Interpreter answered, “ This is Christ, who continually, with the oil of
His grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart; by the means of which
notwithstanding what the devil can do, the souls of His people prove gracious still.”
And in that thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire; this
is to teach thee, that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is main-
tained in the soul.”

I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him into a
pleasant place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful to behold, at the sight of
which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw also upon the top thereof certain
persons walking, who were clothed all in gold.

Then said Christian, ‘‘ May we go in thither?”

Then the Interpreter took him and led him up toward the door of the palace; and
behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not.
There also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and
his ink-horn before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein; he saw
also that in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being resolved to do to
the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian
somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men,
Christian saw aman of a very stout countenance come up to the man that sat there
to write, saying, “ Set down my name, sir:” the which when he had done, he saw the
man draw his sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon
the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force; but the man, not at all dis-
couraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So that, after he had received and
given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out,” he cut his way through
them all and pressed forward into the palace; at which there was a pleasant voice



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“Tam now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, asin this iron cage.” (51)



52 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

heard from those that were within, even of those that walked upon the top of the
palace, saying :
“Come in, come in;
Eternal glory thou shalt win.”’

So he went in, and was clothed in such garments as they. Then Christian smiled, .
and said, “I think verily I know the meaning of this.”

“Now,” said Christian, “let me go hence.” “Nay, stay,” said the Interpreter,
“ until I have showed thee a little more; and after that thou shalt go on thy way.”
So he took him by the hand again, and led him into a very dark room, where there
sat a man in an iron cage.

Now, the man, to look on, seemed very sad. He sat with his eyes looking down to
the ground, his hands folded together; and he sighed as if he would break his heart.
Then said Christian, “ What means this?” At which the Interpreter bid him talk
witn the man. .

Then said Christian to the man, “ Whatartthou?” The man answered, “Iam what
J was not once.”

Curis. What wast thou once?

Man. The man said, “I was once a fair and flourishing professor,” both in mine
own eyes, and also in the eyes of others; I was once, as I thought, fair for the Celestial
City, and had even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither.”

Curis. Well, but what art thou now?

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this iron cage. I
cannot get out. Oh, now I cannot!

Curis. But how camest thou in this condition ?

Man. I left off to watch and be sober. I laid the reins upon the neck of my lusts ;
I sinned against the light of the Word. and the goodness of God; I have grieved the
Spirit, and He is gone; I tempted the devil, and he has come to me; T have provoked.
God to anger, and He has left me; I have so hardened my heart that I cannot repent.

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, “But are there no hopes for such a man as
this?” “Ask him,” said the Interpreter.

Curis. Then said Christian, “Is there no hope, but you must be kept in the iron
cage of despair?”

Man. No, none at all.

Curis. Why? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.

Man. I have crucified Him to myself afresh.* I have despised His person.” I
have despised His righteousness; I have counted His blood an unholy thing; I have



THE DREAM OF THE JUDGMENT. 53

done despite to the Spirit of grace.” Therefore I have shut myself out of all the
promises, and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings, dreadful tnreatenings,
fearful threatenings of certain judgment and fiery indignation, which shall deyour me
as an adversary.

Curis. For what did you bring yourself into this condition ?

Man. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world; in the enjoyment of which
I did then promise myself much delight ; but now every one of those things also bite
me, and gnaw me, like a burning worm.

Curis. But canst thou not now repent and turn?

Man. God hath denied me repentance. His Word gives me no encouragement to
believe ; yea, Himself hath shut me up in this iron cage; nor can all the men in the
world let me out, O eternity ! eternity ! how shall I grapple with the misery that I
must meet with in eternity ?

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, “Let this man’s misery be remem-
bered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.”

Curis. “ Well,” said Christian, “ this is fearful! God help me to watch and be sober,
and to pray, that I may shun the cause of this man’s misery. Sir, isit not time for me
to go on my way now?”

Inter. Tarry till I show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on thy way.

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber, where there
was one rising out of bed; and, as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled.
Then said Christian, “ Why doth this man thus tremble?” The Interpreter then bid
him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began, and said, “This night,
as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold, the heavens grew exceeding black; also
it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I
looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate; upon which I
heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a Man sitting upon a cloud, attended
with the thousands of heaven ; they were all in flaming fire; also the heavens were in
a burning flame. I heard then a great voice saying, ‘Arise, ye dead, and come to
judgment. And with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were
therein came forth: some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward ; and some
thought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw the Man that sat upon
the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of
a fierce flame that issued out and came before Him, a convenient distance betwixt Him
and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar.“ I heard it also pro-
claimed to them that attended on the Man that sat on the cloud, ‘Gather together the

















































































































me -

Re,





















































































































































































































































































































































































CHRISTIAN BEFORE THE OROoss,
“His burden fell off his back, and began to tumble.” ; (54)



THE DREAM OF THE JUDGMENT. 00

tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake.” And, with that,
the bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out of the mouth of which there

came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was



also said to the same persons, ‘Gather my
wheat into the garner.” And, with that, I

\

r Q¢ ans raat A A CANE aN WN \ “
saw many catched up ant ones ara) into | i ow \ 7 i,
the clouds; but I was left behind.” [ also a iN 0 H
sought to hide myself, but I could not; for | a AC “40
S ; RK \ f ae
the Man that sat upon the cloud still kept iN a aa)
His eye upon me; my sins also came into my |e. Ss Ae Ne
mind, and my conscience did accuse me on ae TE
‘

every side.”

Upon this I awakened from my
sleep.”

Curis. But what was it that made you so
afraid of this sight ?

Man. Why I thought that the day of judg-

ment was come, and that I was not ready for





it. But this affrighted me most, that the
angels gathered up several, and left me be-
hind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth





just where I stood. My conscience, too, af-

: ©The bottomless pit opened just whereabout T stood.”
theced me;sand sas lthought. the Judge=lad. —9 be) Mths en
always His eye upon me, showing indignation in His countenance.

Iyrrer. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, “ Hast thou considered these things?”

Curis. Yes; and they put me in hope and fear.

Tyrer. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they may be as a goad in thy sides,
to prick thee forward in the way thou must go.

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey.
Then said the Interpreter, “The Comforter be always with thee, good Christian, to
guide thee into the way that leads to the city.’

So Christian went on his way, saying,

‘Here have T seen things rare and profitable ;
Things pleasant, dreadful; things to make me stable
Tn what [ have begun to take in hand;
Then Iet me think on them, and understand
Wherefore they showed me where ; and let me be
Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee.”’



56 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

CHAPTER ITI.

‘OW, I saw in my dream that the highway up which Christian was to go was fenced



}[, on either side with a wall that was called Salvation.” Up this way, therefore,
E> did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the
load on his back.

He ran thus till he came to 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 water 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 a change of raiment;" the third also
set a mark on his forehead,” and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bade
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 laden 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 ?
Blest cross! blest sepulchre! blest rather be
The Man that was there put to shame for me!”? °

I saw then in my dream that he went on thus, even until he came to the bottom,
where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their
heels. The name of one was Simple, of another Sloth, and of the third Presumption.

Christian, then, seeing them lie in unis case, went to them, if peradventure he might





























































































































































































































































































































CHRISTIAN AND THE ANGELS.

“ Behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and saluted him.” (ar



58 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

awake them, and cried, “ You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast; for the
deep sea is under you, a gulf 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 reply in this sort: Simple
said, “I see no danger.” Sloth said, “ Yet a little more sleep.” And Presumption
said, “ Every tub must stand upon his own bottom.” And so they lay down to sleep
again, and Christian went on his way.
Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so little esteem the
‘es, kindness of him that so offered to help them,
both by awakening of them, counselling of
them, and proffering to help them off with
their irons. And, as he was troubled there-
about, he espied two men come tumbling over








the wall on the left hand of the narrow way;

Bie pote,

EOS

and they made up apace to him. The name

VM

Be?



of one was Formalist, and the name of the



er.

other was Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew
up unto him, who thus entered with them
into discourse :

\i Curis. Gentlemen, whence came you, and

Soe

od

whither go you?

Form. and Hyp. We were born in the land

Loe
a

yi



~ of Vain-glory, and are going for praise to

IN

eS Sy Ms. = eS ' :
‘ Ge SS Mount Zion.
; ae Mn Curis. Why came you not in at the gate
ante which standeth at the beginning of the way ?

Know ye not that it is written, “He that
cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a
robber” ?%

Form. and Hyp. They said that to go to the gate for entrance was, by all their
countrymen, counted too far about; and that therefore their usual way was to make a
short cut of it, and to climb over the wall as they had done.

Curis. But will it not be counted a tresspass against the Lord of the city whither
we are bound, thus to violate His revealed will ?

Form and Hyp. They told him, that as for that, he needed not trouble his head



FORMALITY AND HYPOCRISY. 59

thereabout ; for what they did they had custom for, and could produce, if need were,
testimony that could witness it for more than a thousand years.

Curis. “ But,” said Christian, “will it stand a trial at law?”

Form. and Hyp. They told him that custom, it being of so long standing as above
a thousand years, would doubtless now be admitted as a thing legal by an impuartial
judge. “And besides,” said they, “if we get into the way, what matter is it which
way we may get in? If we are in, we are in: thou art but in the way, who, as we
perceive, came in at the gate; and we are also in the way, that came tumbling over
the wall: wherein, now, is thy condition better than ours?”

Curis. I walk by the rule of my Master; you walk by the rude working of your
fancies. You are counted thieves already by
the Lord of the way ; therefore I doubt you
will not be found true men at the end of the
way. Youcome in by yourselves without His
direction, and shall go out by yourselves with-
out His mercy.

To this they made him but little answer; NY
only they bid him look to himself. Then I i
saw that they went on every man in his way,




re
Somer Lt
a

Ses
Lie

ee

ee

without much conference one with another ;
save that these two men told Christian, that,

as to law and ordinances, they doubted not but
that they should as conscientiously do them
as he. “Therefore,” said they, “we see not
wherein thou differest from us, but by the coat
which is on thy back, which was, as we trow,
given thee by some of thy neighbors to hide

Hypocrisy.

the shame of thy nakedness.”

Curis. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came not in by the
door." And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given to me by the Lord of
the place whither I go; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I
take it as a token of His kindness to me; for I had nothing but rags before. And
besides, thus I comfort myself as I go. Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of
the city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have His coat on my back :
a coat that He gave me freely in the day that He stripped me of my rags. I have,
moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no notice, which



60 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

one of my Lord’s most intimate associates fixed there the day that my burden fell off
my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to
comfort me by reading as I go in the way; I was also bid to give it in at the celestial
gate, in token of my certain going in after it; all which things, I doubt, you want,
and want them because you came not in at the gate.

‘To these things they gave him no answer ; only they looked upon each other, and
laughed. Then I saw that they went on all, save that Christian kept before, who had
no more talk but with himself, and sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably ;
also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by
which he was refreshed.

I beheld then that they all went on till they came to the foot of the Hill Difficulty,
at the bottom of which was a spring. There were also in the same place two other
ways, besides that which came straight from the gate; one turned to the left hand,
and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up
the hill, and the name of that going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian
now went to the spring,® and drank thereof to refresh himself, and then began to go
up the hill, saying,

“The hill, though high, I covet to ascend ‘
The difficulty will not me offend,
For I perceive the way to life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart, let’s neither faint nor fear.

Better, though dificult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe,”’

The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when they saw that the hill
was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go; and supposing also
that these two ways might meet again with that up which Christian went, on the other
side of the hill; therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now, the name of
one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one
took the way which is‘called Danger, which led him into a great wood; and the other
took directly up the way to destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of dark
mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose no more.

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up 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 arbor, 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 ;











CHRISTIAN CLIMBING THE Hin or Dirricunry.

“He fell from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place.”
(G1)



62 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

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 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 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 amain: the



name of the one was Timorous, and of the

“He stumbled and fell, and rose no more.”

other Mistrust ; to whom Christian said, “ Sirs,
what’s 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.”

Curis. Then said Christian, “You make
me afraid ; but whither shall I fly to be safe?
If I go back to my own country, that is pre-
pared for fire and brimstone, and I shall cer-
tainly perish there; if I can get to the Celes-
tial City, Iam gure to be in safety there: I



must venture. To go back is nothing but “He at last fell into a slumber.”



CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS ROLI. 63

death ; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it. TI will yet go
forward.” So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his
way. But, thinking again of what he heard from the men, he felt in his bosom
for his roll, and found it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not
what to do; for he wanted that which
used to relieve him, and that which
should have been his pass into the
Celestial City. Here, therefore, he
began to be much perplexed, and
knew not what to do. At last he
bethought himself that he had slept
in the arbor that is on the side of
the hill; and, falling down upon his
knees, he asked God’s forgiveness for
that his foolish act, and then went
back to look for his roll. But all
the way he went back, who can
sufficiently set forth the sorrow of
Christian’s heart? Sometimes he
sighed, sometimes he wept, and often-
times he chid himself for being so
foolish to fall asleep in that place,
which was erected only for a little
refreshment from his weariness.
Thus, therefore, he went back, care-
fully looking on this side and on
that, all the way as he went, if hap-
pily he might find his roll that had
been his comfort so many times in



his journey. He went thus till he

Mistrust.

came again within sight of the arbor
where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing
again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping into his mind.” Thus, therefore, he now went
on, bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, “O wretched man that I am, that I should sleep
in the day-time; that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I should so indulge
the flesh, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh which the Lord of the hill hath



64 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims! How many steps have I taken
in vain! Thus it happened to Israel; for their sin they were sent back again by the
way of the Red Sea; and Iam made to tread those steps with sorrow which I might
have trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might I have
been on my way by this time! I
am made to tread those steps
thrice over which I needed not
to have trod but once; yea, also,
now I am like to be benighted,
for the day is almost spent. Oh
that I had not slept!”

Now, by this time he was come
to the arbor again, where for
awhile he sat down and wept;
but at last (as Providence would
have it), looking sorrowfully
down under the settle, there he
espied his roll, the which he, with
trembling and haste, catched up,
and put it into his bosom. But
who can tell how joyful this man
was when he had gotten his roll
again? for this roll was the assur-
ance of his life and acceptance at
the desired haven. Therefore he
laid it up in his bosom, giving
thanks to God for directing his
eye to the place where it lay, and
with joy and tears betook himself



again to his journey. But oh,
Timorous. 7

how nimbly now did he go up the

rest of the hill! Yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian; and this

made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; and thus he

began again to condole with himself, “Oh, thou sinful sleep! how for thy sake am I

like to be benighted in my journey. I must walk without the sun, darkness must

cover the path of my feet, and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because



WATCHFUL THE PORTER. 65

of my sinful sleep!” Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorots
told him, of how they were frighted with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian
to himself again, “These beasts range in the night for their prey; and if they should
meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them? how should I escape being torn
in pieces?” Thus he went on his way. But, while he was thus bewailing his un-
happy miscarriage, he lifted up his eyes, and behold, there was a very stately palace
before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood just by the highway side.



So I saw in my dream that he made haste, [~~ Fe
and went forward, that, if possible, he might
get lodging there. Now, before he had gone
far, he entered into a very narrow passage,
which was about a furlong off the Porter’s
lodge; and looking very narrowly before him
as he went, he espied two lions in the way.
Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mis-
trust and Timorous were driven back by.



(The lions were chained, but he saw not the
chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought
also himself to go back after them; for he
thought nothing but death was before him.
But the Porter at the lodge, whose name is
Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a



halt as if he would go back, cried out unto




him, saying, “Is thy strength so small? ® fear





not the lions, for they are chained, and are Ce
placed there for the trial of faith where it is,

and for the discovery of those that have none: keep in the midst of the path, and no
hurt shall come unto thee.”

Then I saw that he went on trembling for fear of the lions; but, taking good heed
to the directions of the Porter, he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. Then
he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate where the
Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, “Sir, what house is this? and nay |
lodge here to-night?”

The Porter answered, ‘ This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and He built
it for the relief and security of pilgrims.” ‘The Porter also asked whence he was, and
whither he was going.

















































































































































































































































































































































































































































CHRISTIAN ShES LIONS IN HIS PATH.

“The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains,” (66)



CHRISTIAN MEETS DISCRETION. 67

Curis. I am come from the City of Destructio..,and am going to Mount Zion; but,
because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night.

Port. What is your name?

Curis. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless. T came
of the race of Japhet, whom God will persuade to dwel! in the tents of Shem."

Port. But how doth it happen that you come go late? The sun is sct.

Curis. I had been here gooner, but that, wretched man that T ain, Esiept in the
arbor that stands on the hill-side. Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here much
sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came without it to the brow of
the hill; and then, feeling for it and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow of heart
to go back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I found it; and now I am come.

Porr. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will, if she likes
your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according to the rules of the house.

So Watchful the Porter rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of the door of
the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was
called.

The Porter answered, “This man is on a journey from the City of Destruction to
Mount Zion; but, being weary and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to-
night: so I told him I would eall for thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest
dlo as seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the house.”

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going; and he told her.
She asked him also how he got into the way ; and he told her. Then she asked him
what he had seen and met with on the way; and he told her. And at last she asked
his name. So he said, “It is Christian ; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge
here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill
for the relief and security of pilgrims.” So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes;
and, after a little pause, she said, “T will call forth two or three of my family.” So she
ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more
discourse with him, had him in to the family ; and many of them, mectin g him at the
threshold of the house, said, “ Come in, thou blessed of the Lord: this house was built
by the Lord of the hill on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in.” Then he bowed his
nead, and followed them into the house. So, when he was come in and sat down, they
gave him something to drink, and consented togethe., that, until supper was ready,
some of them should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best im-
provement of time ; and they appointed Piety, Prudence, and Charity to discourse with
him ; and thus they began :



68 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Pirry. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving to you to receive you
into our house this night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves thereby, talk with
you of all things that have happened to you in your pilgrimage.

Curis. With a very good will, and I am glad that you are so well disposed.

Prery. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim’s life?

Curis. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that was in mine
ears; to wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in that place where
I was. P

Prery. But how did it happen that you came out of your country this way?

Currs. It was as God would have it; for, when I was under the fears of destruction,
I did not know whither to go; but by chance there came a man even to me, as I was
trembling and weeping, whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the wicket-
gate, which else I should never have found, and so set me in the way that hath led me
directly to this house.

Prery. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter ?

Curis. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which will stick by
me as long as I live, especially three things; to wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan,
maintains His work of grace in the heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out
of hopes of God’s mercy ; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the day
of judgment was come.

Prery. Why? did you hear him tell his dream?

Curis. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought: it made my heart ache as he was
telling of it; but yet I am glad I heard of it.

Prery. Was that all you saw at the house of the Interpreter?

Curis. No; he took me, and had me where he showed me a stately palace; and
how the people were clad in gold that were in it; and how there came a venturous
man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood in the door to keep him out;
and how he was bid to come in and win eternal glory. Methought those things did
ravish my heart. J would have stayed at that good man’s house a twelvemonth, but
that I knew I had farther to go.

Prery. And what saw you else in the way?

Curtis. Saw? Why, I went but a little farther, and I saw One, as I thought in my
mind, hang bleeding upon a tree; and the very sight of Him made my burden fall off
my back; for I groaned under a very heavy burden, and then it fell down from off
me. It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before; yea, and while
I stood looking up (for then I could not forbear looking), three Shining Ones came to















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































‘ \



AACE Door,

AJ

THe PoRTER MEETS CHRISTIAN AND CALIS Discrerion ‘ro cri P

(69)

“This man is on a journey from the City of Destruction to Mount Zion.”



70 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven me; another stripped me of my
rags,and gave me this broidered coat which you see; and the third set the mark which
you see in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll. (And, with that, he plucked it
out of his bosom.)

Prery. But you saw more than this, did you not?

Curis. The things that I have told you were the best; yet some other matters I
saw; as namely, I saw three men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a little
out of the way as I came, with irons upon their heels; but do you think I could wake
them? I also saw Formalist and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as.
they pretended, to Zion; but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them,
but they would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill,
and as hard to come by the lions’ mouths; and truly, if it had not been for the good
man the Porter, that stands at the gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might have
gone back again; but now I thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving
of me.

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer to
them.

Pru. Do you think sometimes of the country from whence you came?

Curis. Yes, but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if I had been mindful
of that country from whence I came out, I might have had an opportunity to have
returned; but now I desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one.

Pru. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were
conversant withal ?

Curis. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and carnal cogita-
tions, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. But now all
those things are my grief; and, might I but choose mine own things, I would choose
never to think of those things more; but when I would be doing that which is best,
that which is worst is with me.*

Pru. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished, which at other
times are your perplexity ?

Curis. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in which such
things happen to me.

Pru. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances, at times, as if
they were vanquished ?

Curis. Yes; when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and when I look
upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also when I look into the roll that I carry in



CHARITY CONVERSES WITH CHRISTIAN. 71

my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither Tam
going, that will do it.

Pru. And what makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?

Curis. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross; and
there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance to

7 and there I shall dwell with such company

me. ‘There, they say, there is no death ;°
as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I love Him because I was by Him cased of
my burden; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where [ shall
die no more, and with the company that shall continually ery, “ Moly, holy, holy!”

Cuar. Then said Charity to Christian, “ Have you a family? are you a married
man?”

Curis. I have a wife and four small children.

Cuar. And why did you not bring them along with you?

Curis. Then Christian wept, and said, “Oh, how willingly would [ have done it!
but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage.”

Cuar. But you should have talked to them, and endeavored to have shown them
the danger of staying behind.

Curis. So I did, and told them also what God had shown to me of the destruetion
of our city; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed me not.

Cuar. And did you pray to God that He would bless your counsel to them ?

Curis. Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that my wife and
poor children were very dear unto me.

Cuar. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of destruction? for I
suppose that destruction was visible enough to you.

Curis. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears in my coun-
tenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehension of the judgment
that did hang over our heads: but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come
with me.

Cuar. But what could they say for themselves why they came not?

Curis. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children were given
to the foolish delights of youth; so, what by one thing, and what by another, they left
me to wander in this manner alone.

Cuar. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you by words used by
way of persuasion to bring them away with you ?

Curis. Indeed, I cannot commend my life, for Lam conscious to myself of many
failings therein. I know also, that a man, by his conversation, may soon overthrow



72 . THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

what, by argument or persuasion, he doth labor to fasten upon others for their good.
Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action,
to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell
me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in which they
saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say that, if what they saw in me did hinder them,
it was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong to my
neighbor.

Cuar. Indeed, Cain hated his brother ® because his own works were evil, and his
brother’s righteous; and, if thy wife and children have been offended with thee for
this, they thereby show themselves to be implacable to good: thou hast delivered thy
soul from their blood.”

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together till supper was ready.
So, when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now, the table was furnished
with fat things, and wine that was well refined; and all their talk at the table was
about the Lord of the hill; as, namely, about what He had done, and wherefore He
did what He did, and why he had builded that house; and by what they said, I per-
ceived that He had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had
the power of death,” but not without great danger to Himself, which made me love
Him the more.

For, as they said, and as I believe (said Christian), He did it with the loss of much
blood. But that which puts the glory of grace into all He did, was, that He did it
out of pure love to this country. And, besides, there were some of them of the house-
hold that said they had seen and spoke with Him since He did die on the cross; and
they have attested that they had it from His own lips, that He is such a lover of poor
pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west. They moreover
gave an instance of what they affirmed; and that was, He had stripped Himself of
His glory, that He might do this for the poor; and that they had heard Him say and
affirm that He would not dwell in the mountains of Zion alone. They said, moreover,
that He had made many pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born,
and their original had been the dunghill.”

Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and, after they had committed
themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The Pilgrim
they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sunrising. The
name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke
and sang,



CHRISTIAN IN THE ARMORY RECEIVING HIS WEA -ONS
DISCRETION, PIETY, CHARITY AND PRUDENGE.





Tina VIRGINS | READ TO CHRISTIAN. 73

‘“Where am I now? Is this the love and care
Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are,
Thus to provide that I should be forgiven,
And dwell already the next door to heaven?”

So in the morning they all got up; and after some more discourse, they told him that
he should not depart till they had shown him the rarities of that place. And first they
had him into the study, where they showed him records of the greatest antiquity ; in
which, as | remember in my dream, they showed him first the pedigree of the Lord
of the hill, that He was the son of the Ancient of Days, and came by an eternal
generation. Here also were more fully recorded the acts that He had done, and the
names of many hundreds that He had taken into his service; and how he had placed
them in such habitations that could neither by length of days nor decays of nature be
dissolved.

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of His servants had done ;
as, how they had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped
the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out
of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies
of the aliens.”

They then read again in another part of the records of the house, where it was
shown how willing their Lord was to receive into His favor any, even any, though
they in time past had offered great affronts to His person and proceedings. Here also
were several other histories of many other famous things, of all which Christian had a
view ; as of things both ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions
of things that have their certain accomplishments, both to the dread and amazement
of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims.

The next day they took him and had him into the armory, where they showed him
all manner of furniture which their Lord had provided for pilgrims; as sword, shield,
helmet, breast-plate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And there was
here enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord as there
be stars in the heaven for multitude.

They also showed him some of the engines with which some of His servants had
done wonderful things. They showed him Moses’ rod; the hammer and nail with
which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put
to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox’s goad wherewith
Shamgar slew six hundred men. ‘They showed him also the jaw-bone with which

Samson did such mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the sling and stone
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CHRISTIAN GOES FORWARD. io

with which David slew Goliath of Gath, and the sword also with which their Lord will
kill the Man of Sin, in the day that He shall rise up to the prey. They showed him,
besides, many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. This done,
they went to their rest again.

Then I saw in my dream that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but they
desired him to stay till the next day also; “and then,” said they, “we will, if the day
be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains ;” which they said would yet further add
to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at
present he was. So he consented and stayed. When the morning was up, they had
him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he did, and behold, at a
great distance he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods,
vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to
behold.“ Then he asked the name of the country. They said it was Inmanuel’s
Land; “and it is as common,” said they, “as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims.
And when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial
City, as the shepherds that live there will make appear.”

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he should. “ But
first,” said they, “let us go again into the armory.” So they did; and when he came
there, they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest. perhaps he
should meet with assaults in the way. He being, therefore, thus accoutred, walked out
with his friends to the gate; and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass
by. Then the Porter answered, “ Yes.”

Curis. “Pray did you know him?” said he.

Port. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful.

Curis. “Oh,” said Christian, “I know him, he is my townsman, my near neighbor ;
he comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think he may be before?”

Port. He has got by this time below the hill.

Curis. “Well,” said Christian, “good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to alk
thy blessings much increase for the kindness thou has showed to me!”

Then he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and Prudence would
accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating
their former discourses, till they came to go down the hill. Then said Christian, “Ag
it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down.” “ Yes,”
said Prudence, “so it is; for it isa hard matter for a man to go down the Valley of
Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore,” said they,



76 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

“are we come out to accompany thee down the hill.” So he began to go down, but
very warily ; yet he caught a slip or two.

Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when Christian was gone down
to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of

raisins ; and then he went his way.



CHAPTER IV.

UT now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to it; for he
had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to
meet him: his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to
cast in his mind whether to go back or to stand his ground. But he considered

again that he had no armor for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back

to him might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his darts;
therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground ; for, thought he, had I no
more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand.

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now, the monster was hideous to behold:
he was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his pride; he had wings like a
dragon, and feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke; and his mouth
was as the mouth of a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with
a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question with him:

Apottyon. Whence come you, and whither are you bound ?

Curis. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place of all evil, and
am going to the City of Zion.

Avot. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects; for all that country is
mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is it, then, that thou hast run away
from thy king? Were it not that I hope that thou mayest do me more service, I would



strike thee now at one blow to the ground.

Curis. [ was indeed born in your dominions; but your service was hard, and your
wages such asa man could not live on; for the wages of sin is death ; * therefore, when
I was come to years, I did as other considerate persons do, look out, if perhaps I might
mend myself.

Avot. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, neither will I as yet



APOLLYON STAYS CHRISTIAN. 77

lose thee ; but, since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back,
and what our country will afford I do here promise to give thee.

Curis. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes; and how can
I with fairness go back with thee?

Avot. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, “ changed a bad for a worse ; ”
but it is ordinary for those that have professed themselves His servants, after awhile to
give Him the slip, and return again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well.

Curis. [have given Him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to Him; how, then,
ean I go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor?

Avot. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by all, if now thou
wilt yet turn again and go back.

Curis. What I promised thee was in my nonage [youth]; and besides, I count that
the Prince under whose banner I now stand is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon
also what I did as to my compliance with thee. And besides, O thon destroying
Apollyon, to speak the truth, I like His service, His wages, His servants, His govern-
ment, His company, and country, better than thine; therefore leave off to persuade me
further: I am His servant, and I will follow Him.

Avot. Consider again when thou art ins cold blood, what thou art likely to meet
with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the most part [Tis servants
come to an ill end, because they are transgressors against me and my ways. How
many of them have been put to shameful deaths! And besides, thou countest [is
service better than mine; whereas He never came yet from the place where He is, to
deliver any that served Him out of their hands; but as for me, how many times, as all
the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or fraud, those that have
faithfully served me, from Him and His, though taken by them! And so I will de-
liver thee.

Curis. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to try their love,
whether they will cleave to Him to the end; and, as for the ill end thou sayest they
come to, that is most glorious in their account. For, for present deliverance, they do
not much expect it; for they stay for their glory, and then they shall have it when
their Prince comes in His and the glory of the angels.

Avon. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to Him; and how dost thou
think to receive wages of Him?

Curis. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to Him?

Aron. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost choked in the
Gulf of Despond. Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas



78 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off Thou didst sinfully sleep,
and lose thy choice things. Thou wast almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the
lions. And when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard,
thou art inwardly desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest or doest.

Curis. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; but the Prince
whom I serve and honor is merciful and ready to forgive. But besides, these infirmi-
ties possessed me in thy own country ; for there I sucked them in, and I have groaned
under them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince.

Apot. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, “I am an enemy to
this Prince; I hate His person, His laws, and people. I am come out on purpose to
withstand thee.”

Curis. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King’s highway, the way of
holiness : therefore take heed to yourself,

Avot. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said,
“Tam void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die; for I swear by my infernal
den, that thou shalt go no farther: here will I spill thy soul.” And, with that, he threw
a flaming dart at his breast; but Christian held a shield in his hand, with which he
caught it, and so prevented the danger of that.

Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him; and Apollyon as
fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail, by the which, notwithstanding all
that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and
foot. This made Christian give a little back; Apollyon, therefore, followed his work
amain, and Christian again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This
sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent.
For you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker
and weaker.

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and,
wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and, with that, Christian’s sword flew out
of his hand. Then said Apollyon, “I am sure of thee now.” And, with that, he had
almost pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as God
would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end
of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, and caught it,

eccrine

saying, “Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall I shall arise;
with that, gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one that had received
his mortal wound. Christian, perceiving that, made at him again, saying, “ Nay, in

all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.” ” And,



CHRISTIAN GIVES THANKS. 79

with that, Apollyon spread forth his dragon’s wings, and sped him away, that Christian
for a season saw him no more.â„¢

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard, as f did, what
yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight: he spake like a
dragon ; and, on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian’s heart. I
never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he
had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then, indeed, he did smile and look
upward; but it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.

Curis. So, when the battle was over, Christian said, “I will here give thanks to
Him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion; to Him that did help me
against Apollyon.” And so he did, saying,



‘*Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend,
Designed my ruin: therefore to this end
He sent him harnessed out ; and he with rage
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage:
But blessed Michael helpéd me ; and T,
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly:
Therefore to Him* let me give lasting praise,
And thank and bless His holy name always.”

Then there came to him a hand with some
of the leaves of the tree of life; the which
Christian took, and applied to the wounds that
he had received in the battle, and was healed
immediately. He also sat down in that place
to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that
was given to him a little before: so, being



refreshed, he addressed himself to his jour-



ney, with his sword drawn in his hand; “For,”



he said, “T know not but some other enemy may
beat hand.” But he met with no other affront — Giving thanks for his deliverance from A alt
from Apollyon quite through this valley.

Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the Shadow of Death;
and Christian must needs go through it, because the way to the Celestial City lay
through the midst of it. Now this valley is a very solitary place; the prophet Jere-
miah thus describes it: “A wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought,

» Videren, to Goa.— Ko,



80 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

and of the shadow of death, a land that no man” but a Christian “ passeth through,
and where no man dwelt.” ®

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon, as by the
sequel you shall see.

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to the borders of the Shadow
of Death, there met him two men, children of them that brought up an evil report of
the good land, making haste to go back; to whom Christian spake as follows:

Curis. Whither are you going?

Men. They said, “Back, back! and we would have you to do so too, if either life
or peace is prized by you.”

Curis. “ Why, what’s the matter?” said Christian.

Men. “Matter!” said they: “we were going that way as you are going, and went
as far as we durst: and indeed we were almost past coming back; for had we gone a
little farther, we had not been here to bring the news to thee.”

Curis. “But what have you met with?” said Christian.

Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but that by good
hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to it.

Curis. “ But what have you seen?” said Christian.

Mey. Seen! why, the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch : we also saw there the
hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit; we heard also in that valley a continual
howling and yelling, as of a people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in
affliction and irons; and over that hung the discouraging clouds of confusion; Death
also does always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being
utterly without order.

Curis. Then said Christian, “I perceive not yet, by what you have said, but that
this is my way to the desired haven.” !

Men. Be it thy way, we will not choose it for ours.

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword drawn in his
hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted.

I saw then in my dream, as far as this valley reached, there was on the right hand
a very deep ditch; that ditch is it into which the blind have led the blind in all ages,
and have both there miserably perished. Again, behold, on the left hand there was a
very dangerous quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his
foot to stand on: into that quag King David once did fall, and had no doubt there
been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out.

‘The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow, and therefore good Christian was



THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. Sl

the more put to it; for when he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand,
he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other; also when he sought to escape
the mire, witnout great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he
went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly, for besides the danger mentioned above,
the pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lifted up his foot to go forward,
he knew not where or upon what he should set it next.

About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and it stood also



hard by the wayside. Now, thought Christian,
what shall I do? And ever and anon the
flame and smoke would come out in such
abundance, with sparks and hideous noises
(things that cared not for Christian’s sword,
as did Apollyon before), that he was forced to
put up his sword, and betake himself to another
weapon, called “ All-Prayer.”" So he cried
in my hearing, “O Lord, I beseech Thee, de-

“tt Thus he went on a great

liver my soul.
while, yet still the flames would be reaching
towards him; also he heard doleful voices, and
rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he
thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden
down like mire in the streets. This frightful
sight was seen, and those dreadful noises were
heard by him, for several miles together, and,



coming to a place where he thought he heard

“A coinpany of fiends.”

a company of fiends coming forward to meet
him, he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes he had half
a thought to go back; then again he thought he might be half-way through the valley.
He remembered, also, how he had already vanquished many a danger, and that the
danger of going back might be much more than going forward. So he resolved to eo
on; yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer, But, when they were come even
almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, “I will walk in the strength
of the Lord God.” So they gave back, and came no farther.

One thing I would not let slip: I took notice that now poor Christian was so con-
founded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it: just when he

was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind
I



82 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

him, and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blas-
phemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This
put Christian more to it than anything he had met with before, even to think that he
should now blaspheme Him that he had so much loved before. Yet, if he could have
helped it, he would not have done it; but he had not the discretion either to stop his
ears, or to Knuw from whence those blasphemies came.

When Christian had travelled -in this disconsolate condition some considerable time,
he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, “Though I walk
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death I will fear no evil; for Thou art with
TIC ee

Then he was glad, and that for these reasons :

First,—Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God were in this
valley as well as himself.

Secondly,—For that he perceived God was with them, though in that dark and
dismal state. And why not, thought he, with me, though by reason of the impedi-
ment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it ?2

Thirdly,—For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company by-and-bye.
So he went on, and called to him that was before; but he knew not what to answer,
for that he also thought himself to be alone. And by-and-bye the day broke. Then
said Christian, “He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning.” 1”

Now, morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return, but to see,
by the light of the day, what hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw
more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the
other ; also how narrow the way was which led betwixt them both. Also now he saw
the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off; for after break of
day they came not nigh; yet they were discovered to him according to that which is
written, “He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the
shadow of death.”

Now was Christian mach affected with his deliverance from all the dangers of his
solitary way ; which dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he saw them
more clearly now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him. And
about this time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to Christian; for you
must note that, though the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dan-
gerous, yet this second part, which he was yet to go, was if possible far more dangerous;
for, from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all
along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep
holes, and shelvings down there, that, had it now been dark, as it was when he came



S_ A

Hh



CHRISTIAN MEETS A COMPANY OF FIENDS IN THE VALLEY OF TITE SWADOW OF Dari.

“One of the wicked ones got behind him, and whisperingly suggested many grivvous hlasphemies to him.’ (83)



84

the first part of the way, had he had a
away. But, as I said just now, the s
shineth on my head, and by His light I

THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

thousand souls, they had in reason been cast
un was rising. Then said he, “His candle

go through darkness,” ™®

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now, I saw in my dream

that at the end of the valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even

of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly; and, while I was musing what should be

the reason, I espied a little before me









“ He can now do little more than sit in his cave’s mouth,
grinning at pilgrims,”

a cave, where two giants, Popr and Pagan,
dwelt in old time; by whose power and
tyranny, the men whose bones, blood, ashes,
ete, lay there, were cruelly put to death.
But by this place Christian went without
danger, whereat I somewhat wondered ; but I
have learnt since, that Pagan has been dead
many a day; and, as for the other, though
he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, also
of the many shrewd brushes that he met with
in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff
in his joints, that he can now do little more
than sit in his cave’s mouth, grinning at pil-
grims as they go by, and biting his nails be-
cause he cannot come at them.

So I saw that Christian went on his way ;
yet, at the sight of the old man that sat at the
mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to
think, especially because he spoke to him,
though he could not go after him, saying,
“You will never mend till more of you be

burned.” But he held his peace, and set a good face on it, and so went by and

catched no hurt. Then sang Christian,

“Oh, world of wonders

(I can say no less),

That I should be preserved in that distress

That I have met with
That hand that from i

here! Oh, blessed be
t hath delivered me!

Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin,

Did compass me, whil
Yea, snares, and pits,

e I this vale was in;
and traps, and nets did lie

My path about, that worthless, silly I

Might have been catched, entangled, and cast down ;

But, since [ live, let Jesus wear the crown.”



CHRISTIAN FIRST SEES FAITHFUL. 85

CHAPTER V.

| OW as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent which was cast up



on purpose that pilgrims might see before them: up there, therefore, Christian
SS went; and looking forward, he saw Faithful before him upon his journey.

Then said Christian aloud, “Ho, ho! so-ho! stay, and I will be your com-
panion.” At that Faithful looked behind him; to whom Christian cried, “Stay, stay,
till I come up to you.” But Faithful answered, “No, Iam upon my lite, and the
avenger of blood is behind me.”.

At this Christian was somewhat moved; and putting to all his strength, he quickly
got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him: so the last was first. Then did Chris-
tian vain-gloriously smile, because he had gotten the start of his brother; but, not
taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not. rise again
until Faithful came up to help him.

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on together, and had sweet dis-
course of all things that had happened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus Christian
began :

Curis. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that T have over-
taken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as companions
in this so pleasant a path.

Farru. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company quite from our town;
but you did get the start of me, wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the way
alone.

Curis. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction before you set out after
me on your pilgrimage ? |

Farr. Till I could stay no longer; for there was great talk, presently after you
were gone out, that our city would, in a short time, with fire from heaven, be burned
down to the ground.

Curis. What! did your neighbors talk so?

Farr. Yes; it was for a while in everybody’s mouth.

Curis. What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape the danger ?

Farrn. Though there was, 9s I said, a great talk thereahout, yet I do not think they
did firmly believe it. For, in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them derid-
ingly speak of you, and of your desperate journey; for so they called this your pil-











































































































































CHRISTIAN AND Farrurun JoIn Company.

“He could not rise again until Faithful came up to help him,”



WHAT WAS SAID IN THE CITY. 87

grimage. But I did believe, and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and
brimstone from above; and therefore I have made my escape.

Curis. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable ?

Farru. Yes, Christian; I heard that he followed you till he eame to the Slough of
Despond, where, as some said, he fell in; but he would not be known to have so done;
but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt.

Curis. And what said the neighbors to him?

Farry. He hath, since his going back, been held greatly in derision, and that among
all sorts of people: some do mock and despise him, and scarce any will set him on
work. He is now seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the city.

Curis. But why should they be so set against him, since they also despise the way
that he forsook ?

Farrn. “Oh,” they say, “hang him; he is a turncoat! he was not true to his pro-
fession!” I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at him and make him
a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way.”

Curis. Had you no talk with him before you came out?

Farr. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the other side, as one
ashamed of what he had done; so I spake not to him.

Curis. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that man, but now I fear he will
perish in the overthrow of the city. For it has happened to him according to the true
proverb, “The dog is turned to his vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her
wallowing in the mire.” ™

Farru. These are my fears of him too; but who can hinder that which will be?

Curis. “Well, neighbor Faithful,” said Christian, “let us leave him, and tall of
things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now what you have met
with in the way as you came; for I know you have met with some things, or else it
may be writ for a wonder.”

Farru. I escaped the slough that I perceive you fell into, and got up to the gate
without that danger; only I met with one whose name was Wanton, that had like to
have done me a mischief.

Curis. It was well you escaped her net: Joseph was hard put to it by her, and le
escaped her as you did; but it had like to have cost him his life"? But what did she
do to you?

Farrn. You cannot think (but that you know something) what a flattering tongue
she had; she lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner of
content.



83 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

Curis. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience.

Farru. You know what I mean—all carnal and fleshly content.

Curis. Thank God you have escaped her: the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into
her diteh.â„¢

Farru. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no.

Curis. Why, I trow you did not consent to her desires?

Farru. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing that I had seen,
which saith, “ Her steps take hold of hell.”"* So I shut mine eyes, because I would

not be bewitched with her looks.”

Then she railed on me, and I went my way.

Curis. Did you meet with no other assault as you came?

Fairy. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with a very
aged man, who asked me what I was and whither bound. I told him that I was a
pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old man, “ Thou lookest like an
honest fellow: wilt thou be content to dwell with me, for the wages that I shall give
thee?” Then I asked him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was
Adam the First, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit.“* J asked him then what
was his work, and what the wages that he would give. He told me that his work was
many delights; and his wages, that I should be his heir at last. J further asked him
what house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he told me that his house
was maintained with all the dainties of the world, and that his servants were those of
his own begetting. Then I asked him how many children he had. He said that he
had but three daughters, the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride
of Life," and that I should marry them if I would. Then I asked, how long time
he would have me live with him? And he told me, As long as he lived himself.

Curis. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last ?

Farru. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I
thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with him, I saw
there written, “ Put off the old man with his deeds.”

Curis. And how then?

Farrn. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, and however he
flattered, when he got me home to his house he would sell me for a slave. So I bid
him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door ef his house. Then he reviled
me, and told me that he would send such a one after me that should make my way
bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from him; but, just as I turned myself to
go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that
I thought he had pulled part of me after himself: this made me cry, “O wretched



FAITHFUL AND ADAM THE FIRST. 89

man!” So I went on my way up the hill. Now, when I had got about half-way
up, I looked behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind; go he over-
took me just about the place where the settle stands.

Curis. “ Just there,” said Christian, “did I sit down to rest me; but being overeome
with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my bosom.”

Farru. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, he was
but a word and a blow; for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead But, when I
was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said,
because of my secret inclining to Adam the First. And, with that, he struck me
another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backwards; so I lay at his feet
as dead as before. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy; but he said,

’ and, with that, he knocked me down again. He

“T know not how to show mercy ;’
had doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by, and bid him forbear.

Curis. Who was that that bid him forbear ?

Farrx. I did not know him at first; but, as He went by, I perceived the holes in
His hands and His side; then I concluded that He was our Lord. So I went up the hill.

Curis. That man that overtook you was Moses. Hespareth none, neither knoweth
he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law.

Farra. I know it very well: it was not the first time that he has met with me. It
was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he wouid
burn my house over my head if I stayed there.

Curis. But did not you see the house that stood there, on the top of that hill on the
side of which Moses met you?

Farrn. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. But, for the lions, I think they
were asleep, for it was about noon; and because I had so much of the day before me,
I passed by the Porter, and came down the hill.

Curis. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by; but I wished you had called at
the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities, that you would scarce
have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell me, did you meet nobody
in the Valley of Humility ?

Fairu. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have persuaded me
to go back again with him: his reason was, for that the valley was altogether without
honor. He told me, moreover, that there to go was the way to disoblige all my
friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-Conceii Worldly-Glory, with others, who he knew,
as he said, would be very much offended if I made such a fool of myself as to wade

through this valley.
12



90 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Curis. Well, and how did you answer him?

Farr. I told him that, although all these that he named might claim kindred of
me, and that rightly (for, indeed, they were my relations according to the flesh), yet,
since I became a pilgrim, they have disowned me, as I also have rejected them; and
therefore they were to me now no more than if they had never been of my lineage. I
told him, moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing; for
before honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a fall, « Therefore,” said I, “I
had rather go through this valley to the honor that was so accounted by the wisest, than
choose that which he esteemed most worthy
of our affections.”

Curis. Met you with nothing else in that
valley ?

Farru. Yes, I met with Shame; but, of all
the men that I met with in my pilgrimage, he,
I think, bears the wrong name. The other
would be said nay, after a little argumentation
and somewhat else; but this bold-faced Shame
would never have done.

Curis. Why, what did he say to you?

Farra. What? why, he objected against
religion itself, He said it was a pitiful, low,
sneaking business for a man to mind religion.
He said that a tender conscience was an
unmanly thing; and that for a man to watch
over his words and ways, so as to tie up him-
self from that hectoring liberty that the brave
spirits of the times accustom themselves unto,
would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but a few of the
mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my opinion; nor any of them neither, before they
were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness, to venture the loss of all



Discontent.

for nobody else knows what."°™ He, moreover, objected the base and low estate
and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived;
also their ignorance, and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did
hold me to it at that rate also, about a great many more things than here I relate; as,
that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to come
sighing and groaning home; that it was a shame to ask my neighbor forgiveness for









PRIDE. ARROGANCY. SELF-CONCEIT. WoORLDLY-GLORY. (91)



92 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

petty faults, or to make restitution where I had taken from any. He said also that
religion made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices (which he called
by finer names), and made him own and respect the base, because of the same religious
fraternity ; “and is not this,” said he, “a shame?”

Curis. And what did you say to him?

Farru. Say? I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he put me so to it that my
blood came up in my face; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me
quite off. But at last I began to consider that that which is highly esteemed among
men is had in abomination with God. And I thought again, This Shame tells me
what men are, but it tells me nothing what God, or the Word of God, is. And I
thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life
according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law
of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best—is best, though all the
men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers His religion ; seeing
God prefers a tender conscience ; seeing they that make themselves fools for the king-
dom of heaven are wisest, and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the
greatest man in the world that hates Him; Shame, depart! thou art an enemy to my
salvation. Shall I entertain thee against my sovereign Lord? how, then, shall I look
Him in the face at His coming?â„¢ Should I now be ashamed of His way and ser-
vants, how can I expect the blessing? But, indeed, this Shame was a bold villain: I
could scarce shake him out of my company ; yea, he would be haunting of me, and
continually whispering me in the ear with some one or other of the infirmities that
attend religion. But at last I told him it was but in vain to attempt further in this
business ; for those things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory; and so, at
last, I got past this importunate one. And when I had shaken him off, then I began
to sing,

“The trials that those men do meet withal,
That are obedient to the heavenly call,
Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,
And come, and come, and come again afresh :
That now, or some time else, we by them may
Be taken, overcome, and cast away.

Oh, I-t the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then,
Be vigilant and quit themselves like men le

Curis. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villain so bravely : for
of all,as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for he is so bold as to follow us
in the streets, and to attempt to put us to shame before all men ; that is, to make us



TALKATIVE OVERTAKEN. 93

ashamed of that which is good. But, if he was not himself audacious, he would never
attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him; for, notwithstanding all his
bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else. “The wise shall inherit glory,” said
Solomon; “ but shame shall be the promotion of fools.” ™

Farts. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame who would have us
to be valiant for truth upon the earth.

Curis. You say true. But did you meet nobody else in that valley?

Farru. No, not I; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through that, and also
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Curis. It was well for you! [am sure it fared far otherwise with me. J had for a
long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that
foul fiend Apollyon; yea, I thought verily he would have killed me, especially when
he got me down, and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces.
For, as he threw me, my sword flew out of my hand; nay, he told me he was sure of
me; and I cried to God, and He heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles.
Then I entered into the Vailey of the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost
half the way through it. I thought I should have been killed there over and over:
but at last day broke, and the sun rose, and I went through that which was behind
with far more ease and quiet.

Moreover, I saw in my dream that, as they went on, Faithful, as he chanced to look
on one side, saw a man whose name is Talkative walking at a distance beside them ;
for in this place there was rcom enough for them all to walk. He was a tall man, and
something more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed
himself in this manner:

Farru. Friend, whither away? Are you going to the heavenly country ?

Tak. I am going to that same place.

Farru. That is well; then I hope we may have your good company.

Tank. With a very good will will I be your companion.

Fairu. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in dis-
coursing of things that are profitable.

Tarx. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with you or with
any other; and I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a work ;
for, to speak the truth, there are but few who care thus to spend their time as they are
in their travels, but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit ; and this
has been a trouble to me.

Farru. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented; for what things so worthy of the



94 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of
heaven ?

Tax. I like you wonderfully well, for your saying is full of conviction ; and IJ will
add, What thing is so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God?
What things so pleasant? that is, if a man hath any delight in things that are wonder-
ful. For instance, if a man doth delight to talk of the history or the mystery of things,
or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he find things
recorded so delightful, or so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture ?

Farru. That’s true; but to be profited by such things in our talk should be that
which we design.

Tat. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things is most profitable; for, by so
doing, aman may get knowledge of many things; as of the vanity of earthly things,
and the benefit of things above. Thus in general; but more particularly, by this a
man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need
of Christ’s righteousness, etc. Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent,
to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like; by this, also, a man may learn what are the
great promises and consolations of the Gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this
a man may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct
the ignorant.

Farr. All this is true; and glad am I to hear these things from you.

Tak. Alas! the want of this is the cause that so few understand the need of faith,
and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life; but igno-
rantly live in the works of the law, by which a man can by no means obtain the king-
dom of heaven.

Farru. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of God; no man
attaineth to them by human industry, or only by the talk of them.

Tar. All that I know very well, for a man can receive nothing except it be given
him from heaven ; all is of grace, not of works. I could give youa hundred scriptures
for the confirmation of this. 3 ;

Farry. “ Well, then,” said Faithful, “what is that one thing that we shall at this
time found our discourse upon?”

Tarx. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly or things earthly ; things
moral or things evangelical; things sacred or things profane; things past or things to
come; things foreign or things at home; things more essential or things circumstan-
tial; provided that all be done to our profit.

Farru. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and, stepping to Christian (for he



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(35)

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96 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

walked all this while by himself), he said to him, but softly, “ What a brave companion
have we got! Surely this man will make a verv excellent pilgrim.”

Curis. At this Christian modestly smiled, anu said, “This man with whom you are
so taken will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not.”

Fartu. Do you know him, then?

Crris. Know him? Yes, better than he knows himself.

Fairu. Pray what is he?

Curis. His name is Talkative; he dwelleth in our town. I wonder that you should
be a stranger to him: only I consider that our town is large.

Farra. Whose son is he? and whereabout doth he dwell?

Curis. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in Prating Row, and is known to
all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating Row; and not-
withstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow.

Parra. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.

Curis. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him, for he is
best abroad; near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man
brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the painter, whose pictures
show best at a distance, but very near more unpleasing.

Parra. But Iam ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled.

Curis. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) in this matter, or that I
should accuse any falsely. I will give you a further discovery of him. This man is
for any company, and for any talk. As he talketh now with you, so will he talk when
he is on the ale-bench; and the more drink he hath in his crown, the more of these
things he hath in his mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or con-
versation: all he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise there-
with.

Farrn. Say youso? Then am I in this man greatly deceived.

Curts. Deceived! you may be sure of it. Remember the proverb, “They say, and
do not;” but the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. He talketh of
prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth; but he knows but only to talk
of them. I have been in his family, and have observed him both at home and abroad,
and I know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of religion as the
white of an egg is of savor. There is there neither prayer nor sign of repentance for
sin; yea, the brute, in his kind, serves God far better than he. He is the very stain,
reproach, and shame of religion to all that know him. It can hardly have a good
word in all that end of the town where he dwells, through him. Thus say the com-



TALKATIVE SELF-DECEIVED. 97

mon people that know him: “A saint abroad, and a devil at home.” His poor family
finds it so: he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his servants,
that they neither know-how to do for or speak to him. Men that have any dealings
with him say, it is better to deal with a Turk than with him, for fairer dealing they
shall have at their hands. This Talkative, if it be possible, will go beyond them,
defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to follow his
steps; and, if he findeth in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first
appearance of a tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads, and by no
means will employ them in much, or speak to their commendation before others. For
my part, I am of opinion that he has, by his wicked life, caused many to stumble and
fall, and will be, if God prevent not, the ruin of many more.

Farru. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you, not only because you say you
know him, but also because like a Christian you make your reports of men. For I
cannot think you speak these things of ill-will, but because it is even so as you say.

Curis. Had J known him no more than you, I might, perhaps, have thought of him
as at first you did ; yea, had he received this report at their hands only that are enemies
to religion, I should have thought it had been a slander, a lot that often falls from bad
men’s mouths upon good men’s names and professions. But all these things, yea, and
a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge I can prove him guilty of. Besides,
good men are ashamed of him: they can neither call him brother nor friend ; the very
naming of him among them makes them blush, if they know him.

Farrn. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I shall
better observe this distinction.

Curis. They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul and the
body ; for, as the body without the soul is but a dead carcase, so saying, if it be alone,
is but a dead carcase also. The soul of religion is the practical part. “Pure religion
and undefiled before God and the Father ig this, to visit the fatherless and the widows
in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.”™ This, Talkative
is not aware of: he thinks that hearing and saying will make a good Christian, and
thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed; talking is
not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life. And let us assure
ourselves that, at the day of doom, men shall be judged according to their fruits.” Tt
will not be said then, Did you believe? but, Were you doers, or talkers only? and
accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is compared to our harvest ;â„¢
and you know men at harvest regard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be
accepted that is not of faith; but I speak this to show you how insignificant the pro-

fession of Talkative will be at that day.
18



98 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Farru. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he described the beast that
is clean.”? He is such a one that parteth the hoof and cheweth the cud; not that
parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but
yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. And this truly resembleth Talkative :
he cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the Word; but he divideth

“not the hoof, he parteth not with the way of sinners, but, as the hare, retaineth the
foot of the dog or bear, and therefore he is unclean.

Curis. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true Gospel sense of those texts.
_And I will add another thing: Paul calleth some men, yea, and those great talkers
too, sounding brass and tinkling cymbals; that is, as he expounds them in another
place, things without life, giving sound. Things without life; that is, without the true
faith and grace of the Gospel, and, consequently, things that shall never be placed in
the kingdom of heaven among those that are the children of life; though their sound,
by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice of an angel.

Fairu. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as sick of it now.
What shall we do to be rid of him?

Curis. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find that he will soon
be sick of your company too, except God shall touch his heart and turn it.

Farra. What would you have me to do?

Curis. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse about the power of
religion, and ask him plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will) whether
this thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation.

Fartx. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative, “Come, what
cheer? How is it now?”

Tatx. Thank you, well: I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this
time.

Fatrx. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and, since you left it with me to
state the question, let it be this: How doth the saving grace of God discover itself
when it is in the heart of man?

Tax. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of things. Well, it
is a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you. And take my answer
in brief, thus. First, where the grace of God is in the heart, it causeth there a great
outery against sin. Secondly,—

Farru. Nay, hold; let us consider of one at once. I think you should rather say,
it shows itself by inclining the soul to abhor its sin.

Tarik. Why, what difference is there between crying out against and abhorring of sin?



FAITHFUL DISPUTES WITH TALKATIVE. 99

Fairn. Oh! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin of poltey; but he can-
not abhor it but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it. IT have heard many ery out
against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and
conversation. Joseph’s mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very
chaste; but she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness

with him.

Some ery out against sin, even as the mother eries out against her child
in her lap, when she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and
kissing it.

Tax. You lie at the catch, I perceive.

Farrn. No, not I; I am only for setting things right. But what is the second
thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of grace in the heart?

Taxx. Great knowledge of Gospel mysteries.

Fartu. This sign should have been first; but, first or last, it is also false; for knowl-
edge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of the Gospel, and yet no work
of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and
so, consequently, be no child of God.’ When Christ said, “Do ye know all these
things?” and the disciples had answered, ‘“ Yes,” He added, “ Blessed are ye if ye do
them.” He doth not lay the-blessing in the knowledge of them, but in the doing of
them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing: “ He that knoweth
his master’s will, and doeth it not.” A man may know like an angel, and yet be no
Christian ; therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to know is a thing that
pleaseth talkers and boasters; but to do is that which pleaseth God. Not that the
heart can be good without knowledge, for, without that, the heart is naught. There
is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge: knowledge that resteth in the bare specula-
tion of things, and knowledge that is accompanied with the grace and faith of love,
which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the heart. The first of these
will serve the talker ; but without the other the true Christian is not content. “Give me
understanding, and I shall keep Thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart.”

Tatk. You lie at the catch again: this is not for edification.

Farru. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this work of grace dis-
covereth itself where it is.

Tax. Not I; for I see we shall not agree.

Farrn. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it?

Tatx. You may use your liberty.

Farrn. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself eithe: to him that hath it or
to standers by.



Full Text
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HORA PRS
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IN THE OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS, AT WASHINGTON,






LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS,

PART I.

“As J slept, [ dreamed a dream,”

Christian as seen by Bunyan in his dream, 5 :
HeEapina—tThe City of Destruction,

Christian tells his wife and children of his ce

‘* Fie began to retire himself to his chamber to pray,”’
Evangelist points Christian to the wicket gate, .
Qbstinate, .

Pliable,

Christian and Pliable i in the Slough of Despont

Mr. Worldly Wiseman,

“When Christian was stepping in, he oihee gave in a il 2

* Beelzebub and they that are with him shoot arrows,”’
Despair in an iron cage,
Christian before the Cross,

‘The bottomless pit opened just ee I oa a
Christian and the Angels, .
Hypocrisy, . : i : i : : : : 3
Formailist, . ; : : a
Christian climbing the hill of difficulty, : .

‘* He stumbled and fell, and rose no more,’’

“Fe at last fell into.a slumber,’ . . : A :
Mistrust, . e . e e 3 Fi

Timorous, . : d 3 é : : :
Watchful the eee ; ; : z i 3

““ Christian sees lions in his ae y

The porter meets Christian and calls Discretion to the palace door, . : :
Discretion, Piety, Charity, and Prudence instruct Christian at the Palace Beauti-

fut ae : § 5 2 ; : : : s
Giving thanks for his deliverance from Apollyon, .
“A company of fiends,”’ . i : F : ;
“Tn the valley of the shadow of on ios ; : :

ARTIST
F. Barnarn,
E.F. Baewrnaws,
TF. Barnarp,
TOWNLEY GREEN,.
F. Barnarp,
W. SMALL,
FE. Barnarp,
Ditto,
W. SMALn,
F. BaRnarp,
Ditto,
Ditto, :
KK. F. Brewtnatt,
TowNLEY GREEN,
F. BARNARD,
E. F. Brewrnary,
F, Barnarp,
Ditto,
iE. G. Dawzrer,
F. BARNARD,
Ditto,
Ditto,
Ditto,
Ditto,
J. Wour, :
J. M’L. Ratrsron,

Ditto,
F. Barwarp,
Ditto,

E. G. Dauzien,
(ix)

PAGE
20)
28
29
3
31
32

34
37
38
44
45
51
54
oo

57
x LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

“He can now do little more than sit in his cave’s mouth, grinning at pilgrims,”
Christian and Faithful join company,

Discontent, ; : : ; 5 5
Self-Conceit ; Worldly-Glory,

‘¢ A man whose name is Talkative,”

Pride; Arrogancy ;

Christian enters the town of Vanity Fair, .

Lord Hate-good, i ;

TuREE Witnesses: Envy, occ Bigeanne :

Tue Jury: My. Blind-man, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love- hes Mr. lhe: las
Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light,
and Mr. Implacable,

Faithful burned at the stake,

Hopeful joins Christian, :

Mr. By-ends meets Hold-the- World, ey ove val ee all, :

Christian and Hopeful are reminded of Lot’s wife,

Vain-confidence, i : : : ; : i : 5 .

Giant Despair, . : :

Shristian and Hopeful in ‘he er of Giant Despair, :

Ignorance, : ; : : : : : : ; : ;

‘A men whom seven fea ta bound,”’ : : i ; ‘ ;

Faint-heart, Mistrust and Guilt, attack Little-Faith, P 5 : 7 3 : :

Atheist laughing at Christian and Hopeful, —. : : : : : :

‘He said, No, for I was invited to come,” : rear 5 5

““T am always full of Bod motions,”

‘Thus they got over,’ , : :

‘¢ Christian brake out with a ee voice, ‘ Oh ! 1 see Hs again,’’

One of the King’s Trumpeters, : : j

“Then they took him up, and carried him en a air to the ioe that IT saw in
the side of the hill, and put him in there,”’

Tart-Prece—The Dreamer awaking, : : i 5 : : ,
PART IL

Heapine—Bunyan in Bedford Jail, . 5 : 6 : ‘ , y 5 ;

The Author and Mr. Sagacity, . : Z : 5 5 5

“Her thoughts began to work in her dl es A 5 : 0

Christiana opens her mind to her Children, 4 : : "

“Well, I see you have a mind to 0 a-fooling too,’ ’
Mrs. Trmonowus’s NE . Bat’s-eyes, Mrs. ees Mrs. Light-
mind and Mrs. roe ae



“© Come, let. us venture, only let us be wary,’’

The King’s Trumpeter, Q

Mercy fallen in a swoon at the Wicket ce

The ill-favored ones, : : : ;

‘* So Christiana’s boys, as ee are re to ae ‘hae seat with the trees, and the
fruit that did hang thereon, did plash them, and began to eat,’

ARTIST
F, BARNARD,

TowNLEY GREEN,
F. BARNARD,
Ditto,

Ditto,

Ditto,

Ditto,

F, BaRNARD,

Ditto,

Ditto,

TowNLEY GREEN,
FE. BaRNaARD,

E. G. DALzzEL,

F. BARNARD,
Ditto,

EB. G. Dauzrer,

F. BARNARD,
Ditto, . ;
Ditto,

Ditto, .
Ditto, . :

Ditto, . one
Ditto, j
E. G. DALZIEL, .
Ditto,

EK. F. Brewrnatt,
F. Barnarn,

F, BARNARD,
Ditto,

Ditto, . é ‘
KE. F. BrewrtNatt,
F. BARNARD,

Ditto,

Ditto,

J. D. Linton,

J. M’L. Ratsron,
F, BaRNarD,

KE. F. BRewtNatt,

PAGE

84
86
90
91
95
104
109
Tl

113
114
116
119
125
127
181
133
139
139
141
149
152
156
166
167
169

177
185
186
187
192

193
197
199
201
204

205
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xi

ARTIST PAGE

Innocent, . ; Pee eee : : : : : F. BARNARD, , 208
‘* A man that could lock no way but as ah a ae on fin US Gg DO, kg
Mr. Great-heart, : : f : : ; s ; : : : : : J. D. Linton, 219
Short-wind, : : : : i : : : : ‘ ; ; ‘ : I, BARNARD, EoD s
No-heart, . : : A : : : ; : ‘ : : : ; : Ditto, . : bo
Sleepy-head, . 5 : : : & ; : 5 “ A : ; : Ditto, . : 23}
Giant Grim, .. ; : ‘ : ; é : Ditto, . 2 ODT,
‘*T went on bemoaning ies Tne of my foe : : : , ; : : Ditto, . 5 23
Prudence questions Christiana’s Children, f : ; ; : : : : i. EF. Brewrtnann, 233
Mr. Brisk, . 2 0 i : : : 0 : ; : 5 ; ; : FE. BARNARD, eee 30)
Doctor Skill, . 5 Q : ; A 5 x ; : : = : ae : : eR)
The Shepherd Boy, . s : ee : 0 : : ; : : : KE. FE. Brewrnarn, 247
Heedless, . : : : : : c : : : : ; : : : F, cae 5) Baill
Giant Maul, . ; : ; : : ‘ , : ‘ : : Ditto, . : 2

Old Honest, . 5 5 é 5 ‘ : . 3 : : : : ‘ J. D. Linton, eee iG

Mr. Fearing, .- : 7 5 tee 5 : i ‘ : ; é " FE. Bannarp, 50)
Self-will, . . : : : : : : : : 3 7 : 5 : Ditto, . s fee 53)
Gaius, : 5 5 4 : : 5 E : : g : 5 5 : Ditto, . : pear 60)
Taste-that-which-is-good, . : : : : ; ; : : : 5 : Ditto, o ABT
Mercy and Matthew, . ; . : : 5 ‘ : : : : : Ditto, . ; . 270
‘* Mercy, as her custom was, eae making coatsand garments to give to the poor,”’ EB. EF Brewrnann, 271
Mr. Feeble-Mind and Mr. Ready-to-Hallt, . : : 5 i a ; i 5 F. BARNARD, ert
Despondency, . ‘ : : : : ; : a : 3 ; : : Ditto, . 3 . 286
Much-afraid, . : : : ; ; ; : : : : : : : Ditto, . : . 286
Prejudice, . : : : . 3 : : . : A is : : 5 Ditto, . 5 FAD
Ui-will, : ; Bee Seen cane ys : : a DW og SD
Turn-Away eae eee . : : ; : : : i : Ditto, . i . 298
Wild-head, : : é : : : 5 : 5 : : 3 3 : Ditto, ‘i . 294
Valiant-for-truth, . : : : : i : ; : : : i J.D. TANtON. eee aie

Madam Bubble and Mr. Stand- eer : : : : ' : : : : : F. BARNARD, 30D
Christiana Passes over the River to the Celestial City, . ee eats : : BE. ¥. Brewrnann, 306



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.



ry) HE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS” is, without question, of all uninspired volumes,
5) the most extraordinary book in the English language. Regard being had to the
\ condition of its author, and the circumstances connected with its production, to
its widespread popularity, and its suitableness for readers of every class, there is
none to compare with it.

We shall probably find few readers who are not already acquainted with the
leading facts of Bunyan’s life; and to whom a record of them would not appear
® ike the rehearsal of an old story. It may suffice, therefore, if we present, in few

words, such a summary as will refresh the memory, dwelling only on those which are

fitted to shed a little light on his immortal production.
Born at Elstow in Bedfordshire in 1628, of parents who belonged to the humbler
walks of life, he received little early education worthy of the name; but grew up in the
ignorance which was then, and in England is still, common to his class, At an early age
he learned the trade of tinker, and by that occupation earned his livelihood for a few
years. Up to the time of his first marriage he lived, if not a desperately profligate, yet
a thoroughly godless and openly wicked life. And though the character and conversation of his
wife exerted a restraining influence, and awoke in him some desire for reformation, no real, and
but little apparent, change took place until some time afterwards, when he became the subject of
converting grace. The deep experiences through which he had passed in connection with this
change, combined with his natural gifts, qualified him for profitably addressing others; and he
very soon began, in an irregular way at first, to exercise the ministry, which ultimately became
his sole occupation, and in which he obtained to a proficiency unsurpassed by any preacher
of his time. His preaching, and consequent absence from the parish church, attracted the
notice of the ecclesiastical authorities of the neighborhood, at whose instigation he was thrown
into prison for twelve years, where he tagged laces to support his wife and blind child, and
conceived and wrote the wonderful allegory by which he has ranked himself forever among the
peers of the intellectual world, and secured for himself an ever-widening and undying fame. After
his release he preached with great acceptance and usefulness, statedly at Bedford, occasionally in
London and elsewhere; and composed and published various other works of great practical useful-
ness, some of which would no doubt have attained to a wide popularity had they not been eclipsed
by his greatest production. He diligently prosecuted his labors until he was sixty years of age,
when a severe cold caught in the discharge of a ministerial duty—a journey which he took for the

purpose of reconciling a father and son who had quarrelled—abruptly terminated his life.
(13)





e

14 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR

Tn the circumstances we have thus briefly narrated—especially in his imprisonment—some
writers see the discipline and training which were necessary to fit him for writing ‘The Pilgrim’s
Progress.” But though we cannot question that whatsoever God did for him and whatsoever men
were permitted to do, had some effect in fitting him for whatever work he was destined to perform,
it seems to us that such a discovery is but one of numerous instances in which men are wise after
the event, and that Bunyan’s great work is not to be accounted for except by a profounder phi-
losophy than such writers bring to the task. Few beforehand would have ventured to predict, from
anything in the antecedents of the man Bunyan, that he would be able to produce such a book; or
that anything in his circumstances and upbringing and parentage would produce sucha man. He
is a great creation, no more to be accounted for in such a manner than is the creation of a world.
Antecedents conduce to, but do not account for, it. He is a phenomenon only to be understood on
the principle that God, by a process which we cannot trace, and sometimes by means which appear
to us unsuitable, raises up great men for the performance of great works. Not only does He make
the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak to confound the mighty, but
gives us to find both wisdom and strength where such qualities are least likely to exist.

It is a fact significant of the nature of the times, that Christian England, which ought to have
been proud to rank him among her favored sons, had no better treatment for this man than the most
relentless persecution, no better home for twelve years than a damp cell in the gaol which stood on
the bridge over the Ouse at Bedford. His crime, as we have intimated, was that of absenting him-
self from the Established Church, and holding meetings where he preached the gospel, and conducted
worship in a manner which appeared to him more in accordance than the established service with
New Testament principles—one of the worst crimes, in the estimation of the authorities, of wuich a
man could be guilty. On the warrant of a Justice he was apprehended at a meeting in Sansell, and,
no bail being found, was thrown into prison to await his trial, which took place seven weeks after-
wards. His indictment set forth that “John Bunyan, of the town of Bedferd, laborer, hath devil-
ishly and perniciously abstained from coming to church to hear Divine service, and is a common
upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction of
the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king.” On this
indictment, without any examination of witnesses, he was found guilty. Justice Keeling, in a
savage tone strangely unbecoming in a judge passing sentence, said, “Hear your judgment: you
must be had back to prison, and there lie for three months following. And at three months’ end, if
you do not submit to go to church to hear Divine service, and leave your preaching, you must be
banished the realm; or be found to come back again without special license from the king, you must
stretch by the neck for it, I tell you plainly. Jailor, take him away.”

Bunyan’s reply was as worthy of his Christian chara: ter as the judge’s manner was unworthy of
his exalted office. All that he had to say in answer to such brutal browbeating was, ‘‘ If I was out
of prison to-day, I would preach again to-morrow, by the help of God!” Such a man was evidently
not to be frightened either by frowns or by threats; so they had him back to prison, of which he had
already tasted the sweets. But not all the horrors of prison—not the pain of separation from his
wife and four children, cculd move his dauntless soul. He felt that separation most keenly-—no -
man could have felt it more. Especially was he solicitous about his blind daughter, to whom he was
all the more tenderly attached because of her helplessness. “ Poor child, thought I; what sorrow
art thou like to have for thy portion in this world! Thou must be beaten, must beg, suffer hunger,
cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, though I cannot now endure the wind should blow upon
thee! Oh, the hardships I thought my blind one might go under would break my heart in pieces.”
Still he did not falter, for he could commit her as well as himself to God; and God’s peace was with
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 15

him. “ Verily, as I was going forth out of the doors, I had much ado to forbear saying to them that
I carried the peace of God along with me; and, blessed be the Lord, T went away to prison with
God’s comfort in my poor soul!”

His case seems to have given some trouble to the Justices. He was had up before them re-
peatedly, and always remanded. They were either unwilling or afraid to carry out Justice Keeling’s
threat of banishment. And as their prisoner would not promise to change his course, they kept
him where he was. His friends interceded for him. His wife, who was of a kindred spirit with
himself, came to London with a petition for his release, and had it presented to the House of Lords.
Although “a delicate young woman of retiring habits,” she appeared before the Judges and pleaded
his cause “in language worthy of the most talented counsel.” But all their efforts were in vain.
The one condition on which his release could be granted was the condition with which the prisoner
would not comply. “ Will your husband leave preaching?” said Judge Twisden to his wife; “aif
he will do so, then send for him.” “ My Lord,” she replied, “ he dares not leave preaching, so long
as he can speak.” “ My principles,” says Bunyan on another oceasion, “are such as lead me toa
denial to communicate in the things of the kingdom of Christ with ungodly and open profane ;
neither can I, in or by the superstitious inventions of this world consent that my soul should be
governed in any of my approaches to God, because commanded to the contrary, and commended for
so refusing. Wherefore, excepting this one thing, for which I ought not to be rebuked, I shall, I
trust, in despite of slander and falsehood, discover myself as a peaceable and obedient subject. But
if nothing will do unless I make my conscience a continual butchery and slaughter shop—unless,
putting out mine own eyes, I commit me to the blind to lead me (as I doubt is desired hy some)—I
have determined, the Almighty God being my help and shield, yet to suffer, and if frail life shall
continue so long, even till the moss shall grow on mine eyebrows, rather than violate my faith and
principles.”

He lay in prison for more than twelve years. Twelve years! How easy to write the words ; how
difficult to grasp all that they mean! The fifth part of his life at the season when life was in its
prime—when his. appreciation of nature was keenest—when free exercise would have proved the
greatest luxury to a stalwart frame like his-—-when he would have entered with the greatest zest into
home enjoyments—when his physical system was full of bounding life and capable of acting with the
greatest vigor—the fifth part of his life spent within the limits of a dungeon—the little cell which
he aptly calls hisden! What a testimony to the heroic endurance of the man! What a testimony
to his country’s disgrace! It is sad to think that England, with her Christian constitution, had no
better treatment than this for one of her noblest sons, whose worth, blinded as she was by flunkeyisms
and debaucheries in high places, she was unable to recognize.

To Bunyan it mattered little what they did. Happier far was he in prison than the clergyman
in his living, or the bishop in his palace, or the king on his throne. Yea, it may be questioned if in
all England there was a man so happy or so much to be envied as that prisoner on Bedford bridge.
The “ God’s peace ”——“ God’s comfort ”—-of which he speaks as dwelling in his “ poor soul,” is not
dependent on place or circumstances, cannot be disturbed by the treatment he receives. He who
hath it can defy the persecutor’s rage. Do to him what you will—strip him of his possessions and
friends—drive him into exile—make him a homeless wanderer—he is happier in his penury and
homelessness, than others in the abundance of their wealth and comfort. If, by prison walls, Bunyan
was shut out from nature’s beauty—from daylight and the fragrant air—still he has Jeft to him God
and himself. The soul’s freedom is unimpaired. It can soon soar above all restraint and enjey
Divine fellowship. No prison walls are so thick that prayer cannot pierce them. No dungeon
gloom so dark that it may not be radiated with celestial light.
1s INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.

‘Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage ;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for a hermitage.

‘For though men keep my outward man
Within their locks and bars,
Yet by the faith of Christ I can
Mount higher than the stars.”

These were no meaningless sounds to him—no poetical expression of the feelings which he
supposed might be experienced—no rhapsodical or exaggerated description of what he actually felt.
Poctry apart, he elsewhere tells us of the glorious visions with which he was favored there. “O
the Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and God the judge
of all; Jesus the mediator, and the spirits of just men made perfect! I have seen here what I
never can express. I have felt the truth of that Scripture ‘Whom having not seen, ye love; in
Whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.’”
Most of the day was spent in “ tagging laces,” with his blind girl by his side—an employment which
he learned in prison, that thereby he might help to support his family. But when evening came,
and the child was dismissed to her home with a parting benediction, his soul, free to soar where it
listed, saw those glorious visions, and indulged in those pious meditations which are embodied in his
immortal work. He had but to close his eyes, and he was no more the prisoner, but the pilgrim
whose progress he so graphically describes. Bedford gaol fades away, and his unfettered soul stands
on some mount of vision where, from its commencement to its close, the course of his pilgrim lies
open to his view. There he sees the City of Destruction, and remembers how he left it with the
burden on his back—the Slough of Despond, and the overhanging hill near the house of Mr. Legality,
with its deep rifts and flashing fires. He recalls his entrance at the wicket-gate—his visit to the
Iinterpreter’s house—his rapture when, standing at the foot of the Cross and gazing on the Crucified,
his burden fell from his shoulders and he was free. Again he is entertained at the Palace Beautiful,
finds there refreshment and repose, and at break of day wakes up singing in the chamber whose
name is Peace. Or he wanders among the Delectable Mountains with the shepherds for his com-
panions ; and from the hill Clear, looking through the glass of faith, discerns in the distance the
pearly gates, and golden turrets, and jasper walls, that surround the City of the Blest. Or he dwells
in the land of Beulah, where, not in imagination only, but in reality, his soul summers even now,
ripening for the heaven which is so near that already he inhales its fragrance, and walks in its light,
and holds converse with its shining ones—where the sun shineth night and day, and the birds sing
continually, and the flowers are ever fresh and fair, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land.
Or, the river crossed, he climbs the hill which leads up to the gate of the City, or rather glides
upward ; for the shining ones have clasped his hands, and the burden of mortality left in the river
no more clogs the movements of the ascending soul. The gates open at his approach—the trumpets
sound in honor of his coming. The bells of the city “ ring again for joy.” “ Angels meet him with
harp and crown, and give him the harp to praise withal and the crown in token of honor.” And
the hosts of the glorified standing round welcome him with acclamations to their exalted fellowship,
saying, “ Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”

All these are real to him—more real than the prison walls that surround him, or his prison
garb, or prison fare. These are but the illusions which shall vanish ; those the realities which shall
endure. And, being so vividly presented to his mind, he is constrained to imprint them on his page.
Rousing himself from his reverie, but with beaming eye and radiant countenance, for “he writes as
INTRODUCIORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 17

if joy did make him write,” he flings from his graphic and fluent pen those vivid, brilliant pictures,
over which, after his persecutors have perished, and his prison walls have crumbled into dust, and
the painful circumstances of his earthly life have receded into the dim and distant past,—in many
lands and throughout all generations—in the closet and the chamber—in the solitary hut and the
crowded city—young and old, rich and poor, learned and illiterate, shall bend with ever fresh
delight.

Without question Bunyan’s imprisonment was made conducive for the furtherance of the gospel.
The providence which controls the wrath of man, and makes it contribute to its own purposes, so
overruled the malice of his persecutors, as to make it serve the cause which they sought to destroy.
Not only may we see the Divine hand, in the fact that Bunyan’s imprisonment afforded him leisure
for the composition of those works which have made his name immortal; but an overruling Provi-
dence is specially seen in some of the circumstances which facilitated his work. Cruelties such as
were perpetrated in other prisons would probably have shortened his days, or at least have rendered
writing and study impossible; but in the gaol at Bedford where he was confined, though the place
was loathsome in the extreme, the jailor treated the prisoners with such humanity that he incurred
the displeasure of the Justices. Bunyan was allowed to visit his family occasionally, and it was on
one of his visits that the circumstance occurred which most people would consider peculiarly provi-
dential. A neighboring priest heard of his absence from prison, and immediately despatched a
messenger that he might bear witness against the jailor. Meanwhile Bunyan, feeling uneasy at home,
had returned to prison sooner than was intended, so that when the messenger demanded, “ Are all
the prisoners safe?” the jailor could answer “Yes.” “Ts John Bunyan safe?” “ Yes.” Bunyan,
on being called, appeared ; and, said the jailor afterwards, “You may go out when you will, for you
know much better when to return than I can tell you.” Thus were his health and life preserved,
and the man who was forbidden to speak to a few assembled in a peasant’s cottage, furnished with
facilities for writing a book by which he speaks to millions in every land, and through all succeeding
generations ; while the men who sought to silence him have been all but forgotten. So do the
enemies of the gospel frustrate their own schemes. So does the right live on, emerging into ever-
increasing splendor, while the wrong sinks into merited oblivion.

The acceptance which his “ Pilgrim’s Progress” has met with is altogether unparalleled.
During the Author’s lifetime many copies are said to have been circulated in England—and that
was at a time when books and readers were comparatively scarce. Several editions—some of them
got up, as booksellers would say, in very superior style—were published in North America, and
translations were issued in French and Flemish, Dutch, Welsh, Gaelic, and Irish. Nor does time
show any abatement of its popularity. Among all the competitors for public favor which have since
issued from the press, it retains its pre-eminence. There is scarcely a known language into which
+t has not been rendered. Wherever English is spoken it is familiar as a household word. Not-
withstanding the millions in circulation, and the new editions which are constantly appearing,
publishers can still reckon on a sale of hundreds of thousands for one edition alone. It appears in
all forms, and is read by all classes. Richly illustrated and elegantly bound, it adorns the drawing-
room tables of the wealthy. Well-thumbed and sometimes tattered, as if from constant, if not
careless, usage, it lies on the shelf or the window-sill of the poor. Children are entranced with the
interest of the story; its tranquil or gloomy scenes, its pictures of danger and conflict—of triumph
and despair. Men too illiterate to account for the fascination, are attracted to its pages. And
learned men, who have little sympathy with its religious purpose, feel the spell of its genius, and
are compelled to admire it for the beauty or the awfulness of its creations, its vivid embodiments,

its clear insight and keen satire, its terse Saxon style. The young Christian, just starting on his
3
18 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. |

course, reads it for guidance and encouragement in his own conflicts and perils; and the aged saint
lingering for a while on the river’s brink, before the messenger summons him into the presence of
the King, testifies to the accuracy with which it pictures the serene and mellowed joys of the land of
Beulah—the celestial air which the pilgrim breathes, the celestial fragrance which is wafted from on
high, the celestial visitants with whom he holds converse as he nears his journey’s end; and the
dull eye brightens, and the withered countenance glows with rapture, as, by the pilgrim’s passage
of the river, and entrance at the gates, he is led to anticipate his own. It is wonderful that any
man should have written a book of such universal and enduring popularity. More wonderful still
that it should have been written in prison by an uneducated tinker, the descendant of a vagrant
tribe—written spontaneously and unconseiously—not as an effort, but as a relief from mental fulness
—as the thoughts came crowding up in all their freshness in an untrained but singularly original:
and fertile mind.

With all its popularity and excellence, it is easy to see that the book is not without faults, Its
theology, scriptural in the main, is colored by his own experience. The long and painful journey
which Christian makes with his burden before he finds relief at the cross, though it accords with
fact often, is somewhat at variance with the Scripture ideal. The Second Part shows some improve-
ment on the First in this respect; but there, too, the cross is placed too far on the way. It should
have been at the wicket-gate, and not at the further side of the Interpreter’s house; for there is
really no true progress heavenward until the cross is seen. As an allegory, moreover, it presents, as
it could scarcely fail, some obvious inconsistencies, The wicket-gate is the proper entrance to the
pilgrim’s course; and yet Hopeful enters it not through the wicket-gate, but at Vanity Fair, which
is far on the way. Faithful, again, leaves it not by the river, which represents death, but is taken
up in a chariot of fire. These and such like discrepancies are obvious to every reader ; and the best
excuse for them is that his purpose rendered them unavoidable. It was not possible by any consistent
allegory to set forth so many distinct phases of spiritual life.

The wonder is not that there are inconsistencies in the allegory, but that these are so few and
the beauties of the book so manifold. “It is the highest miracle of genius,” says Macaulay, “ that
things which are not should be as though they were, that the imagination of one mind should become
the personal recollections of another. And this miracle the tinker has wrought. There is no ascent,
no declivity, no resting-place, no turnstile, with which we are not per‘ectly acquainted.” His characters,
though some of them are mere embodiments of abstract qualities, are painted with equal vividness.
They are marked with individuality as much as if they were real personages who had sat for their
portraits. There is no danger of our mistaking one for another ; and such is the impression they
produce on our minds, that, when once we have made acquaintance with them, they are not easily
forgotten. Stern as he is in his treatment of wrong, and especially in peeling off the skin from
sanctimonious villainy, what a depth of tenderness there is in his nature, and what a keen apprecia-
tion of the beautiful he now and again displays! When he writes of Christiana in the Second Part
there is a perceptible softening in his tone; and the incidents of the journey are suited to the delicacy
of woman and the tenderness of youth; for the writer knew well, and had himself imbibed, the
spirit of Him “ Who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb”—“ Who gathers the lambs in His arms,
and carries them in His bosom.” The quiet beauty of some of his scenes, and the soft light which
falls on them, is perfectly charming; and all the more noticeable as contrasted with the lurid
grandeur of others. What a sweet picture is that Palace Beautiful, with its waiting damsels and its
chamber of peace—* the country birds that, in the spring-time, sing all day long in a most curious,
melodious note,” one carolling, as Christiana listens with words much like these :
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 19

“Through all my life Thy favor is
So frankly showed to me,
That in Thy house for evermore
My dwelling-place shall be.”’
And another responding,—
“For why? The Lord our God is good ;
His mercy is for ever sure:
His truth at all times firmly stood,
And shall from age to age endure.”

Not less lovely, when Christiana passes through, is the Valley of Humiliation, green and fertile, and
“ beautified with lilies,’ where “cur Lord formerly had his country house, and loved to walk the
meadows, for he found the air was pleasant,” where “laboring men have good estates,” where the
shepherd boy doth sing his artless song, giving utterance to his heart’s content,—

‘*He that is down needs fear no fall;
He that is poor no pride ;
He that is humble ever shall
Have God to be his guide.”’

And that land of Beulah, so near the gates of the city with only the river between, where the pilgrim,
after the toils of the way, rests and ripens for glory, is so vivid'y presented to us, that, forgetting
our surroundings, we can sometimes fancy ourselves in it, soothed and refreshed by its delicious in-
fluences, bathed in its golden light, and breathing its balmy air. And the Celestial City itself, shin-
ing like the sun, with its bells and trumpets, its golden pavement, its white-robed inhabitants, wearing
crowns and waving palms, with “harps to play withal”—what reader does not feel as if he stood
with the writer looking in at the open gate, and, sympathizing with his desire, when carried away by
his own imaginings, he says, “ which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.”

But time would fail and space forbids us to expatiate on the beauties of the book. The more
we study it, the more do we feel how much it deserves its matchless popularity ; and the more
cordially do we commend it to the careful perusal of our readers. Our desire and prayer is, that
some of them may be influenced by Bunyan’s pleasant companionship and wise guidance to commence,
or, if they have commenced already, to persevere in and complete the pilgrimage which he so
graphically describes.














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“As I slept, I dreamed a dream.”
THE

AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.





2,
ay | HEN at the first I took my pen in hand
oF H Thus for to write, I did not understand
a % That I at all should make a little book
2 § In such a mode; nay, I had undertook
To make another; which when almost done,
Before I was aware, I this begun.
And thus it was: I, writing of the way
And race of saints, in this our Gospel day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,
In more than twenty things which I set down :
This done, I twenty more had in my crown ;
And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
Pll put you by, yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out
The book that I already am about.
Well, so I did; but yet I did not think
To show to all the world my pen and ink
In such a mode; I only thought to make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my neighbor: no, not I ;
I did it my own self to gratify.
Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my seribble; nor did I intend
But to divert myself in doing this
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss,
Thus I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white ;
For, having now my method by the end,
Still as I pulled, it came; and so I penned
It down; until it came at last to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.
Well, when I thus had put mine ends together,
I showed them others, that I might see whether
They would condemn them or them justify :

(21)
22

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.

And some said, “ Let them live ;” some, “ Let them die ;””
Some said, “ John, print it;” others said, “ Not so;”
Some said “Tt might do good ;” others said, “ No.”
Now was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me:
At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided,
I print it will, and so the case decided.
For, thought I, some, I see, would have it done,
Though others in that channel do not run:
To prove, then, who advisdd for the best,
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.
I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it, these to gratify,
I did not know but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight.
For those which were not for its coming: forth,
I said to them, Offend you I am loth.
Yet, since your brethren pleastd with it be,
Forbear to judge till you do further see.
If that thou wilt not read, let it alone:
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone,
Yea, that I might them better palliate,
I did too with them thus expostulate :
“ May I not write in such a style as this?
In such a method, too, and yet not miss
My end—thy good? Why may it not be done?
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none,
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops,
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either,
But treasures up the fruit they yield together ;
Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit
None can distinguish this from that: they suit
Her well when hungry; but, if she be full,
She spews out both, and makes their blessings null,
You see the ways the fisherman doth take
To catch the fish; what engines doth he make!
Behold how he engageth all his wits;
Also his snares lines, angles hooks and nets:
Yet fish there be that neither hook, nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine:
They must be groped for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be catched, whate’er you do.
How does the fowler seek to catch his game
By divers means! all which one cannot name:
His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell;
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK. 23

He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell
Of all his postures? Yet there’s none of these
Will make him master of what fowls he please.
Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this ;
Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss,
If that a pearl may in a toad’s head dwell,
And may be found too in an oyster-shell ;
If things that promise nothing do contain
What better is than gold; who will disdain,
That have an inkling of it, there to look,
That they may find it? Now, my little book
(Though void of all these paintings that may make
It with this or the other man to take)
Is not without those things that do excel
What do in brave but empty notions dwell.
“ Well, yet I am not fully satisfied
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried.”
Why, what’s the matter? “Tt is dark.” What though?
“But it is feignéd.” What of that? I trow
Some men, by feignéd words, as dark as mine
Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine.
“But they want solidness.” Speak, man, thy mind.
“They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind.”
Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men ;
But must I needs want solidness, because
By metaphors I speak? Were not God’s laws,
His Gospel laws, in olden time held forth
By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loth
Will any sober man be to find fault
With them, lest he be found for to assault
The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops,
And seeks to find out by what pins and loops,
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams,
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,
God speaketh to him; and happy is he
That finds the light and grace that in them be.
Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude
That I want solidness—that I am rude:
All things solid in show not solid be ;
All things in parables despise not we ;
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are, of our souls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.
The prophets uséd much by metaphors
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.

To set forth truth; yea, whoso considers
Christ, His apostles too, shall plainly see
That truths to this day in such mantles be.
Am I afraid to say that Holy Writ,
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,
Is everywhere so full of all these things—
Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs
From that same Book, that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.
Come, let my carper to his life now leok,
And find there darker lines than in my book
He findeth any ; yea, and let him know
That in his best things there are worse lines too,
May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I durst adventure ten
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines,
Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find,
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind ;
Pleases the understanding; makes the will
Submit; the memory also it doth fill
With what doth our imagination please ;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease,
Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives’ fables he is to refuse ;
But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid
The use of parables; in which lay hid
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones, that were
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.
Let me add one word more. O man of God,
Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had
Put forth my matter in another dress ?
Or that I had in things been more express ?
Three things let me propound; then I submit
To those that are my betters, as is fit.
1. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no abuse
Put on the words, things, readers; or be rude
In handling figure or similitude,
In application; but, all that I may
Seek the advance of truth this or that way.
Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave
(Example too, and that from them that have
God better pleasad, by their words or ways,
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days)
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee that excellentest are.
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK. 25

2. I find that men as high as trees will write
Dialogue-wise ; yet no man doth them slight
For writing so: indeed, if they abuse
Truth, curséd be they, and the craft they use
To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me
Which way it pleases God ; for who knows how
Better than He who taught us first to plough,
To guide our minds and pens for His design ?
And He makes base things usher in divine.

3. I find that Holy Writ in many places
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing, to set forth another.

Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother
‘Truth’s golden beams: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.
And now, before I do put up my pen,
I'll show the profit of my book, and then
Commit both thee and it unto that Hand
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand,

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize ;

It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes ;
What he leaves undone, also what he docs

It also shows you how he runs and runs

Till he uato the gate of glory comes.

It shows, too, who set out for life amain,

As if the lasting crown they would obtain ;

Here also you may sce the reason why

Shey lose their labor, and like fools do die,

This book will make a traveller of thee,

If by its counsels thou wilt ruléd he:

It will direct thee to the Holy Land,

If thou wilt its directions understand :
Yea, it will make the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.

Art thou for something rare and profitable?

Or wouldst thou see a truth within a fable?
Art thou forgetful? Or wouldst thou remember
From New Year’s Day to the last of December ?
Then read my fancies : they will stick like burrs,
And may be, to the helpless, comforters,

This book was writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect :

It seems a novelty, and yet contains

Nothing but sound and honest Gospel strains,
:
2§

VHE AUTHORS APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ?
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ?
Wouldst thou read riddles and their explanation ?

Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ?
Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see
A man 7?’ the clouds, and hear him speak to thee ?
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ?
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep ?
Wouldst thou lose thyself, and catch no harm ?
And find thyself again without a charm ?
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know’st not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not,
By reading the same lines? Oh, then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.

Joun Bunyan,



























































































































































Zoar Chapel, Southwark.

”
THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

EAI A

(27)




























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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CHRISTIAN, AS SEEN BY BUNYAN IN HIS DREAM.

“T saw a man clothed with rags.”












































































































































































































































CHAPTER I.

I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place
where was a den,* and laid me down in that place to sleep; and, as I slept, I
dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags,



standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his
hand, and a great burden upon his back.’* I looked, and saw him open the book, and
read therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled; and, not being able longer to
contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, “ What shall I do?””

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained himself as long as he could,
that his wife and children should not perceive his distress; but he could not be silent
long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind to
his wife and children; and thus he began to talk to them: “O my dear wife,” said he,
“and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by
reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am certainly informed that
this our city will be burned with fire from heaven; in which fearful overthrow, both
myself, with thee, my wife, and you, my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin,
except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found whereby we may he
delivered.” At this his relations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that
what he had said to thenr was true, but because they thought that some frenzy dis-
temper had got into his head; therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping
that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But the night
was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in
sighs and tears. So when the morning was come, they would know how he did. [Le

* Bedford jail in which Bauyan was twelve years a prisoner,
+ See reterences to the Bible at the end.

(6295)
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CHRISTIAN TELLS HIS Wirr AND CHILDREN OF HIS DIsTREss.

“At length he brake his mind to his wife and children.”























































3d
































































































CHRISTIAN’S DISTRESS OF MIND. ol

told them, Worse and worse; he also set to talking to them again; but they began to
be hardened. They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly
carriage to him: sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and some-
fines they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to his
chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he would also
walk solitary in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying; and thus for
some days he spent his time.

Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was (as he was

wont) reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as he read, he burst



out as he had done before, crying, “ What
shall I do to be saved?” ?

I saw also that he looked this way and that







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way, as if he would run; yet he stood still,
because (as I perceived) he could not tell
which way to go. I looked then, and saw a
man named Evangelist coming to him, who
asked, “Wherefore dost thou ery ?”

He answered, “Sir, I perceive by the book
in my hand, that I am condemned to die, and
after that to come to judgment;* and I find
that I am not willing to do the first,’ nor able
to do the second.” ®

Then said Evangelist, “Why not willing
to die, since this life is attended with so many



evils?” The man answered, “ Because I fear
that this burden that is upon my back will



sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall
into Tophet.** And, sir, if I be not fit to 20
to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution; and the
thoughts of these things make me cry.”

“He began to retire limself to his chamber to pray.”

Then said Evangelist, “If this be thy condition, why standest thon still?”

He answered, “ Because I know not whither to go.” Then he gave him a parchment
roll, and there was written within, “Flee from the wrath to come.” ®

The man, therefore, read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said,
“Whither must I fly?” Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a very



* Tophet bere means hell.




/

Wes



EVANGELIST POINTS CHRISTIAN TO THE WICKET-GATE,

“Do you see yonder wicket-gate?” (32)
CHRISTIAN FLEES FROM THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION. 83

wide field), “Do you see yonder wicket-gate?”’ The man said, “No.” Then said
the other, “ Do you see yonder shining light?” He said, “I think I do.” Then
‘gaid Evangelist, “Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto: so shalt
thou see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt
do.” So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not run far
from his own door, when his wife and children perceiving it, began to ery after him
to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, “Life! life!
eternal life!”™ So he looked not behind him,” but fled towards the middle of the
plain.

The neighbors also came out to see him run;” and as he ran, some mocked, others
threatened, and some cried after him to return ; and among those that did so there were
two that resolved to fetch him back by force. The name of the one was Obstinate,
and the name of the other Pliable. Now, by this time the man was got a good dis-
tance from them; but, however, they were resolved to pursue him, which they did,
and in a little time they overtook him. Then said the man, “ Neighbors, wherefore
are ye come?” They said, “To persuade you to go back with us.” But he said,
“That can by no means be: you dwell,” said he, “ in the City of Destruction, the
place also where I was born: I see it to be so; and, dying there, sooner or later, you
will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone. Be
content, good neighbors, and go along with me.”

Ozst. “What!” said Obstinate, “and leave our friends and comforts behind us?”

Curis. “ Yes,” said Christian (for that was his name), “because that all which you
forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy ;" and
if you would go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there,
where I go, is enough and to spare.” Come away, and prove my words.”

Oxsst. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them?

Curis. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away,”
and it is laid wp in heaven, and safe there,” to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on

them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book.

Oxst. “Tush!” said Obstinate, “away with your book: will you go back with us
or no?”

Ours. “No, not I,” said the other, “ because I have put my hand to the plough.”

Oxrst. Come, then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn again, and go home without him:
there is a company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that, when they take a fancy by
the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason.

Pu Then said Pliable, “ Don’t revile; if what the good Christian says is true, the
things le looks after are better than ours; my heart inclines to go with my neighbor.”

5
B4



Obstinate.

instructions about the way.

THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Oxst. What! more fools still? Be ruled
by me, and go back; who knows whither such
a brain-sick fellow will lead you? Go back, |
go back, and be wise.

Curis. Nay, but do thou come with thy
neighbor Pliable; there are such things to

be had which I spoke of, and many more

glories besides. If you believe not me, read
here in this book; and for the truth of what
is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed
by the blood of Him that made it.”

-Pur. “ Well, neighbor Obstinate,” said Pli-
able, “I begin-to come to a point; I intend
to go along with this good man, and to cast in
my lot with him. But, my good companion,
do you know the way to this desired place?”

Curis. I am directed by a man, whose
name is Eyangelist, to speed me to a little
gate that is before us, where we shall receive

Put. Come, then, good neighbor, let us be going.

Then they went both together.
“ And I will go back to my place,” said Obstinate ;
“J will be no companion of such misled, fantastical

fellows.”

Now, I saw in my dream, that, when Obstinate
was gone back, Christian and Pliable went talking
over the plain; and thus they began their discourse :

Curis. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do?
Tam glad you are persuaded to go along with me.
Had even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt
of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he
would not thus lightly have given us the back.

Purr. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are
none but us two here, tell me now further what the
things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are

going.

Ss

N
S

LIE



Pliable.
CHRISTIAN DISCOURSES WITH PLIABLE. 35

Curis. I can better conceive of them with my mind than speak of them with my
tongue; but yet, since you are desirous to know, I will read of them in my book.

Pur. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true?

Curis. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that cannot lie.”

Prt. Well said; what things are they ?

Curis. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life to be given
us, that we may inhabit that kingdom forever.”

Put. Well said; and what else?

Curis. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that will make us
shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven.”

Put. This is very pleasant; and what else?

Curis. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow; for he that is owner of the
place will wipe all tears from our eyes.”

Purr. And what company shall we have there?

Curis. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims,â„¢ creatures that shall
dazzle your eyes to look on them. There also you shall meet with thousands and ten
thousands that have gone before us to that place; none of them are hurtful, but [all]
loving and holy ; every one walking in the sight of God, and standing in His presence
with acceptance for ever. In a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden
crowns ;” there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps ;* there we shall
see men that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned
in the seas, for the love they bear to the Lord of the place,” all well, and clothed with
immortality as with a garment.”

Put. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one’s heart. But are these things to
be enjoyed? How shall we get to be sharers thereof?

Curis. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded that in this book ;”
the substance of which is, If we be truly willing to have it, He will bestow it upon us
freely,

Prt. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things; come on, let us
mend our pace.

Curis. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my back.

Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew nigh to a
very miry slough, that was in the midst of the plain; and they, being heedless, did
both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough was Despond. Here, there-
fore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian,
because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink into the mire.
36 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

Pur. Then said Pliable, “Ah! neighbor Christian, where are you now?”

Curis. “Truly,” said Christian, “I do not know.”

Prt. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his fellow, “Is this:
the happiness you have told me all this while of? If we have such ill speed at our
first setting out, what may we expect between this and our journey’s end? May I
get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me.” And
with that, he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of
the slough which was next to his own house: so away he went, and Christian saw him
no more.

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone; but still
he endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough which was farthest from his own
house, and next to the wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get out because
of the burden that was upon his back; but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to
him whose name was Help, and asked him, What he did there?

Curis. “Sir,” said Christian, “I was bid to go this way by a man called Evangelist,
who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape the wrath to come; and as
I was going there I fell in here.”

Here. But why did you not look for the steps?

Curis. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and fell in.

Hewr. Then said he, “Give me thine hand.” So he gave him his hand, and he
drew him out,” and set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way.

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, “Sir, wherefore, since over
this place is the way from the City of Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is
not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with more security?” And he said
unto me, “This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended; it is the descent
whither the scum and filth that attend conviction for sin do continually run, and there-
fore it is called the Slough of Despond ; for still, as the sinner is awakened by his lost
condition, there arise in his soul many fears, and doubts, and discouraging apprehen-
sions, which all of them get together, and settle in this place ; and this is the reason
of the badness of the ground. |

“Tt is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so bad.” His
laborers also have, by the direction of His Majesty’s surveyors, been for about these
sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have
been mended; yea, and to my knowledge,” said he, “here have been swallowed up at
least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions, of wholesome instructions, that have
at all seasons been brought from all places of the King’s dominions (and they that


























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































CHRISTIAN AND PLIABLE IN THE SLOUGH OF Desvonp.

“Christian still endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough that was farthest from his own house.” (37)
38 THE PILGRIM’?S PROGRESS.

can tell say they are the best materials to make good ground of the place), if 80 be it
might have been mended; but it is the Slough of Despond still, and so will be when
they have done what they can.

“True, there are, by the direction of the Law-giver, certain good and substantial
steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough; but at such time as this
place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth against change of weather, these steps
are hardly seen; or, if they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, step aside,
and then they are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there; but the

9? 82

ground is good when they are got in at the gate.

Now, I saw in my dream, that
by this time Pliable was got home
to his house. So his neighbors
came to visit him; and some of
them called him wise man for
coming back, and some called
him a fool for hazarding himself
with Christian ; others again did
mock at his cowardliness, saying,
“Surely since you began to ven-
ture, I would not have been so
base to have given out for a few
difficulties ;” so Pliable sat sneak-
ing among them. But at last he
got more confidence; and then
they all turned their tales, and
began to deride poor Christian
Mr. Worldly Wiseman. behind his back. And thus much

concerning Pliable.



Now, as Christian was walking solitary by himself, he espied one afar off come
crossing over the field to meet him; and their hap was to meet just as they were
crossing the way of each other. The gentleman’s name that met him was Mr. Worldly
Wiseman: he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a very great town, and also hard by
from whence Christian came. This man, then, meeting with Christian, and having
some inkling of him—(for Christian’s setting forth from the City of Destruction was
much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the
town-talk in some other places)—Mr. Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess.
WORLDLY WISEMAN’S COUNSEL. 39

of him, by beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs and groans, and the
like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian :

Worip. How now, good fellow! whither away after this burdened manner?

Curis. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I think poor creature had! And
whereas you ask me, Whither away? JI tell you, sir, Iam going to yonder wickct-
gate before me; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put into a way to be rid of my
heavy burden.

Worxp. Hast thou a wife and children ?

Curis. Yes; but Iam so laden with this burden, that I cannot take that pleasure
in them as formerly ; methinks I amas if I had none.®

Wortp. Wilt thou hearken to me, if I give thee counsel?

Curis. If it be good, £ will; for I stand in need of good counsel.

Worxp. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself rid of thy
burden ; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then; nor canst thou enjoy the
blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee till then.

Curis. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden; but get
it off myself I cannot; nor is there any man in our country that can take it off my
shoulders ; therefore am I going this way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden.

Worxp. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden?

Curis. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honorable person; his
name, as I remember, is Evangelist.

Wortp. J beshrew * him for his counsel! there is not a more dangerous and trouble-
some way in the world than is that into which he hath directed thee; and that thou
shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. Thou hast met with something, as I
perceive, already; for I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee; but that
slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way.
Hear me: Iam older than thou: thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou
goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons
darkness, and, in a word, death, and what not. These things are certainly true, having
been confirmed by many testimonies. And why should a man so carelessly cast away
himself, by giving heed to a stranger ?

Curis. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than all these
things which you have mentioned ; nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in the
way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden.

Wokrt.p. How camest thou by the burden at first ?

* Wish him ill.
40 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Curis. By reading this book in my hand.

Wortp. I thought so. And it has happened unto thee as unto other weak men,
who, meddling with things too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy distractions ;
which distractions do not only unman men, as thine I perceive have done thee, but
they run them upon desperate ventures, to obtain they know not what.

Curis. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease for my heavy burden.

Wortp. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers attend
it? Especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me), I could direct thee to the
obtaining of what thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run
thyself into. Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add that, instead of
those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content.

Curis. Sir, I pray, open this secret to me.

Wortp. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality), there dwells a gen-
tleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of very good name,
that has skill to help men off with such burdens as thine is from their shoulders; yea,
to my knowledge he hath done a great deal of good this way; aye, and besides, he
hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To
him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is not quite a mile
from this place; and if he should not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man
to his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gen-
tleman himself. There, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden; and if thou art
not minded to go back to thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee),
thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee in this village, where there are
houses now standing empty, one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable rate; provi-
sion is there also cheap and good; and that which will make thy life the more happy
is, to be sure there thou shalt live by honest neighbors, in credit and good fashion.

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he concluded, “If this be
true which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice;” and
with that, he thus further spake :

Curis. Sir, which is my way to this honest man’s house?

Wortp. Do you see yonder high hill?

Curis. Yes, very well.

Wortp. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come at is his.

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality’s house for help; but,
behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that side of
it that was next the wayside did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to ven-
CHRISTIAN ADMONISHED BY EVANGELIST. 41

ture farther, test the hill should fall on his head; wherefore there he stood still, and
wotted not what to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was
in his way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made Christian afraid
that he should be burnt: here, therefore, he sweat and did quake for fear.” And
now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly Wiseman’s counsel ; and with
that, he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom he began to
blush for shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer; and, coming up to him, he
looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus began to reason
with Christian :

Evan. “What dost thou here, Christian?” said he; at which words Christian knew
not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. Then said
Evangelist further, “Art thou not the man that I found crying without the walls of the
City of Destruction ?”

Curis. Yes, dear sir, I am the man.

Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate ?

Curis. “ Yes, dear sir,” said Christian.

Evan. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned aside? Tor thou art now
out of the way.

Curis. I met with a gentleman as soon as I had got over the Slough of Despond,
who persuaded me that 1 might, in the village before me, find a man that could take
off my burden.

Evan. What was he?

Curis. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and got me at last to
yield: so I came hither, but when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I
suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my head.

Evan. What said that gentleman to you?

Curis. Why, he asked me whither I was going, and I told him.

Evan. And what said he then?

Curis. He asked me if I had a family, and I told him. But, said I, T am so laden
with the burden that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly.
Evan. And what said he then ? .

Chris. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him it was case
that I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate to receive further
direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So he said that he would show
me a better way, and short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, that you
sent me in; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman’s house that hath skill

6
42 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

to take off these burdens. So I believed him, and turned out of that way into this, if
haply I might soon be eased of my burden. But, when I came to this place, and
beheld things as they are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger; but I now know
not what to do.

Evan. Then said Evangelist, “Stand still a little, that I may show thee the words
of God.” So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, “See that ye refuse not him
that speaketh ; for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much
more shall not we escape, if we turn away from Him that speaketh from heaven.” *
He said, moreover, “ Now, the just shall live by faith; but if any man draw back,

my soul shall have no pleasure in him.” ”

He also did thus apply them: ‘Thou art
the man that art running into misery; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the
Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of pee even almost to the
hazarding of thy perdition.”

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, “ Woe is me, for I am undone!”
At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, “All manner
of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men.”* “Be not faithless, but believ-
ing.’* ‘Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first,
before Evangelist.

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, “Give more earnest heed to the things that I
shall tell thee of. I will now show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who it was
also to whom he sent thee. That man that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman; and
rightly is he so called; partly because he savoreth only of the doctrine of this world‘*
(therefore he always goes to the town of Morality to church), and partly because he
loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him from the Cross ;*! and because he is of this
carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways, though right. Now there are
three things in this man’s counsel that you must utterly abhor :

“1. His turning thee out of the way.

“2. His laboring to render the Cross odious to thee.

“3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto the administration of death.

“ First,—Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way ; yea, and thine own con-
senting thereto; because this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel
of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, ‘Strive to enter in at the strait gate,’ the
gate to which I send thee; ‘for strait is the gate which leadeth unto life, and few there
be that find it’* From this little wicket-gate, and from the way thereto, hath this
wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost to destruction; hate, therefore,
his turning thee out of the way, and abhor thyself for hearkening to him.
EVANGELIST REPROVES CHRISTIAN. 43

“ Secondly,—Thou must abhor his laboring to render the Cross odious unto thee ;
for thou art to prefer it before the treasures of Egypt.“ Besides, the King of Glory
hath told thee that he that will save his life shall lose it; and he that comes after im,
and hates not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters,
yea, and his own life also, he cannot be His disciple.” I say, therefore, for man to
labor to persuade thee that that shall be thy death, without which the Truth hath said
thou canst not have eternal life, this doctrine thou must abhor.

“Thirdly,—Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that leadeth to the
ministration of death. And for this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and
also how unable that person was to deliver thee from thy burden.

“ He to whom. thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is the son of the
bondwoman which now is, and is in bondage with her children ;* and is in a mystery
this Mount Sinai, which thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she with her
children is in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made free? This
Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet
ever rid of his burden by him; no, nor ever is like to be: ye cannot be justified by
the works of the law; for by the deeds of the law no man living ean be rid of his bur-
den. Therefore, Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat; and,
for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but an hypocrite, and
cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard
of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from
the way in which I had set thee.” After this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens
for confirmation of what he had said; and with that there came words and fire out of
the mountain under which poor Christian stood, which made the hair of his flesh stand
up. The words were thus pronounced: “As many as are of the works of the law are
under the curse; for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in ali things
which are written in the book of the law to do them.” ”

Now, Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out lamentably ;
even cursing the time in which he met with Mr. Worldly Wiseman ; still calling him-
self a thousand fools for hearkening’ to his counsel. He also was greatly ashamed to
think that this gentleman’s arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the
prevalency with him so far as to cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he
applied himself again to Evangelist, in words and sense as follows :

Curis. Sir, what think you? Isthere any hope? May I now go back, and go up to the
wicket-gate? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back from thence ashamed ?
I am sorry I have hearkened to this man’s counsel; but may my sins be forgiven ?
44 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, “Thy sin is very great, for by it thou hast
committed two evils: thou hast forsaken the way that is gocd, to tread in forbidden
paths. Yet will the man at the gate receive thee, for he has good will for men; only,”
said he, “take heed that thou turn not aside again, lest thou perish from the way, when

his wrath is kindled but a little.”

CHAPTER II.



| HEN did Christian address himself to go back; and Evangelist, after he had
kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God speed; so he went on with

haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor, if any asked him, would

he vouchsafe them an answer.

He went like one that was all the while tread-

ing on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe, till again he was



























“When Christian was stepping in, the other gave
him a pull.”



got in the way which he had left to follow Mr.
Worldly Wiseman’s counsel: so in process
of time, Christian got up to the gate. Now,
over the gate there was written, “Knock, and
it shall be opened unto you.”

He knocked, therefore, more than once or
twice, saying:

‘“May I now enter here? Will He within
Open to sorry me, though I have been
An undeserving rebel? Then shall I
Not fail to sing His lasting praise on high.”

At last there came a grave person to the
gate named Goodwill, who asked who was
there, and whence he came, and what he would
have ?

Curis. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I
come from the City of Destruction, but am
going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered
from the wrath to come; I would therefore,
GOODWILL POINTS OUT THE WAY. 45

sir, since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing
to let me in.
Goon. “I am willing with all my heart,” said he ; and, with that, he opened the gate.
So, when Christian was stepping in, the



other gave him a pull. Then said Christian,
“ What means that?” The other told hin,
“A little distance from this gate there 1s
erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is
the captain; from whence both he and they
that are with him shoot arrows at those that
come up to this gate, if haply they may die
before they can enter in.” Then said Chris-
tian, “I rejoice and tremble.” So when he was
got in, the man of the gate asked him who
directed him thither.

Curis. Evangelist bid me come hither and
knock, as I did; and he said that you, sir,
would tell me what I must do.



Goop. An open door is set before thee, and
no man can shut it.
Curis. Now I begin to reap the benefit of



my hazards. « Beelzebub and they that are with him shoot arrows.”

Goop. But how is it that you came alone?

Curis. Because none of my neighbors saw their danger, as I saw mine.

Goop. Did any of them know you were coming? ’

Curis. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after me to turn
again; also some of my neighbors stood crying and calling after me to return; but I
put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my way.

Goop. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back?

Curis. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable: but, when they saw that they could not
prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but Pliable came with me a little way.

Goop. But why did he not come through ?

Curis. We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of Despond,
into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbor Pliable discouraged,
and would not venture farther. Wherefore, getting out again on the side next his
46 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

own house, he told me I should possess the brave country alone for him: so he went
his way, and I came mine; he after Obstinate, and I to this gate.

Goop. Then said Goodwill, “ Alas, poor man! is the celestial glory of so little
esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few difficulties
to obtain it?”

Curis. “ Truly,” said Christian, “I have said the truth of Phiable; and if I should
also say the truth of myself, it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him and
myself. “Tis true, he went on back to his own house; but I also turned aside to g0
into the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argument of one Mr.
Worldly Wiseman.” :

Goop. Oh! did he light upon you? What! he would have had you seek for ease
at the hands of Mr. Legality! They are both of them a very cheat. But did you
take his counsel ? ;

Curis. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr. Legality, until I thought that
the mountain that stands by his house would have fallen upon my head: wherefore
there I was forced to stop.

Goop. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of many
more; it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.

Curis. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there, had not Evan-
gelist happily met me again as I was musing in the midst of my dumps; but it was
God’s mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I
am come, such a one as I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than thus to
stand talking with my Lord. But, oh! what a favor this is to me, that yet I am
admitted entrance here!

Goop. We make no objections against any, notwithstandin g all that they have done
before they come hither; they in no wise are cast out.” And therefore, good Chris-
tian, come a little with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look
before thee: dost thou see this narrow way? That is the way thou must go. It was
cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ and His apostles, and it is as straight as a
rule can make it: this is the way thou must go.

Curis. “ But,” said Christian, “are there no turnings nor windings by which a
stranger may lose his way ?”

Goop. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are crooked and
wide; but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being
straight and narrow.”

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further if he could not help him
THE INTERPRETER’S HOUSE. 47

off with his burden that was upon his back. or as yet he had not got rid thereof,
nor could he by any means get it off without help.

He told him, “ As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou comest to the place
of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of itself.”

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey.

So the other told him that by that he was gone some distance from the gate, he
would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, and he
would show him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and he
again bid him God speea.

Then he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, where he knocked
over and over. At last one came to the door, and asked who was there.

Curis. Sir, here is a traveller who was bid by an acquaintance of the good man of
this house to call here for his profit ; I would therefore speak with the master of the house.

So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came to Christian,
and asked him whac he would have.

Curis. “Sir,” said Christian, “I am a man that am come from the City of Destrue-
tion, and am going to Mount Zion; and I was told by the man that stands at the gate
at the head of this way, that, if I called here, you would show me excellent things, such
as would be helpful to me on my journey.”

{wrer. Then said the Interpreter, “Come in; I will show thee that which will be
profitable to thee.” So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian
follow him; so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door; the
which when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hung up
against the wall; and this was the fashion of it: it had eyes lifted up to heaven, the
best of books in its hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world was
behind its back; it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang
over its head.

Curis. Then said Christian, “ What meaneth this?”

Iyrrr. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand. He can say, in the
words of the apostle, ‘Though ye have ten thousand instructcrs in Christ, yet have
you not many fathers; for in Christ Jesus I have begotten you through the Gospel.
My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you.” ™
And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his
hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips, it is to show thee that his work is to know
and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded
with men. And whereas thou seest the world is cast behind him, and that a crown
48 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

hangs over his head; that is to show thee that, slighting and despising the things that
are present, for the love that he hath to his Master’s service, he is sure in the world
that comes next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have
showed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the only man
whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be thy guide,
in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in thy way; wherefore take good heed to
what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy
journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down
to death. |

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlor, that was full
of dust, because never swept; the which after he had reviewed it a little while, the
Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began
so abundantly to fly about that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then
said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, “ Bring hither water, and sprinkle the
room ;” the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.

Curis. Then said Christian, “ What means this?”

Inrer. The Interpreter answered, “This parlor is the heart of a man that was
never sanctified by the sweet grace of the Gospel. The dust is his original sin, and
inward corruptions that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first
is the law; but she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now,
whereas thou sawest that, as soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about
that the room could not by him be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked there-
with ; this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working)
from sin, doth revive,” put strength into, and increase it in the soul,” even as it doth
discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to subdue. Again, as thou sawest
the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure ;
this is to show thee, that when the Gospel comes, in the sweet and gracious influences
thereof, to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by
sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made
clean through the faith of it, and, consequently, fit for the King of Glory to in-
habit.”

I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the hand, and had
him into a little room where sat two little children, each one in his own chair. The
name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed
to be much discontented, but Patience was very quict. Then Christian asked, “What
is the reason of the discontent of Passion?” The Interpreter answered, “ The governor
THE INTERPRETER’S HOUSE. 49

of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of next year; but
he will have all now. Patience is willing to wait.”

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure, and
poured it down at his feet; the which he took up, and rejoiced therein, and withal
laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but awhile, and he had lavished all away,
and had nothing left him but rags.

Cur. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, “Expound this matter more fully to me.”

Inter. So he said, “These two lads are figures: Passion, of the men of this world;
and Patience, of the men of that which is to come: for, as here thou seest, Passion will
have all now, this year, that is to say in this world; so are the men of this world: they
must have all their good things now; they cannot stay till the next year, that is, until
the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, ‘A bird in the hand is worth
two in the bush,’ is of more authority with them than all the Divine testimonies of the
good of the world tocome. But, as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away,
and had presently left him nothing but rags, so will it be with all such men at the end
of this world.”

Curis. Then said Christian, ‘‘ Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom, and that
upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also because
he will have the glory of his when the other has nothing but rags.”

Inter. Nay, you may add another; to wit, the glory of the next world will never
wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason
to laugh at Patience because he had his good things at first, as Patience will have to
laugh at Passion, because he had his best things last; for first must give place to last,
because last must have his time to come; but last gives place to nothing, for there is
not another to succeed: he, therefore, that hath his portion first, must needs have a
time to spend it; but he that hath his portion last, must have it lastingly ; therefore it
is said of Dives, “In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus
evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.” ”

Curtis. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are now, but to wait for
things to come.

Inter. You say truth; “for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things
that are not seen are eternal.”** But, though this be so, yet, since things present and
our fleshly appetite are such near neighbors one to another; and again, because things
to come and carnal sense are such strangers one to another ; therefore it is, that the first
of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued between the

second.”
7
50 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand and led
him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it, always
casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter.

Curis. Then said Christian, “ What means this?”

Ixrer. The Interpreter answered, “This fire is the work of grace that is wrought
in the heart: he that casts water upon it to extinguish and put it out, is the devil;
but, in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also
see the reason of that.” So then he had him about to the other side of the wall, where
he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually
cast, but secretly, into the fire.

Curis. Then said Christian, “ What means this?”

Tyrer. The Interpreter answered, “ This is Christ, who continually, with the oil of
His grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart; by the means of which
notwithstanding what the devil can do, the souls of His people prove gracious still.”
And in that thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire; this
is to teach thee, that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is main-
tained in the soul.”

I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him into a
pleasant place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful to behold, at the sight of
which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw also upon the top thereof certain
persons walking, who were clothed all in gold.

Then said Christian, ‘‘ May we go in thither?”

Then the Interpreter took him and led him up toward the door of the palace; and
behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not.
There also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and
his ink-horn before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein; he saw
also that in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being resolved to do to
the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian
somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men,
Christian saw aman of a very stout countenance come up to the man that sat there
to write, saying, “ Set down my name, sir:” the which when he had done, he saw the
man draw his sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon
the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force; but the man, not at all dis-
couraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So that, after he had received and
given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out,” he cut his way through
them all and pressed forward into the palace; at which there was a pleasant voice
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“Tam now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, asin this iron cage.” (51)
52 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

heard from those that were within, even of those that walked upon the top of the
palace, saying :
“Come in, come in;
Eternal glory thou shalt win.”’

So he went in, and was clothed in such garments as they. Then Christian smiled, .
and said, “I think verily I know the meaning of this.”

“Now,” said Christian, “let me go hence.” “Nay, stay,” said the Interpreter,
“ until I have showed thee a little more; and after that thou shalt go on thy way.”
So he took him by the hand again, and led him into a very dark room, where there
sat a man in an iron cage.

Now, the man, to look on, seemed very sad. He sat with his eyes looking down to
the ground, his hands folded together; and he sighed as if he would break his heart.
Then said Christian, “ What means this?” At which the Interpreter bid him talk
witn the man. .

Then said Christian to the man, “ Whatartthou?” The man answered, “Iam what
J was not once.”

Curis. What wast thou once?

Man. The man said, “I was once a fair and flourishing professor,” both in mine
own eyes, and also in the eyes of others; I was once, as I thought, fair for the Celestial
City, and had even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither.”

Curis. Well, but what art thou now?

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this iron cage. I
cannot get out. Oh, now I cannot!

Curis. But how camest thou in this condition ?

Man. I left off to watch and be sober. I laid the reins upon the neck of my lusts ;
I sinned against the light of the Word. and the goodness of God; I have grieved the
Spirit, and He is gone; I tempted the devil, and he has come to me; T have provoked.
God to anger, and He has left me; I have so hardened my heart that I cannot repent.

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, “But are there no hopes for such a man as
this?” “Ask him,” said the Interpreter.

Curis. Then said Christian, “Is there no hope, but you must be kept in the iron
cage of despair?”

Man. No, none at all.

Curis. Why? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.

Man. I have crucified Him to myself afresh.* I have despised His person.” I
have despised His righteousness; I have counted His blood an unholy thing; I have
THE DREAM OF THE JUDGMENT. 53

done despite to the Spirit of grace.” Therefore I have shut myself out of all the
promises, and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings, dreadful tnreatenings,
fearful threatenings of certain judgment and fiery indignation, which shall deyour me
as an adversary.

Curis. For what did you bring yourself into this condition ?

Man. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world; in the enjoyment of which
I did then promise myself much delight ; but now every one of those things also bite
me, and gnaw me, like a burning worm.

Curis. But canst thou not now repent and turn?

Man. God hath denied me repentance. His Word gives me no encouragement to
believe ; yea, Himself hath shut me up in this iron cage; nor can all the men in the
world let me out, O eternity ! eternity ! how shall I grapple with the misery that I
must meet with in eternity ?

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, “Let this man’s misery be remem-
bered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.”

Curis. “ Well,” said Christian, “ this is fearful! God help me to watch and be sober,
and to pray, that I may shun the cause of this man’s misery. Sir, isit not time for me
to go on my way now?”

Inter. Tarry till I show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on thy way.

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber, where there
was one rising out of bed; and, as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled.
Then said Christian, “ Why doth this man thus tremble?” The Interpreter then bid
him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began, and said, “This night,
as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold, the heavens grew exceeding black; also
it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I
looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate; upon which I
heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a Man sitting upon a cloud, attended
with the thousands of heaven ; they were all in flaming fire; also the heavens were in
a burning flame. I heard then a great voice saying, ‘Arise, ye dead, and come to
judgment. And with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were
therein came forth: some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward ; and some
thought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw the Man that sat upon
the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of
a fierce flame that issued out and came before Him, a convenient distance betwixt Him
and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar.“ I heard it also pro-
claimed to them that attended on the Man that sat on the cloud, ‘Gather together the














































































































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CHRISTIAN BEFORE THE OROoss,
“His burden fell off his back, and began to tumble.” ; (54)
THE DREAM OF THE JUDGMENT. 00

tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake.” And, with that,
the bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out of the mouth of which there

came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was



also said to the same persons, ‘Gather my
wheat into the garner.” And, with that, I

\

r Q¢ ans raat A A CANE aN WN \ “
saw many catched up ant ones ara) into | i ow \ 7 i,
the clouds; but I was left behind.” [ also a iN 0 H
sought to hide myself, but I could not; for | a AC “40
S ; RK \ f ae
the Man that sat upon the cloud still kept iN a aa)
His eye upon me; my sins also came into my |e. Ss Ae Ne
mind, and my conscience did accuse me on ae TE
‘

every side.”

Upon this I awakened from my
sleep.”

Curis. But what was it that made you so
afraid of this sight ?

Man. Why I thought that the day of judg-

ment was come, and that I was not ready for





it. But this affrighted me most, that the
angels gathered up several, and left me be-
hind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth





just where I stood. My conscience, too, af-

: ©The bottomless pit opened just whereabout T stood.”
theced me;sand sas lthought. the Judge=lad. —9 be) Mths en
always His eye upon me, showing indignation in His countenance.

Iyrrer. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, “ Hast thou considered these things?”

Curis. Yes; and they put me in hope and fear.

Tyrer. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they may be as a goad in thy sides,
to prick thee forward in the way thou must go.

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey.
Then said the Interpreter, “The Comforter be always with thee, good Christian, to
guide thee into the way that leads to the city.’

So Christian went on his way, saying,

‘Here have T seen things rare and profitable ;
Things pleasant, dreadful; things to make me stable
Tn what [ have begun to take in hand;
Then Iet me think on them, and understand
Wherefore they showed me where ; and let me be
Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee.”’
56 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

CHAPTER ITI.

‘OW, I saw in my dream that the highway up which Christian was to go was fenced



}[, on either side with a wall that was called Salvation.” Up this way, therefore,
E> did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the
load on his back.

He ran thus till he came to 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 water 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 a change of raiment;" the third also
set a mark on his forehead,” and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bade
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 laden 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 ?
Blest cross! blest sepulchre! blest rather be
The Man that was there put to shame for me!”? °

I saw then in my dream that he went on thus, even until he came to the bottom,
where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their
heels. The name of one was Simple, of another Sloth, and of the third Presumption.

Christian, then, seeing them lie in unis case, went to them, if peradventure he might


























































































































































































































































































































CHRISTIAN AND THE ANGELS.

“ Behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and saluted him.” (ar
58 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

awake them, and cried, “ You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast; for the
deep sea is under you, a gulf 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 reply in this sort: Simple
said, “I see no danger.” Sloth said, “ Yet a little more sleep.” And Presumption
said, “ Every tub must stand upon his own bottom.” And so they lay down to sleep
again, and Christian went on his way.
Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so little esteem the
‘es, kindness of him that so offered to help them,
both by awakening of them, counselling of
them, and proffering to help them off with
their irons. And, as he was troubled there-
about, he espied two men come tumbling over








the wall on the left hand of the narrow way;

Bie pote,

EOS

and they made up apace to him. The name

VM

Be?



of one was Formalist, and the name of the



er.

other was Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew
up unto him, who thus entered with them
into discourse :

\i Curis. Gentlemen, whence came you, and

Soe

od

whither go you?

Form. and Hyp. We were born in the land

Loe
a

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~ of Vain-glory, and are going for praise to

IN

eS Sy Ms. = eS ' :
‘ Ge SS Mount Zion.
; ae Mn Curis. Why came you not in at the gate
ante which standeth at the beginning of the way ?

Know ye not that it is written, “He that
cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a
robber” ?%

Form. and Hyp. They said that to go to the gate for entrance was, by all their
countrymen, counted too far about; and that therefore their usual way was to make a
short cut of it, and to climb over the wall as they had done.

Curis. But will it not be counted a tresspass against the Lord of the city whither
we are bound, thus to violate His revealed will ?

Form and Hyp. They told him, that as for that, he needed not trouble his head
FORMALITY AND HYPOCRISY. 59

thereabout ; for what they did they had custom for, and could produce, if need were,
testimony that could witness it for more than a thousand years.

Curis. “ But,” said Christian, “will it stand a trial at law?”

Form. and Hyp. They told him that custom, it being of so long standing as above
a thousand years, would doubtless now be admitted as a thing legal by an impuartial
judge. “And besides,” said they, “if we get into the way, what matter is it which
way we may get in? If we are in, we are in: thou art but in the way, who, as we
perceive, came in at the gate; and we are also in the way, that came tumbling over
the wall: wherein, now, is thy condition better than ours?”

Curis. I walk by the rule of my Master; you walk by the rude working of your
fancies. You are counted thieves already by
the Lord of the way ; therefore I doubt you
will not be found true men at the end of the
way. Youcome in by yourselves without His
direction, and shall go out by yourselves with-
out His mercy.

To this they made him but little answer; NY
only they bid him look to himself. Then I i
saw that they went on every man in his way,




re
Somer Lt
a

Ses
Lie

ee

ee

without much conference one with another ;
save that these two men told Christian, that,

as to law and ordinances, they doubted not but
that they should as conscientiously do them
as he. “Therefore,” said they, “we see not
wherein thou differest from us, but by the coat
which is on thy back, which was, as we trow,
given thee by some of thy neighbors to hide

Hypocrisy.

the shame of thy nakedness.”

Curis. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came not in by the
door." And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given to me by the Lord of
the place whither I go; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I
take it as a token of His kindness to me; for I had nothing but rags before. And
besides, thus I comfort myself as I go. Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of
the city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have His coat on my back :
a coat that He gave me freely in the day that He stripped me of my rags. I have,
moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no notice, which
60 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

one of my Lord’s most intimate associates fixed there the day that my burden fell off
my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to
comfort me by reading as I go in the way; I was also bid to give it in at the celestial
gate, in token of my certain going in after it; all which things, I doubt, you want,
and want them because you came not in at the gate.

‘To these things they gave him no answer ; only they looked upon each other, and
laughed. Then I saw that they went on all, save that Christian kept before, who had
no more talk but with himself, and sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably ;
also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by
which he was refreshed.

I beheld then that they all went on till they came to the foot of the Hill Difficulty,
at the bottom of which was a spring. There were also in the same place two other
ways, besides that which came straight from the gate; one turned to the left hand,
and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up
the hill, and the name of that going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian
now went to the spring,® and drank thereof to refresh himself, and then began to go
up the hill, saying,

“The hill, though high, I covet to ascend ‘
The difficulty will not me offend,
For I perceive the way to life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart, let’s neither faint nor fear.

Better, though dificult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe,”’

The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when they saw that the hill
was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go; and supposing also
that these two ways might meet again with that up which Christian went, on the other
side of the hill; therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now, the name of
one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one
took the way which is‘called Danger, which led him into a great wood; and the other
took directly up the way to destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of dark
mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose no more.

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up 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 arbor, 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 ;








CHRISTIAN CLIMBING THE Hin or Dirricunry.

“He fell from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place.”
(G1)
62 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

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 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 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 amain: the



name of the one was Timorous, and of the

“He stumbled and fell, and rose no more.”

other Mistrust ; to whom Christian said, “ Sirs,
what’s 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.”

Curis. Then said Christian, “You make
me afraid ; but whither shall I fly to be safe?
If I go back to my own country, that is pre-
pared for fire and brimstone, and I shall cer-
tainly perish there; if I can get to the Celes-
tial City, Iam gure to be in safety there: I



must venture. To go back is nothing but “He at last fell into a slumber.”
CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS ROLI. 63

death ; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it. TI will yet go
forward.” So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his
way. But, thinking again of what he heard from the men, he felt in his bosom
for his roll, and found it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not
what to do; for he wanted that which
used to relieve him, and that which
should have been his pass into the
Celestial City. Here, therefore, he
began to be much perplexed, and
knew not what to do. At last he
bethought himself that he had slept
in the arbor that is on the side of
the hill; and, falling down upon his
knees, he asked God’s forgiveness for
that his foolish act, and then went
back to look for his roll. But all
the way he went back, who can
sufficiently set forth the sorrow of
Christian’s heart? Sometimes he
sighed, sometimes he wept, and often-
times he chid himself for being so
foolish to fall asleep in that place,
which was erected only for a little
refreshment from his weariness.
Thus, therefore, he went back, care-
fully looking on this side and on
that, all the way as he went, if hap-
pily he might find his roll that had
been his comfort so many times in



his journey. He went thus till he

Mistrust.

came again within sight of the arbor
where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing
again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping into his mind.” Thus, therefore, he now went
on, bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, “O wretched man that I am, that I should sleep
in the day-time; that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I should so indulge
the flesh, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh which the Lord of the hill hath
64 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims! How many steps have I taken
in vain! Thus it happened to Israel; for their sin they were sent back again by the
way of the Red Sea; and Iam made to tread those steps with sorrow which I might
have trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might I have
been on my way by this time! I
am made to tread those steps
thrice over which I needed not
to have trod but once; yea, also,
now I am like to be benighted,
for the day is almost spent. Oh
that I had not slept!”

Now, by this time he was come
to the arbor again, where for
awhile he sat down and wept;
but at last (as Providence would
have it), looking sorrowfully
down under the settle, there he
espied his roll, the which he, with
trembling and haste, catched up,
and put it into his bosom. But
who can tell how joyful this man
was when he had gotten his roll
again? for this roll was the assur-
ance of his life and acceptance at
the desired haven. Therefore he
laid it up in his bosom, giving
thanks to God for directing his
eye to the place where it lay, and
with joy and tears betook himself



again to his journey. But oh,
Timorous. 7

how nimbly now did he go up the

rest of the hill! Yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian; and this

made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; and thus he

began again to condole with himself, “Oh, thou sinful sleep! how for thy sake am I

like to be benighted in my journey. I must walk without the sun, darkness must

cover the path of my feet, and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because
WATCHFUL THE PORTER. 65

of my sinful sleep!” Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorots
told him, of how they were frighted with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian
to himself again, “These beasts range in the night for their prey; and if they should
meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them? how should I escape being torn
in pieces?” Thus he went on his way. But, while he was thus bewailing his un-
happy miscarriage, he lifted up his eyes, and behold, there was a very stately palace
before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood just by the highway side.



So I saw in my dream that he made haste, [~~ Fe
and went forward, that, if possible, he might
get lodging there. Now, before he had gone
far, he entered into a very narrow passage,
which was about a furlong off the Porter’s
lodge; and looking very narrowly before him
as he went, he espied two lions in the way.
Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mis-
trust and Timorous were driven back by.



(The lions were chained, but he saw not the
chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought
also himself to go back after them; for he
thought nothing but death was before him.
But the Porter at the lodge, whose name is
Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a



halt as if he would go back, cried out unto




him, saying, “Is thy strength so small? ® fear





not the lions, for they are chained, and are Ce
placed there for the trial of faith where it is,

and for the discovery of those that have none: keep in the midst of the path, and no
hurt shall come unto thee.”

Then I saw that he went on trembling for fear of the lions; but, taking good heed
to the directions of the Porter, he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. Then
he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate where the
Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, “Sir, what house is this? and nay |
lodge here to-night?”

The Porter answered, ‘ This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and He built
it for the relief and security of pilgrims.” ‘The Porter also asked whence he was, and
whither he was going.














































































































































































































































































































































































































































CHRISTIAN ShES LIONS IN HIS PATH.

“The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains,” (66)
CHRISTIAN MEETS DISCRETION. 67

Curis. I am come from the City of Destructio..,and am going to Mount Zion; but,
because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night.

Port. What is your name?

Curis. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless. T came
of the race of Japhet, whom God will persuade to dwel! in the tents of Shem."

Port. But how doth it happen that you come go late? The sun is sct.

Curis. I had been here gooner, but that, wretched man that T ain, Esiept in the
arbor that stands on the hill-side. Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here much
sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came without it to the brow of
the hill; and then, feeling for it and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow of heart
to go back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I found it; and now I am come.

Porr. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will, if she likes
your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according to the rules of the house.

So Watchful the Porter rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of the door of
the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was
called.

The Porter answered, “This man is on a journey from the City of Destruction to
Mount Zion; but, being weary and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to-
night: so I told him I would eall for thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest
dlo as seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the house.”

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going; and he told her.
She asked him also how he got into the way ; and he told her. Then she asked him
what he had seen and met with on the way; and he told her. And at last she asked
his name. So he said, “It is Christian ; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge
here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill
for the relief and security of pilgrims.” So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes;
and, after a little pause, she said, “T will call forth two or three of my family.” So she
ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more
discourse with him, had him in to the family ; and many of them, mectin g him at the
threshold of the house, said, “ Come in, thou blessed of the Lord: this house was built
by the Lord of the hill on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in.” Then he bowed his
nead, and followed them into the house. So, when he was come in and sat down, they
gave him something to drink, and consented togethe., that, until supper was ready,
some of them should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best im-
provement of time ; and they appointed Piety, Prudence, and Charity to discourse with
him ; and thus they began :
68 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Pirry. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving to you to receive you
into our house this night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves thereby, talk with
you of all things that have happened to you in your pilgrimage.

Curis. With a very good will, and I am glad that you are so well disposed.

Prery. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim’s life?

Curis. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that was in mine
ears; to wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in that place where
I was. P

Prery. But how did it happen that you came out of your country this way?

Currs. It was as God would have it; for, when I was under the fears of destruction,
I did not know whither to go; but by chance there came a man even to me, as I was
trembling and weeping, whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the wicket-
gate, which else I should never have found, and so set me in the way that hath led me
directly to this house.

Prery. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter ?

Curis. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which will stick by
me as long as I live, especially three things; to wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan,
maintains His work of grace in the heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out
of hopes of God’s mercy ; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the day
of judgment was come.

Prery. Why? did you hear him tell his dream?

Curis. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought: it made my heart ache as he was
telling of it; but yet I am glad I heard of it.

Prery. Was that all you saw at the house of the Interpreter?

Curis. No; he took me, and had me where he showed me a stately palace; and
how the people were clad in gold that were in it; and how there came a venturous
man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood in the door to keep him out;
and how he was bid to come in and win eternal glory. Methought those things did
ravish my heart. J would have stayed at that good man’s house a twelvemonth, but
that I knew I had farther to go.

Prery. And what saw you else in the way?

Curtis. Saw? Why, I went but a little farther, and I saw One, as I thought in my
mind, hang bleeding upon a tree; and the very sight of Him made my burden fall off
my back; for I groaned under a very heavy burden, and then it fell down from off
me. It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before; yea, and while
I stood looking up (for then I could not forbear looking), three Shining Ones came to












































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































‘ \



AACE Door,

AJ

THe PoRTER MEETS CHRISTIAN AND CALIS Discrerion ‘ro cri P

(69)

“This man is on a journey from the City of Destruction to Mount Zion.”
70 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven me; another stripped me of my
rags,and gave me this broidered coat which you see; and the third set the mark which
you see in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll. (And, with that, he plucked it
out of his bosom.)

Prery. But you saw more than this, did you not?

Curis. The things that I have told you were the best; yet some other matters I
saw; as namely, I saw three men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a little
out of the way as I came, with irons upon their heels; but do you think I could wake
them? I also saw Formalist and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as.
they pretended, to Zion; but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them,
but they would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill,
and as hard to come by the lions’ mouths; and truly, if it had not been for the good
man the Porter, that stands at the gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might have
gone back again; but now I thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving
of me.

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer to
them.

Pru. Do you think sometimes of the country from whence you came?

Curis. Yes, but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if I had been mindful
of that country from whence I came out, I might have had an opportunity to have
returned; but now I desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one.

Pru. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were
conversant withal ?

Curis. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and carnal cogita-
tions, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. But now all
those things are my grief; and, might I but choose mine own things, I would choose
never to think of those things more; but when I would be doing that which is best,
that which is worst is with me.*

Pru. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished, which at other
times are your perplexity ?

Curis. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in which such
things happen to me.

Pru. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances, at times, as if
they were vanquished ?

Curis. Yes; when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and when I look
upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also when I look into the roll that I carry in
CHARITY CONVERSES WITH CHRISTIAN. 71

my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither Tam
going, that will do it.

Pru. And what makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?

Curis. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross; and
there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance to

7 and there I shall dwell with such company

me. ‘There, they say, there is no death ;°
as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I love Him because I was by Him cased of
my burden; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where [ shall
die no more, and with the company that shall continually ery, “ Moly, holy, holy!”

Cuar. Then said Charity to Christian, “ Have you a family? are you a married
man?”

Curis. I have a wife and four small children.

Cuar. And why did you not bring them along with you?

Curis. Then Christian wept, and said, “Oh, how willingly would [ have done it!
but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage.”

Cuar. But you should have talked to them, and endeavored to have shown them
the danger of staying behind.

Curis. So I did, and told them also what God had shown to me of the destruetion
of our city; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed me not.

Cuar. And did you pray to God that He would bless your counsel to them ?

Curis. Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that my wife and
poor children were very dear unto me.

Cuar. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of destruction? for I
suppose that destruction was visible enough to you.

Curis. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears in my coun-
tenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehension of the judgment
that did hang over our heads: but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come
with me.

Cuar. But what could they say for themselves why they came not?

Curis. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children were given
to the foolish delights of youth; so, what by one thing, and what by another, they left
me to wander in this manner alone.

Cuar. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you by words used by
way of persuasion to bring them away with you ?

Curis. Indeed, I cannot commend my life, for Lam conscious to myself of many
failings therein. I know also, that a man, by his conversation, may soon overthrow
72 . THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

what, by argument or persuasion, he doth labor to fasten upon others for their good.
Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action,
to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell
me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in which they
saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say that, if what they saw in me did hinder them,
it was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong to my
neighbor.

Cuar. Indeed, Cain hated his brother ® because his own works were evil, and his
brother’s righteous; and, if thy wife and children have been offended with thee for
this, they thereby show themselves to be implacable to good: thou hast delivered thy
soul from their blood.”

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together till supper was ready.
So, when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now, the table was furnished
with fat things, and wine that was well refined; and all their talk at the table was
about the Lord of the hill; as, namely, about what He had done, and wherefore He
did what He did, and why he had builded that house; and by what they said, I per-
ceived that He had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had
the power of death,” but not without great danger to Himself, which made me love
Him the more.

For, as they said, and as I believe (said Christian), He did it with the loss of much
blood. But that which puts the glory of grace into all He did, was, that He did it
out of pure love to this country. And, besides, there were some of them of the house-
hold that said they had seen and spoke with Him since He did die on the cross; and
they have attested that they had it from His own lips, that He is such a lover of poor
pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west. They moreover
gave an instance of what they affirmed; and that was, He had stripped Himself of
His glory, that He might do this for the poor; and that they had heard Him say and
affirm that He would not dwell in the mountains of Zion alone. They said, moreover,
that He had made many pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born,
and their original had been the dunghill.”

Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and, after they had committed
themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The Pilgrim
they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sunrising. The
name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke
and sang,
CHRISTIAN IN THE ARMORY RECEIVING HIS WEA -ONS
DISCRETION, PIETY, CHARITY AND PRUDENGE.


Tina VIRGINS | READ TO CHRISTIAN. 73

‘“Where am I now? Is this the love and care
Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are,
Thus to provide that I should be forgiven,
And dwell already the next door to heaven?”

So in the morning they all got up; and after some more discourse, they told him that
he should not depart till they had shown him the rarities of that place. And first they
had him into the study, where they showed him records of the greatest antiquity ; in
which, as | remember in my dream, they showed him first the pedigree of the Lord
of the hill, that He was the son of the Ancient of Days, and came by an eternal
generation. Here also were more fully recorded the acts that He had done, and the
names of many hundreds that He had taken into his service; and how he had placed
them in such habitations that could neither by length of days nor decays of nature be
dissolved.

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of His servants had done ;
as, how they had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped
the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out
of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies
of the aliens.”

They then read again in another part of the records of the house, where it was
shown how willing their Lord was to receive into His favor any, even any, though
they in time past had offered great affronts to His person and proceedings. Here also
were several other histories of many other famous things, of all which Christian had a
view ; as of things both ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions
of things that have their certain accomplishments, both to the dread and amazement
of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims.

The next day they took him and had him into the armory, where they showed him
all manner of furniture which their Lord had provided for pilgrims; as sword, shield,
helmet, breast-plate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And there was
here enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord as there
be stars in the heaven for multitude.

They also showed him some of the engines with which some of His servants had
done wonderful things. They showed him Moses’ rod; the hammer and nail with
which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put
to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox’s goad wherewith
Shamgar slew six hundred men. ‘They showed him also the jaw-bone with which

Samson did such mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the sling and stone
10






























































































































































































EAUTIFUL.

B

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P

yants had

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Curis

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CUARITY AND PRuDE

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Piery

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(74)

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CHRISTIAN GOES FORWARD. io

with which David slew Goliath of Gath, and the sword also with which their Lord will
kill the Man of Sin, in the day that He shall rise up to the prey. They showed him,
besides, many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. This done,
they went to their rest again.

Then I saw in my dream that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but they
desired him to stay till the next day also; “and then,” said they, “we will, if the day
be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains ;” which they said would yet further add
to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at
present he was. So he consented and stayed. When the morning was up, they had
him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he did, and behold, at a
great distance he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods,
vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to
behold.“ Then he asked the name of the country. They said it was Inmanuel’s
Land; “and it is as common,” said they, “as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims.
And when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial
City, as the shepherds that live there will make appear.”

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he should. “ But
first,” said they, “let us go again into the armory.” So they did; and when he came
there, they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest. perhaps he
should meet with assaults in the way. He being, therefore, thus accoutred, walked out
with his friends to the gate; and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass
by. Then the Porter answered, “ Yes.”

Curis. “Pray did you know him?” said he.

Port. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful.

Curis. “Oh,” said Christian, “I know him, he is my townsman, my near neighbor ;
he comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think he may be before?”

Port. He has got by this time below the hill.

Curis. “Well,” said Christian, “good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to alk
thy blessings much increase for the kindness thou has showed to me!”

Then he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and Prudence would
accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating
their former discourses, till they came to go down the hill. Then said Christian, “Ag
it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down.” “ Yes,”
said Prudence, “so it is; for it isa hard matter for a man to go down the Valley of
Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore,” said they,
76 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

“are we come out to accompany thee down the hill.” So he began to go down, but
very warily ; yet he caught a slip or two.

Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when Christian was gone down
to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of

raisins ; and then he went his way.



CHAPTER IV.

UT now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to it; for he
had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to
meet him: his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to
cast in his mind whether to go back or to stand his ground. But he considered

again that he had no armor for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back

to him might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his darts;
therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground ; for, thought he, had I no
more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand.

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now, the monster was hideous to behold:
he was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his pride; he had wings like a
dragon, and feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke; and his mouth
was as the mouth of a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with
a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question with him:

Apottyon. Whence come you, and whither are you bound ?

Curis. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place of all evil, and
am going to the City of Zion.

Avot. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects; for all that country is
mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is it, then, that thou hast run away
from thy king? Were it not that I hope that thou mayest do me more service, I would



strike thee now at one blow to the ground.

Curis. [ was indeed born in your dominions; but your service was hard, and your
wages such asa man could not live on; for the wages of sin is death ; * therefore, when
I was come to years, I did as other considerate persons do, look out, if perhaps I might
mend myself.

Avot. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, neither will I as yet
APOLLYON STAYS CHRISTIAN. 77

lose thee ; but, since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back,
and what our country will afford I do here promise to give thee.

Curis. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes; and how can
I with fairness go back with thee?

Avot. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, “ changed a bad for a worse ; ”
but it is ordinary for those that have professed themselves His servants, after awhile to
give Him the slip, and return again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well.

Curis. [have given Him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to Him; how, then,
ean I go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor?

Avot. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by all, if now thou
wilt yet turn again and go back.

Curis. What I promised thee was in my nonage [youth]; and besides, I count that
the Prince under whose banner I now stand is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon
also what I did as to my compliance with thee. And besides, O thon destroying
Apollyon, to speak the truth, I like His service, His wages, His servants, His govern-
ment, His company, and country, better than thine; therefore leave off to persuade me
further: I am His servant, and I will follow Him.

Avot. Consider again when thou art ins cold blood, what thou art likely to meet
with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the most part [Tis servants
come to an ill end, because they are transgressors against me and my ways. How
many of them have been put to shameful deaths! And besides, thou countest [is
service better than mine; whereas He never came yet from the place where He is, to
deliver any that served Him out of their hands; but as for me, how many times, as all
the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or fraud, those that have
faithfully served me, from Him and His, though taken by them! And so I will de-
liver thee.

Curis. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to try their love,
whether they will cleave to Him to the end; and, as for the ill end thou sayest they
come to, that is most glorious in their account. For, for present deliverance, they do
not much expect it; for they stay for their glory, and then they shall have it when
their Prince comes in His and the glory of the angels.

Avon. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to Him; and how dost thou
think to receive wages of Him?

Curis. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to Him?

Aron. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost choked in the
Gulf of Despond. Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas
78 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off Thou didst sinfully sleep,
and lose thy choice things. Thou wast almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the
lions. And when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard,
thou art inwardly desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest or doest.

Curis. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; but the Prince
whom I serve and honor is merciful and ready to forgive. But besides, these infirmi-
ties possessed me in thy own country ; for there I sucked them in, and I have groaned
under them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince.

Apot. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, “I am an enemy to
this Prince; I hate His person, His laws, and people. I am come out on purpose to
withstand thee.”

Curis. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King’s highway, the way of
holiness : therefore take heed to yourself,

Avot. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said,
“Tam void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die; for I swear by my infernal
den, that thou shalt go no farther: here will I spill thy soul.” And, with that, he threw
a flaming dart at his breast; but Christian held a shield in his hand, with which he
caught it, and so prevented the danger of that.

Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him; and Apollyon as
fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail, by the which, notwithstanding all
that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and
foot. This made Christian give a little back; Apollyon, therefore, followed his work
amain, and Christian again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This
sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent.
For you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker
and weaker.

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and,
wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and, with that, Christian’s sword flew out
of his hand. Then said Apollyon, “I am sure of thee now.” And, with that, he had
almost pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as God
would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end
of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, and caught it,

eccrine

saying, “Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall I shall arise;
with that, gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one that had received
his mortal wound. Christian, perceiving that, made at him again, saying, “ Nay, in

all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.” ” And,
CHRISTIAN GIVES THANKS. 79

with that, Apollyon spread forth his dragon’s wings, and sped him away, that Christian
for a season saw him no more.â„¢

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard, as f did, what
yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight: he spake like a
dragon ; and, on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian’s heart. I
never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he
had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then, indeed, he did smile and look
upward; but it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.

Curis. So, when the battle was over, Christian said, “I will here give thanks to
Him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion; to Him that did help me
against Apollyon.” And so he did, saying,



‘*Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend,
Designed my ruin: therefore to this end
He sent him harnessed out ; and he with rage
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage:
But blessed Michael helpéd me ; and T,
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly:
Therefore to Him* let me give lasting praise,
And thank and bless His holy name always.”

Then there came to him a hand with some
of the leaves of the tree of life; the which
Christian took, and applied to the wounds that
he had received in the battle, and was healed
immediately. He also sat down in that place
to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that
was given to him a little before: so, being



refreshed, he addressed himself to his jour-



ney, with his sword drawn in his hand; “For,”



he said, “T know not but some other enemy may
beat hand.” But he met with no other affront — Giving thanks for his deliverance from A alt
from Apollyon quite through this valley.

Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the Shadow of Death;
and Christian must needs go through it, because the way to the Celestial City lay
through the midst of it. Now this valley is a very solitary place; the prophet Jere-
miah thus describes it: “A wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought,

» Videren, to Goa.— Ko,
80 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

and of the shadow of death, a land that no man” but a Christian “ passeth through,
and where no man dwelt.” ®

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon, as by the
sequel you shall see.

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to the borders of the Shadow
of Death, there met him two men, children of them that brought up an evil report of
the good land, making haste to go back; to whom Christian spake as follows:

Curis. Whither are you going?

Men. They said, “Back, back! and we would have you to do so too, if either life
or peace is prized by you.”

Curis. “ Why, what’s the matter?” said Christian.

Men. “Matter!” said they: “we were going that way as you are going, and went
as far as we durst: and indeed we were almost past coming back; for had we gone a
little farther, we had not been here to bring the news to thee.”

Curis. “But what have you met with?” said Christian.

Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but that by good
hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to it.

Curis. “ But what have you seen?” said Christian.

Mey. Seen! why, the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch : we also saw there the
hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit; we heard also in that valley a continual
howling and yelling, as of a people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in
affliction and irons; and over that hung the discouraging clouds of confusion; Death
also does always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being
utterly without order.

Curis. Then said Christian, “I perceive not yet, by what you have said, but that
this is my way to the desired haven.” !

Men. Be it thy way, we will not choose it for ours.

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword drawn in his
hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted.

I saw then in my dream, as far as this valley reached, there was on the right hand
a very deep ditch; that ditch is it into which the blind have led the blind in all ages,
and have both there miserably perished. Again, behold, on the left hand there was a
very dangerous quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his
foot to stand on: into that quag King David once did fall, and had no doubt there
been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out.

‘The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow, and therefore good Christian was
THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. Sl

the more put to it; for when he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand,
he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other; also when he sought to escape
the mire, witnout great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he
went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly, for besides the danger mentioned above,
the pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lifted up his foot to go forward,
he knew not where or upon what he should set it next.

About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and it stood also



hard by the wayside. Now, thought Christian,
what shall I do? And ever and anon the
flame and smoke would come out in such
abundance, with sparks and hideous noises
(things that cared not for Christian’s sword,
as did Apollyon before), that he was forced to
put up his sword, and betake himself to another
weapon, called “ All-Prayer.”" So he cried
in my hearing, “O Lord, I beseech Thee, de-

“tt Thus he went on a great

liver my soul.
while, yet still the flames would be reaching
towards him; also he heard doleful voices, and
rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he
thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden
down like mire in the streets. This frightful
sight was seen, and those dreadful noises were
heard by him, for several miles together, and,



coming to a place where he thought he heard

“A coinpany of fiends.”

a company of fiends coming forward to meet
him, he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes he had half
a thought to go back; then again he thought he might be half-way through the valley.
He remembered, also, how he had already vanquished many a danger, and that the
danger of going back might be much more than going forward. So he resolved to eo
on; yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer, But, when they were come even
almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, “I will walk in the strength
of the Lord God.” So they gave back, and came no farther.

One thing I would not let slip: I took notice that now poor Christian was so con-
founded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it: just when he

was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind
I
82 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

him, and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blas-
phemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This
put Christian more to it than anything he had met with before, even to think that he
should now blaspheme Him that he had so much loved before. Yet, if he could have
helped it, he would not have done it; but he had not the discretion either to stop his
ears, or to Knuw from whence those blasphemies came.

When Christian had travelled -in this disconsolate condition some considerable time,
he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, “Though I walk
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death I will fear no evil; for Thou art with
TIC ee

Then he was glad, and that for these reasons :

First,—Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God were in this
valley as well as himself.

Secondly,—For that he perceived God was with them, though in that dark and
dismal state. And why not, thought he, with me, though by reason of the impedi-
ment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it ?2

Thirdly,—For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company by-and-bye.
So he went on, and called to him that was before; but he knew not what to answer,
for that he also thought himself to be alone. And by-and-bye the day broke. Then
said Christian, “He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning.” 1”

Now, morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return, but to see,
by the light of the day, what hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw
more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the
other ; also how narrow the way was which led betwixt them both. Also now he saw
the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off; for after break of
day they came not nigh; yet they were discovered to him according to that which is
written, “He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the
shadow of death.”

Now was Christian mach affected with his deliverance from all the dangers of his
solitary way ; which dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he saw them
more clearly now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him. And
about this time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to Christian; for you
must note that, though the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dan-
gerous, yet this second part, which he was yet to go, was if possible far more dangerous;
for, from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all
along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep
holes, and shelvings down there, that, had it now been dark, as it was when he came
S_ A

Hh



CHRISTIAN MEETS A COMPANY OF FIENDS IN THE VALLEY OF TITE SWADOW OF Dari.

“One of the wicked ones got behind him, and whisperingly suggested many grivvous hlasphemies to him.’ (83)
84

the first part of the way, had he had a
away. But, as I said just now, the s
shineth on my head, and by His light I

THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

thousand souls, they had in reason been cast
un was rising. Then said he, “His candle

go through darkness,” ™®

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now, I saw in my dream

that at the end of the valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even

of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly; and, while I was musing what should be

the reason, I espied a little before me









“ He can now do little more than sit in his cave’s mouth,
grinning at pilgrims,”

a cave, where two giants, Popr and Pagan,
dwelt in old time; by whose power and
tyranny, the men whose bones, blood, ashes,
ete, lay there, were cruelly put to death.
But by this place Christian went without
danger, whereat I somewhat wondered ; but I
have learnt since, that Pagan has been dead
many a day; and, as for the other, though
he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, also
of the many shrewd brushes that he met with
in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff
in his joints, that he can now do little more
than sit in his cave’s mouth, grinning at pil-
grims as they go by, and biting his nails be-
cause he cannot come at them.

So I saw that Christian went on his way ;
yet, at the sight of the old man that sat at the
mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to
think, especially because he spoke to him,
though he could not go after him, saying,
“You will never mend till more of you be

burned.” But he held his peace, and set a good face on it, and so went by and

catched no hurt. Then sang Christian,

“Oh, world of wonders

(I can say no less),

That I should be preserved in that distress

That I have met with
That hand that from i

here! Oh, blessed be
t hath delivered me!

Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin,

Did compass me, whil
Yea, snares, and pits,

e I this vale was in;
and traps, and nets did lie

My path about, that worthless, silly I

Might have been catched, entangled, and cast down ;

But, since [ live, let Jesus wear the crown.”
CHRISTIAN FIRST SEES FAITHFUL. 85

CHAPTER V.

| OW as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent which was cast up



on purpose that pilgrims might see before them: up there, therefore, Christian
SS went; and looking forward, he saw Faithful before him upon his journey.

Then said Christian aloud, “Ho, ho! so-ho! stay, and I will be your com-
panion.” At that Faithful looked behind him; to whom Christian cried, “Stay, stay,
till I come up to you.” But Faithful answered, “No, Iam upon my lite, and the
avenger of blood is behind me.”.

At this Christian was somewhat moved; and putting to all his strength, he quickly
got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him: so the last was first. Then did Chris-
tian vain-gloriously smile, because he had gotten the start of his brother; but, not
taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not. rise again
until Faithful came up to help him.

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on together, and had sweet dis-
course of all things that had happened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus Christian
began :

Curis. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that T have over-
taken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as companions
in this so pleasant a path.

Farru. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company quite from our town;
but you did get the start of me, wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the way
alone.

Curis. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction before you set out after
me on your pilgrimage ? |

Farr. Till I could stay no longer; for there was great talk, presently after you
were gone out, that our city would, in a short time, with fire from heaven, be burned
down to the ground.

Curis. What! did your neighbors talk so?

Farr. Yes; it was for a while in everybody’s mouth.

Curis. What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape the danger ?

Farrn. Though there was, 9s I said, a great talk thereahout, yet I do not think they
did firmly believe it. For, in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them derid-
ingly speak of you, and of your desperate journey; for so they called this your pil-








































































































































CHRISTIAN AND Farrurun JoIn Company.

“He could not rise again until Faithful came up to help him,”
WHAT WAS SAID IN THE CITY. 87

grimage. But I did believe, and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and
brimstone from above; and therefore I have made my escape.

Curis. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable ?

Farru. Yes, Christian; I heard that he followed you till he eame to the Slough of
Despond, where, as some said, he fell in; but he would not be known to have so done;
but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt.

Curis. And what said the neighbors to him?

Farry. He hath, since his going back, been held greatly in derision, and that among
all sorts of people: some do mock and despise him, and scarce any will set him on
work. He is now seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the city.

Curis. But why should they be so set against him, since they also despise the way
that he forsook ?

Farrn. “Oh,” they say, “hang him; he is a turncoat! he was not true to his pro-
fession!” I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at him and make him
a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way.”

Curis. Had you no talk with him before you came out?

Farr. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the other side, as one
ashamed of what he had done; so I spake not to him.

Curis. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that man, but now I fear he will
perish in the overthrow of the city. For it has happened to him according to the true
proverb, “The dog is turned to his vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her
wallowing in the mire.” ™

Farru. These are my fears of him too; but who can hinder that which will be?

Curis. “Well, neighbor Faithful,” said Christian, “let us leave him, and tall of
things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now what you have met
with in the way as you came; for I know you have met with some things, or else it
may be writ for a wonder.”

Farru. I escaped the slough that I perceive you fell into, and got up to the gate
without that danger; only I met with one whose name was Wanton, that had like to
have done me a mischief.

Curis. It was well you escaped her net: Joseph was hard put to it by her, and le
escaped her as you did; but it had like to have cost him his life"? But what did she
do to you?

Farrn. You cannot think (but that you know something) what a flattering tongue
she had; she lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner of
content.
83 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

Curis. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience.

Farru. You know what I mean—all carnal and fleshly content.

Curis. Thank God you have escaped her: the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into
her diteh.â„¢

Farru. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no.

Curis. Why, I trow you did not consent to her desires?

Farru. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing that I had seen,
which saith, “ Her steps take hold of hell.”"* So I shut mine eyes, because I would

not be bewitched with her looks.”

Then she railed on me, and I went my way.

Curis. Did you meet with no other assault as you came?

Fairy. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with a very
aged man, who asked me what I was and whither bound. I told him that I was a
pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old man, “ Thou lookest like an
honest fellow: wilt thou be content to dwell with me, for the wages that I shall give
thee?” Then I asked him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was
Adam the First, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit.“* J asked him then what
was his work, and what the wages that he would give. He told me that his work was
many delights; and his wages, that I should be his heir at last. J further asked him
what house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he told me that his house
was maintained with all the dainties of the world, and that his servants were those of
his own begetting. Then I asked him how many children he had. He said that he
had but three daughters, the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride
of Life," and that I should marry them if I would. Then I asked, how long time
he would have me live with him? And he told me, As long as he lived himself.

Curis. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last ?

Farru. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I
thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with him, I saw
there written, “ Put off the old man with his deeds.”

Curis. And how then?

Farrn. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, and however he
flattered, when he got me home to his house he would sell me for a slave. So I bid
him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door ef his house. Then he reviled
me, and told me that he would send such a one after me that should make my way
bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from him; but, just as I turned myself to
go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that
I thought he had pulled part of me after himself: this made me cry, “O wretched
FAITHFUL AND ADAM THE FIRST. 89

man!” So I went on my way up the hill. Now, when I had got about half-way
up, I looked behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind; go he over-
took me just about the place where the settle stands.

Curis. “ Just there,” said Christian, “did I sit down to rest me; but being overeome
with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my bosom.”

Farru. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, he was
but a word and a blow; for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead But, when I
was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said,
because of my secret inclining to Adam the First. And, with that, he struck me
another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backwards; so I lay at his feet
as dead as before. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy; but he said,

’ and, with that, he knocked me down again. He

“T know not how to show mercy ;’
had doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by, and bid him forbear.

Curis. Who was that that bid him forbear ?

Farrx. I did not know him at first; but, as He went by, I perceived the holes in
His hands and His side; then I concluded that He was our Lord. So I went up the hill.

Curis. That man that overtook you was Moses. Hespareth none, neither knoweth
he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law.

Farra. I know it very well: it was not the first time that he has met with me. It
was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he wouid
burn my house over my head if I stayed there.

Curis. But did not you see the house that stood there, on the top of that hill on the
side of which Moses met you?

Farrn. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. But, for the lions, I think they
were asleep, for it was about noon; and because I had so much of the day before me,
I passed by the Porter, and came down the hill.

Curis. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by; but I wished you had called at
the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities, that you would scarce
have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell me, did you meet nobody
in the Valley of Humility ?

Fairu. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have persuaded me
to go back again with him: his reason was, for that the valley was altogether without
honor. He told me, moreover, that there to go was the way to disoblige all my
friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-Conceii Worldly-Glory, with others, who he knew,
as he said, would be very much offended if I made such a fool of myself as to wade

through this valley.
12
90 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Curis. Well, and how did you answer him?

Farr. I told him that, although all these that he named might claim kindred of
me, and that rightly (for, indeed, they were my relations according to the flesh), yet,
since I became a pilgrim, they have disowned me, as I also have rejected them; and
therefore they were to me now no more than if they had never been of my lineage. I
told him, moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing; for
before honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a fall, « Therefore,” said I, “I
had rather go through this valley to the honor that was so accounted by the wisest, than
choose that which he esteemed most worthy
of our affections.”

Curis. Met you with nothing else in that
valley ?

Farru. Yes, I met with Shame; but, of all
the men that I met with in my pilgrimage, he,
I think, bears the wrong name. The other
would be said nay, after a little argumentation
and somewhat else; but this bold-faced Shame
would never have done.

Curis. Why, what did he say to you?

Farra. What? why, he objected against
religion itself, He said it was a pitiful, low,
sneaking business for a man to mind religion.
He said that a tender conscience was an
unmanly thing; and that for a man to watch
over his words and ways, so as to tie up him-
self from that hectoring liberty that the brave
spirits of the times accustom themselves unto,
would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but a few of the
mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my opinion; nor any of them neither, before they
were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness, to venture the loss of all



Discontent.

for nobody else knows what."°™ He, moreover, objected the base and low estate
and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived;
also their ignorance, and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did
hold me to it at that rate also, about a great many more things than here I relate; as,
that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to come
sighing and groaning home; that it was a shame to ask my neighbor forgiveness for






PRIDE. ARROGANCY. SELF-CONCEIT. WoORLDLY-GLORY. (91)
92 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

petty faults, or to make restitution where I had taken from any. He said also that
religion made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices (which he called
by finer names), and made him own and respect the base, because of the same religious
fraternity ; “and is not this,” said he, “a shame?”

Curis. And what did you say to him?

Farru. Say? I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he put me so to it that my
blood came up in my face; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me
quite off. But at last I began to consider that that which is highly esteemed among
men is had in abomination with God. And I thought again, This Shame tells me
what men are, but it tells me nothing what God, or the Word of God, is. And I
thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life
according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law
of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best—is best, though all the
men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers His religion ; seeing
God prefers a tender conscience ; seeing they that make themselves fools for the king-
dom of heaven are wisest, and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the
greatest man in the world that hates Him; Shame, depart! thou art an enemy to my
salvation. Shall I entertain thee against my sovereign Lord? how, then, shall I look
Him in the face at His coming?â„¢ Should I now be ashamed of His way and ser-
vants, how can I expect the blessing? But, indeed, this Shame was a bold villain: I
could scarce shake him out of my company ; yea, he would be haunting of me, and
continually whispering me in the ear with some one or other of the infirmities that
attend religion. But at last I told him it was but in vain to attempt further in this
business ; for those things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory; and so, at
last, I got past this importunate one. And when I had shaken him off, then I began
to sing,

“The trials that those men do meet withal,
That are obedient to the heavenly call,
Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,
And come, and come, and come again afresh :
That now, or some time else, we by them may
Be taken, overcome, and cast away.

Oh, I-t the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then,
Be vigilant and quit themselves like men le

Curis. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villain so bravely : for
of all,as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for he is so bold as to follow us
in the streets, and to attempt to put us to shame before all men ; that is, to make us
TALKATIVE OVERTAKEN. 93

ashamed of that which is good. But, if he was not himself audacious, he would never
attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him; for, notwithstanding all his
bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else. “The wise shall inherit glory,” said
Solomon; “ but shame shall be the promotion of fools.” ™

Farts. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame who would have us
to be valiant for truth upon the earth.

Curis. You say true. But did you meet nobody else in that valley?

Farru. No, not I; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through that, and also
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Curis. It was well for you! [am sure it fared far otherwise with me. J had for a
long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that
foul fiend Apollyon; yea, I thought verily he would have killed me, especially when
he got me down, and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces.
For, as he threw me, my sword flew out of my hand; nay, he told me he was sure of
me; and I cried to God, and He heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles.
Then I entered into the Vailey of the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost
half the way through it. I thought I should have been killed there over and over:
but at last day broke, and the sun rose, and I went through that which was behind
with far more ease and quiet.

Moreover, I saw in my dream that, as they went on, Faithful, as he chanced to look
on one side, saw a man whose name is Talkative walking at a distance beside them ;
for in this place there was rcom enough for them all to walk. He was a tall man, and
something more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed
himself in this manner:

Farru. Friend, whither away? Are you going to the heavenly country ?

Tak. I am going to that same place.

Farru. That is well; then I hope we may have your good company.

Tank. With a very good will will I be your companion.

Fairu. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in dis-
coursing of things that are profitable.

Tarx. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with you or with
any other; and I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a work ;
for, to speak the truth, there are but few who care thus to spend their time as they are
in their travels, but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit ; and this
has been a trouble to me.

Farru. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented; for what things so worthy of the
94 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of
heaven ?

Tax. I like you wonderfully well, for your saying is full of conviction ; and IJ will
add, What thing is so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God?
What things so pleasant? that is, if a man hath any delight in things that are wonder-
ful. For instance, if a man doth delight to talk of the history or the mystery of things,
or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he find things
recorded so delightful, or so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture ?

Farru. That’s true; but to be profited by such things in our talk should be that
which we design.

Tat. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things is most profitable; for, by so
doing, aman may get knowledge of many things; as of the vanity of earthly things,
and the benefit of things above. Thus in general; but more particularly, by this a
man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need
of Christ’s righteousness, etc. Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent,
to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like; by this, also, a man may learn what are the
great promises and consolations of the Gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this
a man may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct
the ignorant.

Farr. All this is true; and glad am I to hear these things from you.

Tak. Alas! the want of this is the cause that so few understand the need of faith,
and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life; but igno-
rantly live in the works of the law, by which a man can by no means obtain the king-
dom of heaven.

Farru. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of God; no man
attaineth to them by human industry, or only by the talk of them.

Tar. All that I know very well, for a man can receive nothing except it be given
him from heaven ; all is of grace, not of works. I could give youa hundred scriptures
for the confirmation of this. 3 ;

Farry. “ Well, then,” said Faithful, “what is that one thing that we shall at this
time found our discourse upon?”

Tarx. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly or things earthly ; things
moral or things evangelical; things sacred or things profane; things past or things to
come; things foreign or things at home; things more essential or things circumstan-
tial; provided that all be done to our profit.

Farru. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and, stepping to Christian (for he
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96 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

walked all this while by himself), he said to him, but softly, “ What a brave companion
have we got! Surely this man will make a verv excellent pilgrim.”

Curis. At this Christian modestly smiled, anu said, “This man with whom you are
so taken will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not.”

Fartu. Do you know him, then?

Crris. Know him? Yes, better than he knows himself.

Fairu. Pray what is he?

Curis. His name is Talkative; he dwelleth in our town. I wonder that you should
be a stranger to him: only I consider that our town is large.

Farra. Whose son is he? and whereabout doth he dwell?

Curis. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in Prating Row, and is known to
all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating Row; and not-
withstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow.

Parra. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.

Curis. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him, for he is
best abroad; near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man
brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the painter, whose pictures
show best at a distance, but very near more unpleasing.

Parra. But Iam ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled.

Curis. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) in this matter, or that I
should accuse any falsely. I will give you a further discovery of him. This man is
for any company, and for any talk. As he talketh now with you, so will he talk when
he is on the ale-bench; and the more drink he hath in his crown, the more of these
things he hath in his mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or con-
versation: all he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise there-
with.

Farrn. Say youso? Then am I in this man greatly deceived.

Curts. Deceived! you may be sure of it. Remember the proverb, “They say, and
do not;” but the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. He talketh of
prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth; but he knows but only to talk
of them. I have been in his family, and have observed him both at home and abroad,
and I know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of religion as the
white of an egg is of savor. There is there neither prayer nor sign of repentance for
sin; yea, the brute, in his kind, serves God far better than he. He is the very stain,
reproach, and shame of religion to all that know him. It can hardly have a good
word in all that end of the town where he dwells, through him. Thus say the com-
TALKATIVE SELF-DECEIVED. 97

mon people that know him: “A saint abroad, and a devil at home.” His poor family
finds it so: he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his servants,
that they neither know-how to do for or speak to him. Men that have any dealings
with him say, it is better to deal with a Turk than with him, for fairer dealing they
shall have at their hands. This Talkative, if it be possible, will go beyond them,
defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to follow his
steps; and, if he findeth in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first
appearance of a tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads, and by no
means will employ them in much, or speak to their commendation before others. For
my part, I am of opinion that he has, by his wicked life, caused many to stumble and
fall, and will be, if God prevent not, the ruin of many more.

Farru. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you, not only because you say you
know him, but also because like a Christian you make your reports of men. For I
cannot think you speak these things of ill-will, but because it is even so as you say.

Curis. Had J known him no more than you, I might, perhaps, have thought of him
as at first you did ; yea, had he received this report at their hands only that are enemies
to religion, I should have thought it had been a slander, a lot that often falls from bad
men’s mouths upon good men’s names and professions. But all these things, yea, and
a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge I can prove him guilty of. Besides,
good men are ashamed of him: they can neither call him brother nor friend ; the very
naming of him among them makes them blush, if they know him.

Farrn. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I shall
better observe this distinction.

Curis. They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul and the
body ; for, as the body without the soul is but a dead carcase, so saying, if it be alone,
is but a dead carcase also. The soul of religion is the practical part. “Pure religion
and undefiled before God and the Father ig this, to visit the fatherless and the widows
in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.”™ This, Talkative
is not aware of: he thinks that hearing and saying will make a good Christian, and
thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed; talking is
not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life. And let us assure
ourselves that, at the day of doom, men shall be judged according to their fruits.” Tt
will not be said then, Did you believe? but, Were you doers, or talkers only? and
accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is compared to our harvest ;â„¢
and you know men at harvest regard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be
accepted that is not of faith; but I speak this to show you how insignificant the pro-

fession of Talkative will be at that day.
18
98 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Farru. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he described the beast that
is clean.”? He is such a one that parteth the hoof and cheweth the cud; not that
parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but
yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. And this truly resembleth Talkative :
he cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the Word; but he divideth

“not the hoof, he parteth not with the way of sinners, but, as the hare, retaineth the
foot of the dog or bear, and therefore he is unclean.

Curis. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true Gospel sense of those texts.
_And I will add another thing: Paul calleth some men, yea, and those great talkers
too, sounding brass and tinkling cymbals; that is, as he expounds them in another
place, things without life, giving sound. Things without life; that is, without the true
faith and grace of the Gospel, and, consequently, things that shall never be placed in
the kingdom of heaven among those that are the children of life; though their sound,
by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice of an angel.

Fairu. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as sick of it now.
What shall we do to be rid of him?

Curis. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find that he will soon
be sick of your company too, except God shall touch his heart and turn it.

Farra. What would you have me to do?

Curis. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse about the power of
religion, and ask him plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will) whether
this thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation.

Fartx. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative, “Come, what
cheer? How is it now?”

Tatx. Thank you, well: I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this
time.

Fatrx. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and, since you left it with me to
state the question, let it be this: How doth the saving grace of God discover itself
when it is in the heart of man?

Tax. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of things. Well, it
is a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you. And take my answer
in brief, thus. First, where the grace of God is in the heart, it causeth there a great
outery against sin. Secondly,—

Farru. Nay, hold; let us consider of one at once. I think you should rather say,
it shows itself by inclining the soul to abhor its sin.

Tarik. Why, what difference is there between crying out against and abhorring of sin?
FAITHFUL DISPUTES WITH TALKATIVE. 99

Fairn. Oh! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin of poltey; but he can-
not abhor it but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it. IT have heard many ery out
against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and
conversation. Joseph’s mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very
chaste; but she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness

with him.

Some ery out against sin, even as the mother eries out against her child
in her lap, when she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and
kissing it.

Tax. You lie at the catch, I perceive.

Farrn. No, not I; I am only for setting things right. But what is the second
thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of grace in the heart?

Taxx. Great knowledge of Gospel mysteries.

Fartu. This sign should have been first; but, first or last, it is also false; for knowl-
edge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of the Gospel, and yet no work
of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and
so, consequently, be no child of God.’ When Christ said, “Do ye know all these
things?” and the disciples had answered, ‘“ Yes,” He added, “ Blessed are ye if ye do
them.” He doth not lay the-blessing in the knowledge of them, but in the doing of
them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing: “ He that knoweth
his master’s will, and doeth it not.” A man may know like an angel, and yet be no
Christian ; therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to know is a thing that
pleaseth talkers and boasters; but to do is that which pleaseth God. Not that the
heart can be good without knowledge, for, without that, the heart is naught. There
is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge: knowledge that resteth in the bare specula-
tion of things, and knowledge that is accompanied with the grace and faith of love,
which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the heart. The first of these
will serve the talker ; but without the other the true Christian is not content. “Give me
understanding, and I shall keep Thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart.”

Tatk. You lie at the catch again: this is not for edification.

Farru. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this work of grace dis-
covereth itself where it is.

Tax. Not I; for I see we shall not agree.

Farrn. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it?

Tatx. You may use your liberty.

Farrn. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself eithe: to him that hath it or
to standers by.
100 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

To him that hath it thus: It gives him conviction of sin, especially of the defile-
ment of his nature and the sin of unbelief; for the sake of which he is sure to be
damned, if he findeth not mercy at God’s hand by faith in Jesus Christ. This sight
and sense of things worketh in him sorrow and shame for sin.“ He findeth, more-
over, revealed in him the Saviour of the world, and the absolute necessity of closing
with Him for life; at the which he findeth hungerings and thirstings after Him; to
which hungerings, ete., the promise is made. Now, according to the strength or weak-
ness of his faith in his Saviour, so are his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so
are his desires to know Him more, and also to serve Him in this world. But, though
I say it discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that he is able to conclude
that this is a work of grace ; because his corruptions now, and his abused reason, make
his mind to misjudge in this matter: therefore in him that hath this work there is
required a very sound judgment, before he can with steadiness conclude that this is a
work of grace.’

To others it is thus discovered :

1. By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ. 2. By a life answerable to
that confession ; to wit, a life of holiness—heart holiness, family holiness (if he hath a
family), and by conversation holiness in the world: which in the general teacheth him
inwardly to abhor his sin, and himself for that, in secret; to suppress it in his family,
and to promote holiness in the world; not by talk only, as a hypocrite or talkative
person may do, but by a practical subjection in faith and love to the power of the
Word.’ And now, sir, as to this brief description of the work of grace, and also the
discovery of it, if you have aught to object, object ; if not, then give me leave to pro-
pound to you a second question.

TaLk. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear ; let me, therefore, have your
second question.

Farru. It is this: Do you experience the first part of this description of it? And
do your life and conversation testify the same? Or standeth your religion in word or
in tongue, and not in deed and in truth? Pray, if you incline to answer me in this,
say no more than you know the God above will say Amen to, and also nothing but what
your conscience can justify you in; for not he that commendeth himself is approved,
but whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when my con-
versation and all my neighbors tell me I lie, is great wickedness.

atx. Then Talkative at first began to blush; but, recovering himself, thus he
_ replied ; “ You come now to experience, to conscience, and God; and to appeal to Him
for justification of what is spoken. This kind of discourse I did not expect ; nor am
TALKATIVE PARTS COMPANY. 101

I disposed to give an answer to such questions, because I count not myself bound
thereto, unless you take upon you to be a catechizer ; and though you should do so,
yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But, I pray, will you tell me why you ask
me such questions? ”

Farr. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that you had
aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have heard of you that you
are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation gives this your mouth-
profession the lie. They say you are a spot among Christians, and that religion farcth
the worse for your ungodly conversation; that some already have stumbled at your
wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby : your religion,
and an alehouse, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and vain
company-keeping, etc., will stand together. The proverb is true of you which is said
of a whore ; to wit, that “she is a shame to all women;” so you are a shame to all
professors.

Tax. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge so rashly as you do, I
cannot but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed
with ; and so adieu.

Curis. Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, “I told you how it would
happen ; your words and his lusts could notagree. He had rather leave your company
than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said: let him go; the loss is no man’s but
his own: he has saved us the trouble of going from him ; for he continuing (as I sup-
pose he will do) as he is, he would have been but a blot in our company. Besides, the
Apostle says, ‘ From such withdraw thyself, ”

Fairn. But I am glad we had this little discourse with him ; it may happen that he
will think of it again: however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of hig
blood, if he perisheth.

Curis. You did well to talk so plainly to him as youdid. There is but little of this
faithful dealing with men now-a-days; and that makes religion to stink so in the
nostrils of many as it doth; for they are these talkative fools, whose religion is only in
word, and are debauched and vain in their conversation, that, being so much admitted
into the fellowship of the godly, do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve
the sincere. I wish that all men would deal with such as you have done; then should
they either be made more comformable to religion, or the company of saints would be
too hot for them.

Fairx. Then did Faithful say,
10% THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

‘* How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes!
How bravely doth he speak! How he presumes
To drive down all before him! But so soon
As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon
That's past the full, into the wane he goes;
And so will all but he who heart-work knows.”’

Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by the way, and so made that
way easy, which would otherwise, no doubt, have been tedious to them; for now they
went through a wilderness.

CHAPTER VI.

Â¥ OW, when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful chanced
to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after him, and he knew him.
“Oh!” said Faithful to his brother, “who comes yonder?” Then Christian

looked, and said, “It is my good friend Evangelist.” “Ay, and my good



friend too,” said Faithful; “ for it was he that set me the way to the gate.” Now was
Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted them :

ivan. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and peace be to your helpers.

Curis. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist: the sight of thy countenance
brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied laboring for my
eternal good.

Farru. “And a thousand times welcome,” said good Faithful: “thy company, O
sweet Evangelist, how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims!”

Evan. Then said Evangelist, “ How hath it fared with you, my friends, since the
time of our last parting? What have you met with, and how have you behaved
yourselves ?”

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had happened to them in
the way ; and how, and with what difficulty, they had arrived to that place.

Evan. “Right glad am I,” said Evangelist, “not that you met with trials, but that
you have been victors, and for that you have, notwithstanding many weaknesses, con-
tinued in the way to this very day. I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for
my own sake and yours. I have sowed, and you have reaped; and the day is coming
when ‘both he that sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together ;’'" that is, if

2 138

you hold out; ‘for in due season you shall reap, if you faint not. The crown is
EVANGELIST EXHORTS CHRISTIAN. 108

before you, and it is an uncorruptible one: so run that you may obtain it.” Some
there be that set out for this crown, and after they have gone far for it, another comes
in and takes it from them: ‘ Hold fast, therefore, that you have; let no man take your
crown.’ ‘You are not yet out of the gunshot of the devil; you have not yet ‘ resisted
unto blood, striving against sin.’ Let the kingdom be always before you, and believe
steadfastly concerning things that are invisible. Let nothing that is on this side the
other world get within you. And, above all, look well to your own hearts, and to the
lusts thereof; for they are ‘ deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Set
your faces like a flint: you have all power in heaven and earth on your side.”

Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation, but told him withal that they
would have him speak further to them, for their help the rest of the way ; and the
rather, for that they well knew that he was a prophet, and could tell them of things
that might happen unto them, and also how they might resist and overcome them. ‘To
which request Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as followeth :

Evan. My sons, you have heard, in the words of the truth of the Gospel, that you
must “through many tribulations enter into the kingdom of heaven ;” and again, that
“in every city bonds and afflictions await you;” and therefore you cannot expect that
you should go long on your pilgrimage without them in some sort or other. You have
found something of the truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more will
immediately follow; for now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness, and
therefore you will soon come into a town that you will by-and-by sce before you; and
in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but they will
kill you ; and be you sure that one or both of you must seal the testimony which you
hold with blood: but be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you a crown
of life. He that shall die there, although his death will be unnatural, and his pain,
perhaps, great, he will yet have the better of his fellow ; not only because he will bz
arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he will escape many miseries that the
other will meet with in the rest of his journey. But when you are come to the town,
and shall find fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit
yourselves like men, and commit the keeping of your souls to God in well-doing, as
unto a faithful Creator.

Then I saw in my dream, that, when they were got out of the wilderness, they
presently saw a town before them, and che name of that town is Vanity; and at the
town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all the year long. It heareth
the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, and
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CHRISTIAN Enters THE Town oF VANITY Farr.

rhe t “At the town there is a fair kept. called Vanity Fair.’* : (104°
THE PILGRIMS REACH THE TOWN OF VANITY. 105

also because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity; as is the saying of
the Wise, “ All that cometh is vanity.” ™

This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of ancient standing. I will show
you the original of it.

Almost five thousand years ago, there were pilgrims walking to the Celestial City,
as these two honest persons are; and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their
companions, perceiving by the path that the pilgrims made that their way to the city
lay through this town of Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair; a fair wherein
should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long. Therefore
at this fair are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands, trades, places, honors, pre-
ferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures, and delights of all sorts, as whores,
bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver,
gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not.

And, moreover, at this fair there are at all times to be seen jugglings, cheats, games.
plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of every kind.

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false
swearers, and that of a blood-red color.

And, as in other fairs of less moment there are several rows and streets under their
proper names, where such and such wares are vended; so here likewise you have the
proper places, rows, streets (namely, countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this
fair are soonest to be found. Here are the Britain Row, the French Row, the Italian
Row, the Spanish Row, the German Row, where several sorts of vanities are to be
sold. But, as in other fairs some one commodity is as the chief of all the fair, so the
ware of Rome and her merchandise are greatly promoted in this fair; only our English
nation, with some others, have taken dislike thereat.

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through this town where this
lusty fair is kept; and he that would go to the city, and yet not go through this town,
“must needs go out of the world.” The Prince of princes Himself, when here, went
through this town to His own country, and that upon a fair day too; yea, and as I
think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited Him to buy of his
vanities; yea, would have made Him lord of the fair, would He but have done Him
reverence as He went through the town. Yea, because He was such a person of honor,
Beelzebub had Him from street to street, and showed Him all the kingdoms of the
world in a little time, that he might, if possible, allure that Blessed One to cheapen

and buy some of his vanities; but He had no mind to the merchandise, and therefore
14
106 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

left the town without la»ing out so much as one farthing upon these vanities.“* This
fair, therefore, is an ancient thing of long-standing, and a very great fair.

‘Now, these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair. Well, so they did;
but, behold, even as they entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved
and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them, and that for several reasons;
for,

First,—The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was diverse from
the raiment of any that traded in that fair. The people, therefore, of the fair, made a
great gazing upon them: some said they were fools; some, they were bedlams; and
some, they were outlandish men.â„¢

Secondly,—And, as they wondered at their apparel, so they did likewise at their
speech ; for few could understand what they said. They naturally spoke the language
of Canaan; but they that kept the fair were the men of this world. So that from one
ond of the fair to the other, they seemed barbarians each to the other.

Thirdly,—But that which did not a little amuse the merchandisers was, that these
pilgrims set very light by all their wares. They cared not so much as to look upon
them ; and if they called upon them to buy, they would put their fingers in their ears,
and look upwards, signify-

and ery, ‘Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity,”

ing that their trade and traffic were in heaven.

One chanced, mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men, to say unto them,
“What will you buy?” But they, looking gravely upon him, said, “ We buy the
truth.” At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men the more: some
mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some calling on others to
smite them. At last things came to a hubbub and great stir in the fair, insomuch
that all order was confounded. Now was word presently brought to the great one of
the fair, who quickly came down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take
these men into examination about whom the fair was almost overturned. So the men
were brought to examination; and they that sat upon them asked them whence they
came, whither they went, and what they did there in such an unusual garb. The men
told them that they were pilgrims and strangers in the world, and that they were going
to their own country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem,“* and that they had given
no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them,
and to let them in their journey, except it was for that, when one asked them what
they would buy, they said they would buy the truth. But they that were appointed
to examine them did not believe them to be any other than bedlams and mad, or else
such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore they took them


IVERSIDE PRESS

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THE PILGRIMS AT VANITY FAIR. ; 107

and beat them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then put them into the cage, that
they might be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair. There, therefore, they lay
for some time, and were made the objects of any man’s sport, or malice, or revenge;
the great one of the fair laughing still at all that befell them. But, the men being
patient, and “not rendering railing for railing, but contrariwise blessing,” and giving
good words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that were
more observing and less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and blame the baser
sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men. They, therefore, in an
angry manner, let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the men in the cage, and
telling them that they seemed confederates, and should be made partakers of their
misfortunes. The others replied, that, for aught they could see, the men were quiet and
sober, and intended nobody any harm; and that there were many that traded in their
fair that were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the
men that they had abused. Thus, after divers words had passed on both sides (the
men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and soberly before them), they fell
to some blows, and did harm to one another. Then were these two poor men brought
before their examiners again, and there charged as being guilty of the late hubbub
that had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them,
and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example and terror to others, lest
any should speak in their behalf, or join themselves unto them. But Christian and
Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and shame
that were cast upon them with so much meekness aad patience, that it won to their
side (though but few in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the fair. This
put the other party in yet a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of
these two men. Wherefore they threatened that neither cage nor irons should serve
their turn, but that they should die for the abuse they had done, and for deluding the
men of the fair.

Then were they remanded to the cage again, until further order should be taken with
them. So they put them in, and made their feet fast in the stocks.

Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful
friend Evangelist, and were more confirmed in their way and sufferings, by what he
told them would happen to them. They also now comforted cach other, that whose
lot it was to suffer, even he should have the best of it; therefore each man secretly
wished he might have that preferment. But, committing themselves to the all-wise
disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the condition

in which they were, until they should be otherwise disposed of.
108 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to their trial, in
order to their condemnation, When the time was come, they were brought before
their enemies, and arraigned. The judge’s name was Lord Hate-good: their indict-
ment was one and the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form; the
contents whereof were this: “That they were enemies to and disturbers of their trade ;
that they had made commotions and divisions in the town, and had won a party to
their own most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their prince.”

Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself against that which fad
set itself against Him that is higher than the highest. “And,” said he, “as for dis-
turbance, I make none, being myself a man of peace ; the parties that were won to us,
were won by beholding our truth and innocence, and they are only turned from the
worse to the better. And, as to the king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy
of our Lord, I defy him and all his angels.”

Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught to say for their lord the kin g
against the prisoner at the bar should forthwith appear and give in their evidence. So
there came in three witnesses; to wit, Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank. They were
then asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar, and what they had to say for their
lord the king against him.

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect: “ My lord, I have known this man
a long time, and will attest upon my oath before this honorable bench that he is—”

JupcE. Hold! Give him his oath.

Envy. So they sware him. Then said he, “ My lord, this man, notwithstanding his
plausible name, is one of the vilest men in our country. He neither regardeth prince
nor people, law nor custom, but doth all that he can to possess all men with certain of
his disloyal notions, which he in the general calls principles of faith and holiness. And
in particular, I heard him once myself affirm that Christianity and the customs of our
town of Vanity were diametrically opposite, and could not be reconciled, By which
saying, my lord, he doth at once not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in
the doing of them.”

Jupex. Then did the judge say to him, “ Hast thou any more to say ?”

Envy. My lord, I could say much more, only I would not be tedious to the court.
Yet, if need be, when the other gentlemen have given in their evidence, rather than
anything shall be wanting that will dispatch him, I will enlarge my testimony against
him. So he was bid stand by.

Then they called Superstition, and bade him look upon the prisoner. They also








































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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Th li
wl HERR Fo Coro

Lorp Hatre-Goop. (109)


410 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

asked what he could say for their lord the king against him. Then they sware him:
so he began:

Super. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor do I desire to
have further knowledge of him. However, this I know, that he is a very pestilent
fellow, from some discourse the other day that I had with him in this town; for then,
talking with him, I heard him say that our religion was naught, and such by which a
man could by no means please God. Which saying of his, my lord, your lordship very
well knows what necessarily thence will follow; to wit, that we still do worship in
vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned: and this is that which I have
to say.

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew, in behalf of their lord the
king, against the prisoner at the bar. .

Pick. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I have known a long time, and
have heard him speak things that ought not to be spoken, for he hath railed on our
noble Prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken contemptuously of his honorable friends,
whose names are, the Lord Old-man, the Lord Carnal-Delight, the Lord Luxurious,
the Lord Desire-of-Vain-Glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with ail
the rest of our nobility ; and he hath said, moreover, that, if all men were of hig mind,
if possible there is not one of these noblemen should have any longer a being in this
town. Besides, he has not been afraid to rail on you, my lord, who are now appointed
to be his judge, calling you an ungodly villain, with many other such-like vilifying
terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town.

Jupée. When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge directed his speech to the
prisoner at the bar, saying, “Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor! hast thou heard what
these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee?”

Farrn. May I speak a few words in my own defense ?

JupGe. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain immediately
upon the place; yet, that all men may see our gentleness towards thee, let us hear
what thou, vile runagate, hast to say.

Hairy. 1. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken, I have never said
aught but this, that what rule, or laws, or custom, or people were flat against the
Word of God, are diametrically opposite to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this,
convince me of my error, and I am ready here before you to make my recantation.

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition and his charge against me, I said only
this, that in the worship of God there is required a divine faith. But there can be no
divine faith without a divine revelation of the will of God. Therefore, whatever is




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Pickthank. (111)
THREE WITNESSES.
112 THE PILGRIMS FROGRESS.

thrust into the worship of God that is not agreeable to divine revelation, cannot be
done but by a human faith, which faith will not profit to eternal life.

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding terms, as that I am said to
rail, and the like), that the prince of this town, with all the rabblement his attendants,
by this gentleman named, are more fit for a being in hell than in this town and country.
And so the Lord have mercy upon me!

Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by to hear and observe),
“Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about whom so great an uproar hath been
made in this town; you have also heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed
against him; also you have heard his reply and confession. It lieth now in your
breast to hang him or to save his life; but yet I think meet to instruct you into our
law.

“There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh, the great servant to cur prince,
that, lest those of a contrary religion should multiply and grow too strong for him, their
males should be thrown into the river.“° There was also an act made in the days of
Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another of his servants, that whoever would not fall down
and worship his golden image should be thrown into a fiery furnace.” There was
also an act made in the days of Darius, that whoso for some time called upon any god
but him should be cast into the lions’ den. Now, the substance of these laws this rebel
has broken, not only in thought (which is not to be borne), but also in word and deed,
which must, therefore, needs be intolerable.

“For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposition, to prevent mischief, no
crime being yet apparent; but here is a crime apparent. For the second and third,
you see he disputeth against our religion ; and for the reason that he hath confessed he
deserveth to die the death.”

Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr. Blind-man, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice,
Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar,
Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable, who every one gave in his private
verdict against him among themselves, and afterwards unanimously concluded to bring
him in guilty before the Judge. And first among themselves, Mr. Blind-man, the
foreman, said, “I see clearly that this man is a heretic.” Then said Mr. No-good,
“Away with such a fellow from the earth!” “Ay,” said Mr. Malice, “for T
hate the very look of him.” Then said Mr. Love-lust, “I could never endure him.”
“Nor I,” said Mr. Live-loose; “for he would always be condemning my way.”
“Hang him, hang him!” said Mr. Heady. “A sorry scrub,” said Mr. High-mind.
“My heart riseth against him,” said Mr. Enmity. “He is a rogue,” said Mr. Liar.


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My, Blind-man, Mr. No-good. Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-Iust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmuity, Mr. Liar,
Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable. (113)







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1l4 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS,

“ Hanging is too good for him,” said Mr. Cruelty. “Let us dispatch him out of the

way,” said Mr. Hate-light. Then said























ll la tha

“They burned him to ashes at the stake.”

Mr. Implacable, “ Might I have all the world
given to me, I could not be reconciled to him;
therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty
of death.”

And so they did: therefore he was pres-
ently condemned to be had from the place
where he was, to the place from whence he
came, and there to be put to the most cruel
death that could be invented.

They therefore brought him out, to do with
him according to their law; and first they
scourged him, then they buffeted him, then
they lanced his flesh with knives; after that
they stoned him with stones, then pricked
him with their swords, and, last of all, they
burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus came
Faithful to his end.

Now, I saw that there stood behind the
multitude a chariot and a couple of horses
waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his ad-

versaries had dispatched him) was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up

through the clouds with sound of trumpet the nearest way to the Celestial Gate.

But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remanded back to prison; so he

there remained for a space. But He who overrules all things, having the power of

their rage in his own hand, so wrought it about that Christian for that time escaped

them, and went his way. And as he went, he sang, saying,

‘Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully professed
Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest,

When faithless ones, with all their vain delights,

Are crying out under their hellish plights.

Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive ;
For, though they killed thee, thou art yet alive.”’
HOPEFUL JOINS CHRISTIAN. 115

CHAPTER VIL.

SV OW, I saw in my dream, that Christian went forth not alone; for there was one
| whose name was Hopeful (being so made by the beholding of Christian and



Faithful in their words and behavior in their sufferings at the fair), who
joined himself unto him, and, entering into a brotherly covenant, told him that
he would be his companion. Thus one died to bear testimony to the truth, and another
rises out of his ashes to be a companion with Christian in his pilgrimage. This
Hopeful also told Christian that there were many more of the men in the fair that
would take their time and follow after.

So I saw that, quickly after they were got out of the fair, they overtook one that
was going before them, whose name was By-ends ; so they said to him, “ What country-
man, sir? and how far go you this way?” He told them that he came from the town
of Fair-speech, and he was going to the Celestial City ; but told them not his name.

Curis, “From Fair-speech!” said Christian: “are there any that be good live
there?”

By. “Yes,” said By-ends, “T hope.”

Curis. Pray, sir, what may I call you?

By. I am a stranger to you, and you to me: if you be going this way, I shall be
glad of your company ; if not, I must be content.

Curis. This town of Fair-speech, I have heard of it; and, as I remember, they say
it’s a wealthy place.

By. Yes, I will assure you that it is; and I have very many rich kindred there.

Curis. Pray, who are your kindred there? if a man may be so bold.

By. Almost the whole town; but in particular my Lord Turnabout, my Lord Time-
server, my Lord Fair-speech, from whose ancestors that town first took its name; also
Mr. Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Anything; and the parson of our parish,
Mr. Two-tongues, was my mother’s own brother by father’s side; and to tell you the
truth, I am become a gentleman of good quality ; yet my great-grandfather was but a
waterman, looking one way and rowing another, and I got most of my estate by the
same occupation.

Curis. Are you a married man?

By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of a virtuous woman ;










































































HOPEFUL AND CHRISTIAN

“There was one whose name was Hopeful, who joined himself unto him.” (118)
BY-ENDS, OF FAIR-SPEECH. 117

she was my Lady Feigning’s daughter: therefore she came of a very honorable
family, and is arrived to such a pitch of breeding, that she knows how to earry it to
all, even to prince and peasant. ’Tis true we somewhat differ in religion from those
of the stricter sort, yet but in two small points: First, we never strive against wind
and tide; secondly, we are always most zealous when Religion goes in his silver
slippers: we love much to walk with him in the street if the sun shines and the people
applaud him.

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful, saying, “It runs in my
mind that this is one By-ends, of Fair-speech; and if it be he, we have as very a knave
in our company as dwelleth in all these parts.’ Then said Hopeful, “Ask him;
methinks he should not be ashamed of his name.” So Christian came up with him
again, and said, “Sir, you talk as if you knew something more than all the world doth;
and if I take not my mark amiss, 1 deem I have half a guess of you. Is not your
name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech ?”

By. This is not my name; but, indeed, it is a nickname that is given me by some
that cannot abide me, and I must be content to bear it asa reproach, as other good
men have borne theirs before me.

Curis. But did you never give an occasion to men to call you by this name?

By. Never, never! The worst that ever I did to give them an occasion to give me
this name was, that [ had always the luck to jump in my judgment with the present
way of the times, whatever it was, and my chance was to get thereby. But if things
are thus cast upon me, let me count them a blessing; but let not the malicious load
me therefore with reproach.

Curis. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard of; and, to tell you
what I think, I fear this name belongs to you more properly than you are willing we
should think it doth.

By. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it: you shall find me a fair com-
pany-keeper if you still admit me your associate.

Curis. If you will go with us, you must go against wind and tide; the which, I
perceive, is against your opinion: you must also own Religion in his rags, as well as
when in his silver slippers; and stand by him, too, when bound in irons, as well as
when he walketh the streets with applause.

By. You must not impose or lord it over my faith; leave it to my liberty, and let
me go with you.

Curis. Not a step farther. unless you will do in what I propound as we.

By. Then said By-ends, “T will never desert my old principles, since they are
118 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

harmless and profitable. If I may not go with you, I must do as I did before you
overtook me, even go by myself, until some overtake me that will be glad of my
company.”

Now, I saw in my dream that Christian and Hopeful forsook him, and kept their
distance before him; but one of them, looking back, saw three men following Mr. By-
ends; and, behold, as they came up with him, he made them a very low congé, and
they also gave him a compliment. The men’s names were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr.
Money-love, and Mr. Save-all; men that Mr. By-ends had been formerly acquainted
with; for in their minority they were schoolfellows, and taught by one Mr. Gripe-man,
a schoolmaster in Love-gain, which is a market town in the county of Coveting, in
the North. This schoolmaster taught them the art of getting, either by violence,
cozenage, flattery, lying, or by putting on a guise of religion; and these four gentlemen
had attained much of the art of their master, so that they could each of them have kept
such a school themselves.

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. Money-love said to Mr.
By-ends, “Who are they upon the road before us?” for Christian and Hopeful were
yet within view.

By. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after their mode, are going on
pilgrimage.

Monry. Alas! why did they not stay, that we might have had their good company ?
for they, and we, and you, sir, I hope, are all going on pilgrimage.

By. We are so, indeed; but the men before us are so rigid, and love so much their
own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the opinions of others, that, let a man be
ever so godly, yet, if he jumps not with them in all things, they thrust him quite out
of their company.

Save. That is bad; but we read of some that are righteous overmuch, and such
men’s rigidness prevails with them to judge and condemn all but themselves. But, I
pray, what and how many were the things wherein you differed ?

By. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, conclude that it is their duty to rush
on their journey all weathers; and I am for waiting for wind and tide. They are for
hazarding all for God at a clap; and I am for taking all advantages to secure my life
and estate. They are for holding their notions, though all other men be against them ;
but I am for religion in what, and so far as, the times and my safety will bear it.
They are for Religion when in rags and contempt; but I am for him when he walks
in his golden slippers, in the sunshine, and with applause.

Hoxp. Ay, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends; for, for my part, I can








Mr. By-ENDS MEETS HOLD-THE-WORLD, MONEY-LOVE, AND SAVE-ALL.

“ And, behold, as they came up with him, he made them a very low conge.” (119)
120 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

eount him but a fool, that, having the liberty to keep what he has, shall be so unwise
as to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents. It is best to make hay while the sun shines.
You see how the bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only when she can have
profit and pleasure. God sends sometimes rain and sometimes sunshine; if they be
such fools to go through the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather along with
us. For my part, I like that religion best that will stand with the security of God’s
good blessings unto us; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, since God has
bestowed upon us the good things of this life, but that He would have us keep them
for His sake? Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion; and Job says that “a
good man should lay up gold as dust ;” but he must not be such as the men before us,
if they be as you have described them.

Save. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and therefore there needs no
more words about it.

Money. No, there needs no more words about this matter, indeed; for he that
believes neither Scripture nor reason (and you see we have both on our side),
neither knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety.

By. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage; and for our better
diversion from things that are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this question:

Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, etc., should have an advantage lie before
him to get the good blessings of this life, yet so as that he can by no means come by
them except, in appearance at least, he becomes extraordinarily zealous in some. points
of religion that he meddled not with before; may he not use this means to attain his
end, and yet be a right honest man?

Money. I see the bottom of your question, and, with these gentlemen’s good leave,
I will endeavor to shape you an answer. And first, to speak to your question as it
concerns a minister himself: suppose a minister, a worthy man, possessed of but a
very small benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat and plump by far, he has
also now an opportunity of getting it, yet so as by being more studious, by preaching
more frequently and zealously, and, because the temper of the people requires it, by
altering of some of his principles; for my part, I see no reason why a man may not do
this, provided he has a call, ay, and more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest
man. For why?

1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful: this cannot be contradicted, since it is
set before him by Providence; so then he may get it if he can, making no question
for conscience sake.

2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, a more zealous -
MONEY-LOVE’S PRINCIPLES. 121

preacher, etc., and so makes him a better man; yea, makes him better improve his
parts, which is according to the mind of God.

3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his people, by deserting, to serve
them, some of his principles, this argueth, first, that he is of a self-denying temper;
secondly, of a sweet and winning deportment; and, thirdly, so more fit for the minis-
terial function.

4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small for a great, should not, for
so doing, be judged as covetous; but rather, since he has improved in his parts and
industry thereby, be counted as one that pursues his call, and the opportunity put into
his hands to do good.

And now to the second part of the question, which concerns the tradesman you
mentioned. Suppose such a one to have but a poor employ in the world, but by be-
coming religious he may mend his market, perhaps get a rich wife, or more and far
better customers to his shop; for my part, I see no reason but this may be lawfully
done. For why?

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever a man becomes so.

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to my shop.

3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets that which is good
of them that are good, by becoming good himself: so, then, here is a good wife, and
good customers, and good gain, and all these by becoming religious, which is good:
therefore, to become religious to get all these is a good and profitable design.

This answer thus made by Mr. Money-love to Mr. By-ends’ question was highly
applauded by them all; wherefore they concluded upon the whole that it was most
wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they thought, no man was able to
contradict it, and because Christian and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly
agreed to assault them with this question as soon as they overtook them; and the
rather because they had opposed Mr. By-ends before. So they called after them,
and they stopped and stood still till they came up to them; but they concluded as
they went that not Mr. By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-the-world, should propound the
question to them, because, as they supposed, their answer to him would be without
the remainder of that heat that was kindled betwixt Mr. By-ends and them at their
parting a little before.

So they came up to each other; and after a short salutation, Mr. Hold-the-world
propounded the question to Christian and his fellow, and bid them to answer it if they
could.

Curis. Then said Christian, “ Even a babe in religion may answer ten thousand
16
122 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

such questions. For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves, as it is,“* how much
more abominable is it to make of Him and religion a stalking-horse to get and enjoy
the world! Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and witches
are of this opinion.

“1. Heathens: for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind to the daughter and
cattle of Jacob, and saw that there was no way for them to come at them but by be
coming circumcised, they said to their companions, ‘If every male of us be circumcised,
as they are circumcised, shall not their cattle, and their substance, and every beast of
theirs be ours?’ Their daughter and their cattle were that which they sought to
obtain, and their religion the stalking-horse they made use of to come at them. Read
the whole story.*

“2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion: long prayers were their
pretence; but to get widows’ houses was their intent, and greater damnation was from
God their judgment.”

“3. Judas the devil was also of this religion: he was religious for the bag, that he
might be possessed of what was therein; but he was lost, cast away, and the very son
of perdition.

“4, Simon the witch was of this religion too; for he would have the Holy Ghost,
that he might have got money therewith; and his sentence from Peter’s mouth was
according.”

“5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man who takes up religion for the
world, will throw away religion for the world; for so surely as Judas resigned the
world in becoming religious, so surely did he also sell religion and his Master for the
same. ‘To answer the question, therefore, affirmatively, as I perceive you have done,
and to accept of, as authentic, such answer, is heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish ;
and your reward will be according to your works.”

Then they stood staring one upon the other, but had not wherewith to answer
Christian. Hopeful also approved of the soundness of Christian’s answer; so there
was a great silence among them. Mr. By-ends and his company also staggered and
kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might outgo them. Then said Christian to
his fellow, “Tf these men cannot stand before the sentence of men, what will they do
with the sentence of God? And if they are mute when dealt with by vessels of clay,
what will they do when they shall be rebuked by the flames of devouring fire?”

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went till they came to a deli-
eate plain, called Ease, where they went with much content; but that plain was but
narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now at the farther side of that plain was a
CHRISTIAN MEETS DEMAS. 123

little hill, called Lucre, and in that hill a silver mine, which some of them that had
formerly gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see; but going
too near the brink of the pit, the ground, being deceitful under them, broke, and they
were slain; somealso had been maimed there, and could not to their dying day be their
own men again.

Then I saw in my dream that a little off the road, over against the silver mine, stood
Demas (gentleman-like) to call to passengers to come and see; who said to Christian
and his fellow, “ Ho! turn aside hither, and I will show you a thing.”

Curis. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way?

Demas. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it for treasure ; if you will come,
with a little pains you may richly provide for yourselves.

Horr. Then said Hopeful, “ Let us go see.”

Curis. “ Not I,” said Christian. “I have heard of this place before now, and how
many have there been slain; and besides, that treasure is a snare to those that seek it,
for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage.”

Curis. Then Christian called to Demas, saying, “Is not the place dangerous?
Hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage?”

Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that are careless. But withal, he
biushed as he spake.

Curis. Then said Christian to Hopeful, “ Let us not stir a step, but still keep on
rar way.”

Hors. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he hath the same invitation
as we, he will turn in thither to see.

Curis. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way ; and a hundred to
one but he dies there.

Demas. Then Demas called out again, saying, “But will you not come over and see?”

Curis. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, “ Demas, thou art an enemy to
the right ways of the Lord of this way, and’ hast been already condemned for thine
own turning aside, by one of His Majesty’s judges; and why seekest thou to bring
us into the like condemnation? Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King
will certainly hear thereof, and will there put us to shame where we should stand with
boldness before Him.”

Demas cried again that he also was one of their fraternity, and that, if they would
tarry a little, he also himself would walk with them.

Curis. Then said Christian, “What is thy name? Is it not the same by the which
T have called thee?”
124 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Demas. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham.

Curis. I know you: Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your father, and
you have trod in their steps. It is but a devilish prank that thou usest: thy father
was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest no better reward. Assure thyself that
when we come to the King, we will tell him of this thy behavior. Thus they went
their way.

By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within sight, and they
at the first beck went over to Demas. Now, whether they fell into the pit by looking
over the brink thereof, or whether they went down to dig, or whether they were
smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly arise, of these things I am not
certain; but this I observed, that they never were seen again in the way. Then sang
Christian :

‘* By-ends and silver Demas both agree:
One calls; the other runs, that he may be

A sharer in his lucre ; so these two
Take up in this world, and no farther go.”

Now, I saw that just on the other side of the plain the pilgrims came to a place
where stood an old monument hard by the highway-side; at the sight of which they
were both concerned, because of the strangeness of the form thereof ; for it seemed
to them as if it had been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar. Here,
therefore, they stood looking and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what
they should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied written above, upon the head
thereof, a writing in an unusual hand; but he, being no scholar, called to Christian
(for he was learned), to see if he could pick out the meaning; so he came, and after a
little laying of letters together, he found the same to be this, “ Remember Lot’s wife.”
So he read it to his fellow ; after which, they both concluded that that was the pillar
of salt into which Lot’s wife was turned, for her looking back with a covetous heart
when she was going from Sodom. Which sudden and amazing sight gave them
occasion for this discourse :

Curis. Ah, my brother! this is a seasonable sight. It came opportunely to us after
the invitation which Demas gave us to come over to view the hill Luere; and, had
we gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast inclining to do, my brother, we had,
for aught I know, been made ourselves, like this woman, a spectacle for those that
shall come after to behold.

Hors. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder that I am not now
as Lot’s wife; for wherein was the difference betwixt her sin and mine? She only


















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































CHRISTIAN AND Hoprrun ARE REMINDED OF Lor’s WIFE.

“They stood looking and looking upon it, but could not tell what they should make thereof.” 125+
126 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

looked back, and I had a desire to go see. Let grace be adored; and let me be
ashamed that ever such a thing should be in mine heart.

Curis. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help for time to come. This
woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom; yet she
was destroyed by another, as we see: she is turned into a pillar of salt.

Horr. True, and she may be to us both caution and example: caution, that we
should shun her sin, or a sign of what judgment will overtake such as shall not be
prevented by this caution ; so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, with the two hundred and
fifty men that perished in their sin, did also become a sign or example to others to
beware.’ But, above all, I muse at one thing; to wit, how Demas and his fellows can
stand so confidently yonder to look for that treasure, which this woman, but for look-
ing behind her after (for we read not that she stepped one foot out of the way), was
turned into a pillar of salt; especially since the judgment which overtook her did make
her an example within sight of where they are; for they cannot choose but see her, did
they but lift up their eyes.

Curis. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that their hearts are grown
desperate in the case; and I cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly as to them
that pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or that will cut purses under the gallows.
It is said of the men of Sodom, that they were sinners exceedingly, because they were
sinners “before the Lord,” that is, in His eyesight, and notwithstanding the kindnesses
that He had showed them, for the land of Sodom was now like the garden of Eden
heretofore This, therefore, provoked Him the more to jealousy, and made their
plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of heaven could make it. And it is most
rationally to be concluded that such, even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight,
yea, and that too in despite of such examples that are set continually before them to
caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest judgments.

Horr. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but what a mercy is it that neither thou,
but especially I, am not made myself this example! This ministereth occasion to us
to thank God, to fear before Him and always to remember Lot’s wife.

I saw, then, that they went on their way to a pleasant river, which David the King
called “the river of God,” but John, “the river of the water of life”? Now their
way lay just upon the bank of this river; here, therefore, Christian and his companion
walked with great delight; they drank also of the water of the river, which was pleas-
ant and enlivening to their weary spirits. Besides, on the banks of this river on either
side were green trees that bore all manner of fruit; and the leaves of the trees were
good for medicine; with the fruit of these trees they were also much delighted ; and
THE RIVER OF THLE WATER OF LIFE. 127

the leaves they ate to prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are incident to those that
heat their blood by travels. On either side of the river was also a meadow, curiously
beautified with lilies, and it was green all the year long. In this meadow they lay down

and slept, for here they might lie down safely."

When they awoke, they gathered
again of the fruit of the trees and drank again of the water of the river, and they lay

down again to sleep. This they did several days and nights. ‘Then they sang:

‘*Behold ye, how these crystal streams do glide,
To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side ;
The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell,
Yield dainties for them; and he who can tell
What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield,
Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field.”’

So, when they were disposed to go on (for they were not as yet at their journey’s
end), they ate and drank, and departed.
Now, I beheld in my dream that they had not journeyed far, but the river and the



way for a time parted, at which they were not 5
a little sorry; yet they durst not go out of
the way. Now the way from the river was
rough, and their feet tender by reason of their
travels; so the souls of the pilgrims were
much discouraged because of the way.”
Wherefore, still as they went on they wished
for a better way. Now, a little before them
there was, on the left hand of the road, a
meadow, and a stile to go over into it, and
that meadow is called By-path Meadow.
Then said Christian to his fellow, “If this
meadow lieth along by our wayside, let’s go
over it.” Then he went to the stile to see;
and behold, a path lay along by the way on
the other side of the fence. “It is according



to my wish,” said Christian; “here is the





easiest going. Come, good Hopeful, and let

Vain-Confidence.

us go over.”
Horr. But how if this path should lead us out of the way ?
Curis. “That is not likely,” said the other. “Look, doth it not go along by the
128 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

wayside?” So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the stile.
When they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found it very easy to their
feet; and withal, they, looking before them, espied a man walking as they did, and
his name was Vain-Confidence: so they called after him, and asked him whither that
way led. He said, “To the Celestial Gate.” “Look,” said Christian, “ did not I tell
youso? By this you may see we are right.” So they followed, and he went before
them. But, behold, the night came on, and it grew very dark; so that they that were
behind lost sight of him that went before. He, therefore, that went before (Vain-
Confidence by name) not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on
purpose there made by the Prince of those grounds to catch vain-glorious fools withal,
and was dashed in pieces with his fall.

Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they called to know the matter;
but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning. Then said Hopeful,
“Where are we now?” Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led
him out of the way; and now it began to rain, and thunder, and lighten in a most
dreadful manner, and the water rose amain.

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, “Oh that I had kept on my way!”

Curis. Who could have thought that this path should have led us out of the way?

Hopr. I was afraid on’t at the very first, and therefore gave you that gentle caution.
I would have spoken plainer, but that you are older than I.

Curis. Good brother, be not offended. I am sorry I have brought thee out of the
way, and that I have put thee into such imminent danger. Pray, my brother, forgive
me: I did not do it of any evil intent.

Hore. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee, and believe, too, that this shall
be for our good.

Curis. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother; but we must not stand still:
let us try to go back again.

Horr. But, good brother, let me go before.

Curis. No, if you please; let me go first, that, if there be any danger, I may be
first therein, because by my means we are both gone out of the way.

Hops. “No,” said Hopeful, “you shall not go first; for your mind being troubled
may lead you out of the way again.” Then for their encouragement they heard the
voice of one saying, “ Let thine heart be towards the highway, even the way that thou
wentest ; turn again.” But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of
which the way of going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that it is easier
going out of the way when we are in, than going in when we are out.) Yet they
THE WAY TO DOUBTING CASTLE. 129

adventured tc go back; but it was so dark, and the flood so high, that, in their going
back, they had like to have been drowned nine or ten times.

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile that night.
Wherefore, at last lighting under a little shelter, they sat down there until daybreak ;
but, being weary, they fell asleep. Now, there was, not far from the place where they
lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was
in his grounds they now were sleeping ; wherefore he, getting up in the morning early,
and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in lis
grounds. Then, with a grim and surly voice, he bid them awake, and asked them
whence they were, and what they did in his grounds. They told him they were
pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. Then said the giant, “ You have this night
trespassed on me by trampling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must
go along with me.” So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they.
They had also but little to say, for they knew themselves in fault. The giant, there-
fore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle, into a very dark dungeon,
nasty and stinking to the spirits of these two men. Here, then, they lay from
Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without one bit of bread or drop of drink,
or light, or any to ask how they did; they were, therefore, here in evil case, and were
far from friends and acquaintance."“* Now, in this place Christian had double sorrow,
because it was through his unadvised haste that they were brought into this distress.

Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So, when he was
gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done; to wit, that he had taken a couple
of prisoners and cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his grounds. Then he
asked her also what he had best to do further to them. So she asked him what they
were, whence they came, and whither they were bound; and he told her. Then she
counselled him, that when he arose in the morning, he should beat them without any
mercy. So, when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down
into the dungeon to them, and there first fell to rating of them as if they were dogs,
although they never gave him a word of distaste. Then he falls upon them, and
beats them fearfully, in such sort that they were not able to help themselves, or to
turn them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws and leaves them there to condole
their misery and to mourn under their distress. So all that day they spent their time
in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night she, talking with her
husband about them further, and understanding that they were yet alive, did advise
him to counsel them to make away with themselves. So, when morning was come, he

goes to them in a surly manner, as before, and, perceiving them to be very sore with
17
130 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them that, since they were
never like to come out of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make an
end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison: “For why,” said he, “should
you choose hfe, seeing it is attended with so much bitterness?” But they desired
him to let them go. With that, he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them, had
doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits (for he
sometimes, in sunshiny weather, fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his hand;
wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before to consider what to do. Then did
the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best to take his counsel or
no; and thus they began to discourse:

Curis. “ Brother,” said Christian, “what shall we do? The life we. now live is
miserable. For my part, I know not whether is best, to live thus, or to die out of
hand. My soul chooseth strangling rather than life, and the grave is more easy for
me than this dungeon.” Shall we be ruled by the giant?”

Horr. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful; and death would be far more
welcome to me than thus for ever to abide. But yet, let us consider: the Lord of
the country to which we are going hath said, “Thou shalt do no murder,” no, not to
another man’s person; much more, then, are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill
ourselves. Besides, he that kills another can but commit murder upon his body; but
for one to kill himself is to kill body and soul at once. And, moreover, my brother,
thou talkest of ease in the grave; but hast thou forgotten the hell, whither, for certain,
the murderers go? for “no murderer hath eternal life,” ete. And let us consider
again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair: others, so far as I can
understand, have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped out of his
hand. Who knows but that God, who made the world, may cause that Giant Despair
may die? or that, at some time or other, he may forget to lock us in? or that he may,
in a short time, have another of his fits before us, and he may lose the use of his
limbs? and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, I am resolved to pluck
up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from under his hand. I was a
fool that I did not try to do it before. But, however, my brother, let us be patient,
and endure awhile: the time may come that may give us a happy release; but let us
not be our own murderers.

With these words, Hopeful at present did moderate the mind of his brother ; so they
continued together in the dark that day, in their sad and doleful condition.

Well, towards evening, the giant goes down into the dungeon again, to see if his
prisoners had taken his counsel. But, when he came there, he found them alive; and


ral)

ae

Vib

er
Eee



res

CELE

eee





Grant DESPAIR.

© Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair.”
182 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of bread and water, and by reason of the
wounds they received when he beat them, they could do little but breathe. But, I
say, he found them alive; at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them that,
seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them than if they had
never been born.

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a swoon ; but,
coming a little to himself again, they renewed their discourse about the giant’s counsel,
and whether yet they had best to take it or no. Now, Christian again seemed for
doing it; but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth :

Horr. “My brother,” said he, “rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been
heretofore? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear, or see,
or feel in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What hardship, terror, and amazement
hast thou already gone through! and art thou now nothing but fear? Thou seest that
J am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art; also this
giant has wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and water from
my mouth; and, with thee, I mourn without the light. But let us exercise a little
more patience. Remember how thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast
neither afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet of bloody death. Wherefore, let us (at
least to avoid the shame that it becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with
patience as well as we can.”

Now, night being come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed, she asked
him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel: to which he replied,
“They are sturdy rogues; they choose rather to bear all hardship than to make away
with themselves.” Then said she, “Take them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and
show them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already dispatched ; and make
them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou wilt tear them also in pieces, as thou
hast done their fellows before them.”

So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them again, and takes them into
the castle-yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. “These,” said he, “were
pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed in my grounds as you have done; and
when I thought fit, I tore them in pieces; and so within ten days I will do you. Go,
get you down to your den again.” And, with that, he beat them all the way thither.
They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as before. Now, when
night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her husband, the giant, were got to
bed, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners; and withal, the old giant
wondered that he could neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. And,


CHRISTIAN AND HoprFruL IN THE CASTLE OF GIANT DESPATR,.

“So they continued together in the dark that day, in their sad and doleful condition.” (133)
134 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

with that, his wife replied, “I fear,” said she, “that they live in hope that some will
come to relieve them; or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which
they hope to escape.” “And sayest thou so, my dear?” said the giant: “I will
therefore search them in the morning.”

Well, on Saturday about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer till
almost break of day.

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, brake out into
this passionate speech: “ What a fool,” quoth he, “am I to lie in a stinking dungeon,
when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom called Promise, that
will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle.” Then said Hopeful, “That
is good news, good brother: pluck it out of thy bosom, and try.”

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeon door,
whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and
Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door that leads
into the castle-yard, and with his key opened that door also. After, he went to the
iron gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went damnable hard, yet the
key did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed;
but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who,
hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail; for his fits took him again,
so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came to the
King’s highway again, and so were safe because they were out of his jurisdiction.

Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with themseives
what they should do at that stile to prevent those that should come after from falling
into the hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to
engrave upon the side thereof this sentence: “Over this stile is the way to Doubting
Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial
Country, and seeks to destroy His holy pilgrims.” Many, therefore, that followed
after, read what was written, and escaped the danger. This done, they sang as
follows :

‘Out of the way we went, and then we found
What ’t was to tread upon forbidden ground :
And let them that come after have a care,
Lest heedlessness make them as we to fare ;
Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are
Whose Castle ’s Doubting, and whose name ’s Despair.’’
THE SHEPHERDS ON THE DELECTABLE MO UNTALINS. 135

CHAPTER VIIL




({] HEY went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains, which mountains
| belong to the Lord of that hill of which we have spoken before. So they went
up to the mountains to behold the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and
fountains of water, where also they drank and washed themselves, and did freely
eat of the vineyards. Now there were on the tops of these mountains shepherds feeding
their flocks, and they stood by the highway-side. The pilgrims, therefore, went to
them, and leaning upon their staves (as 1s common with weary pilgrims when they
stand to talk with any by the way), they asked, “Whose delectable mountains are
these, and whose be the sheep that feed upon them ee

Srep. These mountains are Immanuel’s Land, and they are within sight of His
city ; and the sheep also are His, and He laid down His life for them.”

Cris. Is this the way to the Celestial City ?

Suep. You are just in your way.

- Curis. How far is it thither?

Siep. Too far for any but those who shall get thither indeed.

Cris. Is the way safe or dangerous?

Sip. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe ; but transgressors shall fall therein."

Curis. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that are weary and faint in the
way ?

Sirp. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge not to be forgetful to
entertain strangers; therefore the good of the place is before you.

I saw algo in my dream that when the shepherds perceived that they were way-
faring men, they also put questions to them (to which they made answer as in other
. places), as, “ Whence came you?” and, “How got you into the way?” and, “By
what means have you so persevered therein? for but few of them that begin to come
hither do show their faces on these mountains.” But when the shepherds heard their
answers, being pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said,
“ Welcome to the Delectable Mountains!”

The shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and
Sincere, took them by the hand and had them to their tents, and made them partake
of what was ready at present. They said moreover, “ We would that you should stay
here awhile, to be acquainted with us, and yet. more to solace yourselves with the
136 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

good of these Delectable Mountains.” They then told them that they were content
to stay. So they went to rest that night, because it was very late.

Then I saw in my dream that in the morning the shepherds called up Christian
and Hopeful to walk with them upon the mountains. So they went forth with them,
and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the shep-
herds one to another, “Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders?” So, when they
had concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of the hill called Error, which
was very steep on the farthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So
Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several men dashed all
to pieces by a fall they had had from the top. Then said Christian, “ What meaneth
this?” ‘Then the shepherds answered, “ Have you not heard of them that were made
to err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus, as concerning the faith of the res-
urrection of the body?”’*® They answered, “Yes.” Then said the shepherds,
“Those you see lie dashed to pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they; and
they have continued to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others to take
heed how they clamber too high, or how they come too near the brink of this mountain.”

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another mountain, and the name of
that is Caution, and bid them look afar off; and when they did, they perceived, as
they thought, several men walking up and down among the tombs that were there ;
and they perceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon
the tombs, and because they could not get out from among them. Then said Christian,
“What means this?”

The shepherds then answered, “Did you not see a little below these mountains a
stile that led into a meadow on the left hand side of this way?” They answered, “ Yes.”
Then said the shepherds, “From that stile there goes a path that leads directly to
Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair; and these men” (pointing to them
among the tombs) “came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even until they came to
that same stile. And because the right way was rough in that place, they chose to go
out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair, and cast into
Doubting Castle, where, after they had been kept a while in the dungeon, he at last
did put out their eyes, and Jed them among those tombs, where he has left them to
wander to this very day, that the saying of the Wise Man might be fulfilled, ‘He that
wandereth out of the way of understanding, shall remain in the congregation of the
dead’ ” "Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another with tears gushing
out, but yet said nothing to the shepherds.

Then I saw in my dream, that the shepherds had them to another place in a bottom,
where was a door on the side of a hill; and they opened the door, and bid them look
THE GATE OF THE CELESTIAL CITY. 137

in. They looked in, therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and smoky; they
also thought that they heard there a rumbling noise, as of fire, and a cry of some tor-
mented, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said Christian, “ What
means this?” The shepherds told them, “This is a by-way to hell, a way that
hypocrites go in at: namely, such as sell their birthright, with Esau ; such as sell their
master, with Judas; such as blaspheme the Gospel, with Alexander ; and that lie and
dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife.”

Hore. Then said Hopeful to the shepherds, “I perceive that these had on then
even every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have now; had they not?”

Suep. Yes, and held it a long time too.

Horr. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their day, since they notwith-
standing were thus miserably cast away ?

Suep. Some farther, and some not so far as these mountains.

Then said the pilgrims one to another, “ We have need to cry to the Strong for
strength.”

Suep. Ay, and you will have need to use.it when you have it, too.

By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and the shepherds a desire
they should; so they walked together towards the end of the mountains. Then said
the shepherds one to another, “ Let us here show to the pilgrims the gate of the
Celestial City, if they have skill to look through our perspective glass.” The pilgrims
then lovingly accepted the motion; so they had them to the top of a high hill called
Clear, and gave them their glass to look.

Then they essayed to look; but the remembrance of that last thing that the shep-
herds had showed them, made their hands shake, by means of which impediment they
could not look steadily through the glass; yet they thought they saw something like
the gaie, and also some of the glory of the place. Thus they went away, and sang
this song:

“Thus by the shepherds secrets are revealed,
Which from all other men are kept concealed.
Come to the shepherds, then, if you would see
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be.”

When they were about to depart, one of the shepherds gave them a note of the
way. Another of them bid them beware of the Flatterer. ‘The third bid them take
heed that they slept not upon the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid them God
speed.

So I awoke from my dream.
18
138 THE PILGRIM’S PROGEESS.

CHAPTER IX.

ND I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two pilgrims going down the



mountains along the highway towards the city. Now, a little below these
(®7 mountains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Conceit ; from which country
~ 2” there comes into the way in which the pilgrims walked a little crooked lane.
Here, therefore, they met with a very brisk lad, that came out of that country, and his
name was Ignorance. So Christian asked him from what parts he came, and whither
he was going.

Ienor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there a little on the left hand,
and I am going to the Celestial City.

Curis. But how do you think to get in at the gate? for you may find some difficulty
there.

Ianor. “ As other people do,” said he.

Curis. But what have you to show at the gate, that may cause that the gate should
be opened to you?

Tawor. I know my Lord’s will, and have been a good liver; I pay every man his
own; I pray, fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and have left my country for whither I
am going.

Curis. But thou camest not in at the wicket-gate that is at the head of this way:
thou camest in hither through that same crooked lane; and therefore I fear, however
thou mayest think of thyself, when the reckoning day shall come, thou wilt have laid
to thy charge that thou art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance into the
city.

Iavor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me: I know you not: be content to
follow the religion of your country, and I will follow the religion of mine. I hope all
will be well. And, as for the gate that you talk of, all the world knows that that is a
great way off of our country. I cannot think that any man in all our parts doth so
much as know the way to it; nor need they matter whether they do or no, since we
have, as you see, a fine, pleasant green lane, that comes down from our ‘country, the
next way into the way. |

When Christian saw that the man was wise in his own conceit, he said to Hopeful,
whisperingly, “There is more hope of a fool than of him.’”*” And said, moreover,
THEY OVERTAKE IGNORANCE, 139

“When he that is a fool walketh by the way,
his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every
one that he is a fool.“° What! shall we talk
further with him, or outgo him at present,
and so leave him to think of what he hath
heard already, and then stop again for him
afterwards, and see if by degrees we can do
any good to him?”
Then said Hopeful :

“Let Tenorance a little while now muse
On what is said, and let him not refuse
Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain
Still ignorant of what’s the chiefest gain.
God saith, those that no understanding have
(Although He made them), them He will not save.”

Horr. He further added, “ It is not good,
I think, to say all to him at once: let us pass







him by, if you will, and talk to him anon,



Ignorance.

even as he is ‘able to bear it.”



So they both went on, and Ignorance he

came aiter. Now, when they had passed him Hy

a little way, they entered into a very dark

’

lane, where they met a man whom seven devils
had bound with seven strong cords, and were
carrying of him back to the door that they saw
on the side of the hill.” Now good Christian
began to tremble, and so did Hopeful his com-
panion ; yet, as the devils led away the man,
Christian looked to see if he knew him; and
he thought it might be one Turn-away, that
dwelt in the town of Apostasy. But he did
not perfectly see his face, for he did hang his
head like a thief that is found; but being gone
past, Hopeful looked after him, and espied on
his back a paper with this inscription, “ Wan-







ton professor and damnable apostate.” .
Then said Christian to his fellow, “ Now I ie Aten ce omitee ven ae vilsnad BORG’?


140 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

call to remembrance that which was told of a thing that happened to a good man here-
about. The name of that man was Little-Faith, but a good man, and he dwelt in the
town of Sincere. The thing was this: At the entering in at this passage, there comes
down from Broad-way Gate a lane called Dead Man’s Lane; so-called because of the
murders that are commonly done there; and this Little-Faith, going on pilgrimage as
we do now, chanced to sit down there, and slept. Now, there happened at that time to
come down that lane, from Broad-way Gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names were
Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, three brothers; and they espying Little-Faith, where
he was, came galloping up with speed. Now, the good man was just awaked from his
sleep, and was getting up to go on his journey. So they came up all to him, and with
threatening language bid him stand. At this, Little-Faith looked as white as a clout,
and had neither power to fight nor fly. Then said Faint-heart, ‘Deliver thy purse ;’
but he, making no haste to do it (for he was loth to lose his money), Mistrust ran up
to him, and, thrusting his hand into his pocket, pulled out thence a bag of silver.
Then he cried out, ‘Thieves! thieves!’ With that, Guilt, with a great club that was
in his hand, struck Little-Faith on the head, and with that blow felled him flat to the
ground, where he lay bleeding as one that would bleed to death. All this while the
thieves stood by. But, at last, they hearing that some were upon the road, and fearing
lest it should be one Great-Grace, that dwells in the city of Good-Confidence, they
betook themselves to their heels, and left this good man to shift for himself. Now,
after a while, Little-Faith came to himself, and, getting up, made shift to scramble on
his way. This was the story.”

Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he had?

Curis. No; the place where his jewels were they never ransacked ; so those he kept
still. But, as I was told, the good man was much afflicted for his loss, for the thieves
got most of his spending money. That which they got not, as I said, were jewels ;
also he had a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring him to his journey’s
end. Nay, if I was not misinformed, he was forced to beg as he went, to keep himself
alive, for his jewels he might not sell; but, beg and do what he could, he went, as we
say, with many a hungry belly the most part of the rest of the way.’

Hore. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his certificate, by which he was
to receive admission at the Celestial Gate ?

Curis. It is a wonder; but they got not that, though they missed it not through
any good cunning of his; for he, being dismayed by their coming upon him, had
neither power nor skill to hide anything; so it was more by good providence than by
his endeavor, that they missed of that good thing.”®












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142 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they got not his jewels from him.

Curis. It might have been great comfort to him, had he used it as he should ; but.
they that told me the story said, that he made but little use of it all the rest of the
way, and that because of the dismay that he had in their taking away his money.
Indeed, he forgot it a great part of the rest of his journey ; and besides, when at any
time it came into his mind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then would fresh
thoughts of his loss come again upon him, and those thoughts would swallow up all.

Horr. Alas, poor man! this could not but be a great grief unto him.

Curis. Grief! ay, a grief indeed. Would it not have been so to any of us, had we
been used as he, to be robbed and wounded too, and that in a strange place, as he
was? It is a wonder he did not die with grief, poor heart! I was told that he
scattered almost all the rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints ;
telling also to all that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way as he went, where
he was robbed, and how; who they were that did it, and what he had lost; how he
was wounded, and that he hardly escaped with life.

Horr. But it is a wonder that his necessities did not put him upon selling or pawn-
ing some of his jewels, that he might have wherewith to relieve himself in his journey.

Currs. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to this very day. For
what should he pawn them, or to whom should he sell them? In all that country
where he was robbed, his jewels were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief
which could from thence be administered to him. Besides, had his jewels been miss-
ing at the gate of the Celestial City, he had (and that he knew well enough) been
excluded from an inheritance there; and that would have been worse to him than the
appearance and villany of ten thousand thieves.

Horr. Why art thou so tart, my brother? Esau sold his birthright, and that for a
mess of pottage, and that birthright was his greatest jewel; and if he, why might not
Little-Faith do so too?

Curis. Esau did sell his birthright indeed; and so do many besides, and, by so
doing, exclude themselves from the chief blessing, as also that caitiff did. But you
must put a difference betwixt Esau and Little-Faith, and also betwixt their estates,
Esau’s birthright was typical ; but Little-Faith’s jewels were not so. Esau’s belly was
his god; but Little-Faith’s belly was not so. Esau’s want lay in his fleshly appetite;
Little-Faith’s did not so. Besides, Esau could see no further than to the fulfilling of
his lusts: “For I am at the point to die,” said he; “and what good will this birthright
do me?”™ But Little-Faith, though it was his lot to have but little faith, was by his
little faith kept from such extravagances, and made to see and prize his jewels more
HOPEFUL REBUKED. 148

than to sell them, as Esau did his birthright. You read not anywhere that Esau had
faith,—no, not so much as a little; therefore no marvel if, where the flesh only bears
sway (as it will in that man where no faith is to resist), he sells his birthright, and his
soul, and all, and that to the devil of hell; for it is with such as it is with the ass, who
in her occasions cannot be turned away.’ When their minds are set upon their
lusts, they will have them whatever they cost. But Little-Faith was of another temper :
his mind was on things divine; his livelihood was upon things that were spiritual and
from above: therefore to what end should he that is of such a temper sell his jewels
(had there been any that would have bought them), to fill his mind with empty things ?
Will a man give a penny to fill his belly with hay? or can you persuade the turtle-
dove to live upon carrion, like the crow? Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts,
pawn, or mortgage, or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot, yet they
that have faith, saving faith, though but a little of it, cannot do so. Here, therefore,
my brother, is thy mistake.

Horr. I acknowledge it; but yet your severe reflection had almost made me angry.

Curis. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds that are of the brisker
sort, who will run to and fro in untrodden paths with the shell upon their heads; but
pass by that, and consider the matter under debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee
and me.

Horr. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my heart, are but a
company of cowards: would they have run else, think you, as they did at the noise of
one that was coming on the road? Why did not Little-Faith pluck up a greater
heart? He might, methinks, have stood one brush with them, and have yielded when
there had been no remedy.

Curis. That they are cowards many have said, but few have found it so in the time
of trial. As for a great heart, Little-Faith had none; and I perceive by thee, my
brother, hadst thou been the man concerned, thou art but for a brush, and then to
yield. And, verily, since this is the height of thy stomach now they are at a distance
from us, should they appear to thee as they did to him, they might put thee to second
thoughts. But consider again, they are but journeymen-thieves; they serve under
the king of the bottomless pit, who, if need be, will come in to their aid himself, and

® T myself have been engaged as this Little-

his voice is as the roaring of a lion.®
Faith was, and I found ita terrible thing. These three villains set upon me; and I
beginning like a Christian to resist, they gave but a eall, and in came their master. I
would, as the saying is, have given my life for a penny, but that, as God would have

it, 1 was clothed with armor of proof. Ay, and yet, though I was so harnessed, I
144 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

found it hard work to quit myself like a man. No man can tell what in that combat
attends us, but he that hath been in the battle himself.

Horr. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but suppose that one Great-Grace
was in the way.

Curis. True, they have often fled, both they and their master, when Great-Grace
hath but appeared; and no marvel, for he is the King’s champion. But I trow you
will put some difference between Little-Faith and the King’s champion? All the
King’s subjects are not His champions, nor can they when tried do such feats of war
as he. Is it meet to think that a little child should handle Goliath as David did? or
that there should be the strength of an ox ina wren? Some are strong, some are
weak; some have great faith, some have little: this man was one of the weak, and
therefore he went to the wall. :

Hors. I would it had been Great-Grace for their sakes.

Curis. If it had been he, he might have had his hands full; for I must tell you that
though Great-Grace is excellent good at his weapons, and has, and can, so long as he
keeps them at sword’s point, do well enough with them; yet, if they get within him,
even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or the other, it shall go hard but they will throw up his
heels. And when a man is down, you know, what can he do?

Whoso looks well upon Great-Grace’s face will see thase scars and cuts there, that
shall easily give demonstration of what I say. Yea, once I heard that he should say
(and that when he was in the combat), “ We despaired even of life.” How did these
sturdy rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar! Yea, Heman,â„¢
and Hezekiah too, though champions in their days, were forced to bestir when by
these assaulted; and yet, notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly brushed by
them. Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could do; but though some do say
of him that he is the prince of the apostles, they handled him so that they made him
at last afraid of a sorry girl.

Besides, their king is at their whistle—he is never out of hearing; and if at any
time they be put to the worst, he, if possible, comes in to help them; and of him it is
said, “The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold; the spear, the dart, nor the
habergeon. He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot
make him flee; sling-stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as

18 ‘What can a man do in this case?

stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.
It is true, if a man could at every turn have Job’s horse, and had skill and courage
to ride him, he might do notable things. For his neck is clothed with thunder. He

will not be afraid as the grasshopper : “the glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth
HOW PILGRIMS SHOULD MEET THE ROBBERS. 145

in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men. Ie
‘mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted, neither turneth he his back from the sword.
The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the shield. He swalloweth
the ground with fierceness and rage; neither believeth he that it is the sound of the
trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha! ha! and he smelleth the battle afar off,
the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.” ™

But for such footmen as thee and IJ are, let us never desire to meet with an enemy,
nor vaunt as if we could do better, when we hear of others that have been foiled, nor
be tickled at the thoughts of our manhood; for such commonly come by the worst
when tried. Witness Peter, of whom I made mention before: he would swagger, ay,
he would; he would, as his vain mind prompted him to say, do better and stand more
for his Master than all men; but who so foiled and run down by those villains as he?

When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on the King’s highway, two
things become us to do.

First, to go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield with us; for it was for
want of that, that he that laid so lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield; for,
indeed, if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. Therefore he that had skill hath
said, “ Above all, take the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the
fiery darts of the wicked.” ™

Secondly, it is good also that we desire of the King a convoy ; yea, that He will go
with us Himself, This made David rejoice when in the Valley of the Shadow of
Death; and Moses was rather for dying where he stood, than to go one step without
his God Oh, my brother, if He will but go along with us, what need we be afraid
of ten thousands that shall set themselves against us?” But, without Him, the proud
helpers fall under the slain.â„¢

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now ; and though (through the goodness
of Him that is best) I am, as you see, alive, yet I cannot boast of my manhood. Glad.
shall I be if I meet with no more such brunts; though I fear we are not got beyond
all danger. However, since the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured me, I hope
God will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised Philistine.

Then sang Christian :

“ Poor Little-Faith ! hast been among the thieves?
Wast robbed? Remember this: whoso believes
And gets more faith, shall then a victor be
Over ten thousand ; else, scarce over three.”

19
146 7 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went then till they came at a place
where they saw a way put itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie as straight as
the way which they should go; and here they knew not which of the two to take, for
both seemed straight before them; therefore here they stood still to consider. And,
as they were thinking about the way, behold, a man, black of flesh, but covered with
a very light robe, came to them, and asked them why they stood there. They
answered they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not which of these ways to
take. “ Follow me,” said the man; “it is thither that Iam going.” So they followed
him to the way that but now came into the road, which by degrees turned and turned
them so from the city that they desired to go to, that, in a little time, their faces were
turned away from it; yet they followed him. But by-and-bye, before they were aware,
he led them both within the compass of a net, in which they were both so entangled
that they knew not what to do; and with that, the whité robe fell off the black man’s
back. ‘Then they saw where they were. Wherefore, there they lay crying some time,
for they could not get themselves out.

Curis. Then said Christian to his fellow, “ Now do I see myself in an error. Did
not the shepherds bid us beware of flatterers? As is the saying of the Wise Man, so
we have found it this day: ‘A man that flattereth his neighbor, spreadeth a net at
his feet.’ ”

Horr. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our more sure
finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept our-
selves from the paths of the destroyer. Here David was wiser than we; for saith he,
“Concerning the works of men, by the word of thy lips I have kept me from the paths

9? 192

of the destroyer. Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they
espied a Shining One coming towards them with a whip of small cord in his hand.
When he was come to the place where they were, he asked them whence they came,
and what they did there. They told him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion,
but were led out of their way by a black man clothed in white, “ Who bid us,” said
they, “follow him, for he was going thither too.” Then said he with the whip, “It is
Flatterer, a false prophet, that hath transformed himself into an angel of light.” Su
he rent the net, and let the men out. Then said he to them, “ Follow me, that I may
set you in your way again.” So he led them back to the way which they had left to
follow the Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, “ Where did you lie the last night?”
They said, “ With the shepherds upon the Delectable Mountains.” He asked them
then if they had not of those shepherds a note of direction for the way. They answered,
“Yes.” “ But did you not,” said he, “when you were at a stand, pluck out and read
ATHEIST MET WITH. 147

your note?” They answered, “No.” He asked them, “ Why?” They said they
forgot. He asked them, moreover, if the shepherds did not bid them beware of the
Flatterer. ‘They answered, “ Yes; but we did not imagine,” said they, “ that this fine-
spoken man had been he.” ™

Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie down ; which when they
did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good way wherein they should walk;
and, as he chastised them, he said, “As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be
zealous, therefore, and repent.” This done, he bid them go on their way, and take
good heed to the other directions of the shepherds. So they thanked him for all his
kindness, and went softly along the right way, singing :

‘**Come hither, you that walk along the way,
See how the pilgrims fare that go astray ;
They catchéd are in an entangling net,
Cause they good counsel lightly did forget ;
Tis true, they rescued were; but yet, you see,
They're scourged to boot: let this your caution be.”

Now, after awhile they perceived afar off, one coming softly and alone, all along the
highway, to meet them. Then said Christian to his fellow, “ Yonder is a man with
his back towards Zion, and he is coming to meet us.”

Horr. I see him: let us take heed to ourselves, lest he should prove a flatterer
also.

So he drew nearer and nearer, and at last came up to them. His name was Atheist,
and he asked them whither they were going.

Curis. We are going to Mount Zion.

Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter.

Curis. What is the meaning of your laughter ?

Aruetst. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take upon yourselves so
tedious a journey, and yet are like to have nothing but your travel for your pains.

Curis. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received?

Aruetst. Received! There is no such a place as you dream of in all this world.

Curis. But there is in the world to come.

Arnuetst. When I was at home in mine own country, I heard as you now affirm,
and, from that hearing, went out to see, and have been seeking this city these twenty
years, but find no more of it than I did the first day I set out.”

Curis. We have both heard and believe that there is such a place to be found.

Artuerst. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come thus far to seek ; but,
148 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

fading none (and yet I should had there been such a place to be found, for I have
gone to seek it farther than you), I am going back again, and will seek to refresh myself
with the things that I then cast away for hopes of that which I now see is not.

Curis. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow, “Is it true which this man hath
said ?”

Hove. Take heed; he is one of the flatterers. Remember what it hath cost us
once already for hearkening to such kind of fellows. What! no Mount Zion? Did we

‘not see from the Delectable Mountains the gate of the city? Also, are we not now to
walk by faith? Let us go on, lest the man with the whip overtake us again. You
should have taught me that lesson, which I will round you in the ears withal: “Cease,
my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err from the words of knowledge.” *
I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us believe to the saving of the soul.”

Curis. My brother, I did not put the question to thee for that I doubted of the
truth of our belief myself, but to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of the
honesty of thy heart. As for this man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this
world. Let thee and I go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth, and no lie is
of the truth.”

Hopz. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God.

So they turned away from the man, and he, laughing at them, went his way.

J then saw in my dream that they went till they came into a certain country, whose
air naturally tended to make one drowsy if he came a stranger into it. And here
Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy of sleep; wherefore he said unto Christian,
“T do now begin to grow so drowsy, that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes; let us lie
down here, and take one nap.”

Curis. “ By no means,” said the other, “lest, sleeping, we never awake more.”

Horxr. Why, my brother? sleep is sweet to the laboring man: we may be refreshed
if we take a nap.

Curis. Do not you remember that one of the shepherds bid us beware of the En-
chanted Ground? He meant by that that we should beware of sleeping; wherefore
let us not sleep as do others, but let us watch and be sober.”

Horr. I acknowledge myself in fault; and had I been here alone, I had, by sleeping,
run the danger of death. I see it is true that the Wise Man saith, “Two are better
than one.” Hitherto hath thy company been my mercy; and thou shalt have a
good reward for thy labor.

Curis. “ Now, then,” said Christian, “to prevent drowsiness in this place, let us fall
into good discourse.”




Atueisr LAUGHING AT CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL.

“Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter.” . (149)
150 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Hope. “ With all my heart,” said the other.

Curis. Where shall we begin ?

Horr. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if you please.
Curis. I will sing you first this song:

‘When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither,
And hear how these two pilgrims talk together ;
Yea, let them learn of them, in any wise,

Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumbering eyes.
Saints’ fellowship, if it be managed well,
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell.”

Curis. Then Christian began, and said, “I will ask you a question. How came
you to think at first of doing as you do now? as ;

Hops. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after the good of my soul?

Curis. Yes, that is my meaning.

Hops. I continued a great while in the delight of those things which were seen and
sold at our fair; things which I believe now would have, had I continued in them
still, drowned me in perdition and destruction.

Curis. What things were they?

Hopr. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also I delighted much in rioting,
revelling, drinking, swearing, lying, uncleanness, Sabbath-breaking, and what not, that
tended to destroy the soul. But I found at last, by hearing and considering of things
that are divine, which indeed I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful, that was put
to death for his faith and good living in Vanity Fair, that the end of these things is
death ;°* and that, for these things’ sake, the wrath of God cometh upon the children
of disobedience.”

Curis. And did you presently fall under the power of this conviction ?

Horr. No; I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin, nor the damnation
that follows upon the commission of it; but endeavored, when my mind at first began
to be shaken with the Word, to shut mine eyes against the light thereof.

Curis. But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to the first workings of
God’s blessed Spirit upon you?

Horr. The causes were,—Firstly, I was ignorant that this was the work of God
upon me. I never thought that, by awakenings for sin, God at first begins the con-
version of a sinner. Secondly, Sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and I was loth to
leave it. Thirdly, I could not tell how to part with mine old companions, their
presence and actions were so desirable unto me. Fourthly, The hours in which con-
HOPEFUL NARRATES HIS CONVERSION. 151

victions were upon me, were such troublesome and such heart-affrighting hours, that.
I could not bear, no, not so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart.
Curis. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your trouble?
Horr. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind again, and then I should be as
bad, nay, worse than I was before.
Curis. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again?
Horr. Many things; as,
If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or,
If I have heard any read in the Bible; or,
. If mine head did begin to ache; or,
. If I were told that some of my neighbors were sick ; or,
. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead; or,
. If I thought of dying myself; or,

IAA kwon eH

. If I heard that sudden death happened to others ;

oO

. But especially when I thought of myself that I must quickly come to judg-
ment.

Curis. And could you at any time with ease get off the guilt of sin, when by any of
these ways it came upon you ?

Horr. No, not I; for then they got faster hold of my conscience ; and then, if I
did but think of going back to sin (though my mind was turned against it), it would
be double torment to me.

Curis. And how did you do then ?

Horr. I thought I must endeavor to mend my life ; for else, thought I, I am sure
to be damned.

Curis. And did you endeavor to mend?

Horr. Yes, and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company too, and betook me
to religious duties, as praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neigh-
bors, etc. These things did I, with many others, too much here to relate.

Curis. And did you think yourself well then?

Horr. Yes, for a while; but, at the last, my trouble came tumbling upon me again,
and that over the neck of all my reformations.

Curis. How came that about, since you were now reformed?

Hopr. There were several things brought it upon me; especially such sayings as
these: “ All our righteousness are as filthy rags ;”*" “By the works of the law shall
no flesh be justified ;””” “ When ye shall have done all those things which are com-
manded you, say, We are unprofitable ;’“* with many more such like. From whence I
152 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

began to reason with myself thus: If a// my righteousness are filthy rags, if by the deeds
of the law no man can be justified, and if, when we have done ail, we are yet unprofit-
able, then it is but a folly to think of heaven by the law. I further thought thus:
If a man runs a hundred pounds into the shopkeeper’s debt, and after that shall pay
for all that he shall fetch; yet his old debt stands still in the book uncrossed ; for the
which the shopkeeper may sue him, and cast him into prison till he shall pay the debt.

Curis. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself?

Horr. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have by my sins run a great way into
God’s book, and my now reforming will not



pay off that score. Therefore I should think
still, under’ all my present amendments, But
how shall I be freed from that damnation that
Ihave brought myself in danger of by my
former transgressions ?

Curis. A very good application ; but pray
go on.

Horr. Another thing that hath troubled
me ever since my late amendment is, that if I







look narrowly into the best of what I do now,
I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with the
best of that I do; so that now I am forced to
conclude that, notwithstanding my former
fond conceits of myself and duties, I have
committed sin enough in one duty to send me



to hell, though my former life had been
faultless.





Gare aaid aN Mor Teamsinvieednto came Curis. And what did you do then?
Hore. Do! I could not tell what to do, till
I brake my mind to Faithful; for he and I were well acquainted. And he told me,
that unless I could obtain the righteousness of a Man that never had sinned, neither
mine own nor all the righteousness of the world could save me.

Curis. And did you think he spake true?

Horr. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied with mine own amend-
ment, I had called him fool for his pains; but now, since I see mine own infirmity,
and the sin which cleaves to my best performance, I have been forced to be of his
opinion.
HOPEFUL NARRATES HIS CONVERSION. 153

Curis. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to you, that there was such
a Man to be found, of whom it might justly be said that He never committed sin ?

Horr. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely; but after a little more
talk and company with him I had full conviction about it.

Crris. And did you ask him what Man this was, and how you must be justified by
Him ? - :

Horr. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth on the right hand of
the Most High.” And thus, said he, you must be justified by Hin, even by trusting
what He hath done by Himself in the days of His flesh, and suffered when He did
hang on the tree.”° I asked him further, How that Man’s righteousness could be of
that efficacy to justify another before God? And he told me He was the mighty God,
and did: what He did, and died the death also, not for Himself, but for me; to whom
His doings, and the worthiness of them, should be imputed, if I believed on Him.

Curis. And what did you do then?

Horr. I made my objections against my believing, for that I thought He was not
willing to save me.

Curis. And what said Faithful to you then?

Horr. He bid me go to Him and see. Then I said it was presumption. But he
said, No, for I was invited to come.” Then he gave me a book of J esus’ inditing to
encourage me the more freely to come; and he said concerning that book, that every
jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than heaven and earth.” Then I asked him what I
must do when I came; and he told me I must entreat on my knees,”” with all my
heart and soul,” the Father to reveal Him to me. Then I asked him further how I
must make my supplication to Him ; and he said, Go, and thou shalt find Him upon a
mercy-seat, where He sits all the year long to give pardon and forgiveness to them
that come. I told him that I knew not what to say when I came ; and he bid me
say to this effect: God be merciful to me a sinner, and make me to know and believe
in Jesus Christ; for I see that if His righteousness had not been, or I have not faith
in that righteousness, I am utterly cast away. Lord, IT have heard that Thou art a
merciful Good, and hast ordained that Thy Son Jesus Christ should be the Saviour of
the world; and, moreover, that Thou art willing to bestow Him upon such a poor
sinner as Iam. And I am a sinner indeed. Lord, take therefore this opportunity,
and magnify Thy grace in the salvation of my soul, through Thy Son Jesus Christ.
Amen.”

Curis. And did you do as you were bidden?

Hors. Yes, over, and over, and over.
20
154 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Curis. And did the Father reveal His son to you?

Horr. Not at the first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, nor fifth; no, nor at the
sixth time neither.

Curis. What did you do then ?

Horr. What! why, I could not tell what to do.

Curis. Had you no thoughts of leaving off praying?

Hore. Yes; a hundred times twice told.

Curis. And what was the reason you did not?

Hops. I believed that that was true which had been told me; to wit, that without
the righteousness of this Christ, all the world could not save me; and therefore,
thought I with myself, if I leave off I die, and I can but die at the throne of grace.
And withal, this came into my mind: “Though it tarry, wait for it; because it will
surely come, it will nottarry.””° So I continued praying, until the Father showed me
His Son.

Curis. And how was He revealed unto you?

Hore. I did not see Him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes of mine under-
standing," and thus it was: One day I was very sad, I think sadder than at any one
time in my life; and this sadness was through a fresh sight of the greatness and vile-
ness of my sins. And, as I was then looking for nothing but hell and the everlasting
damnation of my soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus look down from
heaven upon me, and saying, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be
saved.” 78

But I replied, “ Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner.” And He answered, “ My
grace is sufficient for thee,’*® Then I said, “ But, Lord, what is believing.” And
then I saw from that saying, “He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that
believeth on me shall never thirst,” that believing and coming was all one; and that
he that came, that is, ran out in his heart and affections after salvation by Christ, he
indeed believed in Christ. Then the water stood in mine eyes, and I asked further,
“But, Lord, may such a great sinner as I am be indeed accepted of Thee, and be saved
by Thee?” and I heard Him say, “ And him that cometh to me I will in no wise
cast out.” Then I said, “ But how Lord, must I consider of Thee in my coming to
Thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon Thee?” Then he said, “ Christ Jesus
came into the world to save sinners. He is the end of the law for righteousness to
every one that believes** He died for our sins, and rose again for our justification.
He loved us,and washed us from our sinsin His own blood.” He is Mediator between
God and us.“* He ever liveth to make intercession for us.” From all which I

224
THEY AGAIN TALK WITH IGNORANCE. 155

gathered that I must look for righteousness in His person, and for satisfaction for my
sins by His blood; that what He did in obedience to His Father’s law, and in sub-
mitting to the penalty thereof, was not for Himself, but for him that will accept it for
his salvation, and be thankful. And now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes full of
tears, and mine affections running over with love to the name, people, and ways of
Jesus Christ.

Curis. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed. But tell me particu-
larly what effect this had upon your spirit.

Horr. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding all the righteousness
thereof, is in a state of condemnation. It made me see that God the Father, though
He be just, can justly justify the coming sinner. It made me greatly ashamed of the
vileness of my former life, and confounded me with the sense of my own ignorance ;
for there never came thought into my heart before now, that showed me so the beauty
of Jesus Christ. It made me love a holy life, and long to do something for the honor
and glory of the name of the Lord Jesus. Yea, I thought that had I now a thousand
gallons of blood in my body, I could spill it all for the sake of the Lord Jesus.



CHAPTER X.

SAW then in my dream that Hopeful looked back, and saw Ignorance, whom
they had left behind, coming after. “ Look,” said he to Christian, “ how far



yonder youngster loitereth behind.”

Cane Ay, ay, I see him: he careth not for our company.

Horr. But I trow it would not have hurt him, had he kept pace with us hitherto.

Curis. That is true; but I warrant you he thinks otherwise.

Hops. That I think he doth; but, however, let us tarry for him. So they did.

Curis. Then Christian said to him, “Come away, man; why do you stay so
behind?”

Icnor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a great deal than in com-
pany, unless I like it the better.

Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), “ Did I not tell you he cared not for
our company? But, however,” said he, “come up, and let us talk away the time in
156 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

this solitary place.” -Then, directing his speech to Ignorance, he said, “Come, how do
you? How stands it between God and your soul now?”

Tenor. I hope well; for I am always full of good motions, that come into my mind
to comfort me as I walk.

Curis. What good motions? pray tell us.

Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven.

Curis. So do the devils and damned souls.

Ievor. But I think of them and desire them.

Curis. So do many that are never like to come there. “The soul of the sluggard

desireth and hath nothing.” **



Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all
for them.

Curis. That I doubt, for leaving of all is a
very hard matter; yea, a harder matter than
many are aware of. But why, or by what,
art thou persuaded that thou hast left all for
God and heaven ?

Icnor. My heart tells me so.

Curis. The Wise Man says, “He that
trusteth in his own heart is a fool.” ”°

Icyvor. This is spoken of an evil heart;
but mine is a good one.

Curis. But how dost thou prove that?

Ienor. It comforts me in the hopes of
heaven.

Curis. That may be through its deceitful-





ness ; for a man’s heart may minister comfort



“Tam always full of good motions.” to him in the hopes of that thing for which
he has yet no ground to hope.
Ienor. But my heart and life agree together ; and therefore my hope is well grounded.
Curis. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together?
Ienor. My heart tells me so.
Curis. Ask my fellow if I be a thief! Thy heart tells thee so! Except the Word
of God beareth witness in this matter, other testimony is of no value.
Jevor. But is it not a good heart that hath good thoughts? and is not that a good

life that is according to God’s commandments ?
THE FAITH OF IGNORANCE. 157

Curis. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, and that is a good life
that is according to God’s commandments ; but it ig one thing, indeed, to have these,
and another thing only to think so.

Ianor. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life according to God’s com-
mandments ?

Curtis. There are good thoughts of divers kinds: some respecting ourselves, some
God, some Christ, and some other things.

Ienor. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves ?

Curis. Such as agree with the Word of God.

Tenor. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with the Word of God?

Curis. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves which the Word passes.
To explain myself; the Word of God saith of persons in a natural condition, “ There
is none righteous, there is none that doeth good.” It saith also, that “every imagina-
tion of the heart of man is only evil, and that continually.” 2° And again, imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth.” *' Now, then, when we think thus
of ourselves, having sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, because according
to the Word of God.

Tenor. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad.

Curis. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought concerning thyself in thy life.
But let me go on. As the Word passeth judgment upon our heart, so it passeth a
judgment upon our ways ; and when our thoughts of our hearts and ways agree with
the judgment which the Word giveth of both, then are both good because agreeing
thereto.

Tenor. Make out your meaning.

Curis. Why, the Word of God saith that man’s ways are crooked ways, not good,
but perverse; it saith they are naturally out of the good way, that they have not
known it2 Now, when a man thus thinketh of his ways, I say, when he doth sensibly,
and with heart-humiliation, thus think, then hath he good thoughts of his own ways,
because his thoughts now agree with the judgment of the Word of God.

Ienor. What are good thoughts concerning God?

Curis. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, when our thoughts of God do
agree with what the Word saith of Him, and that is, when we think of His being and
attributes as the Word hath taught; of which I cannot now discourse at large; but
to speak of Him with reference to us: then have we right thoughts of God, when we
think that He knows us better than we know ourselves, and can see sin in us when

and where we can see none in ourselves; when we think He knows our inmost
158 THK PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

thoughts, and that our heart, with all its depths, is always open unto His eyes; also
when we think that all our righteousness stinks in His nostrils, and that therefore He
cannot abide to see us stand before Him in any confidence, even in all our best per-
formances.

I@vor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think God can see no farther than
I? or that I would come to God in the best of my performances ?

yuRIs. Why, how dost thou think in this matter ?

Icvor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in Christ for justification.

Curis. How! think thou must believe in Christ, when thou seest not thy need of
Him! Thou neither seest thy original nor actual infirmities; but hast such an opinion
of thyself, and of what thou dost, as plainly renders thee to be one that did never see
a necessity of Christ’s personal righteousness to justify thee before God. How, then,
dost thou say, “I believe in Christ ?”

Jenor. I believe well enough, for all that.

Curis. How dost thou believe?

Iaxor. I believe that Christ died for sinners; and that I shall be justified before
God from the curse, through His gracious acceptance of my obedience to His law.
Or thus: Christ makes my duties that are religious acceptable to His Father, by virtue
of His merits, and so shall I be justified.

Curis. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith.

1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith ; for this faith is nowhere described in the
Word.

2. Thou believest with a false faith, because it taketh justification from the personal
righteousness of Christ, and applies it to thy own.

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, but of thy actions, and of
thy person for thy actions’ sake, which is false.

4. Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave thee under wrath in the
day of God Almighty; for true justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its lost
condition by the law, upon flying for refuge unto Christ’s righteousness (which
righteousness of His is not an act of grace, by which He maketh, for justification, thy
obedience accepted with God, but His personal obedience to the law, in doing and
suffering for us what that required at our hands) ; this righteousness, I say, true faith
accepteth ; under the skirt of which the soul being shrouded, and by it presented as
spotless before God, it is accepted, and acquit from condemnation.

Ienor. What! would you have us trust to what Christ in his own person has done
without us? This conceit would loosen the reins of our lusts, and tolerate us t live
IGNORANCE FALLS BEHIND, 159

as we list; for what matter how we live, if we may be justified by Christ’s personal
righteousness from all when we believe it ?

Curis. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art thou; even this thy
answer demonstrateth what I say. Ignorant thou art of what justifying righteousness
is, and as ignorant how to secure thy soul, through the faith of it, from the heavy
wrath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith in this
righteousness of Christ, which is, to bow and win over the heart to God in Christ, to
love his name, His Word, ways and people, and not as thou ignorantly imaginest.

Horr. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him from heaven.

enor. What! you are a man for revelations! I believe that what both you and
all the rest of you say about that matter is but the fruit of distracted brains.

Horr. Why, man! Christ is so hid in God from the natural apprehensions of the
flesh, that He cannot by any men be savingly known, unless God the Father reveals
Him to them.

Tenor. That is your faith, but not mine; yet mine, I doubt not, is as good as yours,
though I have not in my head so many whimsies as you.

Curis. Give me leave to put ina word. You ought not so slightly to speak of this
matter; for this I will boldly affirm, even as my good companion hath done, that no
man can know Jesus Christ but by the revelation of the Father; yea, and faith too,
by which the soul layeth hold upon Christ, if it be right, must be wrought by the
exceeding greatness of His mighty power;** the working of which faith, I perceive,
poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant of. Be awakened, then; see thine own wretchedness
and fiy to the Lord Jesus; and, by His righteousness, which is the righteousness of
God (for He Himself is God), thou shalt be delivered from condemnation.

Ienor. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with you. Do you go on before: I must
stay awhile behind.

Then they said:

“Well, Lenorance, wilt thou yet foolish be,
To slight good counsel, ten times given thee ?
And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know,
Ere long, the evil of thy doing so.
Remember, man, in time; stoop, do not fear ;
Good counsel, taken well, saves; therefore hear :
But, if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be
The loser, Ignorance, ll warrant thee.”

Then Christian addressed himself thus to his fellow :
Curis. Well, come, my good Hopeful; I perceive that thou and I must walk by

ourselves again.
160 - THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, and Ignorance he came
hobbling after, Then said Christian to his companion, “It pities me much for this
poor man: it will certainly go ill with him at last.”

Tlorr. Alas! there are abundance in our town in his condition, whole families, yea,
whole streets, and that of pilgrims, too; and if there be so many in our parts, how
many, think you, must there be in the place where he was born?

Curis. Indeed, the Word saith, ‘“ He hath blinded their eyes, lest they should see,”
ete. But now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such men? Have they at
no time, think you, convictions of sin, and so, consequently, fears that their state is
dangerous ?

Hopes. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for you are the elder man.

Curis. Then, I say, sometimes, as I think, they may; but they being naturally
ignorant, understand not that such convictions tend to their good; and therefore they
do desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptuously continue to flatter themselves
in the way of their own hearts.

Hore. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to men’s good, and to make
them right at their beginning to go on pilgrimage.

Curis. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right; for so says the Word: “The fear
of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” **

Hope. How will you describe right fear ?

Curis. True or right fear is discovered by three things:

1. By its rise: it is caused by saving convictions for sin.

2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for salvation.

3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great. reverence of God, His Word and
ways; keeping it tender, and making it afraid to turn from them, to the right hand or
to the left, to anything that may dishonor God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or
cause the enemy to speak reproachfully.

Hope. Well said; I believe you have said the truth. Are we now almost got past
the Enchanted Ground ?

Curis. Why, art thou weary of this discourse ?

Hope. No, verily ; but that I would know where we are.

Curis. We have not now above two miles farther to go thereon. But let us return

-to our matter. Now, the ignorant know not that such convictions as tend to put them
in fear are for their good, and therefore they seek to stifle them.

Horr. How do they seek to stifle them ?

Curis. 1. They think that those fears are wrought by the devil (though indeed
THE REASON OF BACKSLIDING. 161

they are wrought of God) ; and, thinking so, they resist them, as things that directly
tend to their overthrow. 2. They also think that these fears tend to the spoiling of
their faith ; when, alas for them, poor men that they are! they have none at all; and
therefore they harden their hearts against them. 3. They presume they ought not to
fear, and therefore, in despite of them, wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see
that those fears tend to take away from them their pitiful old self-holiness, and there-
fore they resist them with all their might.

Hope. I know something of this myself; for, before I knew myself, it was so with
me.

Curis. Well, we will leave at this time our neighbor Ignorance by himself, and
fall upon another profitable question.

Hops. With all my heart; but you shall still begin.

Curis. Well, then, did you not know, about ten years ago, one Temporary in your
parts, who was a forward man in religion then ?

Horr. Know him! yes; he dwelt in Graceless, a town about two miles off of
Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turnback.

Curis. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well, that man was much
awakened once: I believe that then he had some sight of his sins, and of the wages
that were due thereto.

Hops. I am of your mind; for (my house not being above three miles from him)
he would ofttimes come to me, and that with many tears. Truly, I pitied the man,
and was not altogether without hope of him; but one may see, it is not every one that
eries “ Lord! Lord!”

Curis. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrimage as we do now;
but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one Save-self, and then he became a
stranger to me.

Hors. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a little inquire into the reason
of the sudden backsliding of him and such others.

Curis. It may be very profitable; but do you begin.

Hops. Well, then, there are, in my judgment, four reasons for it:

1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their minds are not
changed; therefore, when the power of guilt weareth away, that which provoked them
to be religious ceaseth, wherefore they naturally turn to their old course again; even
as we see the dog that is sick of what he hath eaten, so long as his sickness prevails,
he vomits and casts up all; not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may say a dog

has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach: but now, when his sickness is over,
21
162 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

and so his stomach is eased, his desire not being all alienated from his vomit, he turns
him about, and licks up all; and so it is true which is written, “The dog is turned to
his own vomit again.” Thus, I say, being hot for heaven, by virtue only of the
sense and fear of the torments of hell; as their sense of hell and the fears of damna-
tion chill and cool, so their desires for heaven and salvation cool also. So then it
comes to pass, that, when their guilt and fear are gone, their desires for heaven and
happiness die, and they return to their course again.

9. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster them: I speak now
of the fears that they have of men; for “the fear of man bringeth a snare.” So
then, though they seem to be hot for heaven so long as the flames of hell are about
their ears, yet, when that terror is a little over, they betake themselves to second
thoughts; namely, that it is good to be wise, and not to run (for they know not what)
the hazard of losing all, or, at least, of bringing themselves into unavoidable and
unnecessary troubles; and so they fall in with the world again.

8. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in their way: they are proud
and haughty, and religion in their eye is low and contemptible; therefore, when they
have lost their sense of hell and the wrath to come, they return again to their former
eourse.

4, Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them. They like not to see their
misery before they come into it; though, perhaps, the sight of it first, if they loved
not that sight, might make them fly whither the righteous fly and are safe. But,
because they do, as I hinted before, even shun the thoughts of guilt and terror, there-
fore, when once they are rid of their awakenings about the terrors and wrath of God,
they harden their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will harden them more and
more. |

Curis. You are pretty near the business; for the bottom of all is for want of a
change in their mind and will. And therefore they are but like the felon that standeth
before the judge: he quakes and trembles, and seems to repent most heartily ; but the
bottom of all is the fear of the halter; not of any detestation of the offence, as is
evident; because, let but this man have his liberty, and he will be a thief, and so a
rogue still; whereas, if his mind was changed, he would be otherwise.

Horr. Now I have showed you the reasons of their going back, do you show me
the manner thereof.

Curis. So I will, willingly.

1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from the remembrance of God,

death, and judgment to come.
THE COUNTRY OF BEULAH. 168

2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet prayer, curbing their lusts,
watching, sorrow for sin, and the like.

3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm Christians.

4. After that they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, reading, godly conference,
and the like.

5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats of some of the godly, and
that devilishly, that they may have a seeming color to throw religion (for the sake of
some infirmity they have espied in them) behind their backs.

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves with, carnal, loose, and
wanton men.

7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in secret; and glad are they
if they can see such things in any that are counted honest, that they may the more
boldly do it through their example.

8. After this, they begin to play with little sins openly.

9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as they are. Thus, being
launched again into the gulf of misery, unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they ever-
lastingly perish in their own deceivings.

CHAPTER XI.

Hy OW I saw in my dream, that by this time the pilgrims were got over the En-
| chanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah,*” whose air was
very sweet and pleasant: the way lying directly through it, they solaced them-
selves there for aseason. Yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds,
and saw every day the flowers appear on the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in
the land. In this country the sun shineth night and day; wherefore this was beyond
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair ; neither
could they from this place so much as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within



sight of the City they were going to; also here met them some of the inhabitants
thereof; for in this land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because it was upon the
borders of heaven. In this land also the contract between the bride and the bride-
groom was renewed ; yea, here, “as the bridegroom rejoiceth over his bride so did their
164 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

God rejoice over them.” Ilere they had no want of corn and wine; for in this place
they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all their pilgrimage. Here
they heard voices from out of the City, loud voices, saying, “Say ye to the daughter
of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh! Behold, His reward is with Him!” Here
all the inhabitants of the country called them “ The holy people, and redeemed of the
Lord,” “sought out,” ete.

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts more remote
from the kingdom to which they were bound; and drawing near to the City, they had
yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded of pearls and precious stones, also the
streets thereof were paved with gold; so that by reason of the natural glory of the
City, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick ; Hopeful
also had a fit or two of the same disease: wherefore here they Jay by it awhile, crying
out because of their pangs, “If you see my Beloved, tell Him that I am sick of love.”

But being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their sickness, they walked
on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and
gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now, as they came up to these
places, behold, the gardener stood in the way; to whom the pilgrims said, “ Whose
goodly vineyards and gardens are these?” He answered, “They are the King’s, and
are planted here for His own delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims.” So the
gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with the
dainties.2% He also showed them there the King’s walks, and the arbors where He
delighted to be; and here they tarried and slept.

Now I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in their sleep at this time than
ever they did in all their journey; and being in a muse thereabout, the gardener said
even to me, “ Wherefore musest thou at the matter? It is the nature of the fruit of
the grapes of these vineyards to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that
are asleep to speak.”

So I saw, when they awoke they addressed themselves to go up to the City. But,
as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the City (for the City was pure gold) * was
so extremely glorious, that they could not, as yet, with open face behold it, but through

an instrument made for that purpose.”?

So I saw that, as they went on, there met
them two men in raiment that shone like gold, also their faces shone as the light.
These men asked the pilgrims whence they came; and they told them. They also
asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and
pleasures, they had met in the way ; and they told them. Then said the men that met

them, “ You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the City.”
CHRISTIAN’S DISTRESS OF MIND. 165

Christian, then, and his companion, asked the men to go along with them; so they
told them that they would. “But,” said they, “you must obtain it by your own faith.
So I saw in my dream that they went on together till they came in sight of the gate.

Now I farther saw, that betwixt them and the gate was a river; but there was no
bridge to go over, and the river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river,
the pilgrims were much stunned; but the men that went with them said, “ You must
go through, or you cannot come at the gate.”

The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the gate; to which
chey answered, “ Yes; but there hath not any save two, to wit, Enoch and Jéhijah, been
permitted to tread that path since the foundation of the world, nor shall until the last
trumpet shall sound.” The pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to despond
in his mind, and looked this way and that; but no way could be found by them by
which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all
of a depth. They said, “No;” yet they could not help them in that case; “for,”
said they, “you shall find it deeper or shallower as you beheve in the King of the
place.”

They then addressed themselves to the water; and, entering, Christian began to
sink, and erying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, “I sink in deep waters; the
billows go over my head; all His waves go over me. Selah.”

Then said the other, “ Be of good cheer, my brother; I feel the bottom, and it is
good.” Then said Christian, “ Ah! my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed
me about; I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey.” And, with that, a
great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him.
Also here he in a great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor
orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his
pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror
of mind, and heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in
at the gate. Here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the trouble-
some thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since and before he began to be
a pilgrim. It was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins
and evil spirits; for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words.

Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother’s head above water ; yea,
sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he would rise up again
half dead. Hopeful would also endeavor to comfort him, saying, “ Brother, I see the
gate, and men standing by to receive us;” but Christian would answer, “It is you, it
is you they wait for: you have been hopeful ever since I knew you.” “ And so have
166 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

you,” said he to Christian. “ Ah, brother,” said he, “ surely, if I were right, He would
now arise to help me; but for my sins He hath brought me into this snare, and hath

“My brother, you have quite forgot the text where

left me.” Then said Hopeful,
it is said of the wicked, ‘There are no bands in their death, but their strength
is firm; they are not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued like other men.’ #
These troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters are no sign that
God hath forsaken you; but are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that
which hitherto you have received of His goodness, and live upon Him in your dis-
tresses.”

Then I saw in my dream that Christian was in a muse awhile. To whom also
Hopeful added these words, “Be of good
cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole.”
And, with that, Christian brake out with a
loud voice, “Oh, I see Him again; and He
tells me, ‘When thou passest through the
waters, I will be with thee; and through the



rivers, they shall not overflow thee.’” *“ Then
they both took courage; and the enemy was,
after that, as still as a stone, until they were
gone over. Christian, therefore, presently
found ground to stand upon; and so it fol-
lowed that the rest of the river was but shallow.
Thus they got over.

Now, upon the bank of the river, on the
other side, they saw the two Shining Men







again, who there waited forthem. Wherefore,
being come out of the river, they saluted
them, saying, “We are ministering spirits,
sent forth to minister for those that shall be
heirs of salvation.” Thus they went along towards the gate. Now, you must note































































“Thus they got over.”

that the City stood upon a mighty hill; but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease,
because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms; also they had left their
mortal garments behind them in the river; for though they went in with them, they
came out without them. They therefore went up here with much agility and speed,
though the foundation upon which the City was framed was higher than the clouds.
They therefore went up through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they went,






























































































































CHRISTIAN AND Hoprrun pAss OVER THE River or Dearu.

“Christian brake out with a loud voice, ‘Oh! I see Him again.” (167)
168 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

being comforted because they had safely got over the river, and had such glorious
companions to attend them.

The talk they had with the Shining Ones, was about the glory of the place; who
told them that the beauty and glory of it were inexpressib'e. “ There,” said they, “1s
the Mount Sion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the
spirits of just men made perfect.” You are going now,” said they, “to the Paradise
of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof ;
and when you come there, you shall have white robes given you, and your walk and
talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity." There you shall
not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the
earth; to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death ; ‘for the former things are passed
away.’™° You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, and to the prophets,
men that God hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now resting upon
their beds, each one walking in his righteousness.” The men then asked, “ What
must we do in the holy place?” To whom it was answered, “ You must there receive
the comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow; you must reap what you
have sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the King
by the way.° In that place you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual
sight and visions of the Holy One; for there you shall see Him as He is.” There also
you shall serve Him continually with praise, with shouting and thanksgiving, whom |
you desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity
of your flesh. There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing and your ears with hear-
ing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends again
that are gone thither before you; and there you shall with joy receive even every one
that follows into the holy place after you. There also you shall be clothed with glory
and majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When
He shall come with sound of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind,
you shall come with Him; and when He shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you



shall sit by Him; yea, and when He shall pass sentence upon all the workers of
iniquity, let them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment,
because they were His and your enemies. Also, when He shall again return to the
City, you shall go too, with sound of trumpet, and be ever with Him.” ey

Now, while they were thus drawing towards the gate, behold, a company of the
heavenly host came out to meet them; to whom it was said by the other two Shining
Ones, “These are the men that have loved our Lord when in the world, and that have

left all for His holy name; and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought


Ne






THE CELESTIAL CITY. 169

them thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer
in the face with joy.” Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying, “ Blessed
are they which are called to the marriage supper of the Lamb.’*” There came out
also at this time to meet them several of the King’s trumpeters, clothed in white and
shining raiment, who, with melodious noises and loud, made even the heavens to
echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten
thousand welcomes from the world; and this they did with shouting and sound of
trumpet.

This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some



behind, and some on the right hand, some on
the left (as it were to guard them through
the upper regions), continually sounding as
they went, with melodious noise, in notes
on high: so that the very sight was to them
that could behold it as if heaven itself was
come down to meet them. Thus, therefore,
they walked on together ; and, as they walked,
ever and anon these trumpeters, even with
joyful sound, would, by mixing their music,
with looks and gestures, still signify to Chris-



tian and his brother how welcome they were
into their company, and with what gladness
they came to meet them. And now were
these two men as it were in heaven before



they came at it, being swallowed up with the
sight of angels, and with hearing of their me-





lodious notes. Here also they had the City

“One of the King’s trumpeters.”

itself in view, and thought they heard all the
bells therein to ring, and welcome them thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful
thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there with such company, and that
for ever and ever, oh! by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed ?

And thus they came up to the gate. Now, when they were come up to the gate,
there was written over it in letters of gold, “ BLessrep ARB THEY THAT DO His com-
MANDMENTS, THAT THEY MAY HAVE RIGHT TO THE TREE OF LIFE, AND MAY ENTER IN
THROUGH THE GATES INTO THE crry.” ”°

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shining Men bid them call at the gate: the
22
470 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

which when they did, some from above looked over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses,
and Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, “These pilgrims are come from the City of
Destruction, for the love that they bear to the King of this place.” And then the
pilgrims gave in unto them each man his certificate, which they had received in the
beginning; those therefore were carried in to the King, who, when He had read them,
said, “ Where are the men?” To whom it was answered, “They are standing without
the gate.” The King then commanded to open the gate, “ that the righteous nation,”
said He, “ which keepeth the truth, may enter in.”

Now, I saw in my dream, that these two men went in at the gate; and lo! as they
entered, they were transfigured; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold.
There were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them—the
harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor. Then I heard in my
dream that all the bells in the City rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them,
“Enter ye into the joy of your Lord.”*’ I also heard the men themselves, that they
sang with a loud voice, saying, “ Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto
Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever!”

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and
behold, the City shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold; and in
them walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden
harps to sing praises withal.

There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without
intermission, saying, “ Holy, holy, holy is the Lord!”** And, after that, they shut
up the gates; which when I had seen, I wished myself among them.

Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to look back, and
saw Ignorance come. up to the river-side; but he soon got over, and that without half
the difficulty which the other two men met with. For it happened that there was
then in the place one Vain-Hope, a ferryman, that with his boat helped him over; so
he, as the others I saw, did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate; only he came alone,
neither did any man meet him with the least encouragement. When he was come up
to the gate, he looked up to the writing that was above, and then began to knock,
supposing that entrance should have been quickly administered to him; but he was
asked by the men that looked over the top of the gate, “ Whence came you? and what
would you have?” He answered, “I have ate and drank in the presence of the King,’
and He has taught in our streets.” Then they asked him for his certificate, that they
might go in and show it to the King: so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found
none. Then said they, “ Have you none?” But the man answered never a word.


























































































































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a =
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172 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

So they told the King; but He would not come down to see him, but commanded
the two Shining Ones that conducted Christian and Hopeful to the City, to go out
and take Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot, and have him away. Then they
took him up, and carried him through the air to the door that I saw in the side of the
hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the

gates of heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction !

So I awoke, and behold, it was a dream.








CONCLUSION.

} OW, reader, I have told my dream to thee,
See if thou canst interpret it to me,
woe Onio thyself or neighbor; but take heed
ee _ Of misinterpreting ; for that, instead

Of doing good, will but thyself abuse:
By misinterpreting, evil ensues.

Take heed also that thou be not extreme
In playing with the outside of my dream ;

Nor let my figure or similitude
Put thee into a laughter or a feud.
Leave this for boys and fools; but as for thee,
Do thou the substance of my matter see.

Put by the curtains, look within my veil ;
Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail,

There, if thou seekest them, such things to find
As will be helpful to an honest mind.

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold
To throw away; but yet preserve the gold.
What if my gold be wrappéd up in ore ?—
None throws away the apple for the core.

But if thou shalt cast all away as vain,
I know not but ’t will make me dream again.



END OF THE FIRST PART.

(173)

THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

PARA li:

(175)



‘ NS

NaS

WO = 4 a We) 3

votes
oe



THE AUTHOR’S WAY

OF SENDING FORTH HIS

SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM.

>O now, my little book, to every place
Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face ;
Call at their door: if any say “ Who’s there?”
Then answer thou, “ Curistrana is here.”
If they bid thee come in, then enter thou,
With all thy boys; and then as thou know’st how,
Tell who they are, also from whence they came—
Perhaps they’lI know them by their looks or name:
But, if they should not, ask them yet again
If formerly they did not entertain
One CuristiaN, a Pilgrim? IEf they say
They did, and were delighted in his way,
Then let them know that those related were
Unto him; yea, his wife and children are.

Tell them that they have left their house and home:
Are turnéd Pilgrims; seek a world to come;
That they have met with hardships in the way,
That they do meet with troubles night and day ;
That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils ;
Have also overcome a many evils;
Yea, tell them also of the next who have,
Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave
Defenders of that way ; and how they still

Refused this world to do their Father’s will.
23 (177)


178

THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF

Go, tell them also of those dainty things

That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings.

Let them acquainted be, too, how they are

Belovéd of their King, under His care;

What goodly mansions for them He provides ;

Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides

How brave a calm they will enjoy at last,

Who to the Lord, and by His ways, hold fast.
Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace

Thee, as they did my firstling, and will grace

Thee and thy fellows with such cheer and fare,

As show will they of Pilgrims lovers are.

?

OBJECTION I.

But how if they will not believe of me:
That I am truly thine? ’Cause some there be
That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name ;
Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same;
And by that means have wrought themselves into
The hands and houses of I know not who.

ANSWER.

"Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit
My Pilgrim, to their own my title set ;
Yea, others half my name and title too
Have stitchéd to their book, to make them do;
But yet they, by their features, do declare
Themselves not mine to be, whose e’er they are.

If such thou meet’st with, then thine only way,
Before them all, is to say out thy say
In thine own native language, which no man
Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can.

If, after all, they still of you shall doubt,
Thinking that you, like gypsies, go about
In naughty-wise the country to defile,
Or that you seek good people to beguile
With things unwarrantable ;—send for me,
And I will testify you Pilgrims be ;
Yea, I will testify that only you
My Pilgrims are; and that alone will do.

OBJECTION II.
But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him
Of those that wish him damnéd, life and limb ;
What shall I do, when I at such a door
For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more?
SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART. "79

ANSWER.

Fright not thyself, my book; for such bugbears
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears.
My Pilgrim’s book has travelled sea and land,
Yet could I never come to understand
That it was slighted, or turned out of door,

By any kingdom, were they rich or poor,

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other,
My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a. brother.

in Holland, too, ’tis said, as I am told,
My Pilgrim is, with some, worth more than gold.
Highianders and wild Irish can agree
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be.

’Tis in New England under such advance,
Receives there so much loving countenance,

As to be trimmed, new clothed, and decked with gems,
That it might show its features and its limbs,

Yet more; so comely doth my Pilgrim walk,

That of him thousands daily sing and talk.

If you draw nearer home, it will appear
My Piigrim knows no ground of shame or fear.
City and country will him entertain
With, “ Welcome Pilgrim!” yea, they can’t refrain
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by,

Or shows his head in any company.

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love ;
Esteem it much; yea, value it above
Things of a greater bulk; yea, with delight,

Say, “ My lark’s leg is better than a kite.”

Young ladies and young gentlewomen, too,
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show:
Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts
My Pilgrim has; ’cause he to them imparts
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains,
As yield them profit double to their pains
Of reading; yea, I think I may be bold
To say, some prize him far above their gold.

The very children that do walk the street,
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet,

Salute him will; will wish him well, and say,
He is the only stripling of the day.

They that have never seen him, yet admire
What they have heard of him, and much desire
To have his company, and hear him tell
Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well.

Yea, some who did not love him at the first,
But called him fool and noddy, say they must,
180 THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF

Now they have seen and heard him, him commend;

And to those whom they love they do him send.
Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need’st not be

Afraid to show thy head; none can hurt thee

That wish but well to him that went before,

Cause thou com’st after with a second store

Of things as good, as rich, as profitable,

For young, for old, for staggering, and for stable.

OBJECTION IIT.
But some there be that say, ‘‘He laughs too loud ;”
And some do say, ‘“ His head is in a cloud ;”
Some say his words and stories are so dark,
They know not how by them to find his mark.

ANSWER.
One may, I think, say, Both his laugns and cries
May well be guessed at by his watery eyes.
Some things are of that nature as to make
One’s fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache.
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep,
He did at the same time both kiss and weep.
Whereas some say, “ A cloud is in his head ;”
That doth but show how wisdom’s covered
With its own mantles, and to stir the mind
To a search after what it fain would find.
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure,
Do but the godly mind the more allure
To study what those sayings should contain
That speak to us in such a cloudy strain.
LT also know, a dark similitude
Will on the fancy more itself intrude,
And will stick faster in the heart Pid head,
Than things from similes not borrowed.
fi Whereforé, my ook, let no discouragement
5 Hinder thy travels} behold, thou art sent
To friends,/not foes} to friends that will give place
To hee, my Pilgrims, and thy words embrace.
Besides, what on Pilgrim left concealed,
Thou, my~brave/4 Sécond Pilgrim, hast revealed ;
~ What CuristraN left locked up, and went eh way,
; 7 “. Sweet CuristrAna opens with her key.

Mises

OBJECTION IV.
en some, Tove not the method of your first :
, Romaded they count it,—throw’t away as dust.
zx ce If I should meet with such, what should I say
po ; Must T slight them as they slight me, or By

oy


SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART. 181

ANSWER.

My Curistiana, if with such thou meet,

By all means in all loving-wise them greet ;
Render them not reviling for revile ;

But if they frown, I prithee on them smile.
Perhaps ’tis nature, or some ill report,

Has ‘made them thus despise or thus retort.

Some love no cheese, some love no fish, and some
Love not their friends, nor their own house or home ;
Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl
‘More than they love a cuckoo or an owl.

Leave such, my Curistiawa, to their choice,
And seek those who to find thee will rejoice.
By no means strive, but in all humble-wise
Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim’s guise.

Go then, my little book, and show to all

That entertain and bid thee welcome shall,
What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest ;
And wish what thou shalt show them may be blest
To them for good—may make them choose to be
Pilgrims better by far than thee or me.

Go then, I say, tell all men who thou art;

Say, [am Curistrana, and my part

Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what
Tt is for men to take a Pilgrim’s lot.

Go, also tell them who and what they be
That now do go on pilgrimage with thee:
Say, ‘ Here’s my neighbor Mercy ; she is one
That has long time with me a Pilgrim gone:
Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn
’Twixt idle ones and Pilgrims to discern ;
Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize
The world which is to come, in any wise.”
When little tripping maidens follow God,
And leave old doting sinners to His rod,

*Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried
“ Hosanna!” to whom old ones did deride.

Next tell them of old Honest, whom you found,
With his white hairs, treading the Pilgrims’ ground
Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was ;
How after his good Lord he bare his cross.
Perhaps with some gray head this may prevail
With Christ to fall in Jove, and sin bewail.

Tell them also how Master Fearing went
On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent
In solitariness, with fears and cries ;

And how at last he won the joyful prize.
183 THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART.

He was a good man, though much down in spirit;
He zs a good man, and doth life inherit.
Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also,
Who not before, but still behind, would go ;
Show them also how he had like been slain,
And how one Great-heart did his life regain.
This man was true of heart, though weak in grace ;
Oue might true godliness read in his face.
Then tell them of Master Ready-to-halt,
A man with crutches, but much without fault :
Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he
Did love, and in opinions much agree :
And let all know, though weakness was their chance,
Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance.
Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth, —
That man of courage, though a very youth.
Tell every one his spirit was so stout,
No man could ever make him face about ;
And how Great-heart and he could not forbear,
But put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair !
Overlook not Master Despondency,
Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie
Under such mantles as may make them look
(With some) as if their God had them forsook.
They softly went, but sure; and, at the end,
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend.
When thou hast told the world of all these things,
Then turn about, my book, and touch those strings
Which, if but touched, will such music make,
They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake.
These riddles that lie couched within thy breast,
Freely propound, expound; and, for the rest
Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain
For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain.

Now may this little book a blessing be
To those who love this little book and me ;
And may its buyer have no cause to say
His money is but lost or thrown away ;
‘Yea, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit
As may with each good pilgrim’s fancy suit;
And may it some persuade that go astray,
To turn their feet and heart to the right way,

Is the hearty prayer of
The Author,

JOHN BUNYAX.
THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS, PART IL

CHAPTER IL

Courteous ComPaNnions,—

OME time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian the Pilgrim, and
of his dangerous journey towards the Celestial Country, was pleasant to me and
profitable to you. I told you then, also, what I saw concerning his wife ana
children, and how unwilling they were to go with him on pilgrimage, insomuch

that he was forced to go on his progress without them; for he durst not run the danger
of that destruction which he feared would come by staying with them in the City of
Destruction ; wherefore, as I then showed you, he left them and departed.

Now, it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of business, that I have been
much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those parts whence he
went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry after
those whom he left behind, that I might give you an account of them. But, having
had some concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward. Now, having
taken up my lodgings in a wood about a mile off the place, as I slept I dreamed
again.

And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged geatleman came by where I lay; and,
because he was to go some part of the way that I was travelling, methought I got up
and went with him. So, as we walked, and as travellers usually do, I was as if we fell
into discourse ; and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels; for thus
I began with the old man:

“Sir,” said I, “what town is that there below, that lieth on the left hand of our
way?”

Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name), “It is the City of Destruction; a
populous place, but possessed with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people.”

“T thought that was that city,” quoth I: “I went once myself through that town,
and therefore know that this report you give of it is true.”

( 183 }
184 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Sac. Too true! I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them that dwell
therein.

“Well, sir,” quoth I, “then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man, and so one
that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear
what happened to a man some time ago of this town (whose name was Christian), that
went on pilgrimage up towards the higher regions? ”

Sac. Hear of him! Ay, and I also heard of the molestations, troubles, wars, cap-
tivities, cries, groans, frights and fears that he met with and had in his journey.
Besides, I must tell you all our country rings of him: there are but few houses that
have heard of him and his doings but have sought after and got the record of his
pilgrimage. Yea, I think I may say that his hazardous journey has got many well-
wishers to his ways; for though, when he was here, he was a fool in every man’s
mouth, yet now he is gone he is highly commended of all. For ’t is said he lives
bravely where he is: yea, many of them that are resolved never to run his hazards,
yet have their mouths water at his gains.

“They may,” quoth I, “well think, if they think anything that is true, that he liveth
well where he is; for he now lives at and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he
has without labor and sorrow; for there is no grief mixed therewith. But, pray, what
talk have the people about him?”

Sac. Talk! the people talk strangely about him: some say that he now walks in
white ;* that he has a chain of gold about his neck; that he has a crown of gold beset
with pearls upon his head. Others say that the Shining Ones, that sometimes showed
themselves unto him in his journey, are become his companions, and that he is as
familiar with them in the place where he is, as here one neighbor is with another.
Besides, it is confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of the place where
he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant dwelling at court,? and
that he every day eateth and drinketh, and walketh and talketh with Him, and
receiveth of the smiles and favors of Him that is J udge of all there.* Moreover, it is
expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that country, will shortly come into
tl.ese parts, and will know the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbors set so
little by him, and had him so much in derision, when they perceived that he would be a
Pilgrim." For they say, that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, and that his
Sovereign is so much concerned with the indignities that were cast upon Christian
when he became a Pilerim, that He will look upon all. as if done unto Himself;¢

and no marvel, for it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as
he did.


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Mr.

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24

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186 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

“T daresay,” quoth I; “Iam glad on’t; Iam glad for the poor man’s sake, for
that he now has rest from his labor,’ and for that he reapeth the benefit of his tears
with joy, and for that he has got beyond gunshot of his enemies, and is out of the
reach of them that hate him." I also am glad for that a rumor of these things is
noised abroad in this country: who can tell but that it may work some good effect on
some that are left behind? But pray, sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you
hear anything of his wife and children? Poor hearts! I wonder in my mind what
they do.”

Sac. Who? Christiana and her sons? They are like to do as well as did
Christian himself; for, though they all played the fool at first, and would by no

means be persuaded by either the tears or
entreaties of Christian, yet, second thoughts
have wrought wonderfully with them, so they
have packed up, and are also gone after
him.

“ Better and better,” quoth I: “but, what!

wife and children and all?”

Sac. It is true: I can give you an account

of the matter, for I was upon the spot at the
instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with
the whole affair.





“Then,” said I, “a man, it seems, may re-
port it for a truth?”

Sac. You need not fear to affirm it. I
mean, that they are all gone on pilgrimage,
both the good woman and her four boys.
And, being (we are, as I perceive) going





some considerable way together, I will give

“Her thoughts began to work in her mind.”

you an account of the whole matter.

This Christiana (for that was her name from the day that she, with her children,
betook themselves to a pilgrim’s life) after her husband had gone over the river, and
she could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work in her mind. First, for
that she had lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly
broken betwixt them, For you know (said he to me) nature can do no less but enter-
tain the living with many a heavy cogitation, in the remembrance of the loss of loving
relations. This, therefore, of her husband, did cost her many a tear. But this was


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188 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

not all; for Christiana did also begin to consider with herself, whether unbecoming

behavior towards her husband was not one cause that she saw him no more, and that —

in such sort he was taken away from her. And, upon this, came into her mind, by

swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages to her dear friend; which |

also clogged her conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much
broken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish tears, and self-
bemoanings of her husband, and how she did harden her heart against all his
entreaties and loving persuasions of her and her sons to go with him; yea, there was
not anything that Christian either said to her or did before her, all the while that his
burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and
rent the caul of her heart in sunder. Specially that bitter outcry of his, “ What shall
I do to be saved?” did ring in her ears most dolefully.

Then said she to her children, “Sons, we are all undone. I have sinned away your
father, and he is gone; he would have had us with him, but I would not go myself;
I also have hindered you of life.”

With that, the boys fell all into tears, and cried out to go after their father.

“Oh,” said Christiana, “that it had been but our lot to go with him! then had it
fared well with us, beyond what it is like todo now. For though I formerly foolishly

-. Imagined, concerning the troubles of your father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancy

that he had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy humors; yet now it will
not out of my mind but that they sprang from another cause; to wit, for that the
light of life was given him,® by the help of which, as I perceive, he has escaped the
snares of death.”

Then they all wept again, and cried out, “Oh, woe Poxtly ire day!”

The next night Christiana had a dream; and, behold, she saw as if a broad parch-
ment were opened before her, in which were recorded the sum of her ways; and the
times, as she thought, looked very black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her
sleep, “ Lord, have mercy upon me a sinner?’”’® and the little children heard her.

After this, she thought she saw two very ill-favored ones standing by her bed-side,
and saying, “ What shall we do with this woman? for she cries out for mercy waking
and sleeping: if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her as we have
lost her husband. Wherefore we must, by one way or other, seek to take her off from
the thoughts of what shall be hereafter; else, all the world cannot help but she will
become a pilgrim.” :

Now she awoke in a great sweat; also a trembling was upon her; but after a
while, she fell to sleeping again. And then she thought she saw Christian her hus-
” CHRISTIANA IS SENT FOR. 189

band in a place of bliss, among many immortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and
playing upon it before One that sat upon a throne, with a rainbow about His. head.

She saw, also, as if he bowed his head with his face to the paved work that was under
the Prince’s feet, saying, “I heartily thank my Lord and King for bringing of me into
this place.” Then shouted a company of them that stood round about, and harped
with their harps; but no man living could tell what they said, but Christian and his
companions.

Next morning, when she was up, and had prayed to God and talked with her chil-
dren a while, one knocked hard at the door ; to whom she spake out, saying, “If thou
comest in God’s name, come in.” So he said, “ Amen,” and opened the door, and
saluted her with “ Peace be to this house!” The which, when he had done, he said,
“Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come?” Then she blushed and trembled,
also her heart began to wax warm with desires to know from whence he came, and
what was his errand to her. So he said unto her, “ My name is Secret: I dwell with
those that are on high. It is talked of where I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to go
thither; also there is a report that thou art aware of the evil thou hast formerly done
to thy husband, in hardening thy heart against his way, and in keeping of these thy
babes in their ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One hath sent me to tell thee, that
He is a God ready: to forgive, and that He taketh delight to multiply the pardon of
offences. He also. would have thee know that He inviteth thee to come into His
presence, to His table, and that He will feed thee with the fat of His house, and with
the heri itage of Jacbb thy father.

There is Christian, thy husband that was, Eile more, his companions, ever
beholding that face that doth minister life to beholders; and they will be glad when
they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father’s threshold.”

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bowed her head to the
ground.

This visitor proceeded, and said, “Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which I
have brought from: thy husband’s King.” So she took it, and opened it ;’ but it s:nelt

after the manner of the best perfume ;”

also it was written in letters of gold. The
contents of the letter were these: “That the King would have her to do as Christian
her husband 5) ES that was the way to come to His City, and to dwell in His presence
with joy for ever.

At this the | \good woman was quite overcome; so she cried out to eee visitor, “Sir,
will you carr K me and my children with you, that we also may go and worship this

King?” ‘
1gU THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

Then said the visitor, “Christiana, the bitter is before the sweet. Thou must
through troubles, as did he that went before thee, enter the Celestial City. Where-
fore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy husband: go to the wicket-gate yonder
over the plain, for that stands in the head of the way up which you must go; and |
wish thee all good speed. Also I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom, that
thou read therein to thyself, and to thy children, until you have got it by rote of
heart; for it is one of the songs that thou must sing while thou art in this house of
thy pilgrimage." Also this thou must deliver in at the farther gate.”

Now, I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, sé told me the story, did him-
self seem to be greatly affected therewith. _Henoreover proceeded, and said:

So Christiana called her sons togettier, and began thus to address herself unto
them: ‘“ My sons, I have, as you may perceive, been of late-tinder much exercise in
my soul about the death of your father: not for that I doubt at all of his happiness, for
I am satisfied now that hé is well. I have also been ‘tauch affected with the thoughts
of mine own state. and yours, which I verily. believe is: ‘by nature miserable. “My
carriages also to your father in his distress is~a ereat load to my conscience, for I

hardened both mine own heart and oe against him, and. refused to go with him on

pilgrimage. oe . ss

“The thoughts of these things mold now aie me Gane bat for a dream ren
Thad last night,.and but. for the encouragement that this stranger has ‘given me this
morning. Come, my children, let us _pack-up, and. be gone to the gate-that leads to
the Celestial Country, that weanaly see your father, and: be with him and his com-



panions in peace, according t to the laws of that: Jand.



tear ‘3, for” OF ¥ that. she" heart of their mother



Then did’ her children burst out:
was so inclined. So their. visitor bade ‘them farewells ;-ertd they began to prepare to



set out for their j journey.

~ But while they were sie ton to) bes Gone, as of the women that were Christiana’s
neighbors .came up to the house; and set at the door. To whom she said as
before, “If you come_in- God's name, come in.” At this the women were stunned ;
for this kind of language they used not to hear, or to perceive to drop from the lips
of Christiana. Yet they came in; but, behold they found the good woman preparing
to be gone from her house.

So they began, and said, “ Neighbor, pray what is your meaning by this?”

“ Christiana answered and said to the eldest of them, whose name was Mrs. Timor-
ous, “I am preparing for a journey.”

eT ee aon Roars
MERCY AND MRS. TIMOROUS VISIT CHRISTIANA. 191

This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon the Hill Difficulty,
and would have had him go back for fear of the lions.

Tia. For what journey, I pray you?

Cur. Even to go after my good husband. And with that she fell a weeping.

Tru. I hope not so, good neighbor. Pray, for your poor children’s sake, do not so
unwomanly cast away yourself.

Cur. Nay, my children shall go with me; not one of them is willing to stay behind.

Tit. I wonder in my very heart what or who has brought you into this mind!

Cur. Oh, neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you would
go with me.

Tru. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got that so worketh off thy mind trom
thy friends, and that tempteth thee to go nobody knows where?

Cur. Then Christiana replied, “I have been sorely afflicted since my husband’s
departure from me, but especially since he went over the river. But that which
troubleth me most is my churlish carriages to him when he was under his distress.
Besides, Tam now as he was then: nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage.
I was a-dreaming last night that I saw him. Oh that my soul was with him! IIe
dwelleth in the presence of the King of the country; he sits and eats with Him at
His table; he has become a companion of immortals, and has a house now given him
to dwell in, to which the best palaces on earth, if compared, seem to me but as a
dunghill.”” The Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promises of entertain-
ment if I shall come to Him; His messenger was here even now, and has brought me
a letter which invites me to come.” And with that she plucked out the letter, and
read it, and said to them, “ What now will you say to this?”

Tim. Oh, the madness that hath possessed thee and thy husband, to run yourselves
upon such difficulties! You have heard, I am sure, what your husband did meet with,
even in a manner at the first step that he took on his way, as our neighbor Obstinate
can yet testify, for he went along with them; yea, and Pliable too; until they, like
wise men, were afraid to go any farther. We also heard, over and above, how he met
with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things. Ner is the
danger he met with at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee. For if he, though a man,
was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor woman, do? Consider also
that these four sweet babes are thy children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wherefore,
though thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself, yet, for the sake of the fruit
of thy body, keep thou at home.

But Christiana said unto her, “Tempt me not, my neighbor. I have now a price
192 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

put into my hands to get gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest size if I should
have no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that you tell me of all these
troubles which Tam like to meet with in the way, they are so far off from being to me
a discouragement, that they show I am in the right. The bitter must come before the
sweet, and that also will make the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore, since you came not
to my house in God’s name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and not to disquiet me
further.”

Then Timorous reviled her, and said to her fellow, “ Come, neighbor Mercy, let us
leave her in her own hands, since she scorns



our counsel and company.” But Mercy was
at a stand, and could not so readily comply
with her neighbor, and that for a twofold
reason. 1. Her bowels yearned over Chris-
tiana; so she said within herself, “If my
neighbor will needs be gone, I will go a little
way with her, and help her.” 2. Her bowels
yearned over her own soul; for what
Christiana had said had taken hold upon her



mind. Wherefore she said within herself





again, “TI will yet have more talk with this
Christiana, and if I find truth and life in
what she shall say, myself, with my heart,
shall also go with her.” Wherefore Mercy
began thus to reply to her neighbor Timor-
ous:







Mer. Neighbor, I did indeed come with

“*Well, I see you haye a mind to go a-fooling too”” you to see Christiana this morning; and since

she is, as you see, taking her last farewell of

her country, I think to walk this sunshiny morning a little with her, to help her on
her way. |

But she told her not of the second reason, but kept that to herself,

Trw. Well, I'see you have a mind to go a-fooling too; but\take heed in time, and
be wise. While we are out of danger, we are out; but. when wé are in, we are in.

So Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana Betook herself to her
journey. But when Timorous was got home to her house, she sends for some of her

neighbors; to wit, Mrs. Bat’s-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-mind, and Mrs.








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Bat’s-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Lieht-mind. and Mrs. Know-noth
194 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

Know-nothing. So, when they were come to her house, she falls to telling of the story
of Christiana and of her intended journey. And thus she began her tale:

Tim. Neighbors, having had little to do this morning, I went to give Christiana a
visit; and when I came at the door, I knocked, as you know it is our custom; and she
answered, “If you come in God’s name, come in.” So in I went, thinking all was well ;
but when I came in I found her preparing herself to depart the town, she and also her
children. So I asked her what was her meaning by that. And she told me, in short,
that she was now of a mind to go on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She told me
also a dream that she had, and how the King of the country where her husband was
had sent her an inviting letter to come thither.

Then said Mrs. Know-nothing, “And, what! do you think she will go?”

Tot. Ay, go she will, whatever comes on ’t; and methinks I know it by this: for
that which was my great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the
troubles she was like to meet with in the way) is one great argument with her to put
her forward on her journey. For she told me, in so many words, “The bitter goes
before the sweet ; yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter.”

Mrs. Bat’s-rves. “Oh, this blind and foolish woman!” said she; “will she not
take warning by her husband’s afflictions? For my part, I see, if he were here again,
he would rest him content in a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing.”

Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying, “ Away with such fantastical fools from
the town! a good riddance, for my part, I say, of her! Should she stay where she
dwells, and retain this her mind, who could live quietly by her? for she will either be
dumpish, or unneighborly, or talk of such matters as no wise body can abide.
Wherefore, for my part, I shal! never be sorry for her departure: let her go, and let
better come in her room. It was never a good world since these whimsical fools
dwelt in it.”

Then Mrs. Light-mind added as followeth: “Come, put this kind of talk away. I
was yesterday at Madam Wanton’s, where we were as merry as the maids. For who
do you think should be there, but I and Mrs. Love-the-Flesh, and three or four more,
with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others. So there we had music and dancing,
and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And, I dare say, my lady herself ig
an admirable well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is as pretty a fellow.”
MERCY RESOLVES TO BECOME A PILGRIM. 195

CEA PAE REE.
THE WICKET-GATE,

Y this time Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy went along with her. So
as they went, her children being there also, Christiana began to discourse.
“And, Mercy,” said Christiana, “I take this as an unexpected favor, that wee



: ‘shouldst set forth out of doors with me, to accompany me a little in my way.”

Mer) \Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), “If I Uoue ut it would be
to purpose to go with you, I would never go near the town any more.’

Cur. “Well, Mercy,” said Christiana, “cast in thy lot with me: I well know what
will be the end of our pilgrimage: my husband is where he would not but be for all
the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but
upon my invitation. The King who hath sent for me and my children is One that
delighteth in mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along
with me as my servant; yet we will have all things in common betwixt thee and me:
only go along with me.”

Mer. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall be entertained? Had 1 this
hope but from one that can tell, I would make no stick at all, but would go, being
helped by Him that can help, though the way be never so tedious.

Cur. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt do: go with me to the
wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for thee; and if there thou dost not meet
with encouragement, I will ‘be content that thou shalt return to thy place: I also will
pay thee for thy kindness which thou showest to me and my children, in the accom-
panying of us in our way as thou “dost.

Mer. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall follome and the Lord grant
that my lot may there fall, even as the King of heaven shall haye His heart upon me!

Christiana was then glad at her heart, not only that she had a companion, but also
for that she had prevailed with this poor maid to fall in love with her own salvation.
So they went on together, and Mer cy began to weep.

Then said Christiana, “ Wherefore weepeth my sister so?”

Mer. “Alas!” said she, “who can but lament, that shall but rightly consider what
a state and condition my poor relations are in, that yet remain in our sinful town?
196 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

And that which makes my grief the more heavy is, because they have no instructor,
nor any to tell them what is to come.

Cur. Bowels becometh pilgrims; and thou dost for thy friends as my good Christian
did for me when he left me: he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard him;
but his Lord and ours did gather up his tears, and put them into His bottle; and now
both I and thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of them.
I hope, Mercy, that these tears of thine will not be lost; for the Truth hath said that
“they that sow in tears shall reap in joy,” in singing; and “he that goeth forth and
weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing hiz
sheaves with him.” ®
Then said Mercy:

‘* Let the Most Blessed be my mide
If ’t be His blesséd will,
Unto His gate, into His fold,
Up to His holy hill.

‘And let Him never suffer me
To swerve or turn aside
From His free grace and holy ways,
Whate’er shall me betide.

“And let Him gather them of mine
That I have left behind:
Lord, make them pray they may be Thine,
With all their heart and mind.”

Now my old friend proceeded, and said, “ But when Christiana came to the Slough
of Despond, she began to be at a stand; ‘ For,’ said she, ‘this is the place in which
my dear husband had like to have been smothered with mud.’ She perceived also
that, notwithstanding the command of the King to make this place for pilgrims good,
yet it was rather worse than formerly.” So I asked if that was true.

“Yes,” said the old gentleman, “too true, for many there be that pretend to be the
King’s laborers, and say they are for mending the King’s highway, that bring dirt
and dung instead of stones, and so mar instead of mending. Here Christiana, there-
fore, with her boys, did make a stand. But said Mercy, ‘Come, let us venture, only
let us be wary.’ Then they looked well to their steps, and made shift to get stagger-
inely over. Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not once nor twice.

“Now, they had no sooner got over, but they thought they heard words that said
unto them, ‘ Blessed is she that believeth, for there shall be a performance of those
things which were told her from the Lord.’ “
AT THE WICKET GATE. 197

“Then they went on again; and said Mercy to Christiana, ‘Had I as good ground
to hope for a loving reception at the wicket-gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond
wovld discourage me.’

“7 Well,’ said the other, ‘You know your sore, and I know mine; and, good friend,
we shall all have enough evil before we come at our journey’s end. Jor can it be

imagined that the people that design to attain such excellent glories as we do, and that



are so envied that happiness as we are, but
that we shall meet with what fears and scares,
with what* troubles and afflictions they can
‘possibly assault us with, that hate us?’”
And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out
my dream by myself. Wherefore, methought
I saw Christiana, and Mercy, and the boys, go
all of them up to the gate; to which when
they were come, they betook themselves to a
short debate about how they must manage
their calling.at the gate, and what should be
said unto him that did open unto them: so it
was concluded, since Christiana was the eldest,
that she should knock for entrance, and that
she should speak to him that did open, for the
rest. So Christiana began to knock, and, as
her poor husband did, she knocked and
knocked again. But instead of any that



“*Come, let us venture, only let us be wary.’ ”

answered, they all thought that they heard as
if a dog came barking upon them; a dog, and a great one too: and this made the
women and children afraid, nor durst they for a while to knock any’ more, for fear the
mastiff should fly upon them. Now, therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and
down in their minds, and knew not what to do. Knock they durst not, for fear of
the dog; go back they durst not, for fear the Keeper of the gate should espy them as
they so went, and should be offended with them. At last they thought of knocking
again, and knocked more vehemently than they did at first. Then said the Keeper
of the gate, “Who is there?” So the dog left off to bark, and He opened unto
them. |

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, “Let not our Lord be offended with
His handmaidens, for that we have knocked at His princely gate.”
198 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Then said the Keeper, “ Whence come ye? and what is it that you would have? ”

Christiana answered, “ We are come from whence Christian did come, and upon the
same errand as he; to wit, to be, if it shall please you, graciously admitted by this gate
into the way that leads to the Celestial City. And I answer, my Lord, in the next
place, that I am Christiana, once the wife of Christian, that now is gotten above.”

With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, “ What! is she now become a
pilgrim, that, but a while ago, abhorred that life?”

Then she bowed her head, and said, “ Yes; and so are these my sweet babes also.”

Then He took her by the hand, and let her in, and said also, “Suffer the little
children to come unto me;” and with that He shut up the gate. This done, He
called to a trumpeter that was above, over the gate, to entertain Christiana with shout-
ing and sound of trumpet for joy. So he obeyed, and sounded, and filled the air with
his melodious notes.”

Now, all this while poor Mercy did stand without, trembling and crying, for fear
that she was rejected. But when Christiana had got admittance for herself and her
boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy.

Cur. And she said, “ My Lord, I have a companion of mine that stands yet with-
out, that is come hither upon the same account as myself; one that is much dejected
in her mind, for that she comes, as she thinks, without sending for; whereas I was
sent to by my husband’s King to come.”

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, for each minute was as long to her as an
hour; wherefore she prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for her, by knock-
ing at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud that she made Christiana to
start. Then said the Keeper of the gate, “ Who is there?” And said Christiana, “It
is my friend.”

So He opened the gate and looked out; but Mercy was fallen down without in a
swoon, for she fainted, and was afraid that no gate would be opened to her.

Then He took her by the hand, and said, “ Damsel, I bid thee arise.”

“Oh, sir,” said she, “I am faint: there is scarce life left in me.”

But He answered that “One once said, ‘ When my soul fainted within me, I remem-
bered the Lord; and my prayer came in unto Thee, into Thy holy temple’ Fear
not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell me wherefore thou art come.”

Mer. I am come for that unto which I was never invited, as my friend Christiana
was. Hers was from the King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I fear I
presume.

Kurr. Did she desire thee to come with her to this place?


























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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al



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(199)

THE Kixe’s TRUMPETER.
200 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Mer. Yes; and, as my Lord sees, [ am come. And if there is any grace and
forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech that I, Thy poor handmaiden, may be partaker
thereof.

Then He took her again by the hand, and led her gently in, and said, “I pray for
all them that believe on me, by what means soever they come unto me.’ Then said
He to those that stood by, “ Fetch something, and give it to Mercy to smell on,
thereby to stay her fainting.” So they fetched her a bundle of myrrh, and a while
after she was revived.

And now was Christiana and her boys and Mercy received of the Lord at the head
of the way, and spoke kindly unto by Him. Then said they yet further unto Him,
“We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our Lord His pardon and further information
what we must do.”

“T grant pardon,” said He, “ by word and deed: by word, in the promise of for-
giveness; by deed, in the way I obtained it. Take the first from my lips with a kiss,
and the other as it shall be revealed.” ”

Now, I saw in my dream, that He spake many good words unto them, whereby
they were greatly gladded. He also had them up to the top of the gate, and showed
them by what deed they were saved; and told them withal that that sight they would
have again as they went along the way, to their comfort.

So He left them a while in a summer parlor below, where they entered into a talk
by themselves ; and thus Christiana began :

“QO Lord, how glad am I that we are got in hither!”

Mer. So you well may; but I of all have cause to leap for joy.

Cur. I thought one time as I stood at the gate, because I knocked, and none did
answer, that all our labor had been lost, specially when that ugly cur made such a
heavy barking against us.

Mer. But my worst fear was after I saw that you were taken into His favor, and
that I was left behind. Now, thought J, it is fulfilled which is written, “Two women
shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall be taken, and the other left."* I had much
ado to forbear crying out, “Undone! undone!” And afraid I was to knock any more:
but when I looked up to what was written over, the gate, I took courage. J also thought
that I must either knock again or die; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how, for my
spirit now struggled betwixt life and death.

Cur. Can you not tell how you knocked? Iam sure your knocks were so earnest,
that the very sound of them made me start. I thought I never heard such knocking


























































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Mercy FALLEN IN A Swoon AT THE WICKET-GATE, (201)
26
®02 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

in all my life: I thought you would come in by violent hands, or take the kingdom
by storm.”

Mer. Alas! to be in my case, who that so was could but have done so? You saw
that the door was shut upon me, and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout.
Who, I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, would not have knocked with all their
might? But, pray, what said my Lord to my rudeness? Was He not angry with me?

Cur. When He heard your lumbering noise, He gave a wonderful innocent smile;
I believe what you did pleased Him well enough, for He showed no sign to the con-
trary. But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog: had I known that afore,
I should not have had heart enough to have ventured myself in this manner. But
now we are in, we are in, and I am glad with all my heart.

Mer. I will ask, if you please, next time He comes down, why He keeps such a
filthy cur in His yard. I hope He will not take it amiss.

“ Ay, do,” said the children, “and persuade Him to hang him, for we are afraid he
will bite us when we go hence.”

So at last He came down to them again, and Mercy fell to the ground on her face
before Him, and worshipped, and said, “ Let my Lord accept the sacrifice of praise
which I now offer unto Him with the calves of my lips.”

So He said unto her, “ Peace be to thee; stand up.” But she continued upon her
face, and said, “ Righteous art Thou, O Lord, when I plead with Thee; yet let me talk
with Thee of Thy judgments.” Wherefore dost Thou keep so cruel a dog in Thy
yard, at the sight of which such women and children as we are ready to fly from the
gate with fear? He answered and said, “That dog has another owner ; he also is kept
close in another man’s ground, only my pilgrims hear his barking: he belongs to the
castle which you see there at a distance, but can come up to the walls of this place.
He has frighted many an honest pilgrim from worse to better, by the great voice of his
roaring. Indeed, he that owneth him doth not keep him out of any good-will to me
or mine, but with intent to keep the pilgrims from coming to me, and that they may
be afraid to come and knock at this gate for entrance. Sometimes also he has broken
out, and has worried some that I love; but I take all at present patiently. I also give
my pilgrims timely help, so that they are not delivered up to his power, to do with
them what his doggish nature would prompt him to. But, what! my purchased one,
I trow, hadst thou known even so much beforehand, thou wouldst not have been afraid
ofadog. The beggars that go from door to door will, rather than lose a supposed
alms, run the hazard of the bawling, barking, and biting too, of a dog; and shall a

dog in ancther man’s yard, a dog whose barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims, keep
4
THE ILL-FAVORED ONES. 208

any one from coming tome? I deliver them from the lions, their darling from the
power of the dog.”

Mer. Then said Mercy, “I confess my ignorance: I spake what I understood not:
T acknowledge that Thou doest all things well.”

Cur. Then Christiana began to talk of their journey, and to inquire after the way.

So He fed them, and washed their feet, and set them in the way of His steps, accord-
ing as He had dealt with her husband before.

So I saw in my dream that they walked on in their way, and had the weather very
comfortable to them.

Then Christiana began to sing, saying:

‘Blessed be the day that I began
A pilgrim for to be ;
And blesséd also be the man
That thereto movéd me.

‘Tis true, ‘t was long ere I began
To seek to live for ever ;
But now I run fast as I can:
"T is better late than never.

‘*Our tears to joy, our fears to faith,
Are turnéd, as we see ;
Thus our beginning (as one saith)
Shows what our end will be.’’

Now, there was, on the other side of the wall that fenced in the way up which
Christiana and her companions were to go, a garden, and that garden belonged to him
whose was that barking dog, of whom mention was made before. And some of the
fruit-trees that grew in that garden shot their branches over the wall; and, being
mellow, they that found them did gather them up, and oft eat of them to their hurt.
So Christiana’s boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, and the fruit
that did hang thereon, did plash* them, and began to eat. Their mother did also chide
them for so doing; but still the boys went on.

“ Well,” said she, “ my sons, you transgress, for that fruit is none of ours;” but she
did not know that it did belong to the enemy: I'll warrant you, if she had, she would
have been ready to die for fear. But that passed, and they went on their way.

Now, by that they were gone about two bowshots from the place that led them into

* To plash, verb act., or to bend, plier— Dictionnaire Royale Frangais-Anglais et Anglais-Frangais,” par. A. Boyer, 4to.

1729.
204 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

the way, they espied two very ill-fayored ones coming down apace to meet them.
With that, Christiana, and Merey her friend, covered themselves with their veils, and
so kept on their journey; the children also went on before; so that, at last, they met
together. Then they that came down to meet them came just up to the women, as if
they would embrace them; but Christiana said, “Stand back, or go peaceably by, as
you should.”

Yet these two, as men that are deaf, regarded not Christiana’s words, but began to
lay hands upon them. At that, Christiana,
waxing very wroth, spurned at them with her
feet. Mercy also, as well as she could, did
what she could to shift them. Christiana
again said to them, “Stand back, and be gone;
for we have no money to lose, being pilgrims,
as you see, and such, too, as live upon the
charity of our friends.”

Inn-ravorep Onz. Then said one of the two
men, “We make no assault upon you for
money, but are come out to tell you that, if



you will grant one small request which we shall
ask, we will make women of’ you for ever.”
Cur. Now Christiana, imagining what they
should mean, made answer again, “We will
neither hear nor regard, nor yield to what
you shall ask. We are in haste, and cannot



stay; our business is a business of life or
The Ill-favored ones. death.”



So again she and her companions made a
fresh essay to go past them; but they letted them in their way.

Int-ray. And they said, “ We intend no hurt to your lives; it is another thing we
would have.”

Cur. “Ay,” quoth Christiana, “you would have us body and soul, for I know it is
for that you are come; but we will die rather upon the spot, than to suffer ourselves
to be brought into such snares as shall hazard our well-being hereafter.” And, with
that, they both shrieked out, and eried, “Murder! murder!” and so put themselves
under those laws that are provided for the protection of women.“ But the men still






































































































Hus

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PA A, Tae can uf
Way SaAN
CASE

;
Me AE) Rah







“So Christiana’s boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, aud the fruit that did hang thereon,

did plash them, and began to cat.” (205)
206 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

made their approach upon them, with design to prevail against them. They therefore
cried out again.

Now, they being, as I said, not far from the gate in at which they came, their
voices were heard from where they were, thither; wherefore some of the house came
out, and, knowing it was Christiana’s tongue, they made haste to her relief. But by
that they were got within sight of them, the women were in a very great scuffle: the
children also stood crying by. Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the
ruffians, saying, “ What is that thing you do? Would you make my Lord’s people to
transgress?’’ He also attempted to take them, but they did make their escape over the
wall into the garden of the man to whom the great dog belonged ; so the dog became
their protector. This Reliever then came up to the women, and asked them how they did.

So they answered, “ We thank thy Prince, pretty well, only we have been somewhat
affrighted: we thank thee also for that thou camest in to our help, otherwise we had
been overcome.”

Retrever. So, after a few more words, this Reliever said as followeth: “I marvelled
much when you were entertained at the gate above, being ye knew that ye were but
weak women, that you petitioned not the Lord for a conductor. Then might you
have avoided these troubles and dangers; for He would have granted you one.”

Cur. “ Alas!” said Christiana, “we were taken so with our present blessing, that
dangers to come were forgotten by us. Besides, who could have thought that, so near
the King’s palace, there could have lurked such naughty ones? Indeed, it had been
well for us had we asked our Lord for one; but, since our Lord knew it would be for
our profit, I wonder He sent not one along with us.”

Rev. It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for, lest, by so doing, they
become of little esteem ; but when the want of a thing is felt, it then comes under, in
the eyes of him that feels it, that estimate that properly is its due; and so, consequently,
it will be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a conductor, you would not
either have so bewailed that oversight of yours, in not asking for one, as now you have
occasion to do. So all things work for good, and tend to make you more wary.

Cur. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess our folly, and ask one?

Rex. Your confession of your folly I will present Him with. To go back again you
need not; for, in all places where you shall come, you will find no want at all; for, in
every one of my Lord’s lodgings, which He has prepared for the reception of His pil-
grims, there is sufficient to furnish them against all attempts whatsoever. But, as I
said, Me will be inquired of by them, to do it for them And ’t is a poor thing that

is not worth asking for.
THE INTERPRETER’S HOUSE. 207

When he had thus said, he went back to his place, and the pilgrims went on their
way.

Mer. Then said Mercy, “ What a sudden blank is here! JI made account we had
peen past all danger, and that we should never see sorrow more.”

Cur. “Thy innocence, my sister,” said Christiana to Mercy, “may excuse thee
much ; but as for me, my fault is so much the greater, for that I saw the danger before
I came out of the doors, and yet did not provide for it when provision might have been
had. Iam, therefore, much to be blamed.”

Mer. Then said Mercy, “ How knew you this before you came from home? Dray,
open to me this riddle.”

Cur. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of doors, one night, as I Jay in
my bed, J had a dream about this; for methought I saw two men, as like these as ever
any in the world could look, stand at my bed’s feet, plotting how they might prevent
my salvation. I will tell you their very words. They said (it was when I was in my
troubles), “ What shall we do with this woman? for she cries out waking and sleeping
for forgiveness: if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her as we have
lost her husband.” This, you know, might have made me take heed, and have pro-
vided when provision might have been had.

Mer. “ Well,” said Mercy, “as by this neglect we have an occasion ministered unto
us to behold our own imperfections, so our Lord has taken occasion thereby to make
manifest the riches of His grace; for He, as we see, has followed us with unasked
kindness, and has delivered us from their hands that were stronger than we, of Llis
mere good pleasure.

CHAPTER III.
THE INTERPRETERS WOUSE

{{/ HUS, now, when they had talked away a little more time, they drew near to a
house which stood in the way, which house was built for the relief of pilgrims,
as you will find more fully related in the first part of these records of the



Pilgrim’s Progress. So they drew on towards the house (the house of the
Interpreter) ; and, when they came to the door, they heard a great talk in the house.
Then they gave ear, and heard, as they thought, Christiana mentioned by name; for

you must know that there went along, even before her, a talk of her and her children’s
208 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

going on pilgrimage. And this was the more pleasing to them, because they had heard
she was Christian’s wife, that woman who was some time ago so unwilling to hear of
going on pilgrimage. Thus, therefore, they stood still, and heard the good people
within commending her, who, they little thought, stood at the door. At last Christiana
knocked, as she had done at the gate before. Now, when she had knocked, there came
to the door a young damsel, and opened the door and looked; and, behold, two women
were there.

Dam. Then said the damsel to them, “With whom would you speak in this
place?”

Cur. Christiana answered, “ We understand that this is a privileged place for those
that are become pilgrims, and we now at this



door are such; wherefore we pray that we
may be partakers of that for which we at this
time are come; for the day, as thou seest, is
very far spent, and we are loth to-night to go
any farther.”

Dam. Pray, what may I call your name,
that I may tell it to my lord within?

Cur. My name is Christiana: I was the
) wife of that pilgrim that some years ago did
travel this way; and these be his four chil-
dren. This maiden also is my companion, and
is going on pilgrimage too.

Ixnocent. Then Innocent ran in (for that
was her name), and said to those within, “Can
you think who is at the door? There are

Christiana and her children, and her com-







panion, all waiting for entertainment here.”

Innocent.

Then they leaped for joy, and went and
told their master. So he came to the door, and looking upon her, he said, “Art thou
that Christiana whom Christian the good man left behind him, when he betook him-
self to a pilgrim’s life?”

Cur. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight my husband’s troubles,
and then left him to go on his journey alone; and these are his four children. But
now also I am come, for I am convinced that no way is right but this. |

Iyrrr. Then is fulfilled that which also is written of the man that said to his son,
RECEPTION AT THE INTERPRETERS HOUSE. 209

“Go, work to-day in my vineyard;” and he said to his father, “I will not;” but
afterwards he repented, and went.”

Cur. Then said Christiana, “So be it: Amen. God make it a true saying upon
me, and grant that I may be found at the last of Him in peace, without spot and
blameless ! ”

Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door? Come in, thou daughter of
Abraham. We were talking of thee but now; for tidings have come to us before how
thou art become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in; come, maiden, come in.

So he had them all into the house.

So when they were within, they were bidden to sit down and rest them; the which
when they had done, those that attended upon the pilgrims in the house came into the
room to see them. And one smiled, and another smiled, and they all smiled for joy
that Christiana was become a pilgrim. They also looked upon the boys: they
stroked them over the faces with the hand, in token of their kind reception of them;
they also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all welcome into their master’s
house.

After a while, because supper was not ready, the Interpreter took them into his
significant rooms, and showed them what Christian, Christiana’s husband, had seen
some time before. Here, therefore, they saw the man in the cage, the man and his
dream, the man that cut his way through his enemies, and the picture of the biggest
of them all, together with the rest of those things that were then so profitable to
Christian.

This done, and after those things had been somewhat digested by Christiana and
her company, the Interpreter takes them apart again, and has them first into a room
where was a man that could look no way but downwards, with a muck-rake in his
hand. There stood also one over his head, with a celestial crown in his hand, and
proffered to give him that crown for his muck-rake; but the man did neither look up
nor regard, but raked to himself the straws, the small sticks, and the dust of the floor.

Then said Christiana, “I persuade myself that I know somewhat the meaning of
_ this; for this is a figure of a man of this world. Is it not, good sir?”

Inrrr. “Thou hast said the right,’ said he; “and his muck-rake doth show his
carnal mind. And whereas thou seest him rather give heed to rake up straws and
sticks, and the dust of the floor, than to do what he says that calls to him from above
with the celestial crown in his hand; it is to show that heaven is but a fable to some,
and that things here are counted the only things substantial. Now, whereas it was

also showed thee that the man could look no way but downwards; it igs to let thee
27
210 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

know that earthly things, when they are with power upon men’s minds, quite carry
their hearts away from God.”
Cur. Then said Christiana, “Oh, deliver me from this muck-rake!”

3

fyrer. “That prayer,” said the Interpreter, “has lain by till it is almost rusty.

2 24

‘Give me not riches’™ is scarce the prayer of one of ten thousand. Straws, and sticks,
and dust, with most, are the great things now looked after.”

With that, Mercy and Christiana wept, and said, “It is, alas! too true.”

When the Interpreter had showed them this, he had them into the very best room
in the house; a very brave room it was. So he bid them look round about, and see
if they could find anything profitable there. Then they looked round and round;
for there was nothing to be seen but a very great spider on the wall, and that they
overlocked.

Mer. Then said Mercy, “Sir, I see nothing.”

But Christiana held her peace.

Tyrer. “ But,” said the Interpreter, “look again.”

She therefore looked again, and said, “Here is not anything but an ugly spider,
who hangs by her hands upon the wall.”

Then said he, “Is there but one spider in all this spacious room ?”

Then the water stood in Christiana’s eyes, for she was a woman quick of appre-
hension ; and she said, “ Yes, my lord; there is here more than one; yea, and spiders
whose venom is far more destructive than that which is in her.”

The Interpreter then looked pleasantly upon her, and said, “ Thou hast said the truth.”

This made Mercy blush and the boys to cover their faces; for they all began now
to understand the riddle.

Then said the Interpreter again, “The spider taketh hold with her hands (as you
see), and is in kings’ palaces.® And wherefore is this recorded, but to show you
that, how full of the venom of sin soever you be, yet you may, by the hand of faith,
lay hold of and dwell in the best room that belongs to the king’s house above.”

Cur. “I thought,” said Christiana, “of something of this; but I could not imagine
it all. I thought that we were like spiders, and that we looked like ugly creatures,
in what fine rooms soever we were: but that by this spider, this venomous and ill-
favored creature, we were to learn how to act faith, that came not into my mind; and
yet she has taken hold with her hands, and, as I see, dwelleth in the best room in the
house. God has made nothing in vain.”

Then they seemed all to be glad, but the water stood in their eyes; yet they looked
one upon another, and also bowed before the Interpreter. :






































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































GATHERING THE TuiNGs or TITS WoRLD, REGARDLESS OF THE CELESTIAL (
>

TOWN OFFERED.

“A man that could look no way but downwards, with a muck-rake in his hand.” (211)
212 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

He had them then intc another room, where were a hen and chickens, and bid them
observe a while. So one of the chickens went to the trough to drink; and every time
she drank, she lifted up her head and her eyes toward heaven. “See,” said he, “what
this little chick doth; and learn of her to acknowledge whence your mercies come, by
receiving them with looking up. “ Yet again,” said he, “observe and look.”

So they gave heed, and perceived that the hen did walk in a fourfold method
towards her chickens. First, she had a common call, and that she hath all day long.
Secondly, she had a special call, and that she had but sometimes. Thirdly, she had
a brooding note.” And, fourthly, she had an outcry.

Inter. “ Now,” said he, “compare this hen to your King, and these chickens to
His obedient ones: for, answerable to her, He Himself hath His methods which He
walketh in toward His people. By His common call, He gives nothing; by His
special call, He always has something to give; He also has a brooding voice for them
that are under His wing; and He hath an outcry, to give the alarm when He seeth
the enemy come. I chose, my darlings, to lead you into the room where such things
are, because you are women, and they are easy for you.”

Cur. “And, sir,” said Christiana, “ pray let us see some more.”

So he had them into the slaughter-house, where the butcher was killing a sheep;
and, behold, the sheep was quiet, and took her death patiently. Then said the Inter-
preter, “ You must learn of this sheep to suffer, and to put up with wrongs without .
murmurings and complaints. Behold how quietly she takes her death; and, without
objecting, she suffereth her skin to be pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you
His sheep.”

After this, he led them into his garden, where was great variety of flowers; and he
said, “Do you see all these?” So Christiana said, “Yes.” Then said he again,
“ Behold, the flowers are diverse in stature, in quality, and color, and smell, and virtue,
and some are better than some; also, where the gardener has set them, there they
stand, and quarrel not one with another.”

Again, he had them into his field, which he had sowed with wheat and corn; but
when they beheld, the tops of all were cut off, and only the straw remained. He said
again, “This ground was dunged, and ploughed, and sowed; but what shall we do
with the crop?” Then said Christiana, “Burn some, and make muck of the rest.”
Then said the Interpreter again, “ Fruit, you see, is that thing you look for; and, for
want of that, you condemn it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of men. Beware
that in this you condemn not yourselves.”

Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied a little robin with a great
THE INTERPRETERS ALLEGORIES. 213

spider in his mouth. So the Interpreter said, “Look here.” So they looked, and
Mercy wondered; but Christiana said, “ What a disparagement is it to such a pretty
little bird as the robin-redbreast is; he being also a bird above many, that loveth to
maintain a kind of sociableness with man! I had thought they had lived upon crumbs
of bread, or upon other such harmless matter. I like him worse than I did.”

The Interpreter then replied, “This robin is an emblem very apt, to set forth some
professors by; for to sight they are as this robin, pretty of note, color, and carriage.
They seem also to have a very great love for professors that are sincere; and above
all other to desire to sociate with them, and to be in their company, as if they could
live upon the good man’s crumbs. They pretend, also, that therefore it is that they
frequent the house of the godly and the appointments of the Lord; but, when they are
by themselves, as the robin, they can catch and gobble up spiders; they can change
their diet, drink iniquity, and swallow down sin like water.

So, when they were come again into the house, because supper as yet was not ready,
Christiana again desired that the Interpreter would either show, or tell of, some other
things that were profitable.

Then the Interpreter began, and said, “The fatter the sow is, the more she desires
the mire; the fatter the ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter; and
the more healthy the lusty man is, the more prone he is unto evil. There is a desire
in women to go neat and fine; and it is a comely thing to be adorned with that which
in God’s sight is of great price. “TI is easier watching a night or two than to sit up a
whole year together; so ’t is easier for one to begin to profess well than to hold out as
he should to the end. Every shipmaster, when in a storm, will willingly cast that
overboard which is of the smallest value in the vessel; but who will throw the best
out first? None but he that feareth not God. One leak will sink a ship, and one sin
will destroy a sinner. He that forgets his friend is ungrateful unto him; but he that
forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to himself. He that lives in sin, and looks for happi-
ness hereafter, is like him that soweth cockle, and thinks to fill his barn with wheat or
barley. If a man would live well, let him fetch his last day to him, and make it always
his company-keeper. Whispering, and change of thoughts, prove that sin is in the
world. If the world, which. God sets light by, is counted a thing of that worth with
men, what is heaven, that God commendeth! If the life that is attended with so many
troubles is so loth to be let go by us, what is the life above! LEverybody will cry up
the goodness of men; but who is there that is, as he should be, affected with the good-
ness of God? We seldom sit down to meat, but we eat and leave; so there are in
Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the whole world has need of.”
214 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out into his garden again, and had
them to a tree, whose inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it grew and had leaves.

Then said Merey, “ What means this? ”

“This tree,” said he, “ whose outside is fair, and whose inside is rotten, is that to
which many may be compared that are in the garden of God, who with their mouths
speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will do nothing for Him; whose leaves are
fair, but their heart good for nothing but to be tinder for the devil’s tinder-box.”

Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set on the board; so they
sat down, and did eat when one had given thanks. And the Interpreter did usually
entertain those that lodged with him with music at meals; so the minstrels played.
There was also one that did sing, and a very fine voice he had. His song was

this:
‘The Lord is only my support,
And He that doth me feed ;
How can I then want anything
Whereof I stand in need?”

When the song and music were ended, the Interpreter asked Christiana what it was
that first did move her to betake herself to a pilgrim’s life. Christiana answered,
“ First, the loss of my husband came into my mind, at which I was heartily grieved ;
but all that was, but natural affection. Then, after that, came the troubles and pil-
grimages of my husband into my mind, and also how like a churl I had carried it to
him as to that. So guilt took hold of my mind, and would have drawn me into the
pond, but that, opportunely, I had a dream of the well-being of my husband, and a
letter sent by the King of that country where my husband dwells, to come to him.
The dream and the letter together so wrought upon my mind, that they forced me to
this way.”

Inter. But met you with no opposition afore you set out of doors?

Cur. Yes, a neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timorous: she was akin to him that
would have persuaded my husband to go back for fear of the lions. She all-to-be-
fooled me for, as she called it, my intended desperate adventure; she also urged what
she could to dishearten me from it—the hardship and troubles that my husband met
with in the way; but all this I got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of
two ill-looked ones, that I thought did plot how to make me miscarry in my journey,
that hath troubled me much: yea, it still runs in my mind, and makes me afraid of
every one that I meet, lest they should meet me to do me a mischief, and to turn me
out of my way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would not have everybody know

,
DISCOURSE AT SUPPER. 215

it, that, between this and the gate by which we got into the way, we were both so

a

sorely assaulted that we were made to ery out “murder;” and the two that made this
assault upon us were like the two that I saw in my dream.

Then said the Interpreter, “Thy beginning is good; thy latter end shall greatly
increase.” So he addressed himself to Mercy, and said unto her, “And what moved
thee to come hither, sweetheart ?”

Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while continued silent.

Inter. Then said he, “ Be not afraid; only believe, and speak thy mind.”

Mer. So she began, and said, “Truly, sir, my want of experience is that which
makes me covet to be in silence, and that also that fills me with fears of coming short
at last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams, as my friend Christiana can, nor know I
what it is to mourn for my refusing the counsel of those that were good rela-
tions.”

Inter. What was it, then; dear heart, that hath prevailed with thee to do as thou
hast done?

Mer. Why, when our friend here was packing up to be gone from our town, I and
another went accidentally to see her. So we knocked at the door and went in. When
we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we asked her what was her meaning.
She said she was sent for to go to her husband; and then she up and told us how she
had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious place, among immortals, wearing ¢
crown, playing upon a harp, eating and drinking at his Prince’s table, and singing
praises to Him for bringing him thither, ete. Now, methought while she was telling
these things unto us, my heart burned within me. And I said in my heart, If this be
true, I will leave my father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, and will, if I
may, go along with Christiana. So I asked her further of the truth of these things,
and if she would let me go with her; for I saw now that there was no dwelling but
with the danger of ruin any longer in our town. But yet I came away with a heavy
heart; not for that I was unwilling to come away, but for that so many of my relations
were left behind. And Iam come with all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I
may, with Christiana, unto her husband and his King.

Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given credit to the truth: thou art a
Ruth, who did, for the love she bare to Naomi and to the Lord her God, leave father
and mother, and the land of her nativity, to come out and go with a people that she
knew not heretofore. The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given
thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust !*".

Now supper was ended, and preparation was made for bed: the women were Jaid
216 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

singly alone, and the boys by themselves. Now, when Mercy was in bed, she could
not sleep for joy, for that now her doubts of missing at last were removed further from
her than ever they were before. So she lay blessing and praising God, who had had
such favor for her.

In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared themselves for their
departure; but the Interpreter would have them tarry a while: “F or,” said he, “ you
must orderly go from hence.” Then said he to the damsel that first opened to them,
“Take them and have them into the garden, to the bath, and there wash them, and
make them clean from the soil which they have gathered by travelling.”

Then Innocent the damsel took them and had them into the garden, and brought
them to the bath; so she told them that they must wash and be clean, for so her master
would have the women to do that called at his house as they were going on pilgrimage.
Then they went in and washed, yea, they and the boys and all; and they came out
of that bath, not only sweet and clean, but also much enlivened, and strengthened
in their joints. So, when they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when they
went out to the washing.

When they were returned out of the garden from the bath, the Interpreter took
them, and looked upon them, and said unto them, “Fair as the moon.” Then he
called for the seal wherewith they used to be sealed that were washed in this bath.
So the seal was brought, and he set his mark upon them, that they might be known
in the places whither they were yet to go. Now, the seal was the contents and sum of
the passover which the children of Israel did eat?® when they came out of the land of
Egypt; and the mark was set between their eyes. This seal added greatly to their
beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also added to their gravity, and made
their countenances more like those of angels,

‘Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that waited upon these women, “ Go
into the vestry, and fetch out garments for these people.” So she went and fetched out
white raiment, and laid it down before him; so he commanded them to put it on: it
was fine linen, white and clean. When the women were thus adorned, they seemed
to be a terror one to the other, for that they could not see that glory each one had in
herself, which they could see in each other. Now, therefore, they began to esteem
each other better than themselves. For “You are fairer than I am,” said one; and
“You are more comely than I am,” said another. The children also stood amazed, to
see into what fashion they were brought.

The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great-heart, and bid him
take sword, and helmet, and shield; and “Take these my daughters,” said he, “and
ho
—
“I

THE CROSS AND THE CONSEQUENCES.

conduct them to the house called Beautiful, at which place they will rest next.” So
he took his weapons, and went before them; and the Interpreter said, “ God speed | ”
Those also that belonged to the family sent them away with many a good wish. So

they went on their way and sang:

‘‘ This place hath been our second stage:

Here we have heard and seen

Those good things that from age to age
To others hid have been.

The Dunghill-raker, Spider, Hen,
The Chicken, too, to me

Have taught a lesson: let me then
Conforméd to it be.

“The Butcher, Garden, and the Field,

The Robin and his bait,

Also the Rotten Tree, doth yield
Me argument of weight :

To move me for to watch and pray,
To strive to be sincere,

To take my cross up day by day,
And serve the Lord with fear.”



CHCA, Pal WR Ve

THE CROSS AND THE CONSEQUENCES.
cre




OW, I saw in my dream that they went on, and Great-heart before them. So
they went, and came to the place where Christian’s burden fell off his back and
<\ tumbled into a sepulchre. Here, then, they made a pause, and here also they
blessed God. “Now,” said Christiana, “comes to my mind what was said to
us at the gate, to wit, that we should have pardon by word and deed: by word, that is,
by the promise; by deed, to wit, in the way it was obtained. What the promise is, of
that I know something; but what it is to have pardon by deed, or in the way that it
was obtained, Mr. Great-heart, I suppose you know; wherefore, if you please, let us
hear you discourse thereof.”

Great. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon obtained by some one for another that
28
218 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

hath need thereof; not by the person pardoned, but in the way, saith another, in which
T have obtained it. So then, to speak to the question more at large, the pardon that
you, and Mercy, and these boys have obtained, was obtained by another ; to wit, by
Him that let you in at the gate. And He hath obtained it in this double way: He has
performed righteousness to cover you, and spilt His blood to wash you in.

Cur. But if He parts with His righteousness to us, what will He have for Himself?

Great. He has more righteousness than you have need of, or than He needeth
Himself

Cur. Pray make that appear. ,

Great. With all my heart: but first I must premise, that He of whom we are now
about to speak is one that has not His fellow. He has two natures in one person,
plain to be distinguished, impossible to be divided. Unto each of these natures a
righteousness belongeth, and each righteousness is essential to that nature: so that
one may as easily cause the nature to be extinct, as to separate its justice or righteous-
ness from it. Of these righteousnesses, therefore, we are not made partakers so that
they, or any of them, should be put upon us that we might be made just, and live
thereby. Besides these, there is a righteousness which this Person has, as these two
natures are joined in one. And this is not the righteousness of the Godhead as dis-
tinguished from the manhood, nor the righteousness of the manhood as distinguished
from the Godhead; but a righteousness which standeth in the union of both natures,
and may properly be called the righteousness that is essential to His being prepared of
God to the capacity of the mediatory office, which He was to be entrusted with. Tf
He parts with His first righteousness, He parts with His Godhead; if He parts with
His second righteousness, He parts with the purity of His manhood; if He parts with
His third, He parts with that perfection that capacitates Him for the office of media-
tion. He has, therefore, another righteousness, which standeth in performance or
obedience to a revealed will; and that is it that He puts upon sinners, and that by
which their sins are covered. Wherefore He gaith, “As by one man’s disobedi-
ence many were made sinners, so, by the obedience of One shall many be made
righteous.”’”

Cur. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us?

Great. Yes; for though they are essential to His natures and office, and so cannor
be communicated to another, yet it is by virtue of them that the righteousness that
justifies is for that purpose efficacious. The righteousness of His Godhead gives
virtue to His obedience; the righteousness of His manhood giveth capability to His
obedience to justify; and the righteousness that standeth in the union of these two






19)

2

(

HART,

GREAT-H1

Mr
220 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

natures to His office, giveth authority to that righteousness to do the work for which
it was ordained.

So, then, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has no need of; for He is God
without it. Here is a righteousness that Christ, as man, has no need of to make Him
so; for He is perfect man without it. Again: there is righteousness that Christ, as
God-man, has no need of ; for He is perfectly so without it. Here, then, is a righteous-
ness that Christ, as God and as God-man, has no need of with reference to Himself,
and therefore He can spare it; a justifying righteousness, that He for Himself wanteth
not, and therefore he giveth it away. Hence it is called the gift of righteousness.”
This righteousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has made Himself under the law, must
be given away; for the law doth not only bind him that is under it to do justly, but
to use charity: wherefore he must, or ought by law, if he hath two coats, to give one
to him that hath none. Now, our Lord indeed hath two coats, one for Himself and
one to spare; wherefore He freely bestows one upon those that have none. And thus,
Christiana and Mercy, and the rest of you that are here, doth your pardon come by
deed, or by the work of another man. Your Lord Christ is He that worked, and has
given away what He wrought for to the next poor beggar He meets.

But again: in order to pardon by deed, there must something be paid to God as a
price, as well as something prepared to cover us withal. Sin has delivered us up to
the just curse of a righteous law. Now, from this curse we must be justified by way
of redemption, a price being paid for the harms we have done; and this is by the
blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead, and died your death
for your transgressions. Thus has He ransomed you from your transgressions by
blood, and covered your polluted and deformed souls with righteousness,” for the
sake of which God passeth by you, and will not hurt you when He comes to judge
the world.”

Cur. This is brave! Now I see that there was something to be learnt by our being
pardoned by word and deed. Good Mercy, let us labor to keep this in mind; and,
my children, do you remember it also. But, sir, was not this it that made my good
Christian’s burden fall from off his shoulders, and that made him give three leaps for
joy?

GREAT. Yes, it was the belief of this that cut off those strings that could not be cut
by other means; and it was to give him proof of the virtue of this that he was suffered
to carry his burden to the Cross.

Cur. I thought so; for though my heart was lightsome and joyous before, yet it is
ten times more lightsome and joyous now. And I am persuaded by what I have felt,
GREAT-HEART DISCOURSES BY THE WAY. 221

though I have felt but little as yet, that, if the most burdened man in the world was
here, and did see and believe as I now do, it would make his heart merry and blithe.

Great. There is not only comfort and the ease of a burden brought to us by the
sight and consideration of these, but an endeared affection begot in us by it; for who
can, if he doth but once think that pardon comes, not only by promise, but thus, but
be affected with the way and means of his redemption, and so with the Man that hath
wrought it for him ?

Cur. True: methinks it makes my heart bleed, to think that He should bleed for
me. Oh, Thou loving One! Oh, Thou blessed One! Thou deservest to have me:
Thou hast bought me. Thou deservest to have me all: Thou hast paid for me ten
thousand times more than I am worth. No marvel that this made the water stand in
my husband’s eyes, and that it made him trudge so nimbly on. I am persuaded he
wished me with him; but, vile wretch that I was! I let him come all alone. Oh,
Mercy, that thy father and mother were here! yea, and Mrs. Timorous also! Nay,
I wish now with all my heart that here was Madam Wanton too. Surely, surely, their
hearts would be affected; nor could the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the
other, prevail with them to go home again, and refuse to become good pilgrims.

Great. You speak now in the warmth of your affections: will it, think you, be
always thus with you? Besides, this is not communicated to every one, nor to every
one that did see your Jesus bleed. There were that stood by, and that saw the blood
run from His heart to the ground, and yet were so far off this, that instead of lament-
ing, they laughed at Him, and instead of becoming [His disciples, did harden their
hearts against him. So that all that you have, my daughters, you have by a peculiar
impression made by a divine contemplating upon what I have spoken to you.
Remember that ’t was told you, that the hen by her common call gives no meat to her
chickens. This you have, therefore, by a special grace.

Now, I saw still in my dream, that they went on till they were come to the place
that Simple, and Sloth, and Presumption lay and slept in, when Christian went by on
pilgrimage ; and, behold, they were hanged up in irons a little way off on the other side.

Mer. Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor, “ What are
those three men? and for what are they hanged there?”

Great. These three men were men of very bad qualities: they had no mind to be
pilgrims themselves, and whomsoever they could they hindered. They were for sloth
and folly themselves; and whomsoever they could persuade with, they made so too,
and withal taught them to presume that they should do well at last. ‘They were asleep
when Christian went by; and, now you go by, they are hanged.
222 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Mer. But could they persuade any to be of their opinion?

Great. Yes, they turned several out of the way. ‘There was Slow-pace that they
persuaded to do as they. They also prevailed with one Short-wind, with one No-
heart, with one Linger-after-lust, and with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman
—her name was Dull—to turn out of the way and become as they. Besides, they
brought up an ill report of your Lord, persuading others that He was a hard task-
master. ‘They also brought up an evil report of the good land, saying it was not half
so good as some pretended it was. Tiey also began to vilify His servants, and to
count the very best of them meddlesome, troublesome busybodies. Further, they
would call the bread of God, husks; the comforts of His children, fancies; the travel
labor of pilgrims, things to no purpose.

Cur. “ Nay,” said Christiana, “if they were such, they never shall be bewailed by
me: they have but what they deserve; and J think it is well that they hang so near
the highway, that others may see and take warning. But had it not been well if their
crimes had been engraven on some plate of iron or brass, and left here, where they
did their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men?”

Gruat. So it is, as you well may perceive, if you will go a little to the wall.

Mer. No, no: let them hang, and their names rot, and their crimes live for ever
against them. I think it a high favor that they were hanged afore we came hither;
who knows, else, what they might have done to such poor women as we are?

Then she turned it into a song, saying:

“Now, then, you three, hang there, and be a sign
To all that shall against the truth combine ;
And let him that comes after fear this end,

If unto pilgrims he is not a friend.

And thou, my soul, of all such men beware
That unto holiness opposers are.”’

Thus they went on till they came at the foot of the Hill Difficulty, where again
their good friend Mr. Great-heart took an oceasion to tell them of what happened
there when Christian himself went by. So he had them first to the spring, “ Lo,”
saith he, “this is the spring that Christian drank of before he went up this hill: and
then it was clear and good; but now it is dirty with the feet of some that are not
desirous that pilgrims here should quench their thirst.”* Thereat Mercy said, “ And
why so envious, trow?” But said their guide, “It will do if taken up and put into a
vessel that is sweet and good; for then the dirt will sink to the bottom, and the
water come out by itself more clear.” Thus, therefore, Christiana and her com-








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224 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

panions were compelled to do. ‘They took it up, and put it into an earthen pot,
and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom, and then they drank thereof.

Next he showed them the two by-ways that were at the foot of the hill, where
Formality and Hypocrisy lost themselves. And said he, “ These are dangerous paths.
Two were here cast away when Christian came by; and although, as you see, these
ways are since stopped up with chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there are that will
choose to adventure here, rather than take the pains to go up this hill.”

Cur. The way of transgressors is hard** It is a wonder that they can get into those
ways without danger of breaking their necks.

Great. They will venture: yea, if at any time any of the King’s servants doth
happen to see them, and doth call unto them, and tell them that they are in the wrong
ways, and do bid them beware the danger, then they will railingly return them answer,
and say, “ As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the King,
we will not hearken unto thee; but we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth
out of our own mouth.”*® Nay, if you look a little farther, you shall see that these
ways are made cautionary enough, not only by these posts, and ditch, and chain, but
also by being hedged up; yet they will choose to go there.

Cur. They are idle: they love not to take pains: up-hill way is unpleasant to them.
So it is fulfilled unto them as it is written, “The way of the slothful man isa hedge
of thorns.” Yea, they will rather choose to walk upon a snare than go up this hill,
and the rest of this way to the City.

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill; and up the hill they went.
But, before they got to the top, Christiana began to pant, and said, “I dare gay this
is a breathing hill: no marvel if they that love their ease more than their souls choose
to themselves a smoother way.” Then said Mercy, “I must sit down;” also the least
of the children began to cry. ‘‘ Come, come,” said Great-heart, “sit not down here, for
a little above is the Prince’s arbor.’ Then took he the little boy by the hand, and led
him up thereto.

When they were come to the arbor, they were very willing to sit down, for they
were all in a pelting heat. Then said Mercy, “‘ How sweet is rest to them that labor,”
and how good is the Prince of pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them! Of
this arbor I have heard much, but I never saw it before. But here let us beware of
sleeping ; for, as I have heard, for that it cost poor Christian dear.”

Then said Mr. Great-heart to the little ones, “Come, my pretty boys, how do you
do? what think you now of going on pilgrimage?”’

“Sir,” said the least, “I was almost beat out of heart; but I thank you for lending
THE ARBOR ON THE HILL. 225

me a hand at my need. And I remember now what my mother has told me, namely,
‘That the way to heaven is as up a ladder, and the way to hell is as down a hill.’
But I rather go up the ladder to life, than down the hill to death.”

Then said Mercy, “ But the proverb is, ‘To go down the hill is easy.’ ”’

But James said (for that was his name), “The day is coming when, in my opinion,
going down-hill will be the hardest of all.”

“‘That’s a good boy,” said his master; “thou hast given her a right answer.”

Then Mercy smiled, but the little boy did blush.

Cur. “Come,” said Christiana, “will you eat a bit, a little to sweeten your mouths,
while you sit here to rest your legs? for I have here a piece of pomegranate, which
Mr. Interpreter put in my hand just when I came out of his doors: he gave me also a
piece of a honeycomb, and a little bottle of spirits.”

“T thought he gave you something,” said Mercy, “because he called you aside.”

“Yes, so he did, said the other; “but, Mercy, it shall still be as I said it should,
when at first we came from home; thou shalt be a sharer in all the good that I have,
because thou so willingly didst become my companion.”

Then she gave to them, and they did eat, both Mercy and the boys. And said
Christiana to Mr. Great-heart, “Sir, will you do as we?”

But he answered, “ You are going on pilgrimage, and presently I shall return:
much good may what you have do to you: at home I eat the same every day.”

Now, when they had eaten and drunk, and had chatted a little longer, their guide
said to them, “The day wears away; if you think good, let us prepare to be going.”
So they got up to go, and the little boys went before; but Christiana forgat to take
her bottle of spirits with her, so she sent her little boy back to fetch it.

Then said Mercy, “I think this is a losing place: here Christian lost. his roll, and
here Christiana left her bottle behind her. Sir, what is the cause of this?”

So their guide made answer, and said, “ The cause is sleep or forgetfulness: some
sleep when they should keep awake, and some forget when they should remember.
And this is the very cause why often at the resting-places some pilgrims, in some
things, comé off losers. Pilgrims should watch, and remember what they have already
received, under their greatest enjoyments; but, for want of doing so, ofttimes their
rejoicing ends in tears, and their sunshine in a cloud: witness the story of Christian.
at this place.”

When they were come to the place where Mistrust and Timorous met Christian, to
persuade him to go back for fear of the lions, they perceived as it were a stage, and

before it, towards the road, a broad plate, with a copy of verses written thereon, and
29
226 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

underneath the reason of the raising up of that stage in that place rendered. The
verses were these:

“Let him that sees this stage take heed
Unto his heart and tongue;
Lest, if he do not, here he speed
As some have, long agone.”’

The words underneath the verses were, “This stage was built to punish such upon,
who, through timorousness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go farther on pilgrimage.
-\lso on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous were burned through the tongue with
« hot iron, for endeavoring to hinder Christian in his journey.”

Then said Mercy, “ This is much like to the saying of the Beloved, ‘ What shall be
given unto thee, or what shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue? Sharp arrows
of the mighty, with coals of juniper.’ ” ®

So they went on till they came within sight of the lions. Now, Mr. Great-heart was
a strong man, so he was not afraid of a lion. But yet, when they were come up to the
place where the licns were, the boys, that went before, were glad to cringe behind, for
they were afraid of the lions; so they stepped back, and went behind.

At this their guide smiled, and said, “ How now, my boys! do you love to go before
when no danger doth approach, and love to come behind go soon as the lions
appear ?”

Now, as they went up, Mr. Great-heart drew his sword, with intent to make a way
for the pilgrims in spite of the lions. Then there appeared one that, it seems, had
taken upon him to back the lions; and he said to the pilgrims’ guide, “ What is the
-ause of your coming hither?” Now, the name of that man was Grim, or Bloody-
man, because of his slaying of pilgrims; and he was of the race of the giants.

Grear. Then said the pilgrims’ guide, “These women and children are going on
pilgrimage, and this is the way they must go; and go it they shall, in spite of thee
and the lions.”

Gra. This is not their way, neither shall they go therein. I am come forth to
withstand them, and to that end will back the lions.

Now, to say truth, by reason of the fierceness of the lions, and of the grim carriage
of him that did back them, this way had of late lain much unoceupied, and was almost
all grown over with grass.

Cur. Then said Christiana, “Though the highways have been unoccupied hereto-
fore, and though the travellers have been made in times past to walk through by-paths,
it must not be so now Iam risen. ‘Now I am risen a mother in Israel.’ ” ®


















(227)

GIANT Grim.
228 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Grim. Then he swore by the lions, “ But it should,” and therefore bid them turn
aside, for they should not have passage there.

But Great-heart their guide made first his approach unto Can and laid so heavily
at him with his sword, that he forced him to a retreat.

Grim. Then said he that attempted to back the lions, “ Will you slay me upon mine
own ground?”

Great. It is the King’s highway that we are in, and in His way it is that thou hast
placed thy lions; but these women, and these children, though weak, oe hold on
their way in spite of thy lions.

And, with that, he gave him again a downright blow, and brought him upon his
knees. With this blow he also broke his helmet, and with the next he cut off an arm.
Then did the giant roar so hideously, that his voice frighted the women, and yet they
were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now, the lions were chained,
and so of themselves could do nothing.

Wherefore, when old Grim, that intended to back them, was dead, Mr. Great-heart
said to the pilgrims, “‘ Come now, and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you from

the lions.” They therefore went on; but the women trembled as they passed by
them: the boys also looked as if they would die; but they all got by without further
hurt.



CHAPTER V.

THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL.



unto it; but they made the more haste after this to go thither, because it is
e dangerous travelling there in the night. So, when they were come to the gate,

the guide knocked, and the Porter cried, “ Who is there?” But as soon as
the guide had said “It is I,” he knew his voice, and came down; for the guide had oft -
before that come hither as a conductor of pilgrims. When he was come down he
opened the gate; and, seeing the guide stand just before it (for he saw not the women,
for they were behind him), he said unto him, “ How now, Mr. Great-heart! what is
your business here so late to-night?”
A JOYFUL RECEPTION. 229

“T have brought,” said he, “some pilgrims hither, where, by my lord’s command-
ment, they must lodge. I had been here some time ago, had I not been opposed by
the giant that did use to back the lions; but I, after a long and tedious combat with
him, have cut him off, and have brought the pilgrims hither in safety.”

Port. Will you not go in, and stay till morning ?

Great. No, I will return to my lord to-night.

Cur. Oh, sir, I know not how to be willing you should leave us in our pilgrimage:
you have been so faithful and so loving to us, you have fought so stoutly for us, you
have been so hearty in counselling of us, that I shall never forget your favor towards
us.

Mer. Then said Mercy, “Oh that we might have thy company to our journey’s
end! How can such poor women as we hold out in a way so full of troubles as this
way is, without a friend and defender?”

James. Then said James, the youngest of the boys, “ Pray, sir, be persuaded to go
with us, and help us, because we are so weak, and the way so dangerous as it is.”

Great. Tam at my lord’s commandment. If he shall allot me to be your guide
quite through, I will willingly wait upon you. But here you failed at first; for when
he bid me come thus far with you, then you should have begged me of him to have
gone quite through with you, and he would have granted your request. However, at
present I must withdraw; and so, good Christiana, Mercy, and my brave children,
adieu.

Then the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her country and of her kindred.
And she said, “TI come from the City of Destruction. I am a widow woman, and my
husband is dead: his name was Christian, the pilgrim.”

“How!” said the Porter, “ was he your husband?”

“Yes,” said she, “and these are his children, and this” (pointing to Mercy) “is one
of my townswomen.”

Then the Porter rang his bell, as at such times he is wont, and there came to the
door one of the damsels, whose name was Humble-mind; and to her the Porter said,
“Go, tell it within that Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her children, are come
hither on pilgrimage.”

She went in, therefore, and told it. But oh, what a noise for gladness was there
within when the damsel did but drop that word out of her mouth!

So they came with haste to the Porter, for Christiana stood still at the door. Then
some of the most grave said unto her, “Come in, Christiana, come in, thou wife of that
good man; come in, thou blessed woman; come in, with all that are with thee.”
230 THE PILGRIM’S PRO GRESS.

So she went in, and they followed her that were her children and her companions.
Now, when they were gone in, they were had into a very large room, where they were
bidden to sit down. So they sat down, and the chief of the house were called to see
and welcome the guests. Then they came in, and understanding who they were, did
salute each other with a kiss, and said, “ Welcome, ye vessels of the grace of God;
welcome to us, your friends!”

Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the pilgrims were weary with their
journey, and also made faint with the sight of the fight, and of the terrible lions,
therefore they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to go to rest. “ Nay,” said
those of the family, “refresh yourselves first with a morsel of meat;” for they had
prepared for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce belonging thereto,” for the Porter
had heard before of their coming, and had told it to them within. So, when they had
supped, and ended their prayer with a psalm, they desired they might go to rest.

“ But let us,” said Christiana, “if we may be so bold as to choose, be in that chamber
that was my husband’s when he was here.”

So they had them up thither, and they lay all in a room. When they were at rest,
Christiana and Mercy entered into discourse about things that were convenient.

Cur. Little did I think once, when my husband went on pilgrimage, that I should
ever have followed.

Mex. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and in his chamber to rest, as
you do now.

Cur. And much less did I ever think of seeing his face with comfort, and of wor-
shipping the Lord the King with him; and yet now I believe I shall.

Mer. Hark! don’t you hear a noise?

Cur. Yes, it is, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy that we are here.

Mer. Wonderful! Music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in heaven,
for joy that we are here!

Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to sleep. So in the morning,
when they were awake, Christiana said to Mercy, ‘ What was the matter, that you did
laugh in your sleep to-night? I suppose you were in a dream.”

Mer. So I was, and a sweet dream it was; but are you sure I laughed?

Cur. Yes, you laughed heartily; but, prithee, Mercy, tell me thy dream.

Mer. I was dreaming that I sat all alone in a solitary place, and was bemoaning of
the hardness of my heart. Now, I had not sat there long, but methought many were
gathered about me to see me, and to hear what it was that I said. So they hearkened,
and I went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart. At this, some of them laughed
MERCY’S DREAM. 231

at me, some called me fool, and some thrust me about. With that, methought I looked
up, and saw one coming with wings towards me. So he came directly to me, and said,
“Mercy, what aileth thee?” Now, when he had heard me make my complaint, he
said, “ Peace be to thee;” he also wiped mine eyes with his handkerchief, and clad me
in silver and gold He put a chain about my neck, and ear-rings in mine ears, and
a beautiful crown upon my head. Then he took me by the hand, and said, “ Merey,
come after me.” So he went up, and I followed, till we came to a golden gate. Then
he knocked; and when they within opened, the man went in, and I followed him up
to a throne upon which One sat; and He said
to me, “Welcome, daughter!” The place
looked bright and twinkling, like the stars, or
rather like the sun; and I thought that I saw
your husband there. So I awoke from my
dream. But did I laugh?

Cur. Laugh! ay, and well you might, to
see yourself so well. For you must give me
leave to tell you, that I believe it was a good
dream; and that, as you have begun to find
the first part true, so you shall find the second
at last. “God speaks once, yea, twice, yet
man perceiveth it not; in a dream, in a vision
of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon
men, in slumberings upon the bed.” We
need not, when abed, to lie awake to talk with
God: He can visit us while we sleep, and









cause us then to hear His voice. Our heart

*T went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart.”

oftentimes wakes when we sleep; and God can
speak to that, either by words, by proverbs, or by signs and similitudes, as well as if
one was awake.

Mrr. Well, Lam glad of my dream; for I hope ere long to sce it fulfilled, to the
making of me laugh again.

Cur. I think it is now high time to rise, and to know what we must do.

Mer. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us willingly accept of the proffer.
I am the willinger to stay a while here, to grow better acquainted with these maids.
Methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity have very comely and sober countenances.

Cur. We shall see what they will do.
232 THE PILGRIM'’S PROGRESS.

So, when they were up and ready, they came down; and they asked one another
of their rest, and if it was comfortable or not.

Mer. “Very good,” said Mercy ; “it was one of the best nights’ lodging that ever
IT had in my life.” oe

Then said Prudence and Piety, “ If you will be persuaded to stay here a while, you
shall have what the house will afford.”

Cuar. “Ay, and that with a very good will,” said Charity.

So they consented, and stayed there about a month, or above, and became very _
profitable one to another. And because Prudence would see how Christiana had
brought up her children, she asked leave of her to catechize them. So she gave her
free consent.

Then she began at the youngest, whose name was James.

Prup. And she said, “Come, James, canst thou tell me who made thee?”

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.

Prup. Good boy! And canst thou tell me who saves you?

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.

Prup. Good boy, still! But how doth God the Father save thee?

JAmers. By His grace.

Prup. How doth God the Son save thee?

James. By His righteousness, death, and blood, and life.

Prup. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee?

James. By His illumination, by His renovation, and by His preservation.

Then said Prudence to Christiana, “You are to be commended for thus bringing
up your children. I suppose I need not ask the rest these questions, since the
youngest of them can answer them so well. I will therefore now apply myself to
the youngest next.”

Prup. Then she said, “Come, J oseph”’ (for his name was J oseph), “will you let
me catechize you?”

JosepH. With all my heart.

Prup. What is man?

JosrePH. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as my brother said.

Prup. What is supposed by this word, “saved?”

Josrpu. That man, by sin, has brought himself into a state of captivity and misery.

Prup. What is supposed by his being saved by the Trinity ?

Josrpy. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant, that none can pull us out of its
















































































































































































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234 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

clutches but God; and that God is so good and loving to man, as to pull him indeed
out of this miserable state. ;

Prup. What is God’s design in saving of poor men?

JoserH. The glorifying of His name, of His grace and justice, etc., and the ever-
lasting happiness of His creatures.

Prup. Who are they that must be saved?

JosEPH. Those that accept of His salvation.

Prov. Good boy, Joseph! thy mother hath taught thee well, and thou hast heark-
ened to what she has said unto thee.

Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest son but one:

Prup. Come, Samuel, are you willing that I should ee you also ?

Sam. Yes, forsooth, if you please.

Prup. What is heaven ?

Sam. A place and state most blessed, because God dwelleth there.

Prup. What is hell?

Sam. A place and state most woeful, because it is the dwelling-place of sin, the
devil and death.

Prup. Why wouldst thou go to heaven ?

Sam. That I may see God, and serve Him without weariness; that I may see
Christ, and love Him everlastingly ; that I may have that fulness of the Holy Spirit
in me, that I can by no means here enjoy.

Prup. A very good boy, also, and one that has learned well!

Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose name was Matthew; and she said
to him, “ Come, Matthew, shall I also catechize you?”

Marr. With a very good will.

Prup. I ask, then if there was ever anything that had a being antecedent to or
before God?

Marr. No, for God is eternal; nor is there anything, excepting Himself, that had
a being until the beginning of the first day. For in six days the Lord made heaven
and earth, the sea, and all that in them is.

Prup. What do you think of the Bible?

Marr. It is the holy Word of God.

Prup. Is there nothing written therein but what you understand ?

Marr. Yes, a great deal.

Prup. What do you do when you meet with such places therein that you do not

understand ?


















































































































































































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(209)

2. BRISK.

Mi
236 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

Marr. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that He will please to let me
know all therein that He knows will be for my good.

Prup. How believe you as touching the resurrection of the dead ?

Marr. I believe they shall rise the same that was’ buried; the same in nature,
though not in corruption. And I believe this upon a double account: first, because
God has promised it; secondly, because He is able to perform it.

Then said Prudence to the boys, “ You must still hearken to your mother, for she
can teach you more. You must also diligently give ear to what good talk you shall
hear from others ; for, for your sakes do they speak good things. Observe also, and
that with carefulness, what the heavens and the earth do teach you; but especially be
much in the meditation of that book that was the cause of your father’s becoming a
pilgrim. I, for my part, my children, will teach you what I can while you are here
and shall be glad if you will ask me questions that tend to godly edifying.”

Now, by that these pilgrims had been at this place a week, Mercy had a visitor
that pretended some good-will unto her; and his name was Mr. Brisk; a man of
some breeding, and that pretended to religion, but a man that stuck very close to
the world. So he came once or twice, or more, to Mercy, and offered love unto her.
Now, Mercy was of a fair countenance, and therefore the more alluring.

Her mind also was, to be always busying of herself in doing; for, when she had
nothing to do for herself, she would be making of hose and garments for others, and
would bestow them upon them that had need. And Mr. Brisk, not knowing where
or how she disposed of what she made, seemed to be greatly taken, for that he found
her never idle. “I will warrant her a good housewife,” quoth he to himself,

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that were of the house, and
inquired of them concerning him; for they did know him better than she. So they
told her that he was a very busy young man, and one who pretended to religion, but
was, as they feared, a stranger to the power of that which is good.

“ Nay, then,” said Mercy, “I will look no more on him; for I purpose never to
have a clog to my soul.” .

Prudence then replied that “There needed no great matter of discouragement to
be given to him; her continuing so as she had begun to do for the poor would quickly
cool his courage.”

So, the next time he comes, he finds her at her old work, a-making of things for the
poor. ‘Then said he, “ What! always at it?”

“Yes,” said she, “either for myself or for others.”

“And what canst thou earn a day?” quoth he.
MATTHEW FALLS SICK. 287

“T do these things,” said she, “that I may be rich in good works, laying up in store
for myself a good foundation against the time to come, that I may lay hold on eternal
Niles =

“Why, prithee, what doest thou with them?” said he.

“Clothe the naked,” said she.

With that, his countenance fell. So he forbore to come at her again. And when
he was asked the reason why, he said that “ Mercy was a pretty lass, but troubled
with ill conditions.”

When he had left her, Prudence said, “ Did I not tell thee that Mr. Brisk wouid
soon forsake thee? yea, he will raise up an ill report of thee; for, notwithstanding his
pretence to religion and his seeming love to Mercy, yet Mercy and he are of tempers
so different, that I believe they will never come together.”

Mer. I might have had husbands afore now, though I spake not of it to any; but
they were such as did not like my conditions, though never did any of them find fault
with my person. So they and I could not agree.

Prup. Mercy in our days is little set by, any further than as to its name: the prac-
tice, which is set forth by thy conditions, there are but few that can abide.

Mer. “ Well,” said Mercy, “if nobody will have me, I will die a maid, or my con-
ditions shall be to me as a husband; for I cannot change my nature; and to have one
that lies cross to me in this, that I purpose never to admit of as long as I live. J had
a sister, named Bountiful, that was married to one of these churls; but he and she
could never agree; but, because my sister was resolved to do as she had begun, that is,
to show kindness to the poor, therefore her husband first cried her down at the cross,
and then turned her out of his doors.”

Prup. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you?

Mer. Yes, such a one as he was; and of such as he the world is now full; but I
am for none of them at all.

Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, and his sickness was sore upon
him, for he was much pained in his bowels; so that he was with it, at times, pulled as
it were both ends together.

There dwelt also not far from thence one Mr. Skill, an ancient and well-approved
physician. So Christiana desired it, and they sent for him, and he came. When he
was entered the room, and had a little observed the boy, he concluded that he was
sick of the gripes. Then he said to his mother, “ What dict has Matthew of late fed
upon?”

“Diet!” said Christiana, “nothing but that which is wholesome.”
238 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS.

The physician answered, “This boy has been tampering with something that lies in
his maw undigested, and that will not away without means. And I tell you he must
be purged, or else he will die.”

Sam. Then said Samuel, ‘“ Mother, what was that which my brother did gather up
anc eat, so soon as we were come from the gate that is at the head of this way? You
know that there was an orchard on the left hand, on the other side of the wall, and
some of the trees hung over the wall, and my brother did plash and did eat.”

Cur. “True, my child,” said Christiana, “he did take thereof and did eat ; naughty
boy as he was, I did chide him, and yet he would eat thereof.”

Sxruyu. I knew he had eaten something that was not wholesome food; and that food,
to wit, that fruit, is even the most hurtful of all. Itis the fruit of Beelzebub’s orchard.
I do marvel that none did warn you of it: many have ‘died thereof.

Cur. Then Christiana began to cry, and she said, “ Oh, naughty boy ! and oh, care-
less mother! What shall I do for my son?”

SKILL. Come, do not be too much dejected; the boy may do well again, but he must
purge and vomit.

Cur. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, whatever it costs.

Skitz. Nay, [ hope I shall be reasonable.

So he made him a purge, but it was too weak ; it was said, it was made of the blood
of a goat, the ashes of an heifer, and with some of the juice of hyssop, ete.* When Mr.
Skill had seen that that purge was too weak, he made him one to the purpose. It was
made [“The Latin I borrow,” remarks Bunyan in the margin] ex carne et sanguine
Christi ;* (you know physicians give strange medicines to their patients !)—and it was
made up into pills, with a promise or two, and a proportionable quantity of salt."
Now, he was to take them three at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of a pint of the
tears of repentance.”

When this potion was prepared and brought to the boy, he was loth to take it,
though torn with the gripes as if he should be pulled in pieces.

“Come, come,” said the physician, “ you must take it.”

“Tt goes against my stomach,” said the boy.

“T must have you take it,” said his mother.

“T shall vomit it up again,” said the boy.

“Pray, sir,” said Christiana to Mr. Skill, “ how does it taste?”

“Tt has no ill taste,” said the doctor; and with that she touched one of the pills
with the tip of her tongue.

“O Matthew,” said she, “this potion is sweeter than honey. If thou lovest thy












































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Docror SKILL, (239)
240 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

mother, if thou lovest thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy life, take
i

So, with much ado, after a short prayer for the blessing of God upon it, he took it,
and it wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge, it caused him to sleep and
rest quietly ; it put him into a fine heat and breathing sweat, and did quite rid him of
his gripes. So, in a little time he got up, and walked about with a staff, and would
go from room to room, and talk with Prudence, Piety, and Charity, of his distemper,
and how he was healed.

So, when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, saying, “Sir, what will
content you for your pains and care to and of my child?”

And he said, “You must pay the Master of the College of Physicians, according
to the rules made in that case and provided.”

Cur. “But, sir,” said she, “what is this pill good for else?”

Sxitx. It is an universal pill: it is good against all the diseases that pilgrims are
incident to; and when it is well prepared, it will keep good time out of mind.

Cur. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of them; for if I can get these, I will
never take other physic.

Skit. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as well as to cure when one is
sick. Yea, I dare say it, and stand to it, that if a man will but use this physie as he
should, it wiil make him live for ever.* But, good Christiana, .1ou must give these
pulls no other way than as I have prescribed; for if you do, they will do no good.
So he gave unto Christiana physic for herself and her boys, and for Mercy; and
bid Matthew take heed how he ate any more green plums; and kissed them and went
his way. :

It was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, if at any time they would, they
should ask her some questions that might be profitable, and she would say something
to them.

Marr. Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, “Why, for the most part,
physic should be bitter to our palates?”

Prup. To show how unwelcome the Word of God, and the effects thereof, are to a
carnal heart.

Marr. Why does physic, if it does good, purge and cause that we vomit?

Prup. To show that the Word, when it works effectually, cleanseth the heart and
mind. For look, what the one doth to the body, the other doth to the soul.

Marr. What should we learn by seeing the flame of our fire go upwards, and by
seeing the beams and: sweet influences of the sun strike downwards?
ALL THINGS MINISTER TO THE PILGRIMS’ EDIFICATION. 241

Prup. By the going up of the fire, we are taught to ascend to heaven by fervent
and hot desires. And by the sun’s sending his heat, beams, and sweet influences
downwards, we are taught that the Saviour of the world, though high, reaches down
with His grace and love to us below.

Marr. Where have the clouds their water?

Prup. Out of the sea.

Marr. What may we learn from that?

Prup. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from God.

Marr. Why do they empty themselves upon the earth ?

Prup. To show that ministers should give out what they know of God to the world.

Mart. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun?

Prup. To show that the covenant of God’s grace is confirmed to us in Christ.

Matt. Why do the springs come from the sea to us through the earth ?

Prup. To show that the grace of God comes to us through the body of Christ.

Marr. Why do some of the springs rise out of the tops of high hills?

Prup. To show that the spirit of grace shall spring up in some that are great and
- mighty, as well as in many that are poor and low.

Mart. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candle-wick?

Prup. To show that, unless grace doth kindle upon the heart, there will be no true
light of life in us.

Mart. Why is the wick, and tallow, and all, spent to maintain the light of the
candle ?

Prup. To show that body, and soul, and all, should be at the service of, and spend
themselves to maintain in good condition, that grace of God that is in us.

Marr. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast with her bill?

Prup. To nourish her young ones with her blood, and thereby to show that Christ
the Blessed so loveth His young (His people), as to save them from death by His
blood.

Marr. What may one learn by hearing the cock to crow?

Prup. Learn to remember Peter’s sin and Peter’s repentance. The cock’s crowing
shows also that day is coming on: let, then, the crowing of the cock put thee in mind
of that last and terrible day of judgment.

Now, about this time, their month was out; wherefore they signified to those of
the house that it was convenient for them to be up and going. Then said Joseph to

his mother, “It is convenient that you forget not to send to the house of Mr. Inter-
31
242 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

preter, to pray him to grant that Mr. Great-heart should be sent unto us, that he may
be our conductor the rest of our way.” |

“Good boy,” said she, “TI had almost forgot.” So she drew up a petition, and prayed
Mr. Watchful the Porter to send it by some fit man to her good friend Mr. Inter-
preter, who, when it was come, and he had seen the contents of the petition, said to
the messenger, “ Go, tell them that I will send him.”

When the family where Christiana was saw that they had a purpose to go forward,
they called the whole house together, to give thanks to their King for sending of them
such profitable guests as these. Which done, they said unto Christiana, “ And shall
we not show thee something, according as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on which
thou mayest meditate when thou art upon the way?”

So they took Christiana, her children, and Mercy, into the closet, and showed
them one of the apples that Eve did eat of, and that which she also did give to her
husband, and that for the eating of which they were both turned out of Paradise, and
asked her what she thought that was.

Then Christiana said, “It is food or poison, I know not which.”

So they opened the matter to her, and she held up her hands and wondered.”

Then they had her to a place, and showed her Jacob’s ladder. Now, at that time
there were some angels ascending upon it.” So Christiana looked and looked, to see
the angels go up, and so did the rest of the company. Then they were going into
another place, to show them something else; but James said to his mother, “ Pray bid
them stay here a little longer, for this is a curious sight.” So they turned again, and
stood feeding their eyes with this so pleasing a prospect.

After this they had them into a place where did hang upa golden anchor. So they
bid Christiana take it down; “For,” said they, “you shall have it with you, for it is
of absolute necessity that you should, that you may lay hold of that within the veil,”
and stand steadfast, in case you should meet with turbulent weather.” So they were
glad thereof. .

Then they took them, and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our father
had offered up Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the wood, the fire, and the
knife; for they remain to be seen to this very day.* When they had seen it, they
held up their hands, and blessed themselves, and said, “Oh! what a man for love to
his Master, and for denial to himself, was Abraham!”

After they had showed them all these things, Prudence took them into the dining-
room, where stood a pair of excellent virginals; so she played upon them, and turned
what she had showed them into this excellent song, saying:
GREAT-HEART RETURNS TO ACCOMPANY THE PILGRIMS. 243

‘* Eve’s apple we have showed you—

Of that be you aware;

You have seen Jacob’s ladder too,
Upon which angels are.

An anchor you receivéd have:
But let not these suffice,

Until, with Abra’m, you have gave
Your best a sacrifice.”

'

Now, about this time, one knocked at the door. So the Porter opened, and behold,
Mr. Great-heart was there; but when he was come in, what joy was there! Tor it
came now fresh again into their minds, how, but a while ago, he had slain old Grim
Bloodyman, the giant, and had delivered them from the lions.

Then said Mr. Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy, “ My lord has sent each of
you a bottle of wine, and also some parched corn, together with a couple of pomegra-
nates; he has also sent the boys some figs and raisins, to refresh you in your way.”

_ Then they addressed themselves to their journey; and Prudence and Piety went
along with them. When they came at the gate, Christiana asked the Porter if any
one of late went by.

He said, “No; only one some time since, who also told me that, of late, there had
been a great robbery committed on the King’s highway as you go. But he saith the
thieves are taken, and will shortly be tried for their lives.”

Then Christiana and Mercy were afraid; but Matthew said, “ Mother, fear nothing
as long as Mr. Great-heart is to go with us, and to be our conductor.”

Then said Christiana to the Porter, “Sir, I am much obliged to you for all the kind-
nesses that you have shown me since I came hither, and also for that you have been
so loving and kind to my children. I know not how to gratify your kindness; where-
fore, pray, as a token of my respects to you, accept of this small mite.”

So she put a gold angel* in his hand; and he made her a low obeisance, and said,
“Let thy garments be always white, and let thy head want no ointment. Let Mercy
live and not die, and let not her works be few.” And to the boys he said, “ Do you
flee youthful lusts, and follow after godliness with them that are grave and wise,” so
shall you put gladness into your mother’s heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober-
minded.”

So they thanked the Porter, and departed.

Now I saw in my dream that they went forward until they were come to the brow

* An old English coin, bearing the figure of an angel.
244 LHE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

of the hill; where Piety, bethinking herself, cried out, “ Alas! I have forgot what I
intended to bestow upon Christiana and her companions: I will go back and fetch it.”
So she ran and fetched it. While she was gone, Christiana thought she heard, in a
grove a little way off on the right hand, a most curious melodious note, with words
much like these:

‘“ Through all my life Thy favor is
So frankly showed to me,
That in Thy house for evermore
My dwelling-place shall be.’’

And listening still, she thought she heard another answer it, saying:

‘For why? the Lord our God is.good ;
His mercy is for ever sure;
His truth at all times firmly stood,
And shall from age to age endure.”

So Christiana asked Prudence what it was that made those curious notes.% “They
are,” said she, “our country birds: they sing these notes but seldom, except it be at
the spring, when the flowers appear and the sun shines warm, and then you may
hear them all day long. I often,” said she, “go out to hear them; we also ofttimes

keep them tame in our house. They are very fine company for us when we are
melancholy ; also they make the woods, and groves, and solitary places places desirable
to be in.”

By this time Piety was come again. So she said to Christiana, “ Look here: I have
brought thee a scheme of all those things that thou hast seen at our house, upon which
thou mayest look when thou findest thyself forgetful, and call those things again to
remembrance for thy edification and comfort.”
THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 245

CHAPTER VI.
THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION.

(| OW they began to go down the hill into the Valley of Humiliation. It was a



|, steep hill, and the way was slippery; but they were very careful, so they got
SS down pretty well. When they were down in the valley, Piety said to Chris-

tiana, “ This is the place where Christian, your husband, met with the foul fiend
Apollyon, and where they had that dreadful fight that they had: IT know you cannot
but have heard thereof. But be of good courage: as long as you have here Mr. Great-
heart to be your guide and conductor, we hope you will fare the better.”

So, when these two had committed the pilgrims unto the conduct of their guide, he
went forward, and they went after. ©

Great. Then said Mr. Great-heart, “ We need not to be so afraid of this valley,
for here is nothing to hurt us, unless we procure it to ourselves. It is true that Chris-
tian did here meet with Apollyon, with whom he had also a sore combat; but that
fray was the fruit of those slips that he got in his going down the hill; for they that
get slips there, must look for combats here. And hence it is that this valley has got
so hard a name. For the common people, when they hear that some frightful thing
has befallen such a one in such a place, are of an opinion that that place is haunted
with some foul fiend or evil spirit; when, alas! it is for the fruit of their doing that
such things do befall them there. This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a
place as any the crow flies over; and I am persuaded, if we could hit upon it, we might
find, somewhere hereabouts, something that might give us an account why Christian
was so hardly beset in this place.”

Then James said to his mother, “ Lo, yonder stands a pillar, and it looks as if some-
thing was written thereon: let us go and see what it is.’ So they went, and found
there written, “ Let Christian’s slips before he came hither, and the battles that he met
with in this place, be a warning to those that come after.”

“Lol” said their guide, “did not I tell you that there was something hereabouts
that would give intimation of the reason why Christian was so hard beset in this place ?”
Then turning himself to Christiana, he said, “No disparagement to Christian, more
246 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

than to many others whose hap and loss his was; for it is easier going up than down
this hill; and that can be said but of few hills in all these parts of the world. But we
will leave the good man: he is at rest; he also had a brave victory over his enemy.
Let Him that dwelleth above grant that we fare no worse, when we come to be tried,
than he.

“But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. It is the best and most
fruitful piece of ground in all these parts. It is fat ground, and, as you see, consisteth
much in meadows; and if a man was to come here in the summer-time, as we do now,
if he knew not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted himself in the sight of
his eyes, he might see that that would be delightful to him. Behold how green this
valley is, also how beautified with lilies! I have also known many laboring men that
have got good estates in this valley of Humiliation ; for ‘God resisteth the proud, but
giveth grace to the humble.’™ Indeed, it is a very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth
by handfuls. Some also have wished that the next way to their Father’s house were
here, that they might be troubled no more with either hills or mountains to go over ;
but the way is the way, and there’s an end.”

Now, as they were going along and talking, they espied a boy feeding his father’s
sheep. The boy was in very mean clothes, but of a very fresh and well-favored
countenance; and as he sat by himself he sang. “Hark,” said Mr. Great-heart, “to
what the shepherd’s boy saith.” So they hearkened, and he said:

‘*He that is down needs fear no fall
He that is low, no pride ;
He that is humble, ever shall
Have God to be his guide.

‘“*T am content with what I have
Little be it or much ;
And, Lord, contentment still I crave,
Because Thou gavest such.

‘‘ Fulness to such a burden 1s,
That go on pilgrimage;
Here little, and hereafter bliss,
Is best from age to age.”

Then said their guide, “Do you hear him? I will dare to say that this boy lives
a merrier life, and wears more of that herb called heart’s-ease in his bosom, than he
that is clad in silk and velvet. But we will proceed in our discourse.




La eT PO ar in ASN
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I Dy le ea

Tur SuErHERD Boy. (247)






















































































248 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

“Tn this valley our Lord formerly had His country house: He loved much to be
here. He loved 4lso to walk these meadows, for He found the air was pleasant. Be-
sides, here a man shall be free from the noise and from the hurryings of this life. All
states are full of noise and confusion, only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty
and solitary place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in his contemplation
as in other places he is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody walks in but those
that love a pilgrim’s life. And though Christian had the hard hap to meet here with
Apollyon, and to enter with him into a brisk encounter, yet I must tel? you tnat iv
former times men have met with angels here,* have found pearls here, and have in
this place found the words of life.®°

“Did I say, our Lord had here in former days His country house, and that He
loved here to walk? I will add, in this place, and to the people that love to trace
these grounds, He has left a yearly revenue, to be faithfully paid them at certain
seasons, for their maintenance by the way, and for their further encouragement to go
on their pilgrimage.”

Sam. Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. Great-heart, “Sir, I perceive that
in this valley my father and Apollyon had their battle; but whereabout was the fight ?
for I perceive this valley is large.”

Great. Your father had that battle with Apollyon at a place yonder before us, in a
narrow passage just beyond Forgetful Green. And, indeed, that place is the most
dangerous place in all these parts. For, if at any time the pilgrims meet with any
brunt, it is when they forget what favors they have received, and how unworthy they
are of them. This is the place also where others have been hard put to it. But more
of the place when we are come to it; for I persuade myself, that to this day there
remains either some sign of the battle, or some monument to testify that such a battle
there was fought.

Mer. Then said Mercy, “I think that I am as well in this valley as I have been
anywhere else in all our journey: the place, methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to
be in such places, where there is no rattling with coaches nor rumbling with wheels.
Methinks here one may, without much molestation, be thinking what he is, whence he
came, what he has done, and to what the King has called him. Here one may think,
and break at heart, and melt in one’s spirit, until one’s eyes becomes like the fish-pools
in Heshbon.” They that go rightly through this Valley of Baca, make it a well; the
rain that God sends down from heaven upon them that are here also filleth the pools.
This valley is that from whence also the King will give to His their vineyards; and
they that go through it shall sing, as Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon.” #
THE PLACE WHERE CHRISTIAN FOUGHT APOLLYON. 249

Great. “’T is true,” said their guide; “I have gone through this valley many a
time, and never was better than when here. I have also been a conductor to several
pilgrims, and they have confessed the same. ‘To this man will I look,’ saith the King,
‘even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and that trembleth at my word.”

Now they were come to the place where the afore-mentioned battle was fought.
Then said the guide to Christiana, her children, and Merey, “This is the place; on
this ground Christian stood, and up there came Apollyon against him. And look—
did not I tell you ?—here is some of your husband’s blood upon these stones to this
day. Behold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon the place some of the
shivers of Apollyon’s broken darts. See also how they did beat the ground with their
feet as they fought, to make good their places against each other; how also, with their
by-blows, they did split the very stones in pieces. Verily, Christian did here play the
man, and showed himself as stout as could, had he been there, even Hercules himself.
When Apollyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called the
Valley of the Shadow of Death, unto which we shall come anon. Lo, yonder also
stands a monument, on which is engraven this battle, and Christian’s victory, to his
fame throughout all ages.”

So, because it stood just on the way-side before them, they stepped to it, and read
the writing, which word for word was this:

‘ Hard by here was a battle fought,
Most strange, and yet most true;
Christian and Apollyon sought
Each other to subdue.

‘The man so bravely played the man,
He made the fiend to fly ;
Of which a monument I stand,
The same to testify.”

When they had passed by this place, they came upon the borders of the Shadow of
Death. This valley was longer than the other; a place also most strangely haunted
with evil things, as many are able to testify; but these women and children went the
better through it, because they had daylight, and because Mr. Great-heart was their
conductor.

When they were entered upon this valley, they thought that they heard a groaning,
as of dead men—a very great groaning. They thought also that they did hear words

of lamentation spoken, as of some in extreme torment. These things made the boys
32
250 THE PILGRIM?S PROGRESS.

to quake; the women also looked pale and wan; but their guide bid them be of good
comfort.

So they went on a little farther, and they thought that they felt the ground begin to
shake under them, as if some hollow place was there; they heard also a kind of hissing,
as of serpents; but nothing as yet appeared. Then said the boys, “ Are we not yet
at the end of this doleful place?” But the guide also bid them be of good courage,
and look well to their feet; “lest haply,” said he, “ you be taken in some snare.”

Now James began to be sick ; but I think the cause thereof was fear; so his mother -
gave him some of that glass of spirits that had been given her at the Interpreter’s
house, and three of the pills that Mr. Skill had prepared; and the boy began to revive.
Thus they went on till they came to about the middle of the valley; and then Chris-
tiana said, “Methinks I see something yonder upon the road before us, a thing of
such a shape as I have not seen.” Then said Joseph, “Mother, what is it?” “An
ugly thing, child, an ugly thing,” said she. “ But, mother, what is it like?” said he.
“°T is like I cannot tell what,” said she, “and now it is but a little way off.” Then
said she, “It is nigh!”

“Well, well,” said Mr. Great-heart, “let them that are most afraid keep close to
me.” So the fiend came on, and the conductor met it; but, when it was just come to
hin, it vanished to all their sights. Then remembered they what had been said some
time ago, “ Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” ®

They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed. But they had not gone far
before Mercy, looking behind her, saw, as she thought, something most like a lion, and
it came a great padding pace after; and it had a hollow voice of roaring, and at every
roar that it gave it made all the valley echo, and all their hearts to ache, save the
heart of him that was their guide. So it came up, and Mr. Great-heart went behind,
and put the pilgrims all before him. The lion also came on apace, and Mr. Great-
heart addressed himself to give him battle.“ But, when he saw that it was determined
that resistance should be made, he also drew back, and came no farther.

They then went on again, and their conductor did go before them, till they came to
a place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of the way; and before they could
be prepared to go over that, a great mist and darkness fell upon them, so that they
could not see. Then said the pilgrims, “ Alas! what now shall we do?” But. their
guide made answer, “ Fear not, stand still, and see what an end will be put to this also.”
So they stayed there, because their path was marred. They then also thought that
they did hear more apparently the noise and rushing of the enemies; the fire also, and
the smoke of the pit, were much easier to be discerned. Then said Christiana to
THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 251

Mercy, “ Now I see what my poor husband went through. I have heard much of
this place, but I never was here before now. Poor man! he went here all alone in
the night: he had night almost quite through the way; also these fiends were busy
about him, as if they would have torn him in pieces. Many have spoken of it, but
none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean, until they come
in it themselves. ‘The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth
not with its joy.’ To be here is a fearful thing.”

Great. This is like doing business in great waters, or like going down into the deep.
This is like being in the heart of the sea, and



like going down to the bottoms of the moun-
tains. Now it seems as if the earth, with its
bars, were about us for ever. But let them
that walk in darkness and have no light, trust
in the name of the Lord, and stay upon their
God.” For my part, as I have told you
already, I have gone often through this val-
ley, and have been much harder put to it than
now I am; and yet, you see, Iam alive. I
would not boast, for that Iam not mine own
saviour; but I trust we shall have a good
deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to
Him that can lighten our darkness, and that
ean rebuke not only these, but all the Satans
in hell.

So they cried and prayed, and God sent







light and deliverance; for there was now no {



let in their way; no, not there where but EIGea lease

now they were stopped with a pit. Yet they

were not got through the valley; so they went on still; and behold, great stinks
and loathsome smells, to the great annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to Chris-
tiana, “It is not so pleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Interpreter’s, or at the
house where we lay last.”

“Qh, but,” said one of the boys, “it is not so bad to go through here as it is to abide
here always; and, for aught I know, one reason why we must go this way to the
house prepared for us is, that our home might be made the sweeter to us.”

“Well said, Samuel,” quoth the guide; “thou hast now spoke like a man.”
252 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

“Why, if ever I get out here again,” said the boy, “I think I shall prize light and
good way better than ever I did in all my life.”

Then said the guide, “ We shall be out by-and-bye.”

So on they went, and Joseph said, “ Cannot we see to the end of this valley as yet?”

Then said the guide, “ Look to your feet, for we shall presently be among the snares.”

So they looked to their feet, and went on; but they were troubled much with the
snares. Now, when they were come among the snares, they espied a man cast into the
ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn.

Then said the guide, “ That is one Heedless, that was going this way; he hag lain
there a great while. There was one Take-heed with him when he was taken and
slain, but he escaped their hands. You cannot imagine how many are killed hereabouts;
and yet men are so foolishly venturous as to set out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come

without a guide. Poor Christian! it is a

wonder that he here escaped; but he was
beloved of his God, also he had a good heart
of his own, or else he could never have
done it.”

Now they drew towards the end of the way ;
and just where Christian had seen the cave
when he went by, out thence came forth Maul,
a giant. This Maul did use to spoil young
pilgrims with sophistry ; and he called Great-
heart by his name, and said unto him, “ How
many times have you been forbidden to do
these things?”

Then said Mr. Great-heart, “What things?”

“What things!” quoth the giant; “ you
know what things; but I will put an end to



your trade.”
“But pray,” said Mr. Great-heart, “before
Giant Maul. we fall to it, let us understand wherefore we
must fight.”
Now the women and children stood trembling, and knew not what to do.
Quoth the giant, “ You rob the country, and rob it with the worst of thefts.”
“These are but generals,” said Mr. Great-heart ; “come to particulars, man.”



Then said the giant, “Thou practicest the craft of a kidnapper: thou gatherest up
GREAT-HEART ENCOUNTERS MAUL. 253

women and children, and carriest them into a strange country, to the weakening of my
master’s kingdom.”

But now Great-heart replied, “I am a servant of the God of heaven; my business
is to persuade sinners to repentance. I am commanded to do my endeavor to turn
men, women, and children from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto
God; and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou
wilt.”

Then the giant came up, and Mr. Great-heart went to mect him; and as he went,
he drew his sword, but the giant hada club. So without more ado they fell to it;
and, at the first blow, the giant struck Mr. Great-heart down upon one of his knees.
With that, the women and children cried out. So Mr. Great-heart, recoverin g himself,
laid about him in full lusty manner, and gave the giant a wound in hisarm. Thus he
fought for the space of an hour, to that height of heat, that the breath came out of the
giant’s nostrils as the heat doth out of a boiling cauldron.

Then they sat down to rest them; but Mr. Great-heart betook himself to prayer.
Also the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle
did last.

When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it again; and Mr.
Great-heart with a blow fetched the giant down to the ground. “Nay, hold, and let
me recover,” quoth he. So Mr. Great-heart fairly let him get up: so to it they went
again ; and the giant missed but little of all-to-breaking Mr. Great-heart’s skull with
his club.

Mr. Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit, and pierceth
him under the fifth rib. With that the giant began to faint, and could hold up his
club no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart seconded his blow, and smote the head of the
giant from his shoulders. Then the women and the children rejoiced, and Mr. Great-
heart also praised God for the deliverance He had wrought.

When this was done, they amongst them erected a pillar, and fastened the giant’s
head thereon, and wrote under it in letters that passengers might read :

‘“He that did wear this head, was one
That pilgrims did misuse ;
He stopped their way, he sparéd none,
But did them all abuse ;
Until that I, Great-heart, arose,
The pilgrims’ guide to be ;
Until that I did him oppose
That was their enemy.”
204 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Now, I saw that they went to the ascent that was a little way off, cast up to be a
prospect for pilgrims. That was the place from whence Christian had the first sight
of Faithful his brother. Wherefore here they sat down and rested. They also here
did eat and drink and make merry, for that they had gotten deliverance from this so
dangerous an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if he
had caught no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. Great-heart, “ No, save a little on
my flesh ; yet that also shall be so far from being to my detriment, that it is at present
a proof of my love to my Master and you, and shall be a means, by grace, to increase
my reward at last.”

Cur. But were you not afraid, good sir, when you saw him come out with his club ?

Great. “It is my duty,” said he, “to mistrust my own ability, that I may have ~
reliance on Him who is stronger than all.”

Cur. But what did you think when he fetched you down to the ground at the first
blow?

Great. “Why, I thought,” replied he, “that so my Master Himself was served ;
and yet He it was that conquered at the last.” ©

Mart. When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been wonderful
good unto us, both in bringing us out of this valley, and in delivering us out of the
hand of this enemy. For my part, I see no reason why we should distrust our God
any more, since He has now, and in such a place as this, given us such testimony of
His love as this.

Then they got up and went forward. Now, a little before them stood an oak; and
under it, when they came to it, they found an old pilgrim fast asleep. They knew that
he was a pilgrim by his clothes, and his staff, and his girdle.

So the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him; and the old gentleman, as he lifted up
his eyes, cried out, ‘‘ What’s the matter? who are you, and what is your business here?”

Great. Come, man, be not so hot; here are none but friends.

Yet the old man gets up, and stands upon his guard, and will know of them whet
they are. Then said the guide, “My name is Great-heart; I am the guide of these
pilgrims, that are going to the Celestial Country.”

Honest. Then said Mr. Honest, “I ery you mercy: I feared that you had been of
the company of those that some time ago did rob Little-Faith of his money; but now
I look better about me I perceive you are honester people.”

Great. Why, what would or could you have done to have helped yourself, if we
indeed had been of that company ?

Hon. Done! why, I would have fought as long as breath had been in me; and,
OLD HONEST. : 255

had I so done, I am sure you could never have given me the worst on ’t, for a Christian
can never be overcome unless he shall yield of himself.

Great. “Well said, Father Honest,” quoth the guide; “for by this I know thou
art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth.”

How. And by this also I know that thou knowest what true pilgrimage is; for all
others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any.

Great. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me crave your name, and the
name of the place you came from.

How. My name I cannot; but I came from the town of Stupidity; it lieth about.
four degrees beyond the City of Destruction.

Great. Oh! are you that countryman? then I deem I have half a guess of you:
your name is old Honesty, is it not?

How. So the old gentleman blushed, and said, “ Not Honesty in the abstract, but
Honest is my name; and I wish that my nature may agree to what I am called. But,
sir,” said the old gentleman, “ how could you guess that Iam such a man, since I came
from such a place?”

Great. I had heard of you before by my Master; for He knows all things that are
done on the earth. But I have often wondered that any should come from your place,
for your town is worse than is the City of Destruction itself.

Hon. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are more cold and senscless. But
were a man in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness should rise upon him,
his frozen heart shall feel a thaw; and thus it hath been with me.

Great. I believe it, Father Honest, I believe it; for I know the thing is true.

Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a holy kiss of charity, and
asked them their names, and how they had fared since they had sect out on their
pilgrimage.

Cur. Then said Christiana, “ My name I suppose you have heard of: good Christian
was my husband, and these are his children.”

But can you think how the old gentleman was taken when she told him who she
was? He skipped, he smiled, he blessed them with a thousand good wishes, saying:

Hoy. I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars which he
underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of your husband rings
all over these parts of the world: his faith, his courage, his enduring, and his sincerity
under all, have made his name famous. Then he turned him to the boys, and asked
of them their names, which they told him. Then he said unto them, “ Matthew, be
thou like Matthew the publican, not in vice, but in virtue.” Samuel,” said he, “be
256 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

thou like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and prayer.” Joseph,” said he, “be

thou like Joseph in Potiphar’s house, chaste, and one that flees from temptation.” And.
James, be thou like James the Just, and like James the brother of our Lord.””. Then

they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her town and her kindred to come along

with Christiana and with her sons. At that, the old honest man said, “ Merey is thy

name? by Mercy shalt thou be sustained and carried through all those difficulties that

shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither where thou shalt lock the

Fountain of Mercy in the face with comfort.”

All this while the guide, Mr. Great-heart, was very well pleased and smiled upon
his companion.

Now, as they walked along together, the guide asked the old gentleman if he did
not know one Mr. Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out of his parts.

Hon. “Yes, very well,” said he. “He was a man that had the root of the matter
in him; but he was one of the most troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all
my days.”

Great. I perceive you knew him, for you have given a very right character of him.

Hon. Knew him! I was a great companion of his; I was with him most an end:
when he first began to think upon what would come upon us hereafter, I was with him.

Great. I was his guide from my master’s house to the gates of the Celestial City.

Hoy. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one?

Great. I did so; but I could very well bear it, for men of my calling are oftentimes
entrusted with the conduct of such as he was.

Hoy. Well, then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he managed himself under
your conduct.

Great. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of whither he had a
desire to go. Everything frightened him that he heard anybody speak of, if it had
but the least appearance of opposition in it. I hear that he lay roaring at the Slough
of Despond for above a month together; nor durst he, for all he saw several go over
before him, venture, though they, many of them, offered to lend him their hand. He
would not go back again neither. The Celestial City, he said, he should die if he came
not to it; and yet was dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw that
anybody cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great
while, as I have told you, one sunshine morning, I don’t know how, he ventured, and
so got over; but, when he was over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, a
Slough of Despond in his mind, a slough that he carried everywhere with him, or else
he could never have been as he was. So he came up to the gate (you know what I





























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