IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. // /. <^ . !TTLE PILGRIM A POEM N -^TTHRRLY TINTED Fi, TES. % S. BROWN, * JNTAlUO, CilNAPA SUPERFINE EDITION. THE f^ ,*j? '"•I'V PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, < ROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH 18 TO GOME. BY John Buny^^ ^ . WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES B V THE REV. ROBERT MAGUIRE, D.D. TOC^.KTHER WITH A COMPLETE ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN ; OR, GOD'S ABOUNDING GRACE TOWARD THE GREATEST OF SINNERS. Writlen by himself. Illustrated with 130 Beautiful Engravings by -F. Barnard, H. C. Selous, Esq., M. Paolo Priolo and others. TO WHICH IS ADDED » THE LITTLE PILGRIM A POEM. EMBELLISHED WITH SIXTEEN SUPERBLY TINTED PLATES. JOHN S. BROWN, PAEIS. ONTARIO, CANADA. -mf: * m Aa b^^'S-^111!. 35.7 VU). I ^^C 'l'^ll{ ©onfenfA. PART I. Introductory Notice of the Author . The Author's Apology for his Book . -,, ^ CHAPTER I. 1 no Den and the Dreamer .... The Slough of Despond . Worldly-wiseman The Wicket-gate The Interpreter's House . The Cross and the Contrast The Hill Difficulty . The Palace Beautiful . Apollyon .... ^^ „ CHAPTER X. The Valley of the Shadow of Death . CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII. CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XIV. • • • CHAPTER II. • • • ( CHyypTER III. • ■ . * « CHAPTER IV. • • • • CHAPTER V. • • • • CHAPTER VI. CHAPTER VII. CHAPTER VIII. * • • • CHAPTER IX. Christian and Faithful Talkative . Vanity Fair Christian and Hopeful T^ u.- ^ . CHAPTER XV. Doubting Castle and Giant Despair . ^^ ^ CHAPTER XVI. The Delectable Mountains . (6) Paob 12 35 35 42 49 62 6/ 8i 87 93 III Ii8 125 137 151 167 183 196 '»« 6 Contents, CHAPTER XVII. l^e Enchanted Ground, and the Descent thereto . . . CHAPTER XVIII. Ignorance CHAPTER XIX. The Land of Beulah — ^The Fords of the River — At Home PART II. The Author's Way of sending forth his Second Part of the Pilgrim CHAPTER I. Christiana CHAPTER II. The Wicket-gate CHAPTER III. The Interpreter's House .... CHAPTER IV. The Cross and the Consequences CHAPTER V. The Palace Beautiful CHAPTER VI. The Valley of Humiliation CHAPTER VII. Mr. Honest and Mr. Fearing ... CHAPTER VIII. The Guests of Gaius CHAPTER IX. Vanity Fair and Mr. Mnason's House CHAPTER X. The Delectable Mountains and the Shepherds CHAPTER XI. f. /. Valiant-fo'-truth .... CHAPTER XII. The Enchanted Ground ... CHAPTER XIII. The Pilgrims at Home .... PART III. Life of John Bunyan, Written by Himself . Paob 202 229 242 257 265 279 295 308 322 344 356 372 391 401 413 422 434 447 Paob 202 229 242 257 265 279 295 308 322 344 356 372 391 401 413 422 434 447 bi^f of JfPu^fraiton^. PART I. Pagb Steel Plate Portrait of the Author Behold ! Three Shining Ones come to Him 32 <^hristian Reading his Book ........ 34 Evangelist directs Christian to the Wicket-gate 35 Christian setting out from the City of Destruction .... 36 Obstinate goes back to the City of Destruction 40 Christian at Prayer 41 Help draws Christian out of the Slough of Despond ... 45 Christian and Worldly-wiseman . " 50 Christian beneath Mount Sinai 53 Christian at the Wicket-gate 57 Goodwill shows Christian the Way 59 Hypocrisy ............ 61 The Interpreter shows Christian the Room full of Dust ... 65 Formalist 66 Christian is shown the Parable of Passion and Patience . . 69 The Interpreter shows Christian the Fire burning against the Wail . 73 Christian in View of the Cross tj Formalist and Hypocrisy coming into the Way over the Wall . . 82 Christian meets Timorous and Mistrust 89 Christian passes the Lions 94 Christian is questioned by Discretion 97 Christian enters the Palace Beautiful loi Christian tells Charity and her Sisters about his Family . . . 105 Christian is armed by Prudence, Discretion, Piety and Charity . . 109 Christian's Combat with Apollyon 113 Day breaks in the Valley of the Shadow of Death . . . . 121 Discontent 124 Faithful comes to the Help of Christian 1 28 Faithful's Struggle with Adam the First 132 (7) 8 List of Illustrations. W Faithful resists Shame .... Talkative of Prating Row .... Faithful converses with Talkative Evangelist gives good Counsel to Christian and Faithful Christian and Faithful enter the Town of Vanity Christian and Faithful pass through Vanity Fair Christian and Faithful put in Irons . Faithful suffers Death at Vanity Fair . Superstition Hopeful joins Company with Christian Mr. Money-!ove's Lesson in Hypocrisy Demas tempts Christian and Hopeful The Pillar of Salt The River of the Water of Life . Christian and Hopeful in the Castle of Giant Despair Christian and Hopeful escape from Doubting Castle The Hill Error Ignorance Faint-heart, Mistrust and Guilt rob Little-faith . Christian and Hopeful are led astray by the Flatterer Christian and Hopeful delivered from the Net . Christian and Hopeful meet with Atheist . Hopeful tells Christian his Experience Christian instructs Ignorance .... Ignorance steps behind Christian and Hopeful enter the Land of Beulah Christian and Hopeful meet Two Men of the Land of Christian and Hopeful cross the River The Gates are opened .... Beulah Page 144 148 152 156 160 164 166 168 172 176 180 184 188' 200 201 204 208 213 217 224 228 232 239 244 247 251 PART II. Christiana's Repentance Christiana prepares to depart Christiana and Family set out . They pass the Slough of Despond Mercy at the Wicket- gat^ . The Boys eat of the Fruit . 267 271 27s 280 284 2?% 21/ 224 228 232 239 244 247 251 26/ 271 275 28o 284 2?^ List 0/ Illustrations. Christiana and Mercy are delivered from the two lU-lavored Ones The Interpreter's Garden Great-heart becomes the Pilgrim's Guide . The Fate of Simple, Sloth and Presumption The Pilgrims drink of the Spring .... The Place where Mistrust and Timorous were Punished The Welcome at the Palace Beautiful Prudence catechises the Boys Mr. Brisk and Mercy . Matthew and Prudence Jacob's Ladder .... The Pillar in the Valley of Humility Great-heart kills Giant Maul Fearing at the Interpreter's Door Mr. Fearing in the Valley of Humiliation . Honest converses about one Self-will Gaius receives the Pilgrims The Pilgrims' Supper Giant Slay-good and Feeble-mind .... The Marriage of Matthew and Mercy The Pilgrims come within Sight of Vanity Fair Honest and Contrite converse . . , . The Pilgrims at the Place where Faithful perished Great-heart and the Sons of Christiana destroy Doubting The Shepherds adorn the Pilgrims .... Valiant-for-truth beset by Thieves .... Valiant resists the Entreaties of his Father and Mother The Wearisome Way ...... Mr. Great- heart Turn-away will not listen to Evangelist Mr. Valiant-for-truth Standfast resists Temptation The Pilgrims rest in the Land of Beulah The Farewell . . . Castle Pack 292 299 306 3" 316 320 324 329 333 337 341 34S 353 361 365 369 374 378 383 387 392 395 399 403 410 415 419 423 424 426 428 431 435 441 PART III. John Bunyan 446 Bunyan's Birthplace 440 ilO List of Illustrations. Pagb Bunyan Listening to the Women of Bedford 457 Bunyan Studying the Writings of Luther 481 . Bunyan Preaching in the Open Air 520 Bedford Jail 522 iBunyan in Prison 524 Bunyan's Family visiting him in Prison 527 Bunyan Arrested while Preaching 534 Bunyan on his L^tst Errand of Mercy 542 IBunyan's Tomb in Bunhill Field's Cemeter}' ..... 543 ^uPP-page (^oPoreiL Qngra>9ingA. Christian at the Cross. ' The Three Shining Ones. Faithful helps Christian. The Porter calls Discretion to the Door of the Palace. Talkative. Atheist. The Keeper at the Gate finds Mercy fainting outside. The King's Trumpeter. Mr. Great-heart. Mr. Brisk. Old Honest. " The Man Could Look no Way but downwards." Mr. Fearing at the Gate. Feeble-Mind Welcomes Ready-to-halt. Standfast and Madam Bubble. Turn-away will not listen to Evangelist / . Pagr 457 481 520 522 524 527 534 542 543 '^Qtroc^uetor^ Rofiee o^ tPie oKutpLor. ^S^^^S^>^W^S«N^S^^^/S^^^«^^>^^ |HE Pilgrim's Progress is, without question, of all unin- spired volumes, the most extraordinary book in the Eng- lish language. Regard being had to the condition of its author, and the circumstances connected with its produc- tion, to its widespread popularity, and its suitableness for readers of ' every class, there is none to compare with it. It is so well known, that any information concerning either it or its author seems super- fluous ; and our ingenuity is at a loss to know how to write an intro- duction for a book for which, above all others, no introduction is required. We shall probably find ew readers who are not already ac- quainted with the leading facts of Bunyan's life, and to whom a re- cord of them would not appear like 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 be- longed 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 till quite recently common to his class. At an early age he learned the trade of tinkfer, and by that occupation earned his liveli- hood 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 con- (11) 12 Introductory Notice of the Author. nection with this change, combined with his natural gifts, qualified him for profitably addressing others ; and he very soon began, in an ir- regular way at first, to exercise the ministry, which ultimately became his sole occupation, and in which he obtained to a proficiency unsur- passed by any preacher in his time. His preaching and consequent absence from the parish church attracted the notice of the ecclesiasti- cal authorities of the neighborhood, at whose instigation he was thrown into prison for twelve years, where he tagged laces to support Jiis wife and blind child, and conceived and wrote the wonderful allegory by which he has ranked himself for ever among the peers of the intel- lectual world, and secured for himself an ever-widening ai.d undying fame. After his release he preached with great acceptance and use- fulness, statedly at Bedford, occasionally in London and elsewhere, and composed and published various other works of great practical usefulness, 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. In 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 )hilosophy 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 pro- duce such a book, or that anything in his circumstances and upbringing and parentage would produce such a man. He is a great creation, no more to be accounted for in such a manner than is the creation Introductory Notice of the Author, 18 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 perform- ance 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 re- lentless persecution, no better home for twelve years than a damp cell in the jail which stood on the bridge over the Ouse at Bedford. His crime, as we have intimated, was that of absenting himself 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 Testa- ment principles — one of the worst crimes, in the estimation of the authorities, of which 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 afterwards. His indictment set forth that "John Bunyan of the town of Bedford, laborer, hath devilishly and per- niciously abstained from coming to church to hear Divine service, and is a common upholder of several unlawful meetings and con- venticles, to the great disturbance and distraction of the good sub- jects 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 judg- ment ; 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 "■ I 14 Introductory Notice of the Author. ill special licence from the king, you must stretch by the neck for it, 1 tell you plainly. Jailer, take him away." Bunyan's reply was as worthy of his Christian character as t;Iie 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, could 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 pi«-ces." Still he did not falter, for he could commit her as well as himself to God ; and God's peace was with 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, I went away to prison w'th God's comfort in my poor soul!" ' . His case seems to have given some trouble to the justices. He was had up before them repeatedly, and always remanded. They were either unwilling or afraid to carry out Justice Reeling'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 m ^1 ft t Introductory Notice of the Author. 1& istices. They threat :hange ed for me to to the itiring ; "in their efforts were in vain. Th one condition on which his release could be granted was the condition with which tie prisoner would not comply. "Will your husband leave preaching ? " said Judge Twis- den to his wife ; " if 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 occasion, " are such as lead me to a 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 re- buked, 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 by 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 my eye- brows, 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 na^.ure 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 en- joyments — 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 litde cell which he aptly calls his den ! 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. h«.l I n 16 Introductory Notice of the Author, 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. The stream by whose side he strays lulls him with its melody. The wild-flowei> blooming at his feet with its bewitching beauty hath for him a quiet but charm- ing talc of one for whose care nothing is too minute. The mountains tower around in testimony of his Father's power and faithfulness; and the stars overhead are so many provinces in his Father's boundless domain — yea, all nature doth minister to his pleasure, be- cause all outward things do " chime harmoniously with the move- ments of the harmonious soul." Or if, by prison walls, as in Bun- yan's case, he be shut out from nature's beauty — from daylight and fragrant air — still he has left to him God and himself. The soul's freedom is unimpaired. It can soon soar above all restraint and enjoy 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. " 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." ^ Introductory Notice of the Author. 17 jpier far was bishop in his jstioned if in be envied as ;e " " God's r soul," is not urbed by the : persecutor's isessions and wanderer — he Dthers in the by whose side p blooming at liet but charm- rhe mountains d faithfulness; 1 his Father's s pleasure, be- rith the move- ills, as in Bun- n daylight and If. The soul's restraint and lick that prayer It it may not be These were no meaningless sounds to him — no poetical expres- sion of the feelings which he supposed might be experienced — no rhapsodical or exaggerated description of what he actually felt. Poetry apart, he elsewhere tells us of the glorious visions with which he was favored there. " Oh ! 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 that 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 part- ing 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 jail fades away, and his unfettered soul stands on some mount of vision, where, from its commence- ment 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 Interpreter's house — his rapture when, standing at the foot of the Cross and gaz! ng 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 -liamber whose name is Peace. Or he wanders among the Delectable Mountains with the shepherds for his companions, 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 2 18 Introductory Notice of the Author. in the land of Beulah, where, not in imagination only, but in reality, his soul summers even now, ripermg for the heaven which is so near that already he inhales its fragrance, and walks in its light, and holds converse with the 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 rattier 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 tl - ascending soul. The gates open at his approach — the trumpets sound in honor of his coming. Tiie bells of the city " ring again for joy." " Angels meet him widi 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. Housing himself from his reverie, but with beaming eye and radiant countenance, for " he writes as if joy did make him write," he flings from his graphic and fluent pen those vivid, brilliant pictures, over which, after his persecutors have per- ished, and his prison walls have crumbled into dust, and the painful circumstances of his earthly life have receded into the dim and dis- tant 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 Prpvidence 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 Si G ei m al ar w ec Introductory Notice of the Author. n n reality, ich is so light, and leth night are ever ind. Or. e gate of m clasped no more ,pen at his The bells \ harp and rn in token d welcome ig, "Enter ^ walls that re but the all endure. strained to reverie, but s as if joy t pen those 5 have per- the painful im and dis- ns, in the wded city, 1 bend with conducive lich controls mrposes, so 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 Providence is specially seen in sone of the circumstances which facilitated his work. Cruelties such as were perpetrate'd in other prisons would probably have shortened his days, or at least have rendered writing and study impossible ; but in the jail at Bedford where he was confined, though the place was loathsome in the extreme, the jailer 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 providential. A neighboring priest heard of his absence from prison, and immediately despatched a messenger that he might bear witness against the jailer. Mean- while 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 jailer could answer "Yes." "Is John Bunyan safe ? " " Yes." Bunyan, on being called, appeared ; and^ said the jailer 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 are forgotten. So do the enemies of the Gospel frustrate their own schemes. So does the right live on, em.erging 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 20 Introductory Notice of the Author. 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 it has not been rendered. Wherever English is spoken it is familiar as a household word. Both the First and Second Parts may be had together new, and neatly printed, for one penny, showing that notwithstanding 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 course, reads it for guidance and en- couragement in his own conflicts and perils ; and the aged saint, lingering for a while on the river's brink, before the messenger sum- mons 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 Introductory Notice of the Author. 21 islations nd Irish, ig all the le press, lage into )ken it is arts may ving that editions on a sale ars in all elegantly ly. Well t careless, Children »r gloomy pair. Men its pages, purpose, it for the lents, its he young and en- ed saint, ger sum- accuracy le land of celestial lants with the dull pture, as, [ates, he is ould have More wonderful still that it should have been written in prison by an unedu- cated tinker, the descendant of a vagrant tribe — written spontane- ously and unconsciously — 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 Scripture. The Second Part shows some improvement on the First in this re- spect; but there, too, the cross is placed too far on the way. It should ha\ e been at the wicket-gate, and not at the further side of the Interpreter's house ; for there is really no true progress heave '.ware* 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 prilgrim'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 unavoid- able. 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 perfectly ac- quainted." His characters, though some of them are mere embodi- ments of abstract qualities, are painted with equal vividness. They are marked with individuality as much as if they were real personages 22 Introductory Notice of the Author. who had sat for their portraits. There is no danger of our mistak- ing 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 appreciation of the beautiful he now and again displays ! When he writes of Christiana in the Second Part, there is a percep- tible 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 alls on them, is perfectly charming, and all the more noticeable as cc ntrasted with the lurid grandeur of others. What a sweet picture ii. that Palace Beautiful, with its waiting damsels and its chambers 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 : " 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 forever 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 v/ith lilies," where " our Lord formerly had his country house, and loved to walk the meadows, for he found the air was pleasant," where "laboring men 'W M c c y t g Introductory Notice of the Author, 23 mistak- duce on h them, nent of monious nd what lisplays ! percep- re suited : for the of Him hers the he quiet 3n them, sted with It Palace ce — " the a most 2ns, with 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 vividly presented to us, that, forget- ting our surroundings, we can sometimes fancy ourselves in it, soothed and refreshed by its delicious influences, bathed in its golden light, and breathing its balmy air. And the Celestial City itself, shining like the sun, with its bdls and trumpets, its golden pave- ment, 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 muqh it deserves its matchless popularity ; and the more cor- dially do we recommend it to the careful perusal of our readers. Our desire and prayer is, that some of them may be influenced by Bun- yan's pleasant companionship and wise guidance to commence, or, if they have commenced already, to persevere in and complete the pil- grimage which he so graphically describes. , le Valley ," where walk the ring men ■4 ■'A "^. CHRISTIAN AT THE CROSS. -'I'l 1 fie eKutfior'^ oKpoPogLj for HEN at the first I took my pen in hand, Thus for to write, I did not understand That I at all should make a little book 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 then again began to multiply. Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. Nay then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, I'll 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 mine own self to gratify. (25) l" I til i ^ TAe Author s Apology. Neither did I but vacant seasons spend In this my scribble ; 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 puU'd, it came ; and so I penn'd It down ; until at last it came to be, For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. Well, when I had thus put my ends together, I showed them others, that I might see whether They would condemn them, or them justify ; And some said, Let them live ; some. Let them die, Some said, John print it ; others said. Not so : Some said. It might do good ; others said. No. Now was I in a strait, and did hot see Which was the best thing to be done by me : ' At last I thought. Since you are thus divided, 1 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 advised for the best. Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. I I further thought, if now I did deny Those that would have it thus 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 pleased 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 moderate, I did too with them thus expostulate : f The Author's Apology. 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 blessing 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 catch'd, 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 ; 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. 27 28 ' The Author's Apology. , ■ Well, yet I am not fully satisfied, That this your book will stand when soundly tried. Why, what's the matter ? // is dark / What though ? But it is feigned. What of that, I trow ? Some men, by feigned 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 ' needs want solidness, because By metaphors I speak ? Were not God's laws, His gospel laws, in olden time held forth By shadows, types, 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 what by pins and loops. By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams. By birds and herbs, and by the bloou 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 parable 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. 1 'I I The prophets used much by metaphors To set forth truth ; yea, whoso considers Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see That truths to this day in such mantles be. The Author's Apology. 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 look. 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 dare adventure ten That they will take my meaning in these lines Far better than his lies in silver shrines. Come, Truth, although in swaddiing-clouts I find, Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind ; Pleases the understanding, makes the will Submit ; the memory, too, it doth fill With what doth our imagination please ; Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. Sound words, I know, Timothy's to use, * And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; ^ But yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbid The use of parables, in which lay hid That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were Worth digging for, a^id that with- greatest care. Let me add one word more : Oh, 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 ? To those that are my betters, as is fit. Three things let me propound, then I submit : — I. I find not that I am denied the use Of this my method, so I no abuse 29 30 The Author s Apology. Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude In handhng 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 (Examples too, and that from them that have God better pleased, by their words or ways, Than any man that breatheth now-a-days) Thus to express my mind, thus to declare Thingfs unto thee that excellentest are. 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, cursed 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 /luw. Better than he that 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 me and it unto that Hand That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones standi 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 does ; It also shows you how he runs and runs, Till he unto the Gate of Glory comes. The Authors Apology. It shows, too, who set out for life amain, As if the lasting crown they would obtain. Here also you may see the reason why They lose their labor, and like fools do die. This book will make a traveller of thee, \ If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be ; It will direct thee to the Holy Land, If thou wilt its direction 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 ? Wouldst thou remember From New-year's day to the last of December? Then read my fancies ; they will stick like burs. And may be to the helpless comforters. This book is 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. 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 i' 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 knowest not what,. And yet know whether thou art blest or not. By reading the same lines ? 0)i, then, come hither, And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. JOHN BUNYAN. 81 Is •' BEHOLD ! THREE SHINING ONES CAME TO HIM.' (32) m n CHAPTER I. The Den and the Dreamer. The opening of the Vision presents in bold relief the future hero of the allegory — a burdened man, clothed with rags ; weeping because 'of threatened wos pronounced by the Book that is in his hand. He dwells in the City of Destruction. He reveals his sorrows and anxieties to his wife and family, but finds no sympathy there ; and failing to obtain companionship on the heavenward road, he starts alone upon his spiritual journey. \ |S 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 j(Isa. 64: 6), standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back (Luke 14 : 13). I looked and saw him open the book and read therein (Ps. 38 : 4) , and as he read he wept and trembled (Hab. 2:2); and not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, .saying, What shall I do? (Acts 2 : 37,) In this plight therefore he went home, and refrained 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 my- self undone, by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; more- over, I am certainly informed that this our city will be burned with if ■A 1 The wilderness of this luorld. — The world is a wilderness to the Christian. He is not at home ; dwells in tents ; has only sandy foundations for all his earthly things. There- fore is the Christian man a pilt;rim. With the pilgrim's tottering staff, and with the pilgrim's scanty fare, he is ever looking up- ward, going forward, tending onward, way- worn, weatherbeaten, houseless, homeless — he is now in the wilderness, but the march- ing pilgrim is ever " nearing home." Where was a den. — This was the dungeon of the jail in Bedford, in which Bunyan was imprisoned for conscience and the Gospel's sake. And as I slept, I dreamed. — Bunyan, though bereft of liberty in a damp and dreary dungeon, threw his allegory into the likeness of a perfect dream. And behold I saw a man, etc. — Mark the features of this vision. This nian is the personification of the sinner awakened to consciousness of his sins. He is " clothed with rags" — the rags of bis own righteous- 8 (33) 34 The Pils^rims Progress. fire from heaven ; in which fearful overthrow, both myselt, witb thee my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin ; except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape may be found,, whereby we may be de- livered. At this his re- lations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that what he had said to them was true, but be- cause they thought some frenzy-distemper had got into his head \ therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping that sleep miy^ht settle his brain, with, haste they got him to bed.. But the night was as trou- blesome to him as tiie day ; wherefore.instead of sleep- ing, he spent it in sighs and tears. So, when the morn- ing was come, they would know how he did ; and he told them worse and worse. He also set to talking to them again, but they began to he harden- ed ; they also tiiought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carri- ages to him ; sometimca they would deride, some- times they would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to his cham- ber, to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery. He CHRISTIAN READING HIS BOOK. ness ; " standing " — still in doubt, not yet set forward ; " his face from his own house " — looking the right way ; hand" — the Bible; and ' " a book in his a great, burden- Christian breaks his Mind to his Family, 35 EVANGELIST DIRECTS CHRISTIAN TO THE WICKET-GATE. would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading and some- times 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?" (Acts i6: 30, 31.) I saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if he would yet he stood still, because (as I perceived) he could not tell run which way to go. I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist on his back " — the weary burden of his sin ; "he wept and tremb'ed," as every m'ln must do that is under conviction of sin. What shall I do ? — This is the first ques- tion ; and the second is, " What shall I do to be saved f" The convicted sinner's first thought is of his danger, as if it would crush him ; the next is of the possibility of escape — sal v atio n . He brake his mind to his wife. — This paragraph minutely depicts the agony of an. awakened sinner—disclosing some threat- ening evil to those he loves best, and would rescue if he can ; those days of weeping, those restless nights, those darksome dawn- ings of the morning, that bring not joy, but the weary verdict, " Worse and worse." / saw a man named Evangelist, — Much "^♦% !l! o H PS H W Q O u o Pi H D O W IS < p tr. ^- Pi U Christian sets out from the City of Destruction. 37 1 coming (Job 33: 23) to him, and he asked, Wherefore dost thou cry? 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 (Heb. 9 : 27; Job 16 : 21,22; Ezek. 22 : 14). 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 (Isa. 30: zi)- •^"4. Sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution ; and the thoughts of these things make me cry. Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why standest thou still ? He answered, Because I know not whither to go. Then he gave him a parchment-roll; and there was written within, "Flee Irom the wrath to come " (Matt. 3: 7). The man therefore read it, id, Whither must I )king upon igeli :ry ifully, flee ? Then said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very wide field, Do you see yonder wicket-gate? (Matt. 7: 13, 14; Ps. 1 19, 105 ; 2 Pet. I : 19.) The man said. No. Then said the other. Do you see yonder shining light? He said, 1 think I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that light in your of Bunyan's private history is interwoven throughout the allegory. In fact, it is a spiritual autobiography, recounting his own dangers, doubts, helps, and manifold expe- riences. " Evangelist " is supposed to mean the good Mr. Gififord, under whose instruction and ministry Banyan so greatly profited. Mr. Gifford had been a m.ijor in the king's army, and a persecutor of those who, like Bunyan, overstepped the n.arrow bounds of that unhappy period. He, how- ever, afterward became a converted man, and was the founder of a chiu'ch in Bedford, which was subsequently ministered to by Bunyan himself, and has continued its suc- cession of testimony to the present day. Wherefore dost thou cry f — What a vol- ume might be written in answer to this question! Everything conF,)ires to draw forth his sighs and tears. The weight of his burden ; the lack of sympathy at home ; the derision, the chiding, the neglect which he received from friends ; the musing upon his forlorn condition in the secrecy of his chamber, and in his solitary walks ; the dread realization of sin and fear of death, and conscious unpreparedness for judgment — all these circumstances conspire to open the fountain of his tears. Prison— judgment — exeeuthn. — This pro- gression of wrath and cf.ndemnation, arising out of conviction of sin, alarms the Pilgrim. He sees scope beyond scope, depth beyond depth, darkness beyond darkness ; and be- ing as yet without hope and without God in the world, he sees no light at all to illumi- nate this darksome prospect. He fears the " prison," the first stage of spiritual apprehension, into which he enters for trial ; and seeing he enters that prison with a conscience deeply convicted of guilt and sin. and knowing how unerring is the mind of God, and how stern and unbending isJhe justice of his throne, that prison be comes the inevitable threshold to "judg' ment." He is still more terribly afraid of "judg- ment." There is no plea of innocence; "^^, 38 T/te Pilgrim's Progress. 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, but his wife and children perceiv- ing it began to cry 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 behii.d him, but fled toward the middle of the plain. The neighbors also came out tc see him run ; and as he ran some mocked, others threatened, and so e cried after him to re- turn ; and among those that did so, thet., were two that were re- solved to fetch him back by force. The name of the one was Obsti nate, and the name of the other Pliable. Now by this time the man was got a good distance from them ; but, however, they were resolved to pursue him ; which they did, and in a 'ittle time 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 where also 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. there is no extenuation of his sin ; there is nothing in himself to mitigate the wrath, or to turn aside the judgment of God. To him, then, judgment is the proof of his guilt, and the consequent sentence of death is pronounced against him. And this involves a yet further sequel — " execution." And most of all he fears this doom of "execution." He is brought by conviction of sin into prison ; and from prison to judg- ment ; and from judgment to execution ; and that is, not only death, but something after death ; not only the grave, but some- thing " lower than the grave " — it is death of bod ind soul, loss of life and loss of heaven, and all the eternity of woe, and all the unutterable misery that is wrapped up in the doom of the lost and in the destiny of hell. A parchment-roll. — This was Evangelist's gift to the Pilgrim, with a motto that urged him to flight And this was quickly fol- lowed by the further counsel, whither to flee. The roll of parchment, as on other occa- sions, means that the advice of Evangelist is to be retained and preserved as an en- during possession. Now there is hope ! Yonder wicket-gate. — Not yet attained ; yet further on. The Pilgrim is short-sight- ed ; he cannot see the gate. It is seen and may be known by its halo of light. Thus Evangelist acts as a finger-post, directing the way, and helping the power of the Pil- grim's eyesight. The man began to run. — The directions once given, his earnestness quickens his steps ; and whatever doubt or hesitancy may have been before, now at least he can do naught else but run. He is on for his life, and must not delay. No, not for wife or child, or the overture of any friend. They are content to remain in sin, and to d'-vU in the midst of danger and destruction ; and this.being so, he takes his spiritual way alone. It is, in fact, a family circle, which now presents just one of its members con- vinced of sin, but all the rest impenitent and unbelieving. This one member would Obstinate and Pliable. 39 at which Now he I perceiv- is fingers le looked ls he ran im to re- were re- as Obsti i the man t resolved took him. rhey said, :an by no the place re, sooner hat burns go along jf Evangelist ed as an en- is hope ! et attained ; short-sight- is seen and lij;ht. Thus )st, directing of the Pil- tie directions ;juicken5 his sitancy may St he can do for his life, for wife or ■iend. They nd to dv .11 destruction ; spiritual way circle, which embers con- impenitent mber would What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends and our comforts behind us ! Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), because that all i^ not worthy to be compared with a little of that that I am seeking to enjoy ; and if you will 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 (Luke 15 : 17). Ohst. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them ? Chr. I seek an "inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away:" and it is "laid up 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 (i Pet. i: 4-6; Heb. 9: 6, 16). Tush, said Obstinate, away with your book: will you go back with us, or no ? No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my hand to the plough (Luke 9 : 62). Obst. Come, then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn again, and go home without him : there is a company of these craz'd-headed cox- combs that, when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason. Then said Pliable, Do not revile ; if what the good Christian desire to have all the other members to bear him company toward Zion ; but they refuse. His mind is made up to go alone, rather than not to go at all. And out of the midst of the threatened overthrow he speeds his onward way, still bearing his lamily com- pany in temporal things, but in things spir- itual he is all alone. How often does it happen that one mem- ber of a family starts for heaven without father, or mother, or brother, or sister, to bear him company ! It is this that divides and separates families and friendships here ; and if they become not one in Christ it sepa- rates eternally hereafter. Many such sepa- rate pilgrimages are undertaken even now : the husband without the wife ; the wife with- out the husband. It may be twain brothers, or two fond sister, alike in disposition and deportment — alike, it may be, in the exter- nals of religion, and yet separated by this dividing line. Like two rivers, rising from the self-same fountain, and running side by side at the outset of their course, but then, by a slight and gentle deviation, parting company, and at last, in opposite directions, mingling their waters with the ocean : the one amid the verdure and foliage, and fruits and flowers, of the tropics ; the other amid the ice-bound regions of perpetual barren- ness and desolation. Obstinate and Pliable. — This personifica- tion of abstract tern s adds much to the interest of " The Piljrim's Progress," and lends a great charm ti the characte/ intro- duced. These two are nampd from their nature, which soon manifests itself in their conduct. Obstinatk is evidently a mocker, who scoffs at the possessors of religion. He cannot understand why the Pilgrim should leave his worldly .-'.ssociations, or believe the book that bids him to forsake ail for Christ. He even waxes angry because his words seem to take no effect. And by-and-by he rails on the Pilgrim, and reviles him for TM ir 'w w" " 40 The Pilgrinis Progress. OBSTINATE GOES BACK TO THE CITY OF DES I RUCTION. says is true, the things he looks after are better tlian ours : my heart inclines to go with my neighbor. Obst. What ! more fools still ? Be ruled by me, and go back ; who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead )ou } Go back, go back, and be wise. CiiR. Come with me, 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 what he believes to be his folly or his fancy in committing himself to the fortunes of so strange an expedition. Pliable yields for a time ; is easily turned hither and thither, but has no perseverance in the right w&y. He is caught by prom- ises, and is beckoned on by hopes, but counts not the cost of the journey. He is pliable for good, or he is pliable for evil ; and is ready for either way, according to circumstances. Meanwhile the Pilgrim, who is now for the hrst time called by the name of Chris- tian, is fighting a hard fight, and he is waging it well. He contends in faith and hope. His faith leads hin. to leave friends and comforts behind him, which Ohstinate will not do. His hopn points to the glor\' beyond — the incorruptible in leritince. His Book teaches him all this; t!ie testimony (it that Book is confirmed by th; blood of Him that gave it ; and thus, with the faith that forsakes house and family and friends for Christ, and, with the hop'j that beckons oa i Srp .■IS) in W( 'i CO S - to 1 hoi his ten Pill Obstinate and Pliable. 41 KtS'f-A ^o back ; Go back» Ich ihings ts: if you )f what is le of Chris- 1, and he is lin faith and lleave friends Obstinatf. Ito the glory litince. His I testimony ol l)lood of Him [he faith that friends for beckons oa expressed therein, behold all is affirmed by the blood of him that made it (Heb. 9 : 17-22). Well, neighbor Obstinate, saith Pliable, 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 ? CHRISTIAN AT PRAYER. ( Chr. I am directed by a man whose name is Evangelist, to speed me to a little gate that is before us, where we shall receive instructions about the way. Pli. Come, then, good neighbor, let us be going. Then they went both together. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate, I will be no companion to such misled, fantastical fellows. ^•f to the better land, Christian determines to hold fast by the plough which he hath put his hand unto. Hence this formidable temptation is successfully resisted, and the Pilgrim steadily pursues his way ; Obsti- nate turns back, and is got rid of as an enemy, while Pliable goes on, and (for a time at least) bears the Pilgrim company as a friend. ♦ I CHAPTER II. The Slough of Despond. Obstinate in his self-will has returned to the City oi' Destruction. Pliable, won for a moment to the cause of the Pilgrim, pliably tries the fortune of the road, merely for specu- lation and experiment. So long as Religion walks in silver sandals and enjoys the sun- shine, he is content to abide with Christian : but if the sky should darken, or the wav prove hazardous, he that has turned his face forward will as easily turn backward, and forsake the pilgrimage. jlOW 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. Chr. Come, neighbor Pfiable, how do you do ? I am 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. Pli. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are none but us two here, tell me now further wiiat the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are going. Chr. I can better conceive ot 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. Pli. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true ? Chr. Yes, verily, for it was made by him that cannot lie (Titus I : 2,9). Made by him that cannot lie. — In answer to Pliable's curious questions, Christian refers to his " Book ;" and in evidence of the vciacity and authority of the Book, he states that " it was made by him that cannot lie." There is no basis of argument, no groundwork of promise, no foothold of faith, no certainty at all, unless the Bible be true To disturb this authority is to destroy fundamental truth ; and, " if the foundations be d^atroyed, vhat shall the righteous do .''" What things are they ? — Pliable is not very anxious, if anxious at all, about the authority of " the Book. ' His spirit of curi- osity is greater than his spirit of earnest in- quiry. He feels no burden, reahzes no nat- ural unfitness, and only wants to know what are the hopes held out ; and if they be good and profitable, he would desire to have them, if they can be obtained without any self-denial on his part. And what else f — Still with an insatiable (42) Christian answers Pliable' s Questions. 4r Pli. Well said ; what things are they ? • Chr. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and ever- lasting life to be given us, that we may inhabit that kingdom for- ever (Isa. 45: 17 ; John 10: 27-29). Pli. )Vell said ; and what else ? Chr. There are crowns of glory to be given us ; and garments that will make us shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven (2 Tim. 4: 8; Rev. 3: 4; Matt. 13: 43)- Pli. This is excellent : and what else? Chr. There shall be no more crying nor sorrow ; for he that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes (Isa. 25 : 8 ; Rev. 7: 16, 17 ; 21 : 4). Pli. And what company shall we have there ? Chr. There we shall be with Seraphims and Cherubims, creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on them (Isa. 6: 2; i Thess. 4: 16, 17). There, also, you shall meet with thousands and ten thousands that have gone before us to that place ; none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy ; everyone walking in the sight of God, and standing in his presence with acceptance forever (Rev. 4: 4; 14: 1-5). In a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden crowns; there we shall see 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 seas, for the love that they bare to the Lord of the place ; all well, and clothed with immortality as with a garment (John 12:25; 2 Cor. 5: 2-5). Pli. 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 hereof? avidity Pliable drinks in the description of heaven, and demands yet more. Chris- tian is led on by the evident interest he has awakened in the mind of his new comrade. He descants most eloquently of the ' end- less kingdom " and " everlasting life " and the glorious "garments" of the redeemed. Pliable's pulse beats high; his curiosity is mori and more quickened. It iz surely something to meet by-and-by with proph- ets and apostles and martyrs and such company as these Are these things to be enjoyed? — " Let us all learn," says a recent writer on the Pil- .grim's Progress, "to distinguish an easy pliable disposition from the broken heart of a genuine penitent. You may be very op- posite to an obstinate man, with whom you have been associated. You may have a great respect for real Christians ; but if you con- fine your view only to the bright side of re- ligion ; if you are carried away by its lively representations of peace and rest and joy and glory, without any thorough awakening to the power and terror of the unseen world, and without any feeling of the burden upon your back — I mean a sense of your de- praved and sinful state— if this, I say, be your experience, your goodness will only be as the morning cloud and the early dew. I u The Pilgrim's Progress. Chr. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded that'xn this book, the substance of which is, if we be truly willing to have it, he will bestow it upon us freely (Isa. 55: 1-3; John 6: n ; 7: 37; Rev. 21: 6; 22: 17). Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear these things. Come on, let us mend our pace. Chr. 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, therefore, they wal- lowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt ; and Christian, because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink in the mire. Then said Pliable, Ah ! neighbor Christian, where are you now ? Truly, said Christian, I do not know.^ You are only a stony-ground hearef. Not- withstanding your lively emotions, your ready profession, your joyful feelings, and your hasty movements, you have no root in yourself. You will endure but for a season. When tribulation or persecution ariseth be- cause of the Word, you will be offended. Oh, the unspeakable blessing of a thor- oughly awakened, a deeply humble heart! Let us remember that this is the special work of the Holy Spirit ; and however pain- ful or distressing, let us constantly seek that, by his gracious operation, it may be actually wrought within us." Let us iiiettd our pace. — Pliable, intent upon the prospective glories of the place, of which he has just received so glowing an account, desires to hasten on. But the Pil- grim, albeit he did hastily run from the City of Destructi( , yet now slackens his pace; he can run no longer. Pliable feels no weight. He has indertpken, and now thus far continues, his pilgrimage, not by reason of conviction of sin or consciousness of any burden, but because of the glorious prospect of heaven, and the blessedness that Chris- tian tells him of. He cannot, therefore, see any reason why he should not run all the way to the possession of these great promises. But the Pilgrim is " weary and heavy laden." Although full of confidence in the words of his Book, which assure him that the kingdom will be freely bestowed on those who sincerely seek it, he is neverthe- less weighed down by a sense of sin and so deeply conscious of his own weakness and infirmity that he cannot step forward thus quickly For such a race it needs that we " renew our strength ;"' and they alone can do this who " wait upon the Lord." It is of these that the prophet speaks, " They shall mount up with wings as eagles ; they shall run, and not be weary ; and they shall walk, and not faint" (Isa. 40: 31). Christian knows this, taught by experience to know the weight of his "burden." He therefore checks the presumption of Pliable, saying, " I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my back." A very miry slough. — Since Christian's flight from the City of Destruction, this is his first difficulty and downfall — " they being heedless did both suddenly fall into the bog." This was the Slough of Despond. In this miry place Christian seems to fare worse than his fellow ; for by reason of bis- .:i ' ■■■.»' :i corded lling to 37; 7: things. burden lis talk,. t of the he bog. ley wal- rt; and to sink ire you hcse great weary and confidence assure him estowed on s neverthe- sin and so ikness and iward thus ;ds that we alone can I." It is of They shall they shall shall walk, Christian e to know e therefore )LE, saying, by reason HELP DRAWS CHRISTIAN OUT OF THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 45 46 The Pilgritiis Progress. At that Pliable began to be ofifended, 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 betwixt 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 stru • gle or two, and got out oCthe mire on that side of the slough which was next to his own house. So away he went, and Christian ssw him no more. Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Des- pond alone ; but still he endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough that was still further 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. Sir, said Christian, I was bid go this way by a man called Evan- gelist, who directed me also to yond(:r gate, that I might escape the wrath to come ; and as I was gc\ig thither \ fell in here. Help. But why did you not look for the steps ? burden (that is, conscious sin), he sinks deeper and deeper. Pliable, feeling no such burden, is simply bedaubed, but is also most grievously offended. He naturally feels that this is a sudden and unlooked-for descent from the crowns and harps and dazzhng glories of which they had been speaking. Accordingly, having no correct views of the state of man and of the plan of deliverance, in time of temptation or trial, he falleth away. Pliable's first experiences offend him ; and at once, with a desperate struggle or two, he releases himself from the mire, at that side of the swamp that was nearest his native home. Not so the Pilgrim of Zion. Christian, now left alone, struggles toward the side nearest the Wicket-gate. All-burdened with sin, and sinking in the miry clay, he feels his danger and his desolate condition. How dreary and how dreadful is this place ! — " Where hardly a human foot could pass, Or a huiiLin heart would dare, On the quaking turf of the green morass. His all he had trusted there." But Christian now looks elsewhere for help, and makes every effort to be free. Some one has well said, " There is one test by which to distinguish the godly from the ungodly, when both have fallen even into the selfsame sin. It is the test by which you may know a sheep from swine, when both have fallen into the same slough, and are, in fact, so bemired that neither by coat nor color can the one be distinguished from the other. How, then, distinguish them ? Nothing more easy. The unclean animal, in circumstances agreeable to its nature, wallows in the mire ; but the sheep fills the air with its bleatings, nor ceases its struggles to get out." Thus Pliable, disappointed of his hopes, and not being patient of the Pilgrimage, re- turns to Destruction ; while Christian, with earnest struggles to be free, still " looks to the hills, from whence cometh his help." Whose name was Help. — When man has done his best, and yet that best is nothing, then comes Help. This kind messenger is Christ. He reproves the Pilgrim that he had not looked for "the steps." And Christian answers that "fear followed" him, and thus he missed the steps. These stepping-stones are the promises uf God io- '■ ? -I An Account of the Slough of Despond. 47 ~ Chr. Fear followed me so hard that I fled the next way, and fell in. Then said he, Give me thy hand. So he gave him his hand, and he drew him out, and set him on sound ground, and let him go- on his way (Ps, 40 : 2 ; Isa. 35: 3, 4). Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said. Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way from the City of Destruc- tion to yonder gate, is it that this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with more security? And he said to me, This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended. It is the descent whither the scum and filth that attend conviction of sin do continually run, and therefore it is called the Slough of Despond ; for still, as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there arise in his soul many fears and doubts and discouraging apprehensions, which all of them get together, and settle in this place; and this is the reason of the badness of this ground. It 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 above thv.se sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might be mended ; yea, and to my knowledge, said he, here have been swallowed up at least twenty thousand cartloads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions, that have at all seasons been Christ. Now " fear " never yet brought a man to the promises ; it only drives us from them, so that we lose the way. Give me thy hand. — Such is the real help that Christ gives the Christian. " His own arm brought salvation." What would have been the condition of any of us had not the hand of the Lord upheld us, as he upheld the affrighted Peter, when his faith failed him, and he began to sink? Hence the Psalmist, after his deliverance, thus tells of the mercy of the Lord ; " I waited patiently for the Lord ; and he inclined unto me and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God : many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the Lord " (Ps. 40 : 1 3). Then I stepped to him. — Here the dreamer takes part in his own vision ; that such a •wamp as this should be permitted to exist is to him a marvel, and he seeks the inter- pretation thereof. Thjs, it appears, is the low level of spiritual experience, into which flows the drainage of conviction of sin. Into this Despond most men fall ; some to go thence on their Pilgrimage wiser and better men ; others to turn back, and walk no more with Jesus. Some men whose minds are well m- structed in Divine truth, and whose faith in " present help " is lively, do not sink very deeply into this " horrible pit ;" while others, whose faith is weak, are almost overwhelmed, and remain for a considerable time with little or no hope. This latter class of per- sons are commonly those who have gone great lengths in sin, or whose habit it is to brood continually over the evil which they find within their own hearts, instead of look- ing out of themselves to the Saviour, and resting upon those precious words of invita- tion and encouragement which he addresses to sinners. There is a humility which par- 1 \',WM 48 7%^ IHlgriwis Progress. brought from all places of the King's dominions (and they that can tell, say that they are the best materials to make good ground of the place, if so be it might be mended) ; but it is the Slough of Des- pond still, and so will be when they have done what they can. True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, ceriain 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 beside, and then they are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there ; but the ground is good when they are once got in at the Gate (i Sam. 12: 22). 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 fool for hazarding himself with Christian ; others, again, did mock at his cowardliness, saying. Surely, since you began to venture, I would not have been so base as to have given out for a few difficulties. So Pliable ?at sneaking among them. But at last he got more conh dence, and then they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor Christian behind his back. And thus much concerning Pliable. takes largely of unbelief, and which, there- fore, cannot be a frame of mind pleasing in the sight of God. And this Slough of Despond continues to the present day, notwithstanding all the ef- forts that are put forth to mend it, the down- fall of many hopeful ones, a grievous snare to many of the Pilgrims of the heavenly way at the commencement of their Christian career. Two hundred years have passed since Bunyan sounded its depths, and it is not mended yet The whole aggregate in- fluence of the Christian Church and Chris- tian men is insufficient to satisfy its hungry appetite for souls, that sometimes through it go down quick into hell. Instructors, teachers, preachers, guides, missionaries, martyrs, Bibles, churches, all have failed to take effect ; the whole working power of ^liristendom has not succeeded in throwing across this swamp a beaten highway for the Christian to the City of the King. It is only by believing faith in the work of Christ, that this Slough can be safely overpassed. " Seek, anc^ye shall find." Thus muck concerniiia^ Pliable. — Such is the career of the unstable jirofessor — weak, impulsive, and vacillating He sets out with buoyant spirits, and so long as the way is easy and pleasant, he pursues it with alacrity ; but when '.rouble arises and diffi- culties meet him, ht turns aside from Him who alone can help, and, following his own devices, falls into a condition of spiritual apathy, which renders his case even less hopeful than it was before. II CHAPTER III. ley can. ood and slough ; IS it doth they be, hen they ere; but (i Sam. jot home some of lUed him 1 mock at J, I would Ities. So are conti ;ride poor able. _ • — ■ ig power of in throwing hway for the It is only Christ, that Ised. "Seek, \/e. — Such is Issor — weak. He sets out h as the way ^ues it with ;s and diffi- le from Him l^ing his own of spiritual le even less Worldly-wiseman. This Worldly-wiseman is Self-Righteousness, that glories in the law, attributes nothing to grace, trusts to its own merit, and will not accept the merits of Christ. This Seif- Righteous spirit will stand beneath Sinai, rather than look to Calvary. This legal religion -would, were it possible, work its own way to heaven, and ignore the salvation that is in Christ Jesus. ^^^r^S Christian was now walking solitarily 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 cross- ing the way of each other. The gentleman's name 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 ink- ling of him, for Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruc- tion 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. Master Worldly-wiseman, therefore, having some guess 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. WoR. How now, good fellow ; whither away after this burdened manner? Chr. a burdened manner indeed, as ever I think poor creature had ! And whereas you ask me, Whither away ? I tell you. Sir, I am going to yonder Wicket-gate before me ; for there, as I am in- formed, I shall f)e put in a way to be rid of my heavy burden. Pilgrim — an opportunity for the assault of the evil one. Afr. Woridly-wiseman. — The name is in- tended to indicate the nature of the man ; as the name of his town. Carnal-policy, to illustrate his origin and associations. This is the man that walks by sight, and not by faith ; talks presumptuously of human merit, ignoring the merits of Christ ; clothes him- self in his own righteousness, refusing the saving righteousness of Jesus. This man is of the world, carnally minded, legally dis- posed ; he is of those that seek to justify Walking solitarily. — Pliable has de- parted home again. Help, having lifted the Pilgrim from the mire, had also departed, and Christian is left alone. A Christian " walking solitarily " is sometimes a mark for temptation ; while, if he would walk in company v/ith a fellow-Christian, he would probably escape the temptation. The tempter ofttimes selects our lonely moments for his fierc'jst assaults. When alone, the Christian may be weak : in company with brother Christians, he may be very strong. This was evidently a weak moment to our («) 50 The Pilgrim's Progress. CHRISTIAN AND WORLDLY-WISEMAN. ';' ■ Wok. Hast thou a wife and children? Chr. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden, that I cannot take that pleasure in them as formerly ; methinks I am as if I had none (Cor. 7:29). WoR. Wilt thou harken to me, if I give thee counsel? Chr, If it be good, I will ; for I stand in need of good counsel. WoR. 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 tlie benefits of the blessings which God has bestowed upon thee till then. themselves. Their wisdom is but wordly wisdom, and this shall be outwitted at the last, and utterly turned into foolishness. They that are " wise after the flesh " are not " wise unto God." Having some guess of him. — There were certain mrxrks and characteristics by which Christian was recognized by Worldly- WISEMAN — " by beholding his laborious go- ing, and by observing his sighs and groans." Now these marks form the direct contrast to- the spirit of the worldly-wise man. He evidences no "laborious going;" his walk is an easy-going career. If hardships should arise, and "sighs and grojins" come at sea- sons, these troubles rise not from the depths of conscience, but only play upon the outer surface of external circumstances. He can- nov, therefore, understand what it is to be deeply burdened with initjuity ; nor has he Worldly-wiseman questions Christian. 51 mot take lad none lounsel. [et thyself till then : God has ct contrast to man. He " his walk dships should come at sea- m the depths pon the outer es. He can- t it is to be nor has he Chr. 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 I am going this way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden, WoR. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden ? Chr. a man that appeared to me a very great and honorable person ; his name, as I remember, is Evangelist. WoR. Beshrew him for his counsel ! There is not a more dan- gerous and troublesome way in the world than is that unto 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 in that way. Hear me : I am older than thou. Thou art like to meet with on 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 carelessy cast away himself by giving heed to a stranger ? Chr. Why, Sir, this burden on my back is more terrible to me than are all these things which you have mentioned ; nay, methinks I care not what things I meet with in the way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden. ever heaved a sign or groan from the con- sciousness of sin. Accordingly, by these marks of heartfelt penitence, he now dis- cerns in our Pilgrim the man who had set forth from the City of Destri""t'nn. Hast thou a wife and children? — This question is one of those inquiries suggested by worldly wisdom and carnal policy : earthly thiags first, and then (if ever) heav- enly things. Farm, merchandise, wift and children — for one or more of these things " 1 pray thee have me excused ; " as though the having of these could ever constitute a fitting apology for neglecting the pilgrimage of Zion. The good and pious Archbishop Leighton was once addressed by his married sister, who was troubled about many family cares : " You may serve God very well, who have no family to occupy your thoughts, nor children to call oft" your attention from re- ligion." The venerable prelate thus repHed, in a single text of Scripture: "And Enoch walked with God, and begat sons and daughters." Wori-dly-wiseman's question, theii, ha« nothing to do with this great matter. Wife and children were not given us to keep us from God. Therefore the words of Christ : " He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me : and he that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me " (Matt, lo : 37). Who bid thee ^y this way ? — Wori-dlv- wiSEMAN by his questions evidently seeks to perpijx the Pilgrim, and to dissuade him from his projected plan. He advises Chris- tian as soon as possible to get rid of his burden, but utterly repudiates the method suggested by the good counsel of Evange- list. He has no sympathy with the Pilgrim, or with the utter hopelessness of his condi- tion, so far as human aid is concerp^d. An- other way, he urges, must be tried; and 1 11 52 The Pilgrim's Progress. V. jR. How earnest thou by thy burden at first? Chr. By reading this book in my hand. WoR. I thought so : and it has happened unto thee as to 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 des- perate ventures to obtain they know not what. • Chr. I know what I would obtain : it is ease from my heavy burden. WoR. 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 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 these dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content. Chr. Pray, Sir, open this secret to me. Wor. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality) there dwells a gentleman, 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 from their shou'ders ; yea, to my knowl- edge, 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 burden. To him, as I said, thou mayest go and be helped even brings up the bemired condition of Christian from the Slough of Despond, as a manifest proof that Evangelist was wrong in his directions ; and then, to deter Christian, he speaks of all sorts of diffi- culties and dangers; but these do not ter- rify the Pilgrim, for he feels the pressure of this burden to be worse to him than all pos- sible inconveniences that may arise in the path. Hovj earnest thou by thy burden f — This is drawing to closer quarters. The tempter already se-js that there is a deep and thor- ough realization of the weight and weari- ness of the burden. He now seeks to re- move not the burden, but the eonseiousness of the burden. And, first of all, he attempts to overthrow the authority of the Book which has disclosed to the Pilgrim the e.\ist- ence and weight of his sin. He talks at random of " distractions," ,and " desperate ventures," and such like; and finding that the burdened mar seeks rest, and must have ease from his burden, and will not else be satisfied, Worldlv-wiseman proceeds to suggest a false peace and a rest which, after all, can give the guilty conscience no relief. He promises many things — ease, safety, friendship and contentment. Open this secret to me. — Worldlv-wise- man has gained the Pilgrim's ear, and now he delves deeper, and gains the Pilgrim's heart. Christian is now listening to the counsel of the ungodly. We fear for the result. Morality, Legality, Civility. — These are the new saviours suggested by Worldly- wiskman ; not far off, easily found, and prompt to ease the burden Pretentious promises ! These watchwords are " of the earth, earthy." They underrate the enor- mity of sin, depreciate the provisions of grace, and ignore the great salvation which is through Christ Jesus. The village of Morality is the place where the Pharisee once dwelt (where Pharisaism 11 not else be proceeds to ■St which, after ince no relief. iase, safety, )RLDLY-WISE- ear, and now the Pilgrim's Itening to the fear for the found, and Pretentious Is are " of the late the enor- 1 provisions of llvation which le place where ire Pharisaism Christian beneath motjnt sinai. 68 >■: I- h I ^!: H 64 TAe IHlgrim's Progress. 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 gentleman 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 to this village, where there are houses now standing empty, one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable rate. Provision is there also cheap and good ; and that which will make thy life more happy is, to be sure that thou shalt live by honest neighbors, in credit and good fashion. Now was Christian somewhat at a stand ; but presently he con- cluded, If this be true which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice : and with that he thus farther spake. Chr. Sir, which is the way to this honest man's house ? WoR. Do you see yonder hill ? Chr. Yes, very well. WoR. 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 still dwells), where religion is a mere boast- ful profession — " 1 thank thee that I am not aa other men are." This religion sets up claims, personal claims, and expects heaven by right of labor done and service renuered. It hides the great truth of the Christiin revelation, which establishes the fact that man is nothing, and that Christ is every- thing ; ^ki^t by grace we are saved, but that " by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight." Morality must ever be a characteristic of the Chris- tian man ; but it must not be his resting- place, for it is not his salvation. The spirit- ual life must rise higher, and live on a better principle than this ; it must live " by the faith of the Son of God." It is not by mak- ing the best of our diseased condition that we can obtain life, but by seeing and know- ing the worst of our state, and then fleeing for refuge to lay hold upon the hope— the only hope — that is set before us. ' The Christian practises morality an(J de- lights in good works, not that he may be for- gi"«n, but because he is forgiven. Morality may attend to the claiihs of one man upon another, and yet negie':t the claims made by God ; but faith works by love, and strives to be faithful to both God and man. Legality is the character of the man who trusts in the law, and boasts of his obedi- ence to the law. Legality doth always seek to justify itself, and for this purpose r'\„.^j into court, challenging justice, and confront- ing the very judge himself. Let the man who clings to the law and not to the Gospel, who professes obedience and seeks not mercy — let him stand forth before God, and see what the law saith, and what the law can do ! Prepare the line, make ready the plummet ; measure and gauge the outward acts, the inward motives ; the thoughts, the words, and the deeds of the entire life. You have courted the law, and you shall have it. But remember the terns of the law : on the slightest deviation from perfect rectitude, or the least departure from the line laid down, your doom is sealed ; for the law saith, "The soul that sinneth, it shpU die." In the soul- searching inquisition of this tribunal, who shall stand ? " Judgment also will I lay to the line, and righteousness to the plummet; Christian under Mowit Sinai. 55 ; and if he man to his as well as 3e eased of thy former St send for are houses reasonable t which will 2 by honest itly he con- my wisest r spake, je? e you come L Legality's z\ aims made by and strives to nan. the man who of his obedi- th always seek purpose r'\„.,i and confront- Let the man to thft Gospel, nd seeks not efore God, and what the law ake ready the the outward thoughts, the ntire life. You shall have it. le law : on the ct rectitude, or ine laid down, wsaith, "The In the soul- tribunal, who o will I lay to the plummet; Tiouse for help. But, behold, when lie was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next the way- side did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, lest the hill should fall on his head ; wherefore there he stood still, and he wot not what to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was in the way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made Christian afraid that he should be burned ; here therefore he sweat, and did quake for fear (Exod. 19: 16-18; Heb. 12: 21). And now he began to be sorry rhat 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. What doest thou here? said he. At which words Christian knew not what to answer : wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. Then said Evangelist further, Art not thou the man that I found crying without the walls of the City of Destruction ? and the hail shall sweep away the refuge of lies, and the waters shall overflow the hiding place" (Isa. 28: 17). WoRLDLY-wiSEMAN, in fact, suggcsts self • justification instead of self-conden:' nation ; forgetfulness of sin, instead of earnest search for forgiveness of sin ; the opiate of uncon- cern to lull the awakened soul to sleep ; the flatteriiig unction that will speak tenderly of the wrongdoings of the man, and whisper peace, when there is no peace. And this he calls v being eased of his burden !" Christian somewhat at a stand. — He has been giving heed to the counsel of the un- godly; he now " standetk in the way of sinners." He inclines to evil, and he know- «th it not. " I know not what came o'er me, Nor who the counsel gave ; But I must hasten downward, All with my pilgrim-stave." So Christian turned. — Yes, "turned out of the way." He has despised the counsel of Evangelist ; has followed the advice of WoRLDLY-wiSEMAN ; and is now about to le.irn new experiences. Instead of the promised "ease," there is greater weight •added to the burden ; instead of " safety," there is impending danger from the over- hanging cliff; instead of " friendship," there is the dismal loneliness of one who has ven- tured beyond the reach of all human aid ; instead of " contentment," the Pilgrim is ill at ease, standing amid the flashes of fiery wrath, and trembling and quaking for very fear. Darkness, fire, and tempest are the companions of his path. Christian is at the base of Sinai ! He has come to the covert of the law, beneath the dark thunder- cloud ; he has come, with his burden, to the place of condemnation. " O wretched man that 1 am ! Who shall deliver me ?" And did quake for fear. — The law gen- dereth to bondage ; and the spirit of bond- age is the spirit of f(^r. On Sinai, God is a Judge, and man a convicted criminal. On Calvary, God is a Father, and man the adopted son of his love ; and " perfect love casteth out fear." Christian now finds how true it is that " the way of transgressors is hard." He saw Evangelist coming, — ihis friend and counsellor has watched, as a true min- ister always will, the progress of the Pilgrim. He has seen him stopped in his course by WoRLDY-wiSEMAN ; has seen him lend his I- 56 TAe Pilgnms Pyogress. Cur. Yes, dear Sir, I am the man. Evan. Did I not direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate ? Yes, dear Sir, said Christian. Evan. How is it then that thou art so quickly turned aside i^ for thou art now out of the way. Chr. I met with a gendeman, so soon as I had got over the Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that I might, in the village before me, find a man that could take off my burden. Evan. What was he ? Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, ancf 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 ? Chr. Why, he asked me whither ! was going ; and I told him. Evan. And what said he then ? Chr. He asked me if I had a family, and I told him : but, said I, I am so loaded with the burden that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly, Evan. And what said he then ? Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden, and I told him it was ease that I sought ; and, said I, I am therefore going to yon- der gate to receive further direction how I may get lo the place of deliverance. So he said that he would show me a better way, and shorter, not so attended with difficuldes as the way, Sir, that you set me in ; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's hcise ears and heart to the voice of temptation ; has seen him take the wrong direction, for- saking the path of safety ; and now he fol- lows him into the very midst of his danger, once more to advise and counsel him. Thank God for his appointed Evangelists, who minister to us in holy things ! V/hat doest thou here, Christian ? — This was not the path or the destination pointed out by Evangelist in his former conversa- tion ; it is, indeed, the very opposite. Evan- gelist had set before him his blessing, and he had chosen cursing instead Therefore, " with a severe and dreadful countenance," he asks an account of this far-gone devia- tion from the right way, and the Pilgrim for a time is " speechless." He is lost in the fears and alarms of the place ; lost in the sense of his own inconsistency ; lost in the consciousness of his fearful mistake ; lost in the shame and confusion that cover his face, when thus discovered far from the path al- ready prescribed for him by the faithful Evangelist. Lest it should fall on my head. — The law is ever threatening, always impending ; it is like a drawn sword hanging overhead, sus- pended by a single hair He that t.ikes refuge beneath this overhanging wrath, will find how the law can convince of sin and punish sin, but cannot take it away ; if. can increase the burden, but cannot hghten it. The law is a schoolmaster, and its teaching rightly understood leads to Christ ; hut it is Christ alone, and not the law, that iaketh away sin. Evangelist instructs Christian. 57 CHRISTIAN AT THE WICKET-GATE. that hath skill to take all .hese burdens. So I believed him, and turned out of that way into this, if haply I might be soon 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 now I know not what to do. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, that I may show thee the words of God. So he stoo«! 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" (Heb. 12: 25; 10 : 38). He also did thus apply them : Thou art the man that art running into this misery. Thou has*- begun to reject the counsel of h '■ v. \* Ml 58 T/te Pilgrim's Progress. the Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, 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 blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men:" "Be not faithless, but believing" (Matt. 12: 31; John 20: 27). 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. The man that met thee is one Worldly-wiseman, and rightly is he so called; partly because he savoreth only the doctrine of this world (i John 4 : 5) (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 (Gal. 6: 12); 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 thou must utterly abhor : his turning thee out of the way ; his labor- ing to render tlie cross odious to thee ; and his setting thy feet in that way tha?: leadeth unto the ministration of death. First, thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way; yea, and thy own consenting thereto; because this is to reject the coun- sel of God for the counsel of a Worldly-wiseman. The Lord says, " Strive to enter in at the straight gate " (the gate to which I sent thee) ; "for straight is the gate that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it" (Matt. 7: 13, 14; Luke 13: 24). 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. 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, "he that will save his life shall lose it" (Heb. 11: 25, 26); and "he that comes after him, and hates not his father and mother, and wife and chil- dren, and brethren and sisters, yea and his own life also, he cannot A better way, and shorter. — This was the tempting offer of Worldly-wiseman to the Pilgrim ; and it is a temptation still in the way of thousands. But there is only one way, and therefore there can be no better and no shorter road. If the Pilgrims of Zion % li \e is only on* be no better lilgrims of Zion GOODWILL SHOWS CHRISTIAN THE WAY. 69 60 The Pilgrim s Progress. be my disciple" (Matt. lo : 39; Mark 8: 35; Luke 14: 26; John 12 : 25). I say, therefore, for a 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 mii:>t 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 con- sider 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 bond-woman, "which now is, and is in bondage with her children" (Gal. 4: 22-27); and is in a mystery this Mount Sinai, which thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she with her children are 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" can be rid. of his burden; therefore Mr. Worldly-wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality a cheat ; and as for his son Civility, not- withstanding his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing else in all this noise that thou hast heard of this sottish man, but a design to beguile thee of thy sal- vation, by turning thee from the way 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 moun- tain, under which poor Christian stood, that 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 all diings which are writ- ten in the book of the law to do them" (Gal. 3 : 10). 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 himself a thousand fools for hearken- ing to his counsel ; he also was greatly ashamed to think that this seek a Crown, they must go by the way of the Cross ; if they seek a triumph, they must fight their way through the battle-field. There came words and fire. — The voice of the law is its own confirmation. The law's demands are great and large — " all the heart, all the soul, all the mind, all the strength ;" continuance " in a// things which are written in the book of the law to do them." If this full and undivided allegiance be not rendered, the law utters its curse against the rebels. And as none can ren- der this complete obedience and this unsin- ning service, the result is that " as many as are of the wo.'ks of thi law, are under the curse" (Gal. 3 : 10). Christian under Moimt Sinai. m gentleman's arguments, following only from the flesh, should have that prevalency with him to forsake the right way. This done, he- applied himself again to Evangelist in words and sense as follows : Chr. Sir, what think you ? Is there 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 heark- ened to this man's counsel ; but may my sin be forgiven ? 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^ good, to tread in forbidden paths ; yet will the man at the gate receive thee, for he has goodwill 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" (Ps 2: 12). Then did Christian address himself to go back, and Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God-speed. Sir, is there hopef — Yes, there is hope, i from thence to the Cross, there is hope, good If the man will but flee from the law to i hope ; hope increasing more and more at ■grace, from Sinai to the Wicket-gate, and 1 every onward step of the Pilgrim. " ^ v 1 \^ffHH %- "^ ^&^ k w^ IIVPOCRISY. h 1^ Ai CHAPTER IV. The Wicket-gate. The Wicket-gate constitutes one of the main features of the great Dreamer's Allegory.. It is an end, and it is a beginning. It concludes the Pilgrim's search for the better path, and inaugurates his entrance upon the King's highway — the way of hoHness, It closes upon the weary wilderness of doubt and ignorance in which he wandered, wept, and trembled, and opens upon the road that conducts all faithful pilgrims to the Celestial City. This is the " good news " of the Gospel. It is the " weary and heavy-laden " that are bid to come — under the weight and consciousness of sin ; and these entering in by Jesus Christ, "the Door," and being instructed by the Spirit's teaching, are, some sooner, some later, conducted to the assurance of pardon and the fulness of forgiving love |0 Christian went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way ; nor if any man asked him, would he voudisafe him an answer. He went Hke one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe, till again he was got into the way which he left to follow Mr. Worldly-wiseman's co' nsel; 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" (Matt. 7:7). He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saymg, ' May I now enter here ?'will he within Open to sorry me, though 1 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 ? Chr. 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, Sir, since I am informed " Knock, and it shall be opened." — At the Wicket-gate the penitent Pilgrim knocks, and in faith knocks again, and still con- tinues to knock, until it is opened to him by (68) Goodwill, the porter of the gate — for to such "the porter openeth " (John 10: 3). Goodwill. — Most suitable name for the porter of the Wicket-gate. " Goodwill to- Christian arrives at the Wicket-gate, 63 that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in. I am willing with all my heart, said he ; and with th X 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 him, A little distance from this gate there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain; from thence both he and they that are with him shoot arrows at them that come up to this gate, if haply they may die before they enter in. Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was got in, the man of the gate asked him, who directed him thither? Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as I did ; and he said that you, Sir, would tell me what I must do. Good. "An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it." Chr, Now I begin to reap the benefit of my hazards. Good. But how is it that you came alone ? Chr. Because none of my neighbors saw their danger as I saw mine. Good. Did any of them know of your coming? Chr. 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. Good. But did none of them follow you to persuade you to go back? Chr, Yes, bdth Obstinate and Pliable ; but when they saw that they could not prevail, Obstinate went railing back ; but Pliable came with me a little way. Good. But why did he not come through ? Chr. We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of Despond, into the which he also suddenly fell ; and then ward men " is part of the definition of the Gospel. All are invited, and all who accept the invitation are welcome. Gave him a pull. — Christian has es- caped the dangers of Destruction, Despond, and Sinai Yet there is danger still — yea, even to the very threshold of the gate. The whole range of its vicinity is liable to assault from Beelzebub, whose fiery darts fly thick and fast at this critical point of the pilgrim- age. A burdened sinner, seeking the Sav- iour, is the very mark that Satan hastes to assail. Hence the kind intervention of Goodwill. The penitent sinner is " as a brand plucked from the burning." Young pilgrims of Zion, be comforted 1 I I -^4 The Pilgrim's Progress. was my neighbor Pliable discouraged, and would not adventure further. Wherefore, getting out again on that side next to his own house, he told me, 1 should possess the brave country alone for him. So he went his way, and I came ' 'ine ; he after Obstinate, and 1 to this gate. Then said Goodwill, Alas ! poor man ! is the celestial glory of so small esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few difficulties to obtain it? Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable ; and, if I should also say the truth of myself, it will appear there is no better- ment betwixt him an<^ myself. It is true he went back to his house, but I also turned aside to go in the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr. Worldly-wiseman. Good. Oh, did he light upon you ? What, he would have Ivad you have sought for ease at tiie hands of Mr. Legality ; they are both of them a very cheat. But did you take this counsel? Chr. 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. Good. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of many rnore ; it is well you escaped being dashed in pieces by it. Chr. Why, truly I do not know what had become of me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again as I nas musing in the midst of my dumps; but it was God's mercy chat he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, n ore fit indeed 'for death by that mountain, than thus to stand talking with my Lo«-d. But, oh ! what a favor is this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here ! Good. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all they have done before they come hither; "they in no wise are cast out" (John 6 : ^H^'^ ^"<^ therefore, good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look How oft have you felt the flying arrovs of the Wicked One, just as you were about to commit yourselves to the way of righteous- ness. \^":len you stood, and argued, and reasoned, and sought to make up your mind to cast in your lot with those who are jour- neying Zionward, how Satan has withstood you, resisted you, assailed you ! He has whispered doubts about yourself — as to your fitness to come at all ; doubts about God — as to his willingness to save. These are the fiery darts of the Wicked One. But as there will by-and-by be given you the shield of faith to quench these darts, sn, now that you are defenceless, (ioonwiLL plucks you from the danger, and pulls you in. Christian and Goodwill. 65 Linning the INTERPRETER SHOWS CHRISTIAN THE ROOM FULL OF DUST 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. But, said Christian, are there no turnings or windings, by which a stranger may lose the way ? This is the way. — Once within the gate, and willing to proceed, the Pilgrim is directed as to the way, and the nature of the road. It is the king's highway, that has been made by God in Christ, before the foundation of the world, and since trodden into a beaten track by patriarchs, prophets, and apostles. The turnings andtwisiings belong not to the road, but to the devious paths that lead out 6 of it ; and these are not narrow, but wide ; not straight, but crooked. The Pilgrim now girds up his loins for the journey. Having entered upon a godly course of life, he must first receive Christian instruction ; and so, to the house of the In- terpreter, where we shall see " excellent things." 'I 66 The Pilgrim's Progress. Good. 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, that only being straight and narrow. Then I saw in my dream that Christian asked him further, if he could not help him off with his burden that was upon his back ; for 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 itself. Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address him- self 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-speed. i^wi jKr ih ^^■hhSH 1 ^Bn i: ^H^^PPHRM^H 1 L wBjk H 1 ^^ p ^? FORMALIST, :his, and uish the ler, if he >ack; for ns get it : to bear e it will ess him- as gone e of the low him :nd. and / CHAPTER V. The Interpreter's House. A BRILLIANT sccne here opens before us : the " Glorious Dreamer " p» es in review through chambers of imagery, and in the rapt vision of his soul he sees the innermost experien- ces of most men, and forms those marvellous conceptions of the spiritual life, which border so nearly on the Unseen. Peculiar revelations are here vouchsafed to the man of God ; and in the Interpreter's House are contained some of the boldest displays of his lofty genius, and some of the brightest imaginings of his spiritually-instructed mind. HEN he went on till he came at the house of the Inter- preter, where he knocked over and over ; at last one came to the door, and asked who was there ? Chr. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance of the good man of the house to call here for my 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 what he would have ? Sir, ^id Christian, I am a man that am come from the City of Destruction, and am going to the 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 a help to me in my journey. The House of the Interpreter. — The whole chapter is a description of the Christian Pilgrim seeking and obtaining light, and knowledge, and instruction, from the source of all Christi.in teaching — the Holy Spirit. It is the office of the Holy Spirit to reveal God's mind and will, and to explain and interpret the will and mind of God to men : " He shall receive of mine, and shall show it unto you" (John i6: 14). The house of the Interpreter is the treasure-house of experience, where are stored up all God's provisions, and providences, and dealings with men. Out of this storehouse the Spirit bestows — according to our wants, our asking, and our use of supplies already given — "grace for grace." It is the shed- ding of Divine Ught, and the pouring of Divine love, and the communication of Divine knowledge, into our hearts. God was once revealea to man in the person of his Son ; he is now revealed to our hearts in the power of his Spirit He knocked over and over. — To this the command applies, "Ask, and ye shall re- ceive ; seek, and ye shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." Here is the progression — Ask ; seek ; knock. Each one of these successive steps involves more energy and earnestness than that which has preceded it. The Pilgrim has " asked " the way to further instruction ; he has " sought " (67) ^ i_lEiU jL.'' 68 The Pilg? "'}• J ^ogress. Then, said the Interpreter, .iie fi ." I will show thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he comm inded 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 v/hich when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hang up against the wall, and this v/as the fashion of it : It had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, t;he world was behind his back, it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over his head. Then said Christian, What means this ? Inter. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand ; he can beget children, travail in birth with children, and nurse them himself when they are born (i Cor. 4:15; Gal. 4: tq ; i Thess. 2 : 7). And, whereas thou seest him with his eyes lift 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 as cast behind him, and that a crown 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 that way, and has .found it; he has •• knocked " at the door of the Spirit, and it is opened to him. " Come in." — The House of the Inter- preter, as the DwelUng-place of the Spirit, is the House of Call for all nations ; and all that come are welcome. " Here is a. travel- ler " — such was the brief statement of the Pilgrim's qualification, by which be sought to find refreshment on the way " from the City of Destruction to the Mount Zion." The hungry traveller calls there for bread, and the thirsty one askf. there for spiritual drink. The weary and fainting soul ad- mitted there, is fanned by \\iz breeze of the Spirit, and revives The toil-worn and weather-beaten traveller there finds rest, re- fr.shment and repose ; and, renewed in strength, he goes on his way rejoicing. Bless the Lord, O my soul,. for the comforting and refreshing of the Spirit, and for these cham- bers of imagery that enlighten the eyes, and instruct the heart, and make known to the Pilgrim the joys and sorrows, the doubts. the dangers, and the difficulties of the way of the pilgrimage I " (lod's Interpreter art Thou, To the waiting ones b< low ; 'Twi.xt them and its liglit mid-way Heralding the better day." He commanded to light a candle. — All is dark in the chambers of the soul, until the candle of the Lord is lighted in our hearts. It is in the spiritual as it was in the natural creation — " Darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And Goc' said, Let there be light I" Happy is the man who can say a; with the I'salmist, " For thou wilt light my candle ; the Lord my God will enlighten my darkness" (Ps. i8: 28). The "candle" is lighted; a "door" is opened; and that door conducts to a " pri- vate room " Here, every word is of weight, and suggests volumes of experience. The representation here is of man's soul, as a dark place, its doors and windows closed. It is the secret chamber, the private room, e that light into a en he ingup ted up vritten leaded isand ; I them ess. 2 : eaven, is lips, thintrs d with id that ig and to his » have the way -All is intil the r hearts. natural face of moved oC said, he man t, " For my Ciod 8: 28). oor" is a " pri- weight, ;. The Lil, as a closed. e room, 70 The Pilgrim's Progress. 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 author- ized to be thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in the 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 par- lor that was full of dus^ because never swept; the which, after he had reviewed 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 the water, and sprinkle the room ; which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure. where the Spirit now holds intercourse wii.1 man ; but first the door must be opened, ana the darkness illumined by the bright shining of the candle. " The entrance of thy words giveth light" (Ps. 119: 130). The Picture. — The first revelation of the Spirit to the burdened Pilgrim is as to the true character of a servant of God, to minister to him in the things of God. The Spirit fits and prepares his servants, and honors the faithful labor of those who go forth as his disciples, to be the teachers of his truth. Space would fail us to set forth these glorious dreams in the fulness of their meaning. They need meditation and con- templation, the bringing of the mind's eye to bear upon the bold outline, and the power of Christian experience to fill up the finer tints that go to make up the perfection of each picture. Here is the minister of Christ as he ought to be : " Eyes lifted up to heaven "—heavenly-minded, looking toward that place whither he »rould lead the flock. From earth to heaven his office tends, and he, with purpose fixed, earnest and intent on yonder home — "Allures to brighter worlds, and leads the way." "The best of books in his hand" — the Bible, from whence he himself derives the truth, and knows the mind of God ; and therefore, from it alone can he impart Divine knowledge to the people. " The law of truth upon its lips " — no uncertain sound, or doubtful utterance of the oracle ; seeing that he is a guide, an adviser, a shepherd naught else but Truth upon his lips can suffice for the safe leading of the sheep. " The world behind his back " — not the foreground, but the background of the picture, is the world. How disinterested, how unworldly, how self- denying, should the Gospel minister be, with earth kept ever back, and heaven kept full in view. " It pleaded with men " — in all the earnestness of one who doth " beseech men," so blind and deaf and dead to their own true interests, that they may be recon- ciled unto God. With an essential truth, a message for life or death, and eternity de- pending on the issue, how can the servant of God do aught else than " plead " with men ? "A crown of gold over his head " — the reward of the righteous; and all the more bejewelled because of the many con- quests he hath won, and souls that have been saved, which shall be his joy and crown of rejoicing in that day. This is a representation that is to linger in Christian's mind and memory all through the pilgrimage, seeing that many false teachers, as wolves in sheep's clothing, Passion and Patience. 71 Then said Christian, What means this? The Interpreter answered : This parlor is the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the Gospel ; the dusi 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 by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost chocked therewith ; 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, as it doth discover and forbid it, but doth , not give power to subdue (Rom. 5:20; 7:6; i Cor. 15: 56). 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 precious 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 van- quished and subdued, and the soul made clean, through the faith of it; and consequently fit for the King of glory to inhabit (John 15: 3; Acts 15:9; Rom. 16: 25, 26; Eph. 5:26). 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 chil- dren, each one in his chair. The name of the eldest was Passion, and of the other Patience : Passion seemed to be much discontent, but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked. What is the reason of the discontent of Passion ? The Interpreter answered. The gov- ernor of them would have him stay for his best things till the begin- ning of the next year ; but he will have them all now ; but Patience is willing to wait. inger m through \y false lothing, -would present themselves at various times and seasons, to the great peril of all who hear them. The Dusty Parlor. — This symbol is, no doubt, designed to strengthen the impres- 'Sion already made upon the Pilgrim's mind by the scene at Sinai. The dust of the "Dusty Parlor" is indwelling sin. The besom of the law awakes the slumbering dusts, revives its power, and causes it to be sensibly felt. Disturbed from its settled state, and discovered to our eyes, the dust of ■sin rises as a cloud of witness, witnessing against us. The law can disturb sin and arouse it, but the law cannot take it away. Then comes the Gospel, with the sprinkled waters of Christ's atoning love, which bind sin and repress it. The power of the law and the Gospel respectively, with regard to sin, receives here one of the most telling illustrations that uninspired man has ever written. This scene, indeed, well describes those two scriptures — " I had not known sin, but by the law" (Rom. 7:7); and, •• Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world" (John i : 29). 72 The Pilgrinis Progress. 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. I^ut I beheld but awhile, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him but rags. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter more fully to me. 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 next year, that is, unt:i 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 are all the divine testimonies of the good of the world to come. 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. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best wis- dom, and that upon many accounts, because he stays for the best things, 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 first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, because he had his best things last; ior first mustgive 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 has his portion y?rj/ 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, •Tn thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things, but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented " (Luke i6: 19-30- Passion and Patience. — Passion is as a desolating army that ravages the land, and eats from hand to mouth the growing har- vests, as yet unripe ; leaving no seed for the sower of the coming seed-time. Pa- tience plants the seed now, in hope of the future harvest ; and waits for the timely season to render back its thirty-fold, its sixty-fold, or its hundred-fold. Patience walks by faith, while Passion walks by sight. Passion, like the Prodigal, hath' his portion now, and spends it here ; where- as Patience hath his portion hereafter, and enjoys it throughout eternity ; or, as. In the Interpreter's House. .7a INTERPRETER SHOWS CHRISTIAN THE FIRE AGAINST THE WALL. Chr. Then / 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 tem- poral; but the things that are not seen are eternal" (2 Cor. 4: 18). 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, there- fore it is that the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued between the second. 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. Bunyan puts it, " He that hath his portion last, must have it lastingly." A Fire burning against the IVall. — This is an eloquent symbol of the living Chris- tian, whose spiritual life is fed, from secret sources, while the enemy constantly seeks to destroy its vitality. The life of the man of God is ofttimes likened to a burning fire. r\:. ''\ ir I 74 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. Then said Christian, What means this ? 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, notwithstand- ing, burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that. So he had him about to the back side of the wall, where he saw a man with " ve'ssel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also confm- ually cast, but secretly, into the fire. Then said Christian, What means this ? 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 (2 Cor. 12 : 9). Anc' 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 maintained in the soul. I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was builded 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? The- the Interpreter took him, and led him up toward the door of the paiace ; 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 'oor, at a table-side, with a book and his inkhorn At first it is but a spark kindled in the breast, and this is fanned by the breath of the Spirit, and fed with the fuel of* Divine love — the oil of grace, directly supplied by the hand of God. This is its heavenly food, and by this it Jives. But, saith St. Paul, " I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind." So, the the dreamer beholds the fire struggling against fearful odds; for one stood beside it, and did continually pour water upon it to quench it. But the fire did not die, was not extinguished, but rather burned " .ligher and hotter." !u this is set forth the antagonism of Sa- tan to man's soul ; as also the cercoming power of sustciining grace, " the secret of the Lord which is with them that fear him." Satan stands at our right hand, and would utterly quench the inner life, were it not that Christ is with us, pouring the oil of grace upon the soul. And this is our se- curity, that " many waters cannot quench " the flame of Divine love when it is truly kindled in the heart. Even the " smoking flax " shall not be quenched ; for Jesus stands, unseen, but truly felt, and in secret he supplies the grace Divine ; and when the quenching waters fall in torrents, and the flame burns its weakest, then comes the re- assuring word, " My grace is sufficient for thee ; " and God doth strengthen the things that remain, that are ready to die. The oil of grace feeds the flame. The might of Jesus is greater than all the power of Satan. Tht Inkhorn and the Book. — This is The Man of Despair. 75 door men, 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 man that would enter what hurt and mis- chief they could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze ; at last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men. Christian saw a man 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 discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely (Acts 14 : 22); so, 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 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 with 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 Inter- preter, till 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. a battle scene, and it truly describes the en- trance-door to heaven and the striving ^nd the lifelong conflict by which an entrance is effected. It is designed to show to the Pilgrim, what we have already endeavored to point out in the context of the "Wicket- gate," that there is still a great warfare to be waged, a strife to be maintained, and that through the clash of arms anr' the battle of the warrior, the Christian soldier must pass to the final victory and triumph. Christian, on viewing this scene, smiled, and thought he saw the meaning of it. Ye?, he there saw his own future conflict, and (if he be but steadfast) the type and earnest of his final victory. The Dark Room and Iron Caj^e. — This man was " very sad," with downcast eyes, his hands folded in the terribleness of de- spair, and his heart breaking, and well-nigh broken, by the heavy woe that had fallen upon it. This man was once " profession ; " he is now " despair ;" he sees no light, en- tertains no hope, and knows no liberty. Whether such a state as this is "of God," or not, we do not say ; but it appears that Bunyan interweaves certain facts of his own experience in this j)ortion of the Allegory, ::^1"-I ^1 76 The Pilgrim's Progress. Then said Christian, What means this ? At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man. Then said Christian to the man, What art thou ? The man answered, I am what I was not? once. Chr. What wast thou once ? 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 then even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither (Luke 8:13). Chr. Well, but what art tKou now ? Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it as in this iron cage. I cannot gv'^t out ; O now I cannot ! Chr. 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 ajainst 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 is come to me ; I have provoked God to anger, and he has left me ; I have so hardened my heart, that I can- not repent. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no hope for such a man as this ? Ask him, said the Interpreter. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you must be kept in the iron cage of despair ? • Man. No, none at all. Chr. Why ? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful. Man. I have "crucified him to myself afresh" (Heb. 6: 4-6; Luke 19: 14), I have despised his person, I have despised his right- eousness, I have counted his blood an unholy thing, I have done despite to the Spirit of grace (Heb. 10: 28, 29); therefore I have shut He had known some of his friends to have been thus reduced to desperation, and to have lost all confidence in God. Anyway, it is an awful admonition, this particular scene of the Interpreter's House. The danger of mere profession, without corresponding fruit, is set forth in the mira- cle of our blessed Lord, which he wrought upon the fruitless fig-tree (Mark ii ; 12-14, 10-22). This was a pretentious tree, and by its profusion of leaves it attracted the notice of the Saviour, Who came seeking fruit, but found " nothing but leaves." That fig-tree is the emblem of a dead faith, a pro- fitless profession of religion ; and lo, by the wayside it is blighted, and blasted, and withered away ! Mere professors shall, at the last, be uprooted from the soil, which has spent its sap and strength for naught in feeding them ; they shall be blighted even in the full foliage of their profession ; and in their fall they shall make ail men see the visitation of God's hand and the power of his Word. aught in ted even ; and in 1 see the )ower of 1 V !!;■ 78 The Pilgrim's Progress. myself out of all the promises; and there now remains to me noth- ing but threatenings, dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings of certain judgment which shall devourVie as an adversary. Chr. 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 bites me, and gnaws me like a burning worm. Chr. 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 ? ■ Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee. Well, said Christian, this is fearful ! God help ""'^ to watch and be sober, and to pray that I may shun the causer, of t lis man's mis- ery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way n^w t 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 raimant, he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why does this man thu j tremble ? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began and said, This night as 1 was in my sleep I dreamed, aiid behold the heavens grew exceeding black ; also it thundered i- 1 lightekied in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I look( ■ up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate ; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, anu saw a man si i: upon a cloud, p. tended with the thousands of The Dream of jidj^.v'nt — This is the closing scene of the li 'Cij ictcr's House, as its great subje>.t — th*" Ju^*^ rnert--wi!l be the closing scene of t..f; ivf.i.r» grtat history. In that dream, the drean • r hrs seen and heard all the terrible acco*.^,aniinents and associations of the final Judgment. The eye of the JudgF was fixed upon him, as though he stood alone for judgment; and his sins rose up and gathered round him, as wit- nesses against his soul. The dreamer had awakened in the midst of these terrors, and therefore " he shook and trembled." This is a true description of die final Judgment; but it is the Judgment of sinners. This is pre-eminently the dream of an un converted man, conscious of his sin, but as yet unable to look to the Saviour of sinners; il is but the transcript of tlie waking thoughts and (ears and consciences of the ungodly- 'J««l.. V* •■ The Vision of Judgment. 79 2 noth- ings of I? in the ht; but e Uke a \ me no :his iron ternity ! eet with usery be atch and in's mis- len thou n into a it on his Dn of his sleep I also it me Into rack at rumpet, ands of earner had terrors, and d." die final of sinners, of an un sin, but as of sinners; ng thoughts le ungodly. heaven ; they were all in flaming fire ; also the heavens were on a burning flame. I heard then a 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 exceed- ing glad and looked upward ; and some sought to hide themselves under the mountains (John 5: 28, 29; i Cor. 5: 51-58; 2 Thess. I : 7-10; Jude 14: 15; Rev. 20: 11-15; Ps. 50: 1-3, 22 ; Isa. 26: 20, 21; Micah 7: 16, I/). 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 from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar (Dan. 7 : 9, 10; Mai. 3 : 2, 3). I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on the man that sat on the cloud. Gather together the tares, the chaff, and the stubble, and cast them into the burning- lake (Mai. 4:1, 2); 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 (Matt. 3 : 12, 13, 30; Luke 3 : \^\ and with that I saw many catched up and carried away in the cloucis (i Thess. 4: 13-18), but I was left behind. I also sough, to hide myself, but I could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me ; my sins also came into my mind, and my con- science did accuse me on every side (Rom. 2 : 14, 15). Upon this I awaked from my sleep. Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of the sight? Man. Why I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that I was not ready for it. But this frightened me most, that the angels gathered up several and left me behind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth just where I stood. My conscience, too. afflicted me ; and, as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, show- ing indignation in his countenance. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered all these things ? • . But the Judgment has no such terrors to them that aic in Jesus. That great day shall be a day of joy and blessedness to all them that wait for the promised adve.it of the Lord, "looking for that blessed hope and the glorious appearing of the grsat God and our Saviour Jesus Christ" ( ritu-. 2 • 13). Hast thou considered all thesa things ? — This is not mere idle sight-seeing ; these scenes are the deep expeiienees of men — what they feel, vkfhat th,^y fear, what they hope, and what they dt. " Hast thou con- sidered them?" -HRJsriAh has seen and pondf.red them He is undergoing a pro- ^^ - :|l 80 The Pilgrim's Prrgress. Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. Inter. 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 tli^^e in the way that leads to the city. So Christian went on his way, saying : " Here I have seen things rare and profitable ; Things pleasa^.t, dreadful, things to make me stable In what I have begun to take in hand ; Then let me think on them, and understand Wherefore they show'd me were ; and let me be Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee." cess of instruction, and thus partaking of the J. ivUei,es of the way on which he has entered. So fjr he is — as many are — with more or less consciousness of sin, repairing to the teaching of the Interpreter, the Holy Spirit, who will yet lead the Pilgrim onward on the road, be ond the checkered scenes of his pilgrimage, and conduct him by the way of the Cross to the everlasting Crown. " No fears disturb, no foes molest, Nor death, nor sin, nor care, In Thy fair house of endless rest, O Great Interpreter 1 " ^y ^^ ay be it go. elf to ways o the jckered him by Crown. CHAPTER VI. The Cross and the Contrast. Here Pilgrim comes in full view of the Cross, and near the Cross, in the hollow, is a Sepulchre. In sight of the Cross he receives the long-wished-for, the long-pray ed-for deliver- ance ; the thongs and bands that bound his burden to his back are burst asunder, and the burden falls off, and rolls down, and at last disappears forever through the open mouth of the Sepulchre. All is now rest and peace, life, light, and liberty, mingled with wonder and astonibhment, and tempered with the tears of joy. JOW I saw in my dream that the highway, up which Chris- tian was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called Salvation (Isa. 26: i ; 60: 18). Up this way therefore did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back. He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending, and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below in the bottom a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more. Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart. He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death. Then he stood still awhile to look and wonder, for it was very sur- prising to him that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his Fenced on either side. — The allusion here is to the figurative language of the prophet — " Salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks " (Isa. 26: i); and again, "And thou shalt call thy walls Salvation, and thy gates Praise" (Isa. 60: 18). And althougli the direct application of these texts is to the final blessedness of the saints, yet the allr- sion is well adapted in a secondary sense to those who, like our Pilgrim, instructed and edified by the Holy Spirit's comfort, counsel, and encouragement, are drawing near to the foot of the Cross of Jesus. A place somewhit ascending. — The Cross is erected on the 'leight of an upward slope, S (81) even higher than the upward path. This is to indicate the ascent of Calvary, the Mount of Sr crifice ; and also to suggest, not so much tl.c^ toil of the burdened sinner to at- tain to it, as the toil of the burdened Saviour, who bare not only our sin, but the Cross besides, up that "ascending place," and there paid the full ransom for man's iniquity in the price of his own most precious blood. A Cross. — Blessed view ! and yet, mora blessed still, " The Man that there w«5 put to shame for me I " The Cross here means the Crucified One. It is the emblem of all that scorn and igno ' ■ i ■ ' mm 82 TAe Pilgj'ims Progress. FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY COMING INTO THE WAY OVER THE WALL. burden. He looked, therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down his cheeks (Zech. 12 : 10). 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" (Mark 2:5); the second miny, of all that pain and agony, borne by Him who " took our sins, and bare them in his own body on the tree." The benefit procured by the death upon the Cross was the object of the Pil.Ljnm's striving ; the cen- tral point to which his hopes converged ; the source of all the blessed experiences of his after-pilgrimage. There was " the blood of sprinkling; " there the atoning Lamb; there the substitute for the sinner ; and there the sacrifice for sin. Christ and the Cross ! Here is the Altar, and the Victim, and the Priest ; aad in the Crucified One the scheme of redemption is accouipUshed — " It is FINISHED !" A Sepulchre. — Well is the Sepulchre placed hard by the Cross. In the crucified Jesus the debt is cancelled, and the bond is nailed to the accursed tree. "He took it out of the way, nailing it to his cross " (Col. 2: 14). His burden loosed, and fell. — Sin is de- scribed not only as a burden, but f - a bur-' den bound upon the conscience of the Pi'- grim — adhering, clinging, to the sinne", who is "tied and bound with the chain of sin." Simple, Sloth and Presumption. 83 ALL. rings lo). ones first ;cond It is lulchre ucified ond is :ook it (Col. is de- a bur' le Pi'- wbo f sin.'* Stripped him of his ragt:, and clothed him with change of raiment (Zech, 3:4); the third also set a mark upon his forehead (Eph. i : 13), and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bid him look on as he ran, and thai; 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 leaden 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 there was put to shame for me ! " I saw then in my dream that he went on thus even until he came to a bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their heels. The name of the one was Simple, another Sloth, and the third Presumption. These bands are now unloosed in view of the Cross ; and the burden falls from off his back. And I saw it no more. — The Bible repre- sents forgiven sin as being "blotted out;" "no more remembered;" "sought for, but not found;" "cast into the depths of the sea." It sleeps its everlasting sleep, to rise no more. Then was Cnristian glad. — The Wicket- gate. There was the threshold of his jour- ney, but here is the threshold of his joy. There he becrmie a Christian in prospect — his faith weak and trembling ; here he be- comes a Christian in deed and in truth — his faith assured and confident. Behold, three Shinins^ Ones. — This is one of the most picturesque of the touches of Bunyan's pencil. These are the evidences of the deliverance from the liurden and ac- companiments of sin. Yea, they are more : these "three Shining Ones" are plainly in- tended to represent no less a visitation than that of Unity in Trinity and Trinity in Unity. This will further appear by consid- ering the particulars of their visit. They all saluted the Pilgrinn with one com- mon salutation — " Peace be to thee." Here the Three are One. Then each of the glorious Three has a personal and peculiar office to fulfil, and some special gift to bestow. The First says — " Thy sins be forgiven thee." This is God the Father, to whom belong pardon and forgiveness. The Second " stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with change of raiment." This is Jesus Christ — God the Son. He takes away the rags of our own righteous- ness, and clothes us with the new robe of his own righteousness — the righteousness from heaven. It is an exchange — not the putting of Christ's righteousness over ur filthy rags, but the gift of Christ's righteous- ness instead of our filthy rags. The Third " set a mark upon his forehead, and gave him a roll with a seal upon it." This is evidently the Holy Spirit, who " beareth witness with • our spirit, that we are the children of Cod" (Rom. 8: 16). He imprints the Mark of owner- ship, the token that we are of God. He gives the roll of the parchment — the law written on our hearts — upon which the Pil- grim is to look, and out of which he is to read, and thence to take comfort, admor.! tion and instruction, and to present itby- andby at the gate of the Celestial City. 'I i'l I , 84 The Pilgrim's Progress, Christian tlien, seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, YouareHke them that sleep on the top of a mast, for the dead sea is under you (Prov. 23: 34 ;) 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 (i Peters: 8). 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 vat must stand upon its own bottom. And so they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way. Yet he was troubled to think that men in that danger should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely offered to help them, both by awakening them, counselling them, and proffering to help them off with thei"^ irons. And as he was troubled thereabouts he espied two men come tumbling over the wall, on the left hand of the narrow way; and they made up apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist, and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered with them into discourse. Chr. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither do you go ? Form, and Hyp. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and are going for praise to Mount Zion. Chr. Why came you not in at the gate, which standeth at the The seal is the " seal of the Spirit," to cer- tify the credential, and authenticate its mes- sage. Thus all the Three Persons of the Triune God have a work to do for man, and each his own respective office to fulfil, in the Pardon, ^^Justification, and the Sanctifica- /!?'<7«of the sinner. And this great doctrine and fact is thus luminously embodied in the scene at the Cross, and in the appearance of " The Three Shining Ones." Three men fast asleep. — As if to ex- hibit by contrast the greatness of the gift he has received, and the responsibility arising therefrom, Christian is permit- ted, in passing, to witness the folly, indo- lence and pride of certain carnal men, who count themselves safe and exempt from dan- ger, and who, in their fancied security, have all fallen " fast asleep." They are " out of the way," though but " a little ;" they are " asleep ;" and they are. moreover, bound in "fetters;" and, worst of all, the Roaring Lion is out upon the way. Christian strives to awaken these sleepers, and to warn them out of their dan- ger. Such, indeed, is the blessed toil of those who have felt in their own experience the power of pardoning grace, and the peace of pardoned sin ; they go forth to win others to their great Saviour's cause. " I see no danger.'' — There are thousands who are only " a little " out of the way, who are in the very midst cf deadly peril, and can yet " see no danger," notwithstanding. " A little more sleep. — The deep sleep of sloth and slumber has proved fatal to many on the border-land of the pilgrim- age. They have ofttimes slept too long, and sometimes h;ive overslept their day of grace, and been waked too late " to wrestle with the dread of death." Every vat" etc. — PRESUMPTION is the scorner among these three. He rejects the Formalist and Hypocrisy. 85 beginning of the way ? Know you not tiiat it is written, that " he that cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber?" (John lo: i.) 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. Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will ? They told him, that as for that, he need not trouble his head thereabout ; for what they did they had custom for, and could produce, if need were, testimony that would witness it for more than a thousand years. But, said Christian, will your practice stand trial at law ? They told him, that custom, it being of so long a standing as above a thousand years, would doubtless now be admitted as a thing legal by an impartial judge ; and besides, said they, if we go into the way, what matter is it which way we 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? Chr. 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. You come in by yourselves without his direction, and shall go out by yourselves without his mercy. proffered counsel, on the ground of his own merit, and is ready to hold himself respon- sible for the consequences. Tumblimg over the wall. — This is another of the contrasts that quickly follow upon the scene at the Cross — two men entering the " Narrow Way" by unlawful means. They leap over the wall on the " left hand" — the place of the wicked in the judgment ; there- by indicating not only the unlawful violence of their act, but also the evil character of the men. Formalist — Hypocrisy. — These are their names, and their nature agreeth thereto. The former is the type of those who, by an external show of religion, deceive them- selves; while the latter represents those who, under guise of their hypocrisy, seek to deceive others. The formalist, through his outward attention to mere ritual observances, blinds his own eyes to his own inward state, and ofttimes takes for granted that where ttie gilded setting is, there the pre- cious jewel must be — a grand mistake, and a strong delusion ! The hypocrite, know- ing that all is wrong within, bedecks him- self without with jjretence and falsehood, and thus blinds the eyes of others. "If we are in, we are in." — This is a plausible speech indeed ! Yet out of this their boasted possession of the way arises the bold contrast between themselves and the Pilgrim. He has entered by the ap- pointed "door;" they have entered as ^>. v^.\ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A 1.0 I.I ^1^ m fM 12.2 - IAS ill 10 IL25 lllliu ill! 1.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation # V «^ A \ ^ 23 WIST MAIN STRCET WiBSTER.N.Y. M9«0 (716) 872-4503 o 7. 4a ^ « ^ •86 The Pilgrim's Progress. iw": To this they made him but little answer, only they bid him look to himself. Then I saw that they went on every man in his way, without much conference one with another, save that these two men told Christian, That, as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but they should as conscientiously do them as he. Therefore, said they, we see not wherein thou differest from us, but by the coat that is on thy back, which was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neighbors to hide the shame of thy nakedness. Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came not in by the door (Gal. 2: 16). And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given 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 one of my Lord's most intimate associates fixed there, in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, moreo\/^er, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to comfort me by reading as I go on the way; I was also bid to give it in at the celestial gate, in token of my certain going in after it ; all of 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 him- self, and that 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. thieves and robbers, climbing up some other way. He walks by his Master's rule ; they , by their own fancies. They are false at the start, and cannot be true at the end. Other grand distinctions in costume and character are enumerated by the Pilgrim. CHAPTER VII. The Hill Difficulty. The " narrow way " is up a hill, straight before the Pilgrims. This steep ascent is called Difficulty, and Christian addresses himself to climb the hill. On either side of the ascending path there lay a level road ; one to the left hand, and another to the right. One was called Danger, and the other was Destruction. By these roads the two Pilgrims wended their way, each to the ruin of his soul. Christian proceeded up the hill ; and here we must pause and consider carefully the experience obtained at this stage of his journey — the Pleasant Arbor ; his untimely sleep ; the dark shades of ^ening fast descending ; and how, amid the alarms and terrors of the way, " he felt in his bosom for his roll ... he felt, and found it not." "'Tisgonel and the darkness more gloomy than ever, LiKe sadness that always accompanies loss, Compels him to seek, if he yet may recover. The Roll of the Parchment he found at the Cross." ^ 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 the going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian now went to the spring, and drank thereof to refresh himself (Isa. 49 : 10), 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 percpive the way to life lies here ; Come, pluck up, heart, let's neither faint nor fear ; Better, though difficult, the right way to go. Than wrong, though easy, where tht end is woe. The hill Difficulty,— ^)\o that has been at the foot of the Cross has not also had to meet the difficulties of the way ? These are tests, provided for "the trial of our faith." The way is straight and narrow, but it is not always level. At the bottom was a spring. — Not without some special provision is the Pilgrim com- mitted to this special difficulty. The spring of water is placed at the foot of the hill for the refreshment of pilgrims before they begin the ascent. The waters of life refresh the soul, renew the strength, and enable us more bravely to meet the difficulties of the way. "All my springs are in thee" (Ps. 87: 7). Two other ways. — But where are For- malist and Hypocrisy ? •• If we are in, (87) 88 The Pilgrims Progress. J.- 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 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 ri'jnning to going, and from going to clamber- ing, upon his hands and knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now, about the mid-way to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbor, made by the Lord of the hill, for the refreshing of weary travellers. Thither therefore Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him. Then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his comfort. He also now began afresh to take a review of the coat, or garment, that was given 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 sleep- ing, there came one to him and waked him, saying, " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, and be wise" (Prov. 6 : 6). 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 to the top of the hill, there came two men running against him amain ; the name of one was Timorous, we are in," said they, in the day of their boastful profession. But the hill Difficulty ^has stopped them; and, unequal to its de mands upon their strength, they betake themselves right and left, to the "two other ways," ihsX. promised io obviate the difficulty of the ascent, and to conduct to the same destination by-and-by. The result is well described in the names of these two paths — Danger and Destruction. Running, going, clambering. — Here is the Christian man brought face to face with some hard lot, some unlooked-for test and trial of his faith. He cheerfully meets the difficulty, and with prayerful energy and still climbs the ' running, going, energetic supplication he steep ascent of Difficulty- clambering." A pleasant arbor. — There are times of re- freshing that come from the presence of the Lord. The shade of this cool retreat, and the refreshment of this half-way house, en- able the Pilgrim to enjoy for a time some of the privileges he had received at the Cross. He reads in his roll, and is comforted. Rut ere long the wearied traveller nods to sleep, and by-and-by he has outslept many pre- cious hours of the day, and night is drawing on. He is awakened by a voice of admo- nition, ana again starts upon his journey. CHRISTIAN MEETS MISTRUST AND TIMOROUS. 89 90 The Pilgrims Progress. and of the other Mistrust ; to whom Christian said, Sirs, what is the nia<^*er? 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 further we go the more danger we meet with ; wherefore we turned, and are going back again. Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of lions in the way (whether sleeping or waking we know not) ; and we could not think, if we came within reach, but they would presently pull us in pieces. Then said Christian, You make me afraid ; but whither shall I flee to be safe ? If I go back to mine own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there ; if I can get to the Celestial City, I am sure to be in safety there. I must ven- ture ; to go back is nothing but death ; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it, I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But thinking again of what he heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein and be comforted ; but he felt 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, Timorous and Mistrust. — These two men, returning from the onward journey, with stories of lions and other dangers, represent the fightings without and the fears within which agitate the soul during seasons of un- faithfulness or relapse. These men had no certain knowledge of the dangers that alarmed them. They did rot tarry fairly to inquire what were the dangers, and how they might be overcome, but at the first in- fluence of fear they beat a hasty retreat, and departed. / will yet go forward. — This is the deter- mination of Christian's better nature. His faith enables him to weigh the certainties against the probabilities of the case. Togo back is certain death ; to go forward is only fear of death. To return to Destruction is to perish ; to march en to the Celestial City is life and safety and salvation. Here is the Christian man triumphing over doubts and difficulties ; for while some of his com- panions on the way turn aside, and others linger behind, he pursues his onward course. He felt for his roll. — Though he ; las sub- dued his fears and misgivings, yet, after this conflict with opposing doubts, he feels the need of comfort, and accordingly betakes himself to the roll of the parcljment. But he finds it not as at other times. He has lost it ! Yes, he has lost the roll of his accept- ance — the passport of his journey, the guide and counsellor of his pilgrimage, his cre- dential at the gate of bliss. This is a great loss. But straightway he bethinks himself of his sleep in the arbor on the hill, and deter- mines to retrace his footsteps. It is well when the conscience can tlius recall the memory of the false step, and recognize the beginning of error, and address itself to the restoration of tht lojs sustained thereby. Christian, now retracing his steps, seeks to recover the lost credential. This is al- Christiafi discovers his Roll. / / m. and knew not what to do. At last he bethought himsell that he had slept in the arbor that is on the side of the hill ; and, falling down jupon his knees, he asked God 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 sorrows of Christian's heart ? Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and • oftentimes he chid himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was erected only for a little refreshment for his weariness. Thus there- fore he went back, carefully looking on this side and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he migljt find the roll that had been his comfort so many times in his journey. He went thus till he came within sight of the arbor where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing back, even afresh, his evil of sleeping unto his mind (i Thess. 5: T,"^', Rev. 2: 4, 5). Thus therefore he now went on bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, O wretched man that I am ! that I should have slept in the daytime ! 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 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 I am 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 to have trod but once ; yea, now also 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 a while he sat down and wept ; but at last (as Christian would have it), looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll ; greac ways weary work, filled with repinings and self-reproaches. Hence the feeling of the Pilgrim's mind; he sighed, and wept, and did chide himself. This retreating journey is meant to indicate the painful ordeal an the anxious interval between conviction of a specific sin and the return of confidence by the restoration of the sinner. This dis- quietude* of spiritual experience is felt in smaller as in larger deviations, according as the conscience is tender, sensitive, and true. In the " Life of Hedley Vicars," we are told what was the effect upon that young Chris- tian's mind of one occasion of neglect of private devotion. " My soul was the worse for it," he said, " for nearly three weeks afterwards^" He espied his roll. — These darksome days, no doubt, ofttimes overcast the pilgrimage ; but earnest faith will strive to look through them- and by diligence, and prayer, and assisting grace, the Pilgrim will work out of them, and regain his lost assurance and con- fidence in Gsd. Christian has now re- 92 The. Pilgrim's Progress, the which he with trembling and haste catched up and put into his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was when he had got ten his roll again ? For this roll was the assurance of his life, and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave 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, how nimbly now did he go up the rest of the hill ! Yet be- fore 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 again began to condole himself: O 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 i e path of my feet, and I .nust hear the noise of doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep ! — Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told 'lim of, how they were frightened 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 by them torn in pieces ? Thus he went on his way. But, while he was thus bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood just on the highway side. covered the lost roll ; he once again has peace with God. The sun went down. — Although sin may be forgiven, and confidence restored, there will yet be felt tor a time the evil conrc- quences of our offending. In this case, many valuable hours of the work-day had been lost in sleep, and still further loss had been sustained in striving to recover the missing roll. The consequence is that even- tide and nightfall descend on the pilgrim ere he has accomplished that day's journey ; and with the darkness all the associations of darkness gather round him — the fears and fancies, the terrors and alarms of the i night season. The story of the lions, too, seems to him to be more likely to be true ; and his disquietude is therefore all the more augmented. A very stately palace. — God is with the Pilgrim, and His providence conducts him ; so that, in the midst of his sorrows and be- wailings, he is guided to a place of light and comfort and refreshment— the Palace Beautiful — one of those resting-places on the way, which are designed to impart fresh spiritual light and new spiritual strength, ere the Pilgrim betakes himself to the greater perils and graver responsibilities of the onward journey. CHAPTER VIII. light The Palace Beautiful. In the Palace Beautiful our Pilgrim finds comfort, refreshment, and renewed strength, after the loneliness and desolation of that memorable day and that eventful eventide. All his loss of peace, and loas of confidence, and loss of time, is now compensated by the un- speakable gain of this godly communion and Christian fellowship, in which he abides from day to day, and through which he is enabled, in Christian conversation, to review the past, thereby impressing the thoughts and scenes of the pilgrimage more and more upon his mind and conscience. 10 I saw in my dream that he made haste and went for- ward, 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 of 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 danger that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were He espied two lions. — These were proba- bly the lions that Mistrust and '1 imorous saw, and by the sight of which they were turned back again. These li ^ns were placed in a narrow path, so tJiat there appeared but little way of escape for those ihat v,ould p-»i3 by that way. Many apparent spiritual degrees seem formidable until they are more closely ex- amined by the eye of faith and with confi- dence in God. Ignorance ofttimes exagger- ates threatening danger, as it sees not and knovvs not the restraining power of Divine grace. Mistrust and Timorous could not tell whether the lions were " sleeping " or " waking ; " the very sight of the lions in the distance alarmed them. Christian's ignorance, too, had well-nigh driven him back ; for " the lions were c^^ained, but he saw not the chains." It was the kind and timely voice of the porter. Watchful, that dispelled his fears by dispelling his ignor- ance, informing him that these lions were for the probation of faith, and would be harmless if he would only walk in the mid- dle of the path. How greatly do these messages of God's ambassadors strengthen the pilgrims of Zion and embolden them in the midst of danger ! Here were rampant, roaring lions ; not asleep, but awake, in a narrow passage, and very near; but they were " chained " This announcement makes all the difference. Mistrust and Timorous might also have heatd the good Porter's news, only they came not near enough, but fled at the first view of the seeming danger. Suspicion is the child of little knowledge ; therefore let it know more, and see more thoroughly. Knowledge looks with open face, and there- fore sees all things plainly. There are some who think they see in this story of "the lions" a political allusion to the civil penalties and disabilities of the period. This is not at all improbable, though the expression is so worded as to convey a purely spiritual meaning to the reader. This, indeed, is one of the excellences of (93) Itf' ;*w M 'irnv Christian arrives at the Palace Beatitifid. 95 \ 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 unto him, saying. Is thy strength so small ? (Mark 4 : 40.) Fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where t is, and for discovery of those that have none ; keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come to 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. Th( n he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and stood before th gate where the Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir, ' l house is this? and may I lodge here to-night? The Porter an^ J, This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and he built it tor i relief and security of pilgrims. The Porter also asked whence he was ? and whither he was going ? Chr. I am come from the City of Destruction, and am going to Mount Zion ; but because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. PoR. What is your name? Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless ; I came of the race of Japheth, whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem (Gen. 9: 27). PoR. But how doth it happen, that you come so late? The sun is set. k the Pilgrim's Progress, that it is written for all time ; and even long after its local and political allusions have been lost sight of, its deep spiritual meaning remains, for the admonition and encouragement of pil- grims. What house is this ? — As yet he knows not what provision of grace is here stored up for him. He has realized his loss ; has suffered by delay ; has been alarmed by the darkness and other dangers ; and now a light suddenly appears, and a stately man- sion by the wayside This is the Palace Beautiful, with its fair inhabitants, and its blessed companionships, and its heavenly communion, and its rich store of provision for the onward scenes and stages of the Pilgrimage — another house of call for the wayfaring pilgrims of Zion. It is of the Lord's own building ; it is the Master's own merciful appointment — " for the relief and security of pilgrims." There are they housed in the time of peril; there "shut in" till greater strength is given for greater need ; and forth from the fellowship of the saints they proceed upon their way, stronger, wiser, better men. My name was Graceless. — From the out- set of the pilgrimage the Pilgrim has been called by the name of Christian. But this was not always his name. This is his " new n'ame." And before this was given him, he was called Graceless. This was the name by which he was called in the City of Destruction, until God opened his eyes to behold his state in sin, and gave him grace to flee from the wrath to come. He was by nature without grace, and therefore 96 The Pilgrims Progress. Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am, I slept in the arbor that stands on the hillside. Nay, I had, notwith- standing that, been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost piy 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. PoR. 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 at the door of the house a grave and beau- tiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was called. The Porter answered. This man is in 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 call for thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest do 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 in the way ; and he told her. And at last she asked his name. So he said, It is Christian ; anc 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, I will Graceless; but now he is with Christ, and therefore he is called by the name of Christian. The sun is set. — Ah, here again is the re- •membrance of his sin — that sleep which he slept in the arbor on the hill. That slum- ber, and the loss of his evidence, kept him back from the communion of saints and from the refreshment of Christian inter- course. Alas, how these sins intercept the path, and hinder the journey ! By the time that sleep is slept out, and the roll lost, and the loss discovered, and the missing evi- dence regained, and the hill climbed again, the day has been far spent, and " the sun has set." IVeary and benighted. — It is very plain that this palace was designed as a refuge for the wayfarer, and that its asylum would be most acceptable to those pilgrims who are most exposed to the sorrows and hardships of the way. Christian communion is at all times useful, but particularly so when we meet with spiritual losses, and consequently experience more or less of spiritual depres- sion. In d^vs of weariness, and nights clouded with gloom, how reassuring is the pressure of a friendly hand, the encourage- ment of a familiar voice, the company of a faithful friend ! For relief and security of pilgrims. — This was the twofold use of the Palace Beautiful — " relief" from the toil and travail of the road, and " security " from danger, seen and unseen, present and to come. The principal members of this house- hold of faith are called Discretion, Pru- dence. Piety, and Charity. By these Christian enters the Palace. 97 CHRISTIAN IS QUESTIONED BY DISCRETION. call forth two or three more of the family. So she ran to the door and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more discourse with him, had him into the family ; and many of them meeting 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 head, and followed names are indicated the heavenly vir- tues and the graces of the Spirit : Discre- tion appertaining to the jintellect and judg- ment; Prudence affecting the interests of the life now present and also of that which is to come ; Piety regulating the de- votions of the soul and spirit ; and Char- ity discharging all the duties of love to God and to our fellow-men. Some one has pithily remarked, in reference to this scene and stage of the Pilgrim's experience : " How •beautiful' must that Church be where Watchful is the porter ; where Dis- cretion governs ; where Prudence takes the oversight ; where Piety conducts the worship ; and where Charity endears the the members one to another !" The introduction of the Pilgrim to the palace devolves upon Discretion, who also conducts the preliminary conversation. She ascertains the past history of Chris- tian — whence he has come, and whither he 98 The FUgrinCs Progress. [/ A- them into the house. So when he was come in and set down they gave him something to drink, and consented together, that until supper was ready some of them should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best improvement of time; and they appointed Piety and Prudence and Charity to discourse with him; and thus, they began. Pi. 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 hap- pened to you in your pilgrimage. Chr. With a very good will ; and I am glad you are so well disposed. Pi. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim's life? Chr. 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. Pi. But how did it happen that you came out of your country this way ? Chr. 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 into the way that hath 'ed me directly to this house. Pi. But did you not come by the house of the.Interpreter ? Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of is going. He is also straitly questioned as to how he entered the way ; for none can be made partakers of the blessedness of that fair house and of its goodly company, but they who have entered by the Wicket-gate. Last of all, she inquires his name. Names are no passport in spiritual things ; it is the inward man, and not the outward name, that insures admittance to the true fellow- ship of the saints and of the household of God. Therefore, not the first, but the last of the questions is that concerning the Pil- grim's name. 'In the conversations that ensue, Piety is the first to speak. She inquires into the inward motives that prompted the Pilgrim to this pilgrimage. Christian's answer to this inquiry opens up afresh the memory of his flight from the City of Destruction. He tells of the " dreadful sound " by which he was "driven out "of his native land. Wrath from without, conviction from within, a—l both these working upon conscience — deep calling unto deep — created that "dread- ful sound," so that the man was " driven " to flight. The further questions proposed by TiETY reproduce the narrative oi the preceding scenes of the pilgrimage, includ- ing the Wicket-g3te, the illustrations of tho Interpreter's House, the sight of One who did hang bleeding upon a tree, the tokens, and credentials given him at the Cross, and. .■r*-*- The Maidens question Christian. 99 own they til supper urse with ippointed and thus. ig to you i we may ave hap- 3 so well pilgrim's ful sound id attend country nder the y chance 3f, whose hich else hath 'ed :r? ranee of I's answer le memory destruction. ' by which itive land, om within, nscience — lat "dread- driven " 1 proposed ive oi the je, includ- ons of tho One who he tokens. I^ross, and. which will stick by me as long as I live ; especially three things : to wit, how Christ, in spite 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. Pi. Why, did you hear him tell his dream ? Chr. Yes, and a dreadful dream it was, I thought ; it made my heart ache as he was telling of it ; but yet I am glad I heard it. Pi. Was this all you saw at the house of the Interpreter ? Chr. No ; he cook 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. I would have staid at that good man's house a twelvemonth but that I knew I had further to go. Pi. And what saw you else in the way ? Chr. Saw ! why I went but a little further, and I saw Onej as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon a tree ; the very sight of him made my burden fall off my back : for I groaned under a heavy burden, but 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 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. the unworthy companions that met him on the way. Then the Pilgrim reports progress, and explains his past experiences. Prudence next engages the Pilgrim in conversation. She enters not so much into the motives and feelings of the past, as into his thoughts and feelings for the present — those inward phases of the soul's reflection, when, having forsaken the old things, a new Hfe is to be lived, on new and better princi- ples. It is important we should ourselves inquire whether any vain regrets intertwine themselves with our present obedience; whether an earnest strife is waged against the carnal thoughts that rise witihin us, and whether that strife is crowned with victory, so that carnal things are " vanquished," and die within us. The "golden hours" of the Pilgrim's tri- umphs over carnal things, and holy contem- plation of heavenly things, are seasons much to be desired — those blessed seasons of the soul's health and well-being, when the Cross is held full in view, and the glory of the Robe of Righteousness is seen, and the comforts of the Roll refresh the spirit, and all the blissful thoughts and prospects of final blessedness kindle the fire of a holy fervor and enthusiasm in the man of God. Aye, these are the thoughts that lift us heav- 100 The Pilgrim's Progress. Pi. But you saw more than this, did you not? Chr. 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 awake 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 did 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 thank you for receiv- ing of me. Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer to them. Pr. Do you think sometimes of the country from whence you came ? Chr. 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 opportunity to have returned ; but now I desire a better country, that is heavenly" (Heb. ii: 15, 16). Pr. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were conversant withal. Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will ; especially my inward and carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted ; but now all those things are my grief ; and might I choose mine own things, I would choose never to think of those things more ; but, when I would be doing of that which is best, that which is worst is with me (Rom. 7 : 15-23). Pr. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were van- quished which at other times are your perplexity ? enward — the hope of meeting with the Liv- ing Lord, and of finding full exemption from the influence of sin, and the endless enjoy- ment of immortality ; and all these feelings quickened b/the love wt ;jear to Jesus, who hath first lo^ ed us, and hath redeemed us from sin and death. Charity continues the communion and fellowship of heart with heart. She inquires about his home and family, and how it is they have not joined him in his pilgrimage, and whether blame attaches to him for any neglect on his part of their spiritual inter- ests. To all these inquiries Christian an- swers truthfully and well His wife would not resign the world and the pleasures of the world ; and his children would not sur- render the pleasures of youth ; and thus did the spell of worldliness h\v\ them to carnal things. Christian witnesses a good con- fession before these damsels of the palace, and is commended for his faithful efforts to . ' ' 102 The Pilgrim's Progress. Chr. Yes, but that is but seldom ; but they are to me golden hours in which such things happen to me. Pr. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances at times as if they were vanquished ? Chr. Yes ; when I think \vhat 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 my bosom, that will do it ; and when my tiioughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it. Pr. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion? Chr. Why, there I hope to see him alive that did hang dead on the cross ; and the re I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an ?.nnoyance to me; there they say there is no death ; and there I shall dwell with such company as I like best (Isa. 25 : 8; Rev. 21:4). For to tell you the truth, I love him because I was by him eased of my burden ; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I should die no more, and with the company that shall continually cry, " Holy, holy, holy." Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family ? are you a married man ? Chr. I have a wife and four small children. ' Char. And why did you not bring them along with you ? Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly would I have done it ! but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage. Char. But you should have talked to them, and have endeav- ored to show them the danger oi being left behind. Chr. So I did; and told them also that God had showed to me of the destruction of our city; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed me not (Gen. 19 : 14). Char. And did you pray to God that he would bless your counsel to then? Chr. Yes, and that with much affection ; for you must think that my wife and poor children were very dear unto me. win his family to Christ — " Thou hast deliv- ered thy soul from their blood !" Thi» allusion to the number of his chil- dren answers to the number of Bunyan's family, at '.he time of his writing the Prog- ress. He had a wife, two sons, and two dau^liiers. Mr. Offor informs us, in a note to his edition, that " this conversation was first published in the second edition, 1678." At that time, however, his wife a. id children were fellow-pilgrims with their father. Mr. Offor further observes that Bunyan's " eldest son was a preacher eleven years before the second part of the Pilgrim was published." The Maidens question Christian. 103 Char. But did you tell them your own sorrow, and fear of destruction? for I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you. Chr. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehension of the judgments that did hang over our heads ; but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me. Char. But what could they say for themselves why they came not ? Chr. 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. Char. But did you not with your vain life damp all that you by Avords used by way of persuasion to bring them away with you ? Chr. Indeed I cannot commend my life, for I am conscious to myself of many failings therein. I know also that a man by his conversation may soon overthrow what by argument or persuasion he doth labor to fasten upon others for their good. Yet this I can «ay, I was very /ary 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. Char. Indeed " Cain hated his brother, because his own works were evil, and his brother's righteous" (i John 3 : 12); and, if thy wife and children have been offended with thee for this, they thereby show themselves to be implacable to good ; and thou hast delivered thy soul from their blood (Ezek. 3 ; 19). Now I saw in my dream that thus they sat talking together until supper was ready. So when they had made ready they sat Now I saw in my dreams. — The dream continues ; their sweet communion has not yet ended. From words of conversation, the sisters of the household conduct their guest to " a feast of fat things " for his re- freshment. Whether Bunyan means by this the ordinary domestic entertainment of Christian fellowship, or the more spiritual feast — the Supper of the Lord — we do not here decide We think he has wisely and judiciously left it open to either interpreta- tion, or both. But this much, at all events, is evident, that " all their talk at the table was about the Lord of the Hill." Well it is for those families and those communions whose talk is of Jesus when they meet to- 104 The Pilgrim s Progress. down to meat. Now the table was furnished with fat things, and with 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 ?aid I perceived that he had been a great warrior, and had fought v/ith and slain him that had the powef of death; but not without great danger to himself; which made me love him the more (Heb. 2: 14, 15), For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, he did it with the loss of much blood. But that which put glory of grace into all he did was, that he did it of pure love to his co intry. And besides there were some of them of the household that said, they had seen and spoken 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 heard him say and affirm, that he would not dwell in the mountain 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 ( i Sam. 2:8; Ps. 113: 7.8). _ Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; and after they committed themselves to their Lord f prote( they gether for bodily or for spiritual refreshment : "Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God" (I Cor. 10: 31), Christian communion on the subject of the Saviour tends to ehcit some precious truths respecting his nature, his work, and the provision he hath made for the wayfaring pilgrims of Zion. This conversation, for in- stance, altogether tends to magnify the ex- ceeding great love of Jes is, as manifested in all that he hath done and suffered for sinners. His character as the Gi sat Captain of our salvation is here enlarged upon — the battles he hath fought, and the conquests he hath won in the interests of fallen and sinful man ; and how he hath slain the great enemy of souls. And in all these glorious deeds, the one great motive was love— the love of God, the love of Jesus; that love of country, yea, even of rebellious citizens, which lifts the character of Christ far beyond that of the noblest and most self-denying patriot that ever suffered for his country's cause. In this conversation those Divine character- istics of Jesus are discussed, which illustrate his gracious condescension and love : how he descended from his royal throne — this was his self-resignation ; how he conde- scended to the low level of our lot— -this was his self-abasenient ; how he trod the patient path of human suffering — this was his self- denial, and how he climbed the mount of Calvary — this was his self-sacrifice. And having paid the purchase of redemption, he would not have his death to be a profitless or barren sacrifice; but, through it, would conduct many sons to glory, lifting up the The Chamber of Peace. 105 me CHRISTIAN TELLS CHARITY AND HER SISTERS ABOUT HIS FAMILY. themselves to rest. The pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened toward the sun-rising; the name of the v'hamber was Peace ; where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang — Where am I now ? Is tnis 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, beggar from the dunghill, and making the children of Zion to be princes in all lands. Such was the communion of these con- fiding and trusting souls, conveying large stores of strength and spiritual consolation into the Pilgrim's heart. " Who can tell the joy, the bliss, Of communion such as this ! ' These have l^een,' let others sty, ' At the gates of heaven to-day.' '' The Christian, while sojourning at this bhssful portion of his journey heavenward, discovers, by searching his own heart, by converse with godly companions, and by a frequent inspection of the Roll whicf Evangelist gave him, that God is wise in his teachings and gracious in his dealings, appearing by his dispensations to say to the inexperienced : " I have many things to say 106 The Pilgrim's Progress. it^' ?i iU- . "ithey told him that he should not depart till they had showed him the irarities of that place. And first they had him into the Study, where 'they showed liim records of the greatest antiquity ; in which, as I remember 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 tthe acts that he had done, and the names of many hundreds that he ihad 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 thqy 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" (Heb. ii : 33, 34). Then they read again in another part of the records of the house, where it was showed 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 mr.iiy other famous things, of all which Christian had a . view, as of chings both ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions of things that have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement of enemies and the comfort and solace •of pilgrims. •unto you, but ye cannot bear them now; but what ye know not now, ye shall know hereafter;" and therefore that God in ten- derness imparts wisdom to the Christian according to his ability ta leceive it, and apoints conflicts also in proportion to his strength to resist them. In addition to this lesson of heavenly wisdom, Christian learns that by bright views of his love, mercy and goodness, and by thoughts, de- sires, and hopes, God fills the heart of Pil- grims with joy and gladness, and enables them either to go on their way rejoicing, or, in the hour of trial, to fight the good fight of faith, and firmly to press onward, patiently to look forward, piously to look upward, and vigorously to contend for the truth against all the unfruitful works of dark- oess. Christian learns, moreover, from the experience of Christian warriors, who, like himself, are travelling to the celestial abode, that, when fresh assaults are made against them, the recollection of past victo- ries and the consciousness of the Divine presence will assuredly animate them for the conflict, and by the grace of God the victory will be theirs, and none shall be able to keep them from the path that leads to the Heav- enly City. The day of spiritual communion is closed by the retirement of Christian to his rest and calm repose, within the safe enclosure of the chamber Peace. Hi -re is perfect peace, in the household of fauh — not in the midst of difficulty, as when he slept in the pleasant arbor, but in the midst of Christian fellowship, and under the roof where heav- enly virtues dwell. Here was the Pilgrim fi Christian sees the Delectable Mountains, 107 lim the wliere ch, as I of the ys, and icorded that he n such nature e of his /rought r Hons, [, out of rned to ; house, into his i great al other 1 had a >phecies nt, both solace nors, who, e celestial are made past victo- he Divine lem for the the victory ble to keep the Heav- n is closed to his rest enclosure is perfect -not in the lept in the if Christian here heav- he Pilgrim The next day they took him i nd had him into the armory, where they showed him all manner of furniture which their Lord had pro- vided 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 go^d wherewith Sham- gar slew six hundred men. They showed him also the jaw-bone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They showed him, more- over, the sling and stone 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 safe ; his person and his property, his gar- ments and his credentials, all are safe ; and that God, who has been about his path, is now about his bed. This period of rest is that phase of Christian experience when the Christian man is withdrawn from beating storms and roaring lions and other un- friendly influences of the outer world, and lays him down in peace, and awakes re- freshed, to face the duties and the dangers of the world outside. The Study. — We must now follow the Pil- grim through the galleries and chambers cf the Palace, for in Christian communion there are many things to be seen and learned and known, both in doctrine and example, in duty for the present, in preparation for the future, and in prospect of the final issue. Accordingly, the fair sisters first con- duct the Pilgrim to the " Study." Here are contained the ancient records of the Lord of the Hill ; and here his generation, his deeds, his followers, all are duly registered. Here also are the narratives of the bold, brave heroes of his army, the mighty warriors of the King, who have left their names embla- zoned on the Book of Life, and their deeds engraven as with an iron pen upon the rock forever. This is the place for the " students" of Divine knowledge. The armory. — This was the basis of an- other day's instruction. Here was the re- ceptacle containing the weapons of the spiritual warfare. All the parts of the Chris- tian panoply — " the whole armor of God" — are supplied from this storehouse. And there is no stint or sparing of the supply ; yea, though the host should be as the stars "n:x. '~ iti'j B 108 The Pilgrim's Progress. ,4 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 (Isa. 33 : 16, 17). Then he asked the name of the country. They said it was Immanuel's Land ; and it is as com- mon, said they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there from thence, said they, 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 chey 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 pilgrims pass by ? Then the Porter answered, Yes. Chr. Pray did you know him ? PoR. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful. Oh, said Christian, I know him ; he is my townsman, my near neighbor ; he comes from the town where I was born. How far do you think he may be before >* of heaven for multitude, there is enough for each, and enough for all, and yet to spare. Out of these supplies waa Christian him- self armed and equipped ere he departed from the Palace on his ' omeward way. This armory, moreover, served as a mu- seuHi, or treasury of those ancient imple- ments of the good fight of faith, by which men in olden time did fight and win their spiritual battles. These relics — not for wor- ship but for remembrance — were evidences of the might of other days, when the strong champions of the Lord went in and out among their people, and were jealous for Jehovah's sovereignty, and avenged his righteous cause against all opposers. This was just such a treasury of ancient lore and deeds of faith as Paul supplies in the eleventh chapter of his Epistle to the Hebrews — that memorable record of men that hved and died in faith. Immanuel's Land. — ^Who sees with the eye of faith, sees with a far-seeing eye. Not only within the chambers of the Palace, but also from the outer heights are prospects and perspectives of far-off scenes, and stages yet to be attained. Hence may be seen some of the great landmarks of the way: from the Palace Beautiful the Delectable Mountains may be seen in the distance; and by-and-by, from those Delectable Moun- tains will the Pilgrim see the gates of the Celestial City. Thus it is that Faith's wide prospect perpetually expands, and from suc- cessive standpoints more distant prospects dawn upon the sight. Faith " Leads from goal to goal, And opens still, and opens on the soul." To men of faith is the promise made — " They shall behold the land that is very far off" (Isa. 33: 17). That land is pleasant; even in the distant prospect presenting its vineyards and its woodlands, its fountains and rivers of waters. At this prospect the Pilgrim's zeal is quickened, and he desires to depart, that he may the sooner gain that a -4 1 CHRlSTIA^f ARMED BY PRUDENCE. DISCRETION, PIETY AND CHARITY. 109 110 The l^lgfim's Progress, PoR. He has got |?y this time below the hill. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to all thy blessings much increase, for the kindness that thou hast 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 tliey went on together, reiterating their former discourses, till they came to go down the hill. Then, said Christian, As it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down. Yes, said i I'udence, so it is ; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down into the Valley of Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way ; therefore, said they, we are 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 on his way. goodly out-post of the City. But the journey lies through battle-fields ; and through many a hard-fought fight is the issue to be attained. They harnessed him. — Till now, the Robe received at the Cross is the raiment of the Pilgrim, and this continues to be his cloth- ing. But besides this dress, he is accoutred with a suit of armor from the armory of the Palace. To what purpose this precaution was taken will ere long appear. He is now invested with armor becoming a Pilgrim- soldier of the Cross — the girdle of truth about his loins, the breastplate of righteous- ness, his feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace ; besides all these, thei£ are given to him the shield of faith, the heP^ met of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit; and there is added the weapon of All-prayer to these (Eph. 6: 14-18). Thus equipped, the Pilgrim is about to be com- mitted to the onward stages of his journey. To some purpose, indeed, was this sojourn in the Palace Beautiful. In very weakness he entered its portals; but now he is re- freshed, comforted, instructed, edified, en- lightened, armed, and strengthened. Hav- ing now tasted the blessings of Christian communion, he asks the porter at the gate whether any fellow-pilgrims have passed by ; and he is informed that one Faithful has just passed on beiore him. This man has not enjoyed the Christian intercourse of the Palacife, but shall by-and-by reap the benefits of Christian's company, as Christian, in his turn, shall also enjoy the fellowship of Faithful. " Iron sharpeneth iron ; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend" (Prov. 27 : 17). Then he began to go fonaard.— Not alone does he depart ; for the fair sisters bear him company to the foot of the hill. "The things that accompany salvation " form the escort of the Christian in all difficult places. Accordingly, as the Pilgrim has been enabled to climb the hill Difficulty at the one side, so he is assisted in his descent into the low- lying valley at the other side — the Valley of Humiliation. Oh, how hard it is to walk safely down that steep declivity ! Flesh and blood resist the effort ; but, assisted and ac- companied by Divine virtues and graces, this may be accomplished, at least with safety. " Thus to the vale they all descend, ' Whither the Pilgrim's footsteps tend— A lonely dell. They give him of their goodly store, As emblems of the love they bore ; And then— Farewell I" CHAPTER IX. Apollyon. FdRTH from the armory, and in full equipment, Pilgrim is conducted by the fair sister- hood of the Palace down the hill to the low-lying valley of Humiliation. Diverse are the experiences of pilgrims, even in the self-same stage of the pilgrimage. To Christian the descent was " dangerous ; " and the Valley (when he got there) became the battle-field of one of the fiercest encounters that fell to his lot in the course of his journey. Yet this Valley is not thus perilous to all pilgrims. In the Second Part of the Progress it is described as " a fruitful place" — "the best and most fruitful piece of ground in all these parts." It consists of meadow-land and green valleys, " beautiful with lihes ; " filled with sheep, and resounding with the pastoral songs of the shepherds ; and its chiefest glory is, that it was the chosen dwelling-place of Jesus, the Lord of all. |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 (Rev. 9: 11). 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. Valley of Humiliation. — From the height of Christian privilege a descending path and a darkening prospect now lie before the Pil- grim. He that had gone up the hill, must now go down at the other side — down to the valley, the Valley of Humility ; lower down — to the Valley of Humiliation ; lower still — to the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Very timely, and in anticipation of his direst need, has been the provision and refresh- ment of the Palace Beautiful, and the con- versation of its inhabitants. Now, through scenes of danger and of darkness. Chris- tian is appointed to pursue his onward jour- ney. The Valley of Humiliation is a deep, low- lying vale. The descent to it is both diffi- cult and dangerous ; but to dwell there is profitable to the spirit of pilgrims. It tends to the formation of, at least, one part of the Christ-Hke character, for Jesus had his dwelling there ; and he who would be like to Christ, must be familiar with this humble and lowly portion of the Pilgrim's lot. A foul fiend — Apollyon. — " And they had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon, but in the Greek tongue hath his name Apollyon" (Rev. 9: 11). Here, then, the Allegory means to depict a (111) S '"N 112 ■m m The Pilgrim's Progress. So he went on, and ApoUyon 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, 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. Apol. Whence came you ? and whither are you bound ? Chr. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place of all evil, and am going to the City of Zion. Apol. By this I perceive thou art one of my subjects ; for all that country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it (2 Cor. 4: 4). How is it then that thou hast run away from thy king? Were it not that I hope thou mayest do me more service, I would strike thee nov at one blow to the ground. Chr. I was born indeed in your dominions, but your service was hard, and your wages such as a man could not live on ; "for the wages of sin is death " (Rom. 6 : 23); therefore, when I was come to years, I did, as other considerate persons do, look out if perhaps I might mend myself. Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects. conflict with the powers of hell, with Satan himself. It is one of those fierce assaults of the devil with which he seeks to recover his lost prey, and if not this, to destroy them. The name Apollyon means "The de- stroyer." The description of this monster is con- veyed in a sentence that gathers into itself the accumulation of all those chaiacteris- tics of Satan that are most hideous and horrible, deadly and dangerous. The scaly leprosy of the old serpent covers Apoll- yon as with a coat of mail. He had " wings like a dragon," to indicate the rapid- ity of his flight and the ravages of his march; "feet like a bear," for softness of tread, and strength and power to injure ; " fire and smoke " came forth from his nos- trils, representing the inner fire that burns within the breast of the fallen angel, and his very breath tells of the fiery realm he rules, and the fiery wrath he wields ; " his mouth as the mouth of a lion," the rampant, raging, roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. No armor for his back. — In the enumera- tion of the Christian armor in the armory (Eph. 6: 14-8), there is no mention of any protection for the back of the Cliristian war- rior. The ancient Romans, and, indeed, all warlike nations, made no provision for the backs of their soldiers ; for they said that the soldier who turned his back to the foe de- served no armor to protect him. The duty of a soldier is always to ])resent a full front to the enemy ; and therefore is he pro- vided with breastplate and helmet, with sword and shield — armor offensive and de- fensive ; but " no armor for his back." The duty of the Christian soldier is to stand and to withstand This is the way to " re- sist the devil." It is in the spiritual as in the carnal confli*:! — retreat is danger ; and to flee from the fight is the surest way to an ignominious defeat. This thought aids the Pilgrim, now standing in the path, to receive the first shock of the foul fiend Apollyon. Began to question with him. — Not first with a battle-shock, but with tempting questions. Thus did Satan with our first parents. By '> Christian and Apollyon. 113 ster was ind they and out nouth of with a I. he place r all that • 4: 4)- re it not hee nov vice was e wages I years, I I might subjects, e enumera- he armory :ion of any istian war- indeed, all ion for the lid that the the foe de- lim. The :sent a full ; is he pro- hnet, with ve and de- lis back." is to stand 'ay to " re- itual as in inger ; and way to an ht aids the , to receive OLLYON. ot first with : questions, .rents. By <. MLtg^j j{|i « S(j |^' a»y^i^gg^ CHRISTIAN'S COMBAT WITH APOLLYON. neither will I as yet lose thee ; but since thou complainest of thy ser- vice and wages, be content to go back ; what our country will afford, I do here promise to give thee. Chr. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes; and how can I with fairness go back with thee ? Apol. 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 a while to give him the slip, and return again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well. Chr. I have given him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to him ; how then can I go back from this and not be hanged as a traitor? Apol. Thou didst the. same to me, and yet I am willing to paas by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back. Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage ; and, besides, I 114 The Pilgrim's Progress. count that the Prince under whose banner now I stand is able to ab-^ solve me ; yea, and to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with thee; and, besides, O thou destroying Apollyon, to speak truth, I like his service, his wages, his servants, his government, his com- pany, and country, better than thine; and therefore leave off to per- suade me further : I am his servant, and I will follow him. • Apol. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, what thou art like to meet with in the way that thou goest Thou knowest that, for the most part, his servants come to an ill end, because they are transgressors against me and rhy ways. How many of them have been put to shameful deaths ? And besides, thou countest his service better than mine, whereas he never came yet from the place where he is, to deliver any that served me out of my 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 faith "uUy served me, from him and his, though taken by them ; and so I wi 1 deliver thee. Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver i em 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, 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. Apol. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him ; and how dost thou think to receive wages of him ? Chr. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to him ? Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost choked in the gulf of Despond ; thou didst attempt wrong ways to be cunning conversation he gained their ear, and thence probed deeper to the heart ; and at last he won them by fair speeches and " well-placed words of glozing courtesy." Thus did he also with our Lord himself. He began not with the striving unto blood, as in the agony, but with cunning questions and with insidious arguments did he tempt the Lord. And even so he began with us. He fo' bears to fight, if he can gain the con- quest of a soul on lighter terms. The commencement of Apollvon's on- slaught upon Christian is made in the form of a question, " Whence came you ?" and by the answer to this inquiry he is em- boldened to lay a legal claim to the alle- giance of the Pilgrim. The City of Destruc- tion is Satan's city and he is its Prince ; and accordingly he claims the Pilgrim as one of his subjects. Thou hast already been unfaithful. — Here is Satan set forth in his true colors — as the " Accuser of the brethren." He tempts us to sin, that he may himself accuse us. But the Pilgrim answers him again, quoting the power and love of God in Christ. And as for the root of sin, that he ascribes to Satan, seeing it was implanted during the time of the bond-service At this complete overthrow of his succes- sive temptations, Apollyon is wrathful; Christian is resolute. ^ Combat between Christian and Apollyon. 115 rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off; thou didst sinfully sleep, and lose thy choice thing ; thou wast also almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the lions ; and when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast heard and seen, thou art inwardly desirous of vainglory in all that thou sayest or doest. Chr, 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 for- give. But, besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy country ; for there I sucked them in, and I have groaned under them, being sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, ^ :m an enemy to this Prince ; I hate his person, his laws, and people. I am come out on purpose to withstand thee. Chr. Apollyon, beware what you do ; for I am in the King's highway, the way of holiness ; therefore take heed to yourself. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter ; prepare thyself to die ; for I swear by my infernal den that thou shalt go no further ; here will I spill thy soul. And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast ; but Chris- tian had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so pre- vented 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 The description of this battle of the war- rior with the powers of darkness has ever been considered as a masterpiece of a master- mind. For vigor and spirit of detail, reveal- ing the alternating fortunes of the fight, it stands as one of the best delineations of the real and earnest conflict the Christian soldier has to wage with Satan. " They said the war was brief and easy ; A word, a look, would crush the throng. To some it may have been a moment's conflict ; To me it has been sore and long." With real anxiety we view the quick dis- patch of fiery darts from the quiver of Apol- lyon, and the disastrous consequences — the many wounds of Christian in head, and hand, and foot. We cannot be unconcerned for the result, when in the strife the Pilgrim falls, and in the fall he drops his sword. This suspense increases when we behold Apol- lyon taking advantage of his opportunity, having the upper hand of his antagonist, while Christian despairs even of his life. All now seems lost, the battle ended, and our Pilgrim well-nigh carried off the field, the victim of the Destroyer. But at this point occurs the climax of the story, and its great spiritual lesson, too. The Pilgrim, being weak, is made to feel his weaki.ess. Accordingly, it is while he is thus prostrate. ^* .■yH!'. ! 116 ""he Pilgrim's Progress. \n amain, and Christian again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted for about half a day, even till Christian was almor: quite spent; for you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker. Then Apoilyon, 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 Apoilyon, I am sure of thee now ; and with that he almost pressed him to death ; so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as God would have it, while Apoilyon 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, saying, "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy! when I fall, I shall arise" (Micah 7:8); and 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" (Rom. 8:37-39); ^^^ with that Apoilyon spread forth his dragon-wings and sped him away, that Christian saw him no more (James 4:7). In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard, as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apoilyon made all the time of the fight; he "spake like a dragon ;" and, on the other side, what sighs and groans Durst from Christian's heart. I never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till ho per- ceived he had wounded Apoilyon with his two-edged sword ; then indeed he did s» ule and look upward! but it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw. 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 Apoilyon. And so he did, saying, Great Beelzebub, the captain of tliis fiend, Design'd my ruin ; therefore to this end He sent him harness'd out ; and he with rage, That hellish was, did fiercely me engage. , But blessed Michael helped me, and I ■ By dint of sword did quickly make hi;n fly ; • . Therefore to him let me give lasting praise, And thank and bless his holy name always. and his hand cleaveth no longer to his sword, that the great fact of his weakness ts brought home to him in all its dread reality ; and the victim looks to the Invincible for strength, nor looks in vain ; for Divine strength is made perfect in his weakness, and he grasps his sword again, and instantly the battle clianges — Apollvon is wounded I Combat between Christian and Apollyon. 117 in fully as even till I!hristian, ker. ather up .dful fall ; hen said t pressed But, as ', thereby iched out t against : 8); and back as ving that, are more, -39); and sped him seen and I made all the other I never ill hj per- )rd ; then eadfullest liere give ■ the lion, saying, Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the •'tree of life" (Rev. 22 : 2); 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 that bottle that was given him a little before ; so being refreshed he addressed himself to his journey with his sword drawn in his hand ; for he said, I know not but some other enemy m;. be at hand. But he met with no other affront from Apollyon quite through this valley. with a deadly thrust, and spreads his dragon- wings, and betakes himself to his dark prison-house. Meanwhile, Christian, who is " more than conqueror," is left in posses- sion of the field. And now, weary and faint after so great a struggle, he presents his thanksgiving to the God of battles. Taught by hard experience, he sheathes not his sword, but he addresses himself to his on- ward journey, prepared for every assault. ; for Divine lis weakness, and instantly < is wounded I 1 . CHAPTER X. The Valley of the Shadow of Death. " O Father-Eye, that hath so truly watched ; O Father-Hand, that hath so gently led ; O Father-Heart, that by my prayer is touched— That loved me first, when I was cold and dead— " StiU do thou 'ead me on, with faithful care. The narrow path to heaven, where I would go ; And train me for the life that waits me there, Alike through love end loss, through weal and woe I " These words of the German hymn may be adopted as a fitting embodiment of our Pilgrim's feelings, when, descending to a lower level than the Valley of Humiliation, he enters on the deeper Valley of the Shadow of Death, and begins to realize the darker ex- periences of that dreadful pass, where he was " worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon." This Valley is a continuation of the preceding scene. Scarcely has the good fight been fought, when a horror of great darkness overcasts the vale, and gloomy terrors throng upon the Pilgrim's soul, and he walks that live-long night through a darkness that might be felt, and through spiritual antagonisms that intensified both the darkness and the danger. The whole scene — from the first assault of Apollyon to the sun-rising in the valley — is a continued series of perils encountered, dangers avoided, and difficulties overcome, that seemed insuperable. ' low 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 Jeremiah thus describes it: "A wilderness; a land of deserts and of pits; a land of drought, and of the shadow of death ; a land that no man (but a Christian) passed through, and where no man dwelt " (Jer. 2 : 6). 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 '* ' i Th4 Shadow of Death. — This must be understood as a season of rising doubts, and returning convictions, and dark surmisings as to one's spiritual state. It may be called "Satan's hour and the power of darkness." Apollyon, foilei in his direct personal assault upon the Pilgrim, now summons to his aid his legion of evil spirits. / saw in my dream. — The Dreamer now sees the Pilgrim already entered on the dark Valley. He treads delicately a very narrow path, with danger pressing sore upon him (118) m V-''. The Valley of the Shadow of Death. 119 ilcare, would go ; there, weal and woe ! " iment of our imiliation, he le darker ex- his fight with ;he good fight :errors throng ;ss that might id the danger, e valley — is a vercome, that called the jtian must e Celestial J valley is miah thus ; a land of nan (but a Jer. 2:6). 5 fight with ; got to the Ln, children w summons to ts. i Dreamer now ed on the dark a very narrow sore upon him of them that brought up an evil report of the good land (Numb. 13), making haste to go back; to whom Christian spake as follows: Whither are you going? They said, Back ! back ! and we would have you to do so, too, if either life or peace is prized by you. Why? what's the matter ? said Christian, 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 further we had not been here to bring the news to thee. But what have you met with ? said Christian. Men. Why we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death (Ps. 44: 19); but that by good hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to it. But what have you seen ? said Christian. Men. 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 continual howling and yelling, as of a people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and iron; and over that valley hang 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 (Job 3: 5; 10: 22). 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 sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted. I saw then in my dream, so 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 (Ps. 69: 14). 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 on either side. Here are no "stepping- stones," as in the Slough. Yea, even a good man falling in here finds no foot-hold. All help and promise, all hope and rescue, must here be found in Christ — in Christ alone. "He that is able" must pluck .them out. "Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloomy Lead tnou me on I The night is dark, and I am far from home ; Lead thou me on L Keep thou my feet ; I do not ask to see The distant way ; one step's enough for me." The mouth of hell — He here speaks, per- haps, of that season of bodily and spiritual JSSSSi S3BSS 120 T/ie Pilgrim's Progress. Hi Nil- 4' did fall, and had no doubt therein been smothered, had not he that is able plucked him out. The pathway was here also exceedin^j narrow, and therefore good Christian was the more put to it ; for when he sought in the dark to shun the ditch on the one hand, he v/as ready to tip over into the mire on the other ; also, when he sought co escape the mire, without great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on, and I heard him there sigh bitterly ; for, besides the dangers mentioned above, the pathway was here so dark, thai; ofttimes when he lift up his foot to set forward, he knew not where, nor upon what, he should set it next. About the midst of the 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 tliat 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 (Eph, 6: i8); so he cried, in my hearing, "O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul!" (Ps. ii6: 4). Thus he went on a great 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 the mire in the streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard, by him for several miles together ; and coming to a place where he thought he heard a weakness alluded to in his " Grace Abound- ing," where he says : "Again, as I was at another time very ill and weak, all that time also the tempter did beset me strongly, for I find he is much for assaulting the soul when it begins to approach towards the grave ; then is his opportunity, laboring to hide from me my former experience of God's good- ness ; also setting before me the terror of death and the judgment of God." Amid these inward spiritual antagonisms, he found he must resort to inward and spiritual weapons. And accordingly his' sword, with which he had defeated Apol- lyon, is now sheathed ; and the spiritual weapon of "All-prayer" must now be put • in exercise. But he abides in prayer, and prays all through the Vale of Death. And the great power of prayer is answered, for by it the fiends are held at bay. Yet this is the worst part of the pass —the crisis ot the danger — for now the mind of poor Christian is "confusion worse confounded," by reason of the inward suggestion of the Evil One, and the blasphemies that he hears uttered as from his own heart and by his own voice. To this also he alludes in his "Grace Abound- ing : " "While I was in this temptation, 1 would often find my mind suddenly put upon it to curse and swear, or to speak some grievous thing against God, or Christ the Son, and of the Scriptures." For several miles together. — By these measures of the Pilgrimage he means dityi and years of his actual experience, during which the Evil Spirit troubled him and did abide with him. Two such seasons in par- )r by it the is the worst le danger — IRISTIAN is. by reason 5 Evil One, ears uttered 3 own voice, ice Abound- :mptation, I ily put upon speak some Christ the THE PORTER CALLS DISCRETION TO THE DOOR OF THE PALACE. ^ w m i\ ,!■■ ■4 m tf %: h^ I FAITHFUL liKU'6 CHKliiTiAN Christian and the Fiends. 121 ^ ^CT-^ * fe?^ 'C^ DAY BREAKS IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. company of fiends coming 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 for to go forward. So he resolved to go on ; yet the fiends seemed to come nearer ; but when they were come even almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, " I will wn.lk in the strength of the Lord God;" so they gave back, and came no further. One thing I would not let slip : I took notice that now poor Christian was so confounded 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 him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put Christian. m H 'ii 122 TA^ Piifrim's Progress. Ii II more to it than anything that he had met with before, even to think that he should now blaspheme him that he loved so much 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 know 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 me" (Ps. 23 : 4). Then was he glad, and that for three 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 impediment that attends this place I cannot perceive it? (Job 9: 11) thirdly, for that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company by-<--.J-by. 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-by the day broke ; then said Christian, " He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning " (Amos 5:8) Now morning being come, he looked back, not 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 lay betwixt them both. Also now he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off, for after break of the day they came not nigh ; yet they were discovered to him, according to that which is written, " He disco vereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to the light the shadow of death " (Job \2\ 22). ticular fell to hi^ lot ; and one of theve con- tinued as long as two years and •>. half. Thus was this man of God deeply exercised in his innermost soul. But God had a great work for him to do, and he must be disci- plined and prepared to do it, even though it be through the fiery furnace. He heard the voice of a man. — Not only the voice, but the comfortable words uttered tended to the renewal of the Pilgrim's joy and gladness. The voice was heard sing- ing David's pastoral song (Ps. 23), and this was comfortable to Christian — (i) Because it was an evidence that he was not alone in the Valley. (2) Because it proved that Pil- grims could yet afford to sing cheerily and joyfully even in the Valley of Death ; and (3) because a promise was thereby given that the Pilgrim may yet overtake his more ad- vanced brother, and have the enjoyment of his company. " Christ, thou bright and Morning Star, Now shed thy Tight abroad ; Shine on us from thy throne afar In this dark place, dear Lord. With thy pure, glorious word." And by-and-by the day broke. — The night of weeping is ended, and a morning of joy appears. This tyranny is overpast. After i Pope and Pagan. 123 to think before. it he had whence ion some as going shadow 4). icause he his valley was with ought he, this place ed (could it on, and 3wer ; for / the day death into tofeturn, e through )n the one e way was blins, and :ak of the according darkness, 2\ 22). oved that Pil- cheerily and ' Death; and iby given that his more ad- enjoyment of ming star, \ afar . )rd, ^.— The night lorning of joy erpast. After Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all dangers of his solitary way ; which dangers, though he feared them more 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 dangerous, 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, gns, 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 the first part of the way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away. But, as I said just now, the sun was rising. Then said he, "His candle shineth on my head, and by his light I go through darkness" (Job 29 : 3). , In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of this 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 a cave, where two giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old time ; by whose power and tyranny the men whose bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay there, were cruelly put to death. midnight is far spent, the dawn of hope arises on the Pilgrim's soul. Ye tried and afflicted pilgrims, put ye your trust in God ; he will not always chide, neither will he keep his anger forever. Pope and Pagan. — These are pictured as two giants — representatives of the power and tyranny of olden times, that held men bound, body and soul, in the bondage of ignorance and superstition. The allusion here is to the cruelties that characterized the religion of the heathen, who dwelt in the habitations of cruelty ; and to the persecutions waged by the Church of Rome against the saints and martyrs of the Church of God, who were bold to confess the faith of Christ crucified, and, in the face of fieiy persecutions, counted not their lives dear unto them. These have been, indeed, two gigantic systems — ^the one overspreading the face of the world, the other defiling the face of the Church. Paganism has reduced the Creator to the level of the creature ; has degraded worship to idolatry, religion to superstition, revela- tion to mythology, and truth to fiction. In this, man has been the chief sufferer, spoiled of his true glory, robbed of his inheritance. His better nature has deteriorated into sav- agery and barbarism, into cruelty and ha- tred, into vice and sensuality. The- finer feelings of the soul have been dwarfed and stunted in their growth. Charity, sympathy, gentleness, meekness, and all moral duties, are exchanged for physical force, treachery, torture, deceit and guile. "And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a repro- bate mind" (Rom. i : 28). Romanism has been to the Church what Paganism has been to the world — a spoiler of men's faith and a persecutor of men's lives. It has taken human nature as its guide, and, accordingly, has wrought out a religious system of curious and cun' ning work, 124 The Pilgrim's Progress. But by this place Christian went without much danger, whereat I somewhat wondered ; but I have learned 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, and alsv^ of the many shrewed 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 pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because he cannot come at them. So I saw that Christian went on his way : yet, at the sight of the old man that sat in the mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to think ; specially because he spake 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. DISCONTENT. bereat T las been /e, he is, t he met nts, that nning at ,ot come ht of the what to I not go burned. It by and CHAPTER XI. Christian and Faithful. Nfav views of the Pilgrimage, new foes of the Pilgrims, new phases of temptation, and new features of resistance, are furnished to us in this part of the story. There are many who have never fallen so low, or risen so high, in spiritual experience, as Christian did. Faithful may, perhaps, better suit their case. While Ciikistian has been a deeply exer- cised man, severely tried, and so oft despairing, the career of Faithful has pi^rsued the more even tenor of its way, and is more equable than that of his fellow-pilgrim. It is therefore, perhaps, more assimilated to the ordinary experience of Christians. Let us, then, give earnest heed to Faithful's counsel, admonition, and encouragement. [OW as Christian went on his way he came to a httle ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before them. Up there, therefore, Christian 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 companion. At that Faithful looked behind him ; to whom Christian cried again. Stay, stay, till I come up to you. But Faithful answered, No, I am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me. At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting to all his strength he quickly got up wiih Faithful, and did also overrun him ; A little ascent. — There are at timer- pro- vided for the Christian standpoints, for pur- pose of observation, with a scope propor- tioned to the elevation. We remember the far-off prospect, as viewed from the heights of the Palace Beautiful ; and now the Pil- grim, from " a little ascent," is enabled to see " a little in advance," but sufficiently far for his present requirement — to discern his future companion. Faithful, somewhat in advance of him. Such prospects as these are useful and helpful to pilgrims, sometimes near to, sometimes far off; at one time to reveal the outposts of the Celestial City, and at another time to present the view of a fellow-pilgrim, sufficiently near to be over- taken for sake of companionship. " I am upon my life." — Faithful seems to consider himself unsafe so long as he is not hasting on. Even on the narrow way he fears the pursuit of " the avenger of blood." There is a sense in which Christ, apprehended by faith, is our City of Refuge, even here; so that, if found in him, we are safe. And there is yet another sense in which heaven is our Refr.ge, and until we reach its safe harbor, and enter its open gates we are not safe — fully or finally safe. In this latter sense Faithful estimates his position, and therefore delays not, but speeds onward his way. We have already seen enough of the road to know that manifold and great dangers beset the pilgrims that walk thereon ; and while there is all possible (125) 126 The Pilgrim's Progress. so that the last was first. Then did Christian vaingloriously 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 discourse of all things that had happened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus Christian began : My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that I have overtaken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as companions in this so pleasant a path. Fai. 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. Chr. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction, before you set out after me on your pilgrimage ? Fai. Till I could stay no longer ; for there was great talk pres- ently after you were gone out, that our city would in a short time with fire from heaven be burned down to the ground. Chr. What ! did your neighbors talk so ? Fai. Yes, it was for a while in everybody's mouth. Chr. What ! and did no more of them but you come out to escape the danger? scope for faith, there must be no yielding to presumption. Suddenly stumbled and fell. — Faithful, though he has started later from the City of Destruction, yet has he gained the advance of his brother: "the last shall be first." And now Christian overtakes and over- runs his fellow, and, vaingloriously priding himself on his advantage, he stumbled and fell: "the first shall be last." Th?t vain glorious smile that played upon the lips of Christian was the rising indication of the carnal nature still living and working in him ; and, accordingly, this man, ever taught deep lessons by hard discipline, is by another fall taught a lesson of humility and watchfulness. Had sweet discourse. — Fellow-pilgrims are allowed to bear each other company, so that they may entertain and encourage each other in Christian conversation : "They that feared the Lord spake often one to another " (M il. 3: 16). The discourse of these men turns upon their experiences of the way. They had been fellow-townsmen in the City of Destruction, and are now fellow-travellers tO' the City of Zion. Faithful, having started later than Christian, is enabled to report the more recent intelligence of the doings of the citizens of Destruction. And, first of all, he reports that Christian's setting out on pilgrimage had caused an awakening and inquiry about his expedition, and the object of it. The majority talked disparag- ingly of his undertaking; but convictions were awakened in at least the mind of Faithful, who, feeling thiit " Destruction " was not only destroying many souls, but wa» also itself to be destroyed, made haste to escape, and to follow as speedily as possible the example of Christian. The example of a sinner forsaking sin and the associations of sin is not without its eflfect upon those that are left behind. Such influences are felt, and often tend f j bring forth blessed results. Christian and Faithful. 127 ^ smile, g gopd lot rise )gether, them in lad that r spirits ompany :refore I I, before ilk pres- ort time ne out to way. They the City of -travellers to iving started led to report :he doings of d, first of all, setting out I awakening ion, and the :ed disparag- t convictions the mind of Destruction " iouls, but waS' lade haste to ily as possible The example »e associations ;t upon those influences are forth blessed Fai. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly believe it. For, in the heat ot the dis- course, I heard some of them deridingl^ speak of you, and of y(Mjr desperate journey ; for so they called this your pilgrimage. But laid believe, and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone from above; and therefore I have made mine escape. Chr. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable ? Fai, Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he came at 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. Chr. And what said the neighbors to him ? Fai. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in deri- sion, and that among all sort^ of people ; some do mock and despise him, and scarce will any set him on work. He is now seven times worse than if he had neyer gone out of the city. Chr. But why should they be so set against him, since they also despised the way that he forsook ? Fai. Oh ! they say, hang him ; he is turn-coat ! he was not true to his profession ! I think God has stirred -up even his enemies to hiss at him, and make him a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way (Jer. 29: 18, 19). Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came out ? Fax, 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. Chr. 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 hath happened to him according to the true proverb, The dog is turned to his own vomit again; and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire" (2 Peter 2: 22). Fai. They are my fears of him too ; but who can hinder that which will be? Well, neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let us leave him, and talk of things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now In this conversation " neighbor Pliable " is also called to mind. We are informed of his return to Destruction, his reception by his old companions ; their not very flattering opinion respecting him, and that he is now worse than if lie had never set out at all. Things that concern ourse/ves.— This is wise counsel of Christian. Our disposition gen- erally is rather to talk of others than look to ourselves ; to speak of the failure of other men rather than review our own progress. We are now enabled to read the records of "rrimni 128 The Pilgrims Progress. srriif mm 1 FAITHFUL COMES Ik, THE HEEP OF CHRISTIAN what you have met with m the way as you came; for I know you have met with some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder. Fai. I escaped the Slough that I perceive you fell into, and got up to the gatewidiout that danger; only I met with one whose name was Wanton, that had like to have done me a mischief. CiiR. It was well you escaped her net; Joseph was hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as you did; but it had like to have cost him his life (Gen. 39: 11-13). But what did she do to you ? Fai. 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. it ir a second pilgrimage, in the experience of a new Pilgrim, whose name is Faithful. In this review, it appears that Faithful escaped most of the dangers that had be- fallen his friend, but had encountered other and different temptations and snares, which specially beset his own path. His progress to the Wicket-gate was, indeed, without the downfall of Despond, and without the inter- vention of Worldlv-wiseman's ill advice ; and yet not altogether \vith()ut danger, for one whose name was Wanto.n crossed his 'Hi Christian and Faithful. 129 N you have to, and got rhose name lard put to o have cost ou ? ing, what a le with her, . His progress ;ed, without the ■ithout the inter- .an's ill advice; lout danger, for iTON ciossed his Chr, science. Fai. Chr Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good con- You know what I mean — all carnal and fleshly content. Thank God you have escaped her ; " the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into her ditch" (Prov. 22: 14). Fai. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no. Chr. Why, I trow you did not consent to her desires. Fai. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing that I had seen, which saith, " Her steps take hold on heir* (Prov. 5:4). So I shut mine eyes because I would not be bewitched with her looks (Job 31: i); then she railed on me, and I went my way. Chr. Did you meet with no otherassault as you came? Fai. 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 I dwell in the town of Deceit (Eph. 4: 22). I asked him then what was his work ? and what 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. I 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 in the world, and that his ser- vants were those of his own begetting. Then I asked 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 (i John .2 : 16). Then I asked how path, and sought to lure him into her net. There are many pilgrims who would seek for the " steps " in Despond, and stoutly re- sist the plea of self-righteousness, who yet, through the weakness of their nature, would yield t'.iemselves to the winning ways and seductive influences of this temptation of the flesh, and thus fall away into peril more deep and miry than Despond. In climbing this hill, a more easy and gentle service is offered by an aged man, whose gray hairs would, at first sight, seem to claim respect for his advice and counsel. This was Adam the First — the old Adam, 9 " of the earth, earthy " — whose service and work and wages are all carnal and corrupt- ible. Faithful was enabled to resist the over- tares of " the old man." But with what rending of the flesh and spirit is this parting made between the Christian and the old Adam ! It needs a violent effort, and great grace withal, to be delivered fully from "the body of this death." And even then we are not wholly rid of his influence ; for, moved with malice and hatred against us, he stirs up many a foe, and sends many a messenger of Satan to buffet us. mmmmmmmBm 130 TAe Pilgrims Progress. :|t I. long time he would have me to live with him ? And he told me, as long as he lived himself. Chr. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last ? Fai. Why, at first I found m self somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I thought he spa. . very fair ; but looking in his forehead as I talked with him, I saw there written, " Put off the old man with his deeds." Chr. And how then ? Fai. Then it came burning hot mto 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 of 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 with him ; but just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hoi . 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 man !" (Rom. 7 : 24). 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 ; so he overtook me just about the place where the settle stands. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me ; but, being overcome with sleep, I there lost this Roll out of my bosom. Fai. But, good brother, hear me out; so soon as the man over- took 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 The place where the settle stands. — Here, again, their experiences meet, though in a different form. At the place where Chris- tian losl his Roll, Faithful encountered another and different downfall. One, whose name was Moses, overtook him, and dealt hardly with— him sharply, abruptly, severely, mercilessly. It is a brief scene, but elo- quently instructive — a word, a blow ; the Pilgrim falls; another blow, and he is as one dead ; a plea for mercy, and in reply, not mercy, but another \ low ! This disci- pline of chastisement and wrath is stayed by the interposition of One who passed by. There is no more telling or touching sen- timent in the whole Pilgrim's Progress than that which describes the marks by which this passing Stranger is recognized — " I perceived the holes in his hands and in his side! " It is but a single touch of the pencil, and lo, a complete pict" .e stands be- fore the eye, illustrative of the great truth — " The Law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came of Jesus Christ." Bunyan well describes the power and wrath of the Law, where, in his treatise on "Justifica- tion," he writes — "As the Law giveth no strength, nor life to keep it, so it accepeth none of them that are under it. Sin and die, is forever its language. There is no middle way in the Law. It hath not ears to. hear, nor heart to pity its penitent ones," \ • The Old Man and Faithful. 131 me, a& you to to go in his [he old le said, use he would nd told ike my »ut just ;sh, and ed part (Rom. [nd me, ook me but, Dsom. in over- ced me, myself marks by ognized — ids and in uch of the stands be- eat truth — but grace Runyan rath of the Justifica- giveth no accepeth Sin and here is no not ears to- tent ones.'" I I 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 backward ; so I lay at his feet as dead, as before. So when I came to myself again I cried him mercy ; but he said, I know not how to show mercy; and with that he knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by and bid him forbear. Chr. Who was it that bid him forbear ? Fai. I did not know him at first, but as he went by I perceived the holes in his hands and in his side : then I concluded that he was our Lord. ' So I went up the hill. Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth not, neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law. Fai. I know it very well ; it is not the first time that he has met with me. It was he who came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he would burn my house over my head if I stayed there. Chr. But did you see the house that stood there on the top of that hill on the side of which Moses met you ? Fai. 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. Chr. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by ; but I wish you had called at the house, for they v^ould 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? Fai. 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, Arro- And in this remarkable scene he beautifully describes the power and grace of Jesus : by those wounds in his hands, and in his feet, and in his side, he delivers us from the Law. He passes by, and bids the Law refrain, be- cause those open wounds have satisfied all its weightiest demands upon the sinner, and present to us a better than a legal righteous- ness — the righteousness of God in Christ. " By his stripes we are healed." I met one Discontent. — Such are some of the enemies we meet with on the road, who assault the citadel of the soul, and strive to take it, and dislodge the great Master that reigns within. There are also other ene- mies that are as thorns in the side of the I II (■ \' un '!'h 'Ui m % 1 < 1 t •I I lili ■ i X w H C O w 132 Shame s Discourse with Faithful. 133 %W .'Hs gancy, Self-conceit, 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. Chr. Well, and how did you answer him? Fai. I told him that, although all these that he named might claim kindred of me, and, that righdy (for indeed they were my relations according to the flesh), yet since I have become a pilgrim they have disowned me, as I have also rejected them, and therefore they are 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 our affections. Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley ? Fai. Yes, 1 met with Shame; but of all the mtr 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. Chr. Why, what did he say to you ? Fai. 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 himself from that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. He ob- jected, also, that but 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 lo be of a voluntary fondness to venture the loss of all 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 under- standing in all natural science (John 7 : 48 ; i Cor. i: 26; 3: 18; %^ Pilgrim, annoying and harassing him with a vexatious warfare. Of this latter class was Discontent. He appeals to the temper and spirit of Faithful, and is a type of a large class of men with whom we meet in the world. Discontent has succeeded in turning away many from the better land, by sug- gesting worldly motives, and proposing the objections of worldly minds. Discontent meets many of us day by day. And as this kind of temptation is frequent, so the an- swer of Faithful is important : he pleads a full and final break-off of kindred and ac- quaintance ; and this severing of the ties of friendship is mutual — "they have disowned •1r ,=""•" mmmmmmmmtui :!|i i :4 W m. 134 TAe Pilgiims Progress. Phil. 3 : 7-9). 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 neigh- bor forgiveness for petty faults, or to make resdtution 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 ? Chr. And what did you say to him ? Fai. 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 Sliame fetched it up, and had also beat me quite off. Hut at last I began to con- sider that "that which is highly esteemed among men is abomination in the sight of God" (Luke 16: 15). And 1 thought again, this Shame tells me what men are ; but he 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, w 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 kingdom 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 Iq the face at his coming? (Mark 8 : 38). Should I now be ashamed of his ways and servants, 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 me, and I also have rejected them." He therefore has no more duties of friendship to perform towards them ; nor can they now de- mand that he shall so shape his conduct as to please them. Their pleasures are not his pleasures now ; nor are their ways his ways. He likes what they dislike; they hate what he loves. / met with Shame. — It is not every Pil- grim that is appointed to meet the great Apollyon in the Valley as Christian did ; but in the footsteps of Faithful's pilgrim- age most of God's servants have trod, and are still called to tread. Many a man who is a hero in earthly things is but a very cow- ard in spiritual things. Many a brave sol- dier, who would not hesitate to walk up to the cmnon's mouth, is yet deterred from following Christ by the ridicule of his com- rades. These weapons of shame have Christians Talk with Faithful. 135 FAITHFUL RESISTS SHAME. 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, let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then Be vigilant and quit themselves like men. Chr. 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; driven off many, who have consequently gone back, and walked henceforth in the paths of error and of evil. Sunshine all the rest of the way. — With the last-named temptation, the earlier trials of Faithful seem to have concluded, and for his consistency he is rewarded with clear sunshine to enlighten his path, where other" hW A i I! 136 TAe IHlgrim's Progress. 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 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, not- withstanding 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" (Prov. 3: 35). Fai. I think we must cry to Him, for help against Shame, that would have us be " valiant for truth upon the earth." Chr. You say true ; but did you meet nobody else in that valley ? Fai. 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. Chr. It was well for you ; I am sure it fared far otherwise with me. I had for a long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that foul fiend ApoUyon ; 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; but I "cried to God, and he heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles." Then I entered into the Valley 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. wise he would have been most exposed to danger and disaster — in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. How diverse are the experiences of God's children ! Sometimes through severity, and sometimes through gentleness (but in the severest discipline there is goodness still) are they !°d all the way to their journey's end Where one man has darkness and devils to deal with, another has God's blessed sunshine to cheer him, his rod and his staff to comfort him. It is an alternat- ing experience ; not always darkness, nor always sunshine, but some of each ; and, perhaps, each by turns. Thus it is that God leads his people; and his all-wise provi- dence appoints the hard or easy, the joyful or the sorrowful, the bitter or the sweet. To- day at Marah's bitter waters ; to-morrow be- neath the shade of Elim's palm trees. " So it is here with us on earth, and so I do remember it has ever been : The bitter and the sweet, the grief and joy, Lie near together, but a day t)etween." )t to put of that e would for, not- )ne else, shall be Line, that : in that the way f Death, ►therwise ered into n ; yea, I e got me J shed me ny hand, d, and he Then I i no light ave been^ the sun lore ease irkness, nor each ; and, t is that God -wise provi- y, the joyful i sweet. To- -morrow be- trees. and so in : ief and joy, between." ATHEIST. fii l| ! H I! H I aHOMHIi* CHAPTER XII. Talkative. ' In t!he following scene, a man whose name is Talkative joins himself to the Pil- grims. The experience of Christian enables him at once to take the measure of the man, and to detect the hollowness of his profession. Faithful is for a time deceived ; he is even captivated by this "brave companion," who, to his mind, promises to make "a very excellent Pilgrim." And here commences one of those self-drawn pictures which are found at intervals throughout the narrative. The talkative professor is a type of a class of pro- fessing Christians. It has been said, " The deepest waters are the most silent ; empty ves- sels make the greatest sound, and tinkling cymbals the worst music." [OREOVER, 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 besides them; for in this place there was room ei ough 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 : Friend, whither away ? are you going to the heavenly country ? . Talk. I am going to that same place. Fax. That is well ; then I hope we may have your good company ? Talk. With a very good will will I be your companion. Fax. Come on then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in discoursing of things that are profitable. Talk. 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 that 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 hath been a trouble to me. Fax. That is indeed a thing to be lamented ; for what thing so Whose name is Talkative. — The skill of the writer enables him to allow Talkative to draw his own picture, and to represent his own character. And as he reveals himself. he is a mere flippant talker, a shallow pro- fessor. To talk of the things of God.—Thx^ is the sum and substance of Talkative's idea of (137) 138 The Pilgrim s Progress. worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of heaven ? Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your saying is full of convic- tion ; and, I will add, what thing is so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God ? What thing is so pleasant? that is, if a man hath any delight in things that are wonderful ; 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, and so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture ? Fai. That's true ; but to be profited by such things in our talk should be that which we design. , ' . ' Talk. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things is most profitable ; for by so doing a man 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 by talk 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. Fal All this is true, and glad I am to hear these things from you. Talk. 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 ignorantly live in the works of the law, by the which a man can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven. m religion — " to talk." And the subject-mat- ter of his conversation further discloses the lack of heartfelt, experimental religion ; for his topics are such as " history, mystery, miracles, wonders, and signs." These sub- jects, no doubt, are calculated to interest and instruct true Christian students, if, as Faith- ful says, they are studied to the " profit " of the soul. But it is not with this view that Talkative indulges in his wordy specula- tions. His object is simply to get, or, more likely, to display, " knowledge " — " striving about words to no profit, but to the subvert- ing of the hearers." To what length men may "talk" about religion, and how near they may, all the time, keep to the strict propriety of Christian conversation, appears from the circumstance that, till better informed by his more experi- enced brother, Faithful was altogether deceived by the specious language of this talkative professor. Faithful seems to have regarded him not with suspicion, but with " wonder," and perhaps with admira- tion, when he thus lightly tripped along the whole permanent way of successive topics, upon which he was ready to discourse : anything on any subject, in heaven or on earth ; on morals or religion ; on secular or sacred things ; on the history of the past, or th, as are of convic- jrofitable, ;? that is, nstance, if hings; or here shall 1, as in the n our talk Sfs is most ,ny things; igs above. ^ learn the ; the need ,y learn by ; like. By )nsolations may learn istruct the > from you. mderstand their soul, the law, by teaven. mny, all the ty of Christian ; circumstance s more experi- ras altogether iguage of this UL seems to suspicion, but with admira- iped along the cessive topics, to discourse : heaven or on on secular or of the past, or .";i 1 139 ; ■I'' Hi lir-ii Wl i l!l "II ! 140 TAe Pilgrims Progress. Fai. 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. Talk. All this 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 yon a hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this. VVell, ihen, said P'aithful, what is that one thing that we shall at this time found our discourse upon? Talk. 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 circumstantial : provided that all be done to our profit. Now did Faithful begin to wonder ; and stepping to Christian (for he 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 very excellent pilgrim. At this, Christian modestly smiled and said, This man, with whom you are so taken, will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not. Fal Do you know him then? CtiR. Know him ! yes, better than he knows himself. Fal. Pray what is he ? Chr. His name is Talkative ; he dwelleth . i our town. I wonder that you should be a stranger to him ; only I consider that our town is large. Fal Whose son is he? and whereabout doth he dwell ? Chr. He is the son of one Say-well ; he dwelt in Prating-row; the mystery of the future ; on topics far off, or near home ; on everything imaginable ; on anything that anybody pleased ! Truly, a very encyclopaedia of spiritual knowledge was this man Talkative! Christian modestly smiled. — That smile indicated Christian's better knowledge of the man, his shrewd idea that Faithful had thus far been deceived, and that ere long he would discover his mistake. In- deed, this incredulous smile of Christian's at once produced an effect upon Faithi UL, who expresses a desire to know more about his new companion. In this information, subsequently given by Christian, new vigor is added to the description of the char- acter of Talkative. His family and his place of residence are both'in keeping with his name and nature. These associations of the man are well put together by the writer of the Allegory, making up a com- plete picture of what Bunyan means to in- dicate under the name of Talkative. This man is no stranger to the words, "prayer," "repentance," "faith," "new birth " and such like. The words are found in his vocabulary ; their sound is upon his lips ; but there is not a particle of their inner spirit or power residing in his heart; "he knows but only to talk of them." 5 the gift ly by the : nothing ^orks. I this. i shall at )r things or things things at ided that stian (for tly, What <.e a very ith whom y of them Christiar'^ Estimate of Talkative. 141 I wonder our town 1? ating-row; 1 of the char- nily and his keeping with \ associations ether by the 5 up a corn- means to in- LATIVE. «he words, aith," " new rds are found d is upon his of their inner 5 heart; "he and he is known of all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative in Prating-row ; and, notwithstanding Kis fine tongue, he is ibut a very sorry fellow, Fai. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. Chr. That is, to them that have not thorough acquaintance with him; for he is best abroad ; near home he is I'gly enough. Your say- ing 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. Fai. But ! am ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled. Chr. 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 has in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or conversation ; all he hath lieth in his tongue ; and his religion is to make a noise therewith. Fai. Say you so ? then am I in this man greatly deceived. Chr. 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" (Matt. 23: 3; i Cor. 4: 20). He talketh o^oray. r, of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth; but hj knows li.t only to talk of them. I have been in his family, and have observed him both at homcji nd abroad ; and I know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of religion as the white of an t.'g^ 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 (Rom. 2; 23: 24). He is the very stain, reproach, and shame of religion, to all diat know him ; it can hardly have a good word in all that end of the town where he dwells, through him. Thus say the common 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 unrea- Empty of religion. — Whatsoever may be the pride of his bearing, the boastfulness of his professions, or the vanity of his v/ords, he is discovered in all practical things to be utterly devoid of the power of religion. In his real self, in his secret heart, in his family circle, or in his social relationships, there is neither religious motive nor practice of relig- ion. All the religion that is in h'ni evapor- ates in words ; and as example, like water, descends, so his children already begin to- walk in the evil ways of their father. Dis- honor is thus done to the sacred name and holy principles of true religion, through the insincerity and hypocrisy of those professors who " say and do not." «.: ;i'' 142 The Pilgrim's Progress. l! sonable with his servants, that they neither know how to do for or speak to him. Men that have any deaUng with him say, it is better to deal with a Turk than with him, for fairer dealing they shall have at his 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 2i foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first appearance of a tender con- science), he calls them fools and blockheads, and by no means will employ them in much, or speak to their commendations 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 prevents not, the ruin of many more. Fai. 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 that you speak these things of ill-will, but because ii. is even so as you say. Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might perhaps have thought of him as at the first you did ; yea, had I 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 morp 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. Fai. Well, I see that saying -ax^A doing 2lX& two things, and here- after I shall better observe this distinction. Chr. 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 carcass, so saying, if it be alone, is but a dead carcass also. The soul Foolish timorousness. — This is Talka- tive's more elegant synonym for "a tender conscience." The advice of this inward monitor, this law of God "written on our hearts," is reduced to the level of a vain alarm, a groundless fear. Surely, when men have accustomed themselves to speak famil- iarly of all the dread realities of religion, and with a mere lip-service to utter words on which eternity depends, conscience must be scared, and lost to all sense of the deep and eternal meaning of the words utterec^. Saying and doing are two things. — The words of the talker are belied by his works. Hence, mere words without> works to corre- spond are but a dead letter, a body without the soul. It is to such a state of spiritual death St. James alludes, when he writes, " What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works ? " (James 2 : 14V The Apostle here addresses those who talk of faith, but have nothing whereby to manifest it. And this is the great object of the present scene of the Al- Christian's Advice about Talkative. 143 ) do for or t is better shall have ^ond them, igs up his n a foolish snder con- means will 'ore others, life caused ot, the ruin I ; not only iristian you ipeak these jrhaps have this report ive thought n's mouths things, yea, \ can prove ; they can him among s, and here- e as are the but a dead The soul 10 things. — The d by his works, works to corre- a body without ;ate of spiritual krhen he writes, ithren, though a ve not works ? " e here addresses t have nothing nd this is the scene of the Al- of religion is the practical part: "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this. To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world" (Jas. • 1:2, 3, 22-27). This Talkative is not aware of; bethinks tXvAt 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 ac- cording to their fruits ; it will not be said then, Did you believe ? but, Were you doers or talkers only ? and accordingly shall they be judged (Matt. 13: 23, 25, 31-46). The end of the world is compared to our harvest; 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 profession of Talkative will be at that day. • ' Fai. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he de- scribeth the beast that is clean ; he is such a one thatparteth the hoof and cheweth the cud ; not that parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only (Lev. 1 1; Deut. 14). The hare cheweth the cud, but yet is unclean because he parteth not the hoof. And this truly resem- bleth 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 a dog or bear ; and therefore he is unclean. Chr. 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 cym- another place, "thing's without bais ; tnat is, as ne expc life-giving sound " (i Cor. 13: 1-3; 14: 7). place, "tnmgs " Things without life that is, without the true faith and grace of the gospel ; and conse- legory, as stated by Scott in his annotations : " Talkative seems to have been inti-oduced on purpose that the author might have a fair opportunity of stating his sentiments concerning the practical nature of evangel- ical religion, to which numbers in his day were too inattentive; so that this admired allegory has fully established the imporr.ant distinction between a dead and a living faith, on which the whole controversy de- pends." The power of religion. — Faithful is un- deceived, and now perceives the character of his new companion. There is a spirit of rebuke observable all through Christian's dealing with Talkative. He does not speak with him directly, but instructs his fellow-pilgrim how to probe the man's heart and conscience, and to expose his shallow pretence to piety, and thus either to reform him, or to get rid of his company altogether. Hence Faithful is instructed to challenge the loquacious pilgrim " into some serious discourse about the power of religion." 1 144 The Pilgrim's Progress. FAITHFUL CONVERSES WITH TALKATIVE. quently 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. Fai. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but am as sick of it now. What shall we do to be rid of him ? Chr. 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. Fal What would you have me to do ? Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse about the power of religion ; and ask him plainly (when he has Talkative soon displays his ignorance of the principles of vital religion, and then lays f himself open to a series of personal inquiries as to the possession of religion in his own heart; whereupon, being sore pressed by .the faithful questions of the Pilgrim, Talk- ative loses temper, and ultimately separates himself from company so uncongenial to his own spirit and nature. Tlie Question. — A most important and essential inquiry is that now proposed by Faithful — " How doth the saving grace of God discover itself when it is in the heart of man?" Talkative is somewhat puzzled, Faithful reasons with Talkative. 145 •^g^'^^gm oi¥«^»*»*" heaven by their but am hall find }ocl shall iiscourse he has genial to his jortant and roposed by ing grace of the heart of hat puzzled, approved of it, for that he will) whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to T-^^kative, Come, what cheer ? how is it now ? Talk. Thank you, well ; I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this time. • Fai. 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 ? Talk. 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 outcry against sin. Secondly Fal 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. Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying out against, and abhorring of, sin ? . , Fal Oh ! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin, of policy, but he cannot abhor it but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it. I have heard many cry 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 holy ; but she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have com- mitted uncleanness with him (Gen. 39: 11-15). Some cry out against sin, even as the mother cries out against her child in her lap, when she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it. ■ • . Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. but he has recourse to words for all that, and proceeds to his divisions and subdi- visions, until stayed in his flood of words by Faithful, who will examine each point in succession. A great outcry against sin. — This is the fint of the marks of saving grace, as alleged by Talkative. The sequel of the conver- sr.tion will show how skilful was Bunyan, in thus interweaving in the Allegory so much of true doctrine as a corrective of that which is false. Here he shows that to talk 10 against sin is not the same as to depart from sin. Great knowledge, etc. — Knowledge is not salvation ; but, if trusted to and rested in, it may be our condemnation. Knowledge of the Master's will is that thing that makes the difference between the " few stripes " and the " many stripes," according as it leads, or does not lead, to the doing of the deeds of duty. The question answered. — Talkative has given unsatisfactory and insufficient an- 146 The Pilgrim's Progress. 1 1 ? m ill Fat. No, not I ; I am only for setting things right. But what is the second thing whereby you would prove a discovery of the work of grace in the heart? Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries. Fai. This sign should have been first ; but, first or last, it is also false ; for knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of the gospel, and yet no work of grace in the soul (i Cor. 13), Yea, if a man have all knowledge he may yv'^t be nothing, and so consequently be no child of God. When Christ said, "Do you know all these things?" and the disciples hi>d answered, Yes; he added, "Blessed are ye if ye do them." He dotH not lay the blessing in the knowing 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 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 speculation of things, and knowledge that is accompanied with the grace of faith and 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 Christiar is not content: "Give me understanding, and I shall keep thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart" (Ps. 1 19 : 34). Talk. You lie at the catch again ; this is not for edification. Fal Well, if you please, propound another sign how this work of grace discovereth itself where it is. Talk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. Fal Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it ? Talk. You may use your liberty. swers to the searching inquiry of Faithful respecting the discovery of saving grace in thesouL He has offered a " firstly" and a "secondly," and neither of these is correct. He is now challenged still further to define the marks and tokens of this indwelling grace. But he frets over his task, offended at the plain speech of Faithful, and de- clines to render any further answer to his questions. Whereupon Faithful under- takes to reply to his,own inquiry. The answer is two-fold : saving grace, in the root of faith, must be discovered to him that hath it ; and, in the fruit of faith, it must be manifested to others. The discovery of the gift of grace to one's own conscience is essential to a Christian man's peace and comfort. It is worthy of note, that the process of this discovery, as/ here described, follows the irack of the pil- grimage, as already traversed by our Pil- grim. Here, Faithful is made to give ex- Faithful reasons with Talkative. 147 Fai. a work of grace in the soul discovereth itself, either to him that hath it, or to standers-by. To him that hath it, thus : it gives him conviction of sin, especially of the defilement 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 (Ps. 38: 18; Mark 16: 16; John 16: 8, 9; Acts 4: 12; Rom. 7 : 24). This sight and sense of things worketh in him sorrow and shame for sin ; he findeth, moreover, 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, etc., the promise is made (Jer. 31 : 19; Matt. 5:6; Gal. I : 15, 16; Rev. 21 : 6). Now, according to the strength or weakness of his faith in his Saviour, so is 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: First, by an experimental confession of his faith in Christ. Secondly, 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 (Job 42: 5, 6; Ps. 50: 23; Ezek. 20: 43; Matt. 5 : 8; John 14: 15; Rom. 10: 9, 10; Phil, i: 27). pression to Christian's own actual experi- ence : (i) Conviction of sin, with the heavy consciousness of impending wrath ; (2) sor- row and shame, confusion of spirit, and hasty flight ; (3) the revelation of Christ, the Crucified One, as the Saviour ; (4) the necessity of closing with the salvation that is now offered in Christ ; (5) the new nature with new appetites, hungering and thirsting after righteousness, which appetites are sat- isfied in communion with Jesus, and with his people ; (6) in proportion to faith is the measure of joy or sorrow, strength or weak- ness — as in the Valley of Humiliation, and in the dark transit through the Shadow of Death. And with all these progressive signs and symptoms of saving grace, it needs a quickened power of spiritual vision and dis- cernment, for these things are " spiritually discerned" (i Cor. 2: 14). All these inward evidences, thus discovered and made known, constitute the witness of the Spirit with our spirit, that we are the children of God (Rom. 8: 16). r^-^' . i. J»^ F^s. ►J *J!V. ■ • t^ Ij- C^JjHI X fcvAjH H I flw < t^ra, U- ^M C \|ji ^. la < ^ fl h 1 < ii H 11 ' ' t/ >^ pi Talkative leaves the Pilgrims. 149 And now, Sir, as to this brief description of the work of g^race, and also the discovery of it, if you have aii<^ht to object, object ; if not, then give me leave to propound to you a second question. Talk. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear ; let me therefore have your second question. Fai. It is this: Do you experience this first part of this description of it? and doth your life and conversation testify the same? or standeth your relijLjion "in word or in tongue," and not "in deed and trutli?" 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 commendelh himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth." Besides, to say I am thus, when my conversation and all riy neigh- bors tell me I lie, is great wickedness. 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 I disposed to give an answer to such questions ; because I count not myself bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a catechiscr ; and, though you should do so, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But 1 pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions ? Fai. 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 fareth the worse for your ungodly conversation ; that some already have stumbled at your wicked ways, and that more are in Do you experience this ? — Do you ? Faithful has, indeed, dispatched the barbed arrow straight into the heart of Talkative. The answer to such a soul-searching ques- tion must be given in the tribunal of con- science, and in the light of God's counte- nance. la/kative began to blush. — This looks hopeful ; but it proves too transient an effect to justify the existence of any abiding prin- ciple of good. Talkative hardens into strong resistance, chafes over his discomfit- ure, calls his faithful monitor by opprobrious epithets, and provokes a still heavier cen- sure, and a yet more personal reproof. " A fool's lips enter into contention, and his mouth calleth for strokes " (Prov. i8 : 6). It is not every one that could bear this faithful dealing, and this outspoken speech. Men are not prepared to hear these wither- ing admonitions; nor are they willing to acknowledge the likeness when depicted by the light" of old Tell-truth. Talkative is not aijle to endure the scathing speech of Faithful, and, accordingly, he bids him adieu. Rebuked, reproved, but not reformed, this loquacious professor has departed on his 150 TIu Pilgrim's Progress. \i\m.. i , n danger of being destroyed thereby ; your religion and an alehouse, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and \ain 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. Talk. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge so rashly as you do, I cinnot but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed with ; and so, adieu ! Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, I told you how it would happen ; your words and his lusts could not agree. 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 suppose he will do) as he is, he would have been but a blot in our company ; besides, the apostle says, "From such withdraw thyself" Fai. 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 his blood if he perisheth. Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did ; thare is but little of this faithful dealing with men nowadays, and that makes religion to stink in the nostrils of many as it doth ; for they are these talkative fools, whose religion is onlyin words, and who 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 be either made more comfortable toV religion, or the company of saints would be too hot for them. How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes ! How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes To drive down all before him ! liut 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 that heart-work knows. Thus they went on talking of what they had seen on 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. way. Occasion is then taken by the two Pilgrims (for Christian has once more re- joined his fellow) to speak together upon this class of men, who assume the outer garb and guise of religion, and know noth- ing of its inner power. These are the men that do harm to religion ; they encourage good hopes only to disappoint. CHAPTER XIII. Vanity Fair. In the preceding chapter we left our Pilgrims traversing " a wilderness." There, though lonely, they would be comparatively safe, strengthening each other in Christian communion, and supporting each other in Christian faith and hope. But they are drawing near to an inhabited city — a city proverbial for its vanity, gayety, profanity and general for- getfulness of God, and disregard to his Word and Commandments. The name of this town is Vanity ; and through it our Pilgrims are introduced to the scenes of Vanity Fair. Before committing them to these perils, a watchful Providence provides for them a timely admoni- tion at the hands of Evangelist. OW when they were got almost quite out of this wilder- ness, Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after them, and he knew him. Oh ! said Faithful to his brother, Who comes yonder ? Then Christian looked, and said. It is my good friend Evangelist. Aye, and my good friend, too, said Faithful, for it was he that set me tlie way to the gate. Now was Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted them : Peace be with you, dearly beloved ; and peace be to your helpers (i Chron. 12: 18). Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist ; the sight of thy countenance brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied laboring for my eternal good. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful, thy com- pany, O sweet Evangelist, how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims ! 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 ? My good friend Evangelist. — The two Pilgrims agree in owning Evangelist as their "good friend." He had discharged his kindly office in behalf of both ; and it was through his advice and ministry that Faithful, as well as Christian, had been directed from the City of Destruction to the Wicket-gate. Hence their mutual saluta- tions and friendly greetings. Evangelist is glad once more to meet those whose feet he has guided into the way of peace ; and the Pilgrims are glad once more to hear the welcome voice, and to enjoy the profitable intercourse of one who has hitherto proved himself so good a friend and counsellor. This scene describes the heartfelt anxiety (151) «l i Nil |i! 152 T/ie Pilgrims Progress. CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL ENTER THE TOWN OF VANITY. Then Christian ^nd Faithful told him of all things that had hap- pened to them in the way ; and how, and with what difficulty, they had arrived to that place. Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you met with trials, but that you have been victors, and for that you have, notwithstand- ing many weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day. I say right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine own sake and yours. and longing of the true minister respecting the progress and attainments of those who, through his ministry, have been brought to Christ. It also describes the affectionate at- tachment which binds him to the hearts of those who are his children in the Gospel. Thus the beloved disciple speaks: " I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth " (3 John 4). How hath it fared with you f — These oc- casional reunions of minister and people are designed for the purpose of review and retrospect, as well as of prospect and en- couragement of hope. Intervals of time and absence sometimes leave large gaps in spiritual experience. In other cases, the in- terval is found to have l^een well fdled up with progress in knowledge and experience. So it was with Christian and Faithful. Their retrospect was one of thankfulness. i Evangelist' s Parting Counsel. 153 l\, il r %az^ IP r^ifc-J 4' Mi.\. V. lad hap- ty, they th trials, thstancl- I say d yours. ^ and people review arul ct and en- Is of time i;e gaps in ises, the in- ill tilled up experience. Kaithfui.. ankfulness. I have sowed and you have reaped ; and the day is coming when " both he that sowed and they that reape \ shall rejoice together" (John 4: 36) ; that is, if you holdout; "for in due time ye shall reap' if ye faint not" (Gal. 6:9). The crown is before you, and it is an incorruptible 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, that no man take your crown" (Cor. 9: 24-27; Rev. 3: 11). You are not yet out of the gunshot of the devil ; " you have not 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 of 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 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 folio weth : My sons, you have heard in the words of the truth of the gos- pel, "that you must through great tribulations enter into the king- dom of heaven;" and again, that "in every city bonds and afflic- tions abide 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 and praise to tnatGod who had led them all the way, and tilled their cup so full with his loving-kindness and tender mercies. Right glad am I. -Evangelist is glad, as he afterward testifies, for two reasons — " for my own sake and yours." Every min- ister has an interest in the results of the work of his ministry. It is possible for the spiritual builders to build up, not only " gold, silver, and precious stones," but also "wood, hay, and stubble" (i Cor. 3: 12). The result will not be known here, i but " the day shall declare it." j There is something touching, something j thrilling, something of a melancholy inter- i est, in this conversation between Evange- list and the Pilgrims. It reads very much like a parting address, in which the faithful I minister commits his children to the future, j and commends them to the care of the I faithful Creator. A presentiment is awak- I ened in our minds — a foreaugury of " bonds m liliHI mm 154 TAe Pilgrim! s Progress. come into a town that you will by-and-by see before you ; and in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but they will kill you ; an*-' be you sure that one or both of you must seal the testimony, which you hold, with blood; but "be ye 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 be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but be- cause he will escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest r/ 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 keep- ing of your souls to God, 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 ; the 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 beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where it is kept is "lighter than vanity," and 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" (Eccles. i : 2, 14; 2: II, 17; 11:8; Isaiah 40: 17). The fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of ancient stand- ing ; I will show you the original of it. Almost five thousand years agone there were pilgrims walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest persons are, and Beelzebub, ApoUyon 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 and afflictions ;" and with a sad and uncer- tain spirit we follow the footsteps of Chris- tian and Faithful, as, departing from the farewell of Evangelist, they contemplate in the distance the city of which they had been forewarned. " Methought I saw a city dazzling bright, Where all were in pursuit of prospects fair. , Of wealth and fame and many a proud delight, That promised happiness, but not a care." Vanity Fair. — This inimitable sketch of a world of pomp and pleasure, of sin and sorrow, of vanity of vanities, has ever been regarded as one of the chiefest and choicest scenes of the Pilgrim's Progress. It de- scribes the emptiness of this vain world ; the consistency of the Christian's walk ; the esti- mate in which the Christian can afford to hold its best and choicest gifts and glories. But while men spend and are spent for the pal- try and passing enjoyments of the world, the child of God is journeying to the better land, sitting loose to the things of time and sense, and looking only to the recompense of the great reward — the crown that is not of earthly glory, but " incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." Several rows and streets. — Bunyan in- Vanity Fair. 155 such merchandise sold as houses, lands, trades, places, honors, pre- ferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures ; and delights of all sorts, as whore . bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, ^nd what not. And, moreover, at this fair there are at all times to be seen juggiings, cheats, games, plays, k/oIs, 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 (viz., countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair are soonest to be found. Here is 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 and some others have taken a 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 will 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 terprets these to mean " countries and kingdoms." Seeing that the world is the Fair, the divisions and subdivisions of the world would be represented by the streets and departments of the Fair. Hence Brit- ain Row, French Row, and such like. And as each country and kingdom has its own peculiar vanities, and its own method of promoting the spirit of worldliness, so each is represented here as occupying a section of the fair-ground, and contributing its mer- chandise to " vanity of vanities." The ware of Rome. — This is specially mentioned, owing to the influence the Church of Rome had wielded in this country in for- mer days, but which had so greatly dimin- ished in Bunyan's time. " The blood and bones and ashes of men," which the Pil- grim had observed lying all around the cave of Giant Pope, would, perhaps, best represent the reason of the decline and discourage- ment of Rome's wares in England at the period when the Allegory was written The way to the Celestial City.—k\\ Pil- grims must pass by this way. This is part of their probation, while they "seek a better country, that is, an heavenly." Here must their choice be made, here the profession of their faith, and their resistance to the tempt- ing offers of the world. This is the place in which they are enjoined to " walk by faith, and not by sight." And, as men keep eter- '•^M<«M^.Y. ...,.1 -J , o ttJ H '? Z u: Oi 156 The Pilgrims in Vanity Fair. 157 he was such a person of honor, Beelzebub had him from street to street, and showed him all the kini^doms 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 left the town without lavine out as much as one farthincr upon these vanities (Matt. 4: 8, 9 ; Luke 4: 5-7). This fair, there- fore, is an ancient thing, of long standing, and a very great fair. Now these pilgrims, as I said, mus. 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 (i Cor. 4: 9. 10). 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 end 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 cry, "Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity !" (Ps. 119: 37) and look upwards, signifying that their fade and traffic was in heaven ( Phil, 3 : 20, 21). nity in view amid the distractions of time, and desire the eternal weight of glory in preference to the phantoms of vanity, so shall they be made possessors of eternal things byand-by. But this is for the trial of their faith. Jesus once walked those streets, was tempted by those same vanities, had the offer of all the earth and all its glory cast before his feet ; and yet he, our Brother and our Friend, passed in sinless purity through all these temptations, " leaving us an exam- ple, that we should follow his steps" (i I'et. 2: 21). If, then, we would walk in safety through Vanity Fair, we must walk in the strength of Jesus, who has overcome its great promoter, Satan, Now these Pilgrims. — Christian and Faithful in Vanity Fair are intended to represent Christian men in the world — in it, but not of it. The world is to them a strange place, and they are to the world a strange people. The world knows them not, understands them not, loves them not. There is alienation and estrangement be- tween the Christian and the world ; and this is indicated by the (spiritual) raiment, speech and spirit of the Pilgrhns. They are unlike not only in outward dress, but also in the inward adorning of a meek and quiet spirit — " all glorious within." The men of Vanity (did they but know it) are clothed in rags. Not one of them is clothed in courtly dress ; nor is any pre- 158 Tkv /v. rim's Progress. One chanced, mockingly, beiicMing the carriages of the men, to say unto them. What will ye buy? but they, looking gravely upon him, said, "We buy the truth" (Prov. 23 : 23). At that there was an occasion tj^ken to despise the men the more, some mocking, some taunting thf.m. 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 those 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 (Heb. II : 13-16) ; 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 confusion in the fair. Therefore they took them 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 bless- ing," and giving good words for bad, and kindness for injuries done; some men in the fair, that were more observing and less prejudiced pared to stand before the King. They must fir§t put off the world and the love of the world, and put on the robe which Chris- tian had received at the Cross — the spotless robe of a Saviour's Righteousness. They are also unlike in speech — not in the spoken dialect, but in the spiritual utter- ance of heart and soul, out of the abundance of which the mouth speaketh. Our words are the expression of our thoughts ; and as the thoughts of the Christian man are re- newed day by day, he speaks the corre- sponding words of hoHness so unlike the speech of carnal men. It is the spirit that sneaks, and not the lips only. " O Lord, open thoi: our lips, and our mouth shall show forth thy praise ! " They are, moreover, unlike in spirit — in the spirit of their love, their choice, and their desire. Their treasure was on high, and their heart was there also ; or, as Bunyan says, " their trade and traffic was in heaven." But, the men being patient. — The spirit oj Christian forbearance, meekness and gen- tleness at all times exercises a powerful in- flue^ice upon those that are without. There The PUgtims put in the Cage. 159 ,han the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for their con- tinual abuses done by them to the men. They therefore in angry manner let fly at them again, counting then <\ bad as the men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed :onf'='oerates, and should be made partakers of their misfortune. i'he other replied that, for aught they could see, the men were quiet ?nd sober, and intended no- body any harm ; and that there were many cnat traded in their fair, that were more worthy to be put into the ^ge, 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 one to another. Then were these two poor men brought be- fore 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 m their behalf, or join themselves unto them. But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was cast upon them with so much meek- ness and patience, that it won to their side (though but few in com- parison with the rest) several of the men of the fair. This put the other party yet into 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 orders should be taken with them. So they put them in, and made theirTeet fast in the stocks. Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and were the more confirmed in were those, even in Vanity Fair, who were moved to a spirit of sympathy for the Pil- grims, some fruits of which shall by-and-by appear. Notwithstandipg their blindness and prejudice, they can yet perceive and appreciate the contrast between the perse- cutors and the persecuted. Even the un- godly can at times be persuaded, when by observation of Christian meekness and for- bearance they " take knowledge of us that we have been with Jesus." The consistency q{^\ e men, in spirit and in doctrine, tends to divide the multitude, and thus breaks the force of the opposition raised against them. Finding that they could prevail nothing against these men, but that rather a tumult was made, the men of the Fair are impelled to yet more vigorous measures, in order to suppress the protest against it by the Pil- grims. Their bondage is now made bitter to them, and the iron enters into their very ' SLul. It is in that "cage" or prison of Vanity Fair that Bunyan now writes his narrative ; and as he looks around upon his -f ■iM 160 TAe Pilgrim's Progyess. CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL PUT IN IRONS. their way and sufferings by what he told them would happen to them. They also now comforted each other, that whose lot it \ s to suffer, even he should have the best of it ; therefore each man secretly wished that he might have that preferment ; but committing themselves to the all-wise dispose of Him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the condition in which they were, until they should be other- wise disposed of. 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 bondage, and looks within, to search out the cause thereof, he reads in his own experi- ence, and in that of many of the tried and suffering members of Christ, this and the following scenes of the " Progress." How descriptive is the whole picture ren- dered by the names of the respective parties who rise in opposition to Chkistian and Faithful. Each man's name speaV:s its own tale, and is the very personification of some spiritual or earthly form of x^ i antag- onism of the world to the Churcn and peo- ple of God. The circumstances of Bunyan's days, that The Trial of Christian ami Faithful. 161 forth [AN and eaV:s its :ation of antag- ind peo- jutlge's name was Lord Hate-good ; their indictment was one and the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form ; the contents whereof were these: "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 had set itself against Him that is higher than the highest. And, said he, as for disturbance, I make none, being mySelf a man of peace ; the parties that were won to us were won by behold- ing 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 king 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 « Judge. Hold, give him his oath. So they sware him. Then he said, My lord, this man, notwith- standing his plausible name, is one of the vilest men in our country ; he neither regardeth prince nor people, law nor custom, but doeth all that he can to possess all men with certain of his disloyal notions, which he in 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 or e not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in the doing of them. Then did the Judge say unto him, Hast thou anymore to say? Envy. My lord, I could say much more, only I would not be gave a special point and power to his Alle- gory, are now past and gone ; but the real- ity remains. Envy. — This witness still continues to accuse the men of God. Envy is that spirit of the evil mind which calls reUgion a mere plausible fiction, and, through loyalty to 11 Mammon, scoffs at "the principles of faith and holiness," and, moreover, would blend into one element the reaUties of religion and the vanities of Vanity Fair. The true Chris- tian cannot accede to this unholy combina- tion. Superstition. — This is also an element of 162 The Pilgrim's Progress, wb^' tedious to the court. Yet if need be, when the other gendemen have given in their evidence, rather than anything shall be wanting that will despatch him, I will enlarge my testimony against him. So he was bid to stand by. Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon the pris- oner ; they also asked what he could say for their lord the king against him? Then they sware him; so he began: 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 that the other day I had with him in this town ; for then talkiiig with him I heard him say that our religion was naught, and such by which no man could please God. Which saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we still do wor- ship 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 the behalf of their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I have known of a long dme, and have heard him speak things that ought not to be spoke; for he hath railed on our noble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken contemptibly of his honorable friends, whose names are the Lord Oldman, the Lord Carnal-delight, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord Desire-of-vainglory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of our nobility ; and he hath said, moreover, that if all men were of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these noblemen should have any longer a being in this town. Besides he hath 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 vili- fying terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town. 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 ? accusation still urged against the true Chris- tian. It means more than is implied in the ordinary use of the term. It includes all that formal worship which is opposed to the service of true faith. Pickthank. — This is a suggestive name, and partly tells the nature of the man. He is a person who gathers what merit he can by volunteering evidence against faithful men. To instruct you in our law. — The presid- ing judge delivers his charge to the jury. The Trial of Christian and Faithful. 163 Fai. May I speak a few words in my own defence ? Judge. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain immediately on the place ; yet, that all men may see our gentle- ness towards thee, let us hear what thou hast to say. Fai. I say then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken, I never said aught but this, that vhat rule, or laws, or custom, or people, were flat against the word of God. are diametrically opposite to Christian- ity. If I have said amiss in this, convince me of my error ; and I am ready here before you to make my recantation. 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 revela- tion of the will of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the wor- ship of God that is not agreeable to Divine revelation, cannot be done but by human faith, which faith will not be profitable to eternal life. 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 tjiis 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 breasts to hang him, or save his life ; but yet I think meet to instruct you in our law. There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the r "eat, ser- vant to our prince, that, lest those of a contrary religion s' uld mul- tiply and grow too strong for him, their males should be tl* ^wn into the river (Exod. c 22). There was also an act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the great, another of his servants, that who- ever 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, This charge is based on precedents, all of which directly tend to an adverse verdict, and seem to call for the extreme penalty of the law. " The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel;" and so the people of God have ever found it to be, when the civil power has sanctioned the sword as a weapon of persecution. Bunyan ably illus- trates the continued enmity of the world against Divine faith. The spirit of intoler- 1^ H Pi I « ,li !il I I' 164 The Death of Faithful. 165 in < < > < H < W P Pi w C/5 a: should be cast into the Hons' den (Dan. 3: 6). 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 yet being apparent; but here is a crime apparent. For the second and third, you see he disputeth against our religion ; and for the treason he hath confessed he deserveth to die the death. • Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr. Blindman, Mr. No-good, Mr, Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelt\', Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable ; who every one gave in his private verdict against him among themselves, and afterwards unanimously con- cluded to bring him in guilty before the judge. And first 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 I hate the very looks 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. Hanging is too good for him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let us despatch him out of the way, said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, Might I have all the world given 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 presently 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. ance needs but power to wreak its ven- geance on all who love the Lord Jesus in sincerity and truth. The jury. — This is a keen satire on the judgment of this world when pronounced aga' ^t the servants of God. The names of the twelve men arc suggestive of all the elements of the carnal mind that go to make up the "enmity against (lod." Each of these, for some secret and personal reason, ha\es the light, and, if possible, will extin- guish it. Here is a formidable catalogue of vices arrayed against the Pilgrims of Zion. Each contributes his individual opinion in the direction of his own sin, and to the extinc- tion of the protest in the person of the man of God. As Ahab dreaded the presence of Elijah — " Hast thou found ine, O mine enemy?" (i Kings 21 : 20), or as he feared Micaiah, the son of Inihih— "Ikit I hate him ; for he doth not prophesy good cai\^- cerning me, but evil" (i Kings 22: 8) — so are all the opinions set against Faithful, and all are gathered into the final verdict — " Guilty of death." "■'1 166 The Filgrinis Progress. ill 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 there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple of horses waiting for Faithful ; who, as soon as his adver- saries had despatched 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 that overrules all things, having the power of their rage in his own hand, so wrought it about that Christian for that time escaped them .ind went his way. SUPERSTITION. ,..;! CHAPTER XIV. •^ Christian and Hopeful. Once more the scene changes. Faithful, whose ripened experience has already so tended to our instruction, has been .vithdrawn from the pilgrimage, and is " at rest." But, as it were out of the ashes of the martyr, another Pilgrim arises, to join himself to Christian, and to share the subsequent joys and sorrows and spiritual vicissitudes of the journey, even to the end. This man's name is Hopeful. |OW I saw in my dream that Christian went not forth alone ; for there was one whose name was Hopeful (being so made by the beholding of Ciiristian 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. 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 ihe fair, they overtook one that was going before them, whose name was By-ends ; so they said to him, What countryman, sir? and how far go you this way ? He told them that he came from the town of Fair-speech, and was going to the Celestial City ; but he told them not his name. Christian went not forth alone. — We have already found, in the preceding chapter, that the wrongs and indignities inflicted upon Christian and Faithful, in Vanity Fair, and their patient endurance " the same, had won over to their side a cert?.in number of the citizens. Of these some have ulti- mately .ipened into true pilgrims of the road to Zion ; but one in particular is now repre- sented as accompanying Christian on his way. The influence of good men is never wholly wasted ; many seeds rnay perish in the soil, but some will yet supply sheaves for the reaper, so that " he that soweth and he that reapeth may rejoice together." The protest of these Pilgrims, concluding with the martyrdom of Faithful, has now added one new convert to the faith of Christ and to the path of the pilgrimage. Whose name was Hopeful. — A well-chosen name, especially as the successor of Faith- ful. Faith first, and then Hope — first the groundwork, then the superstructure. We are here for the first time introduced to one who ever after proves a meet companion and profitable help to Christian, amid all the cnanging scenes of their checkered course. A brotherly covenant, — Much is meant to (167) w i J 1(58 T/ie Pilgrim's Progress. HOPEFUL JOINS COMPANY WITH CHRISTIAN From Fair-speech ! said Christian ; is there any c^ood that lives there? (Prov. 26: 25), Yes, said By-ends, I hope. Chr. Pray, sir, what may I call you ? * By. I ;•-' i a strant'i'er to you and you to me: if you be .e^oincr this way, I shall be glad of your company; if not, I must b<; content. .\v\. 'Hiis town of Fair-speech I have heard of it, and, as I remen^bv^r, tliey say it i.; a wealthy place. be include \ n this expression. He has for- saken 'U for ■ ''rist ; and in the stronj;^ con- fidence of bi'ievin^^ faith he h;is attarlied himself to the Pilj'rini of Zion — "Wliither thou j^oest. I will go; and where thou lodg- est, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." One, nuhos* name was B^'-end!. — The narrative of Hopeful has scarce bej^un, wiien it is interrupted by the intervention ol otlier piif;;rims. We are introduced to new characters on th** road, and to newex[)eri- ences of the ways of men. Kunyan fre- quently groups his characters, aivl siimmn -s them before us in a way suggested b.' the different stajjes of the loiirney. Thas. -.vhile Christian talks with By-etids. 169- I St be- as I By. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have very many rich kindred there. CiiR. Pray, who are your kindred there, if a man may be so bold ? By. Almost the whole town ; and, in particular, my Lord Turn- about, 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 a gentleman of good quality ; yet my great- grandfather was but a waterman, looking one way and rowing another, and 1 got most of my estate by the same occupation. CiiR. Are you a married man? Bv. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of a virtuous woman ; she was my Lady Feigning's daugliter : 'heiof jre- she came of a very honorable family, and is arrived to ^ui ' a ^litLh of breeding, that she knows how to carry it to all, even ^.• ;;rinceand peasant. It is true we somewhat differ in religion from u.o^-.; of the stricter sort, yet but in two small points: firsi, we nv\ er strive against wind and tide ; secondly, we are always more zeaioii- wlien Religion goes in his silver slippers. We luve much to walk witi- 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 Cfiristian came up with him again and said, Sir, ycu talk as if you knew something more than all the world doth, and, if I take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you; is not your name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech? yet in the vicinity of Vanity Fair, the Pil- grims meet with certain vain and worldly- mimled men, who hn^^er about its suburbs. Tlicse characters are introduced in order to exhibit, in this context, how tlie love ot the world hinders men from running the Chris- tian race. I'irsi amon{j this ^roup is By-ends. The character of tills style of man is most strik- iii^ly delineated in I;is name, his origin, and his acquaintances. The town of Fair-sjieech, its great wealth and luxury, ihe chaiacter- istic r imes of its nobility and ;jentry, con- stitue I well-wrought picture of Bunyan's own times. The spiritual indifference and .apathy of Mr. Smooth-man, Hie double- niindedness of Mr. Facing-both-wavs, and the neutrality of Mr. Anvthis(;, f'irm a comprehensive picture of a generation titterly devoted to wrrldliness. Mr. Two-tongues, " tlie p;.rson of the parish," is another touch of tlie pencil, con- vey) njr by a single stroke the character oi many of the clergy of chat period. 170 The Pilgrim's Progress, > 1 1 ! \. 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 as a reproach, as other good men have borne theirs before me. Chr. 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 I 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 mali- cious load ;ne therefore with reproach. Chr. T thought indeed that you were the man that I heard of; and, to tell you what I think, I fear t'.at 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 comnany-keeper if you will admit me your associate. Chr. 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 toe when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh the streets with applause. By. Yc;u Ui'ist not impose nor lord it over my faith; leave me to my libi:;: y, anJ i'jt me go with you. Chr No., a sttp further, unless you will do in what I propound as we. Then, said By em's, I shall never desert my old principles, since they are harniif^ss 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 overcai: J me thai will be glad of my company. ^ow 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 congee ; and they also gave The rules adopted in the family of By- ends are consistent with all otiier character- istics of the race. These worldly-wise pro- fessors always contrive to go with the stream, not against it. Tlie purest days of the Church's history have ever been the days of her bitterest persecution. " What is the chaff to the wheat " in those days ? (Jer. 23 : 28). Adverse wind and tide are for the trial and victory of the faith of good and true men ; while the genial warmth of worldly pursuits encourages the growth of tares amid the pure grain. Three men following Mr. Hy-ends — A group of men of fleshly mind is now formed, by the accession of three persons, each and The Hypocrites. 171 some 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 formerly been acquainted with ; for in their minority they were schoolfellows, and were taught by one Mr. Gripeman, 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 1 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 their view. By. They are a couple of far countrymen, that after their mode are going on pilgrimage. . Money. 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 com- pany. Save. That's bad ; but we read of some that are " righteous over much," 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 in 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 ta cing all advantages to secure my life and estate. They are for holding their notions though all other men are against them ; but I am for Religion in what and so far as the all bearing very significant names, and bound together by very characteristic asso- ciations. The design of Bunyan is still to bring his power of satire to bear upon the too prevalent sin of his age — the hypocritical profession of religion along wi h an essen- tially carnal mind and world-loving spirit. The Christian man knows that these carnal things are but for a time, and that the interests of religion and the soul stretch away into Eternity ; and, therefore, whether it be contempt or applause, his mind is still set on heavenly things ; and, \vith the Apos- tle, he is ready to say . " 1 reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to becompaied with the glory which shall be revealed " (Rom. 8 : 18). Here, then, is a company of catnal men. m I mm S^li ^} ill '!'|; m fi'fitv \t : '\ 'il The Hypocrites, 173 »< *^ > Di U o > X 7h o CD' > o ^; 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. Hold. Aye, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends; for my part, I can count 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 when the sun shines; " you see how the bee lieth still in the winter, and bestirs her only when she can have profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain and sometimes sunshine ; if they be such fools as 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 " shall 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 there- fore there need no more words about it. MoN. 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, 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 tradesman, ex., 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 extraordinary 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 who, through all so.rts of byways and by-ends, contrive to hold the world, and love their money, and save all they can. Their calcu- lations exhibit the grovelling earthliness of their minds. The worldly-wisdom, the plaus- ible speech, and the seeming prosperity of these men's counsel need only be interpreted in the light of God's Word," and weighed in the balances with eternal things, to expose their vanity, their folly, their worse than madness. TAen said Christian. — Our Pilgrim's an- swer is based on precedents and examples found in Holy Writ, which prove how earthly gain may be changed to heavenly loss. 'Tis true, God ofttimes smiles upon the earthly m I III .1 I i 174 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. MoN. I see the bottom of your question ; and with these gentle- men's good leave, I will endeavor to shape you an answer. And first, to speak to your question, as it concerns a minister himselt. Suppose a minister, a worthy man, possessed but of a very small benefice, and has in his eye a greatel", more fat and plump by far; he had 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 some of his principles ; for my part, I see no reason but a man may do this, provided he has a call, aye, 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 con- tradicted, since it is set before him by Providence. So then he may get it if he can, " making no question for conscience* «ake." 2. Besides, his desire after that benefic^e makes him more studious, a more zealous 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 that he is of a self-denying temper, of a sweet and winning deportment, and so more fit for the ministerial function. 4. 1 conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small for z. great should not, for so doing, be judged as covetous, but rather, since he is 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 an one to have but a poor employ in the world, but by becoming 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 g^ts these by becoming religous gets that career of good men, and blesses them with increase, and fills them with all manner of store and plenty; but it is quite another thing for a man to make religion a " stalk- ing-horse to get and enjoy the world." Christian, in his answer, well describes Christians Answer. 175- 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 this Mr. Money-love to Mr. By-ends' question, was highly applauded by them all ; wherefore they con- cluded upon t'^e 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 between 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. Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may answer ten thousand such questions. For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loves, as it is (John 6: 26), how much more is it abominable 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, that are of this opinion. Heathens : for, when Hamor and Shechem had a mind to the daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that there were no ways for them to come at them but by becoming circumcised, they say to their companions, "If every male of us be circumcised, as they are circum- cised, shall not their cattle and their substance and every beast of theirs be ours?" Their daughters 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. Gen. 34 : 20-24, The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion ; long this to be but a reproduction of the carnal policy of the heathen against Israel, which God permitted to be signally outwitted and overruled. A delicate plain, called Ease. — It is not all hard-going with the Pilgrims of Zion. There are times of refresh-.ng, and in the mi:!?! of toil ther*? are intervals of ease. These are generally timed according to the need of the wayfarers of the road. Ai 4 so- V .^ ? vV rf>^ ^WJ>> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I I !^ Ilia i:^ m 1.8 11.25 U III 1.6 Photographic Sdences Corporation V "Q V „-o-' :\ \ <^ o\ 23 WES. MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 1458C (716) 872-4503 '<^ .^ <<5 :\ \ 176 The Pilgrim^ s Progress. -\'.:. DEMAS TEMPTS CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL. 1 II prayers were their pretence, but to get widows' houses was their intent; and greater damnation was from God their judgment (Luke 20: 46, 47). Judas the devil was also of this religion ; he was religious for the bag, that he might be possessed of what was put therein; but he was lost, a castaway, and the very son of perdition. Simon the witch was of this religion too ; for he would have had the Holy Ghost, that he might have got money therewith; and his sentence frgm Peter's mouth was accordingly (Acts 8: 18-23). Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man that takes up religion for the world, will throw away religion for the world; for so now, after the hardships and bitter experi- ences of Vanity Fair, and the still further interruption of their onward course by the obtrusive companionship of By-ends and his comrades, our Pilgrims are permitted to tread the soft and dehcate glade called Ease. This oasis in the desert was narrow, and extended but a very brief space. Ease is / The Silver Mine. m lerein ; but surely as Judas designed 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 both heathenish, hypo- critical, and devilish; and your reward will be according to your works. Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not where- with 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. If 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 a devouring fire ? Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went till they came to a delicate 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 further side of that plain was a 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 ; some also had been maimed there, and could not to their dying day be their own men agam. 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. CiiK. What, thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way to see it ? Dem. 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. granted to pilgrims, but only for a little time, and for present and passing necessity ; and this necessity being answered, they must again take the road, and bear its flints, ?nd endure hardness as good marching sol- diers of the heavenly King. It is not well for pilgrims to sit too long " at ease in 12 , Zion." And soon, recruited and refreshed* they must up and away for the onward journey. So our Pilgrims, entering on the plain of Ease, " were quickly got over it." And as this refreshment was for compensa- tion of the past, so is it also designed as a preparation for a danger soon to come. 178 The Pilgrim's Progress. i Then said Hopeful, Let us go see. 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. Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is not the way dan- gerous ? Hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage ? Dem. Not very dangerous, except to those that are careless. But withal he blushed as he spake. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir a step, but still keep on our way. Hope. I will warrant you when By-ends comes up, if he hath the same invitation as we, he will turn in thither to see. Chr. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way, and a hundred to one but he dies there. Then Demas called again, saying. But will you not come over and see ? Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, thou art an enemy to the right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast already been condemned for thine own turning aside, by one of his Majesty's judges ; and why seekest thou to bring us into the like condemna- tion? (2 Tim. 4: 10). Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof, and will there put us to shame,, where we would stand with boldness before him. Dema.:, 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. Then said Christian, What is thy name ? Is it not the same by the which I have called thee ? A little hill, called Lucre. — This intro- duces the scene of the " Silver Mine," and its lurking dangers, and the deceptive voice of Demas — a name interwoven here, illus- trative of the Apostle's words : "Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world" (2 Tim. 4: 10). Whether that De- mas did thus seek afterwards to beguile the members of the Christian Church, we are not informed ; but the name is not unfitly given to this man, who now invites the Pil- grims to the Silver Mine. Observe, this mine is said to be "a little off the road," and Pilgrims are asked " to turn aside hither." The scene therefore represents the undue pursuit of wealth, the going out of one's Christian course to seek after lucre — the very spirit of worldly love that prompted the Apostle's former compan- ion to forsake the way of the Lord. This is a tempting snare in the highway. It has charms already to win over the heart of Hopeful. Well was it for this new be- ginner that his more experienced brother, Christian, was there to counsel him, and thus to enable him to resist the tempting in- vitation of Demas. " My son, if sinners en- tice thee, consent thou not" (Prov. i : 10). Christian's resistance to temptation is, as on other occasions, accompanied by a re- The Hilar of Salt. 179 Dem. Yes, my name is Demas ; I am the son of Abraham. Chr. I know you; Gehaziwas your great-grandfather, and Judas your father, and you have trod in their steps (2 Kings 5 : 20-27) J 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. (Matt. 26: 14, 15 ; 27 : 3-5). 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 th»se two Take up in this world, and no further go. Now I saw that, just on the other side of this 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 tb them as if it had been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar. Here, there- fore, 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 buke of the tempter. He reminds this man of his spiritual pedigree, and how near of kin he is to the deception of Gehazi and to the treachery of Iscariot. Thus Demas is rebuked, Hopeful is instructed, and our good Christian is again triumphant. The anticipations of Hopeful respecting By-ends and his fellows are fully realized. They saw the bait, and caught at it, and were drawn into the snare. The curtain here falls upon an unfinished scene — what became of these men is not told, but, suffice it to say, "they never were seen again in the way." Where stood an old monument. — This stage is full of admonitory lessons, all tend- ing to impress the great truth: 'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." Here is a memorial of ancient times, a standmg witness of the lack of patience in running the race, a monument of one who set out upon pilgrimage, and looked back, and that "last fond Icok" became her ruin. The whole story of this monument is 'k I' ii a III ! I 180 THE PILLAR OF SAI.I The Pilgrims warned by the Pillar of Salt. 181 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 (Gen. 19: 26), for her looking back with a covetous heart when she was ijoing from Sodom for safety. Which sudden and amazing sight gave them occasion of this discourse. Chr. 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 Lucre ; and, had we gone over as he desired us, and as thou wast inclined to do, my brother, we had, for aught I know, been made, like this woman, ourselves a spectacle for those that shall come after to behold. Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder that 1 am not now as Lot's wife ; for wherein was the difference betwixt her sin and mine? She only looked bacl^ 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. Chr. 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. HoPK. 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 (Numb. 26 : 9, 10). 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 looking behind her after (for we read not that she stepped one foot out of the way), was turned into a pillar of salt, specially since the judg- ment 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. told in its inscription : " Remember Lot's wife." The sight of this memorial on the wayside is " seasonable." It tends to justify Chris- tian's recent advice to Hopeful respecting the Silvti Mine. It also furnishes a timely admonition in advance of dangers yet to come — admonition that is much needed, as the sequel will shortly prove. It is a witness, too, set up full in view of the tempting snare beside which Demas stands ; and thus it is, that against light and against knowledge, in spite of caution and example, men are drawn aside by worldly lust, and turn away from the path of righteousness, and never enter into rest ! 182 The IHlgrim's Progress. Chr. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that their heart is grown desperate in that case ; and ' I cannot tell whom 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 eye-sight, and rfotwithstanding the kindnesses that he had showed them ; for the land of Sodom was now like the garden of Eden heretofore (Gen. 13: 10-13). Tliis therefore provoked him the more to jealousy, and made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of heaven could Tiake 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 thi\t are set continually before them to caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest judg- ments. Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth ; but what a mercy is it that neither thou, but especially I am not made myself thio exam- ple ! This ministereth occasion to us to thank God, to fear before him, and always to remember Lot's wife. i Thus are we enabled to see the different kinds of destruction that fall upon men, for different reasons, and at different stages of the journey. There are some who continue in the City of Destruction.and shall be destroyed there in the overthrow of the city. There are others who, having set out, will still linger and look back ; and, though half way toward Zoar, shall be turned into mon- uments of wrath. It is thus that men do ofttimes perish — not in the overthrow of doomed cities, not in the multitude of the ungodly, but alone, in their very flight, in their lingering love for the things they have left behind; as Israel looked back and longed Skfter Egypt, and " their carcasses fell in the wilderness." CHAPTER XV. Doubting Castle and Giant Despair. Thb path of the Christian Pilgrims is laid through a varied country — through ups and downs, through hills and hollows, through night and day, through twilight and shadow, through sunrisr and sunset, through clouds and darkness, through all sorts of diversified experiences — through all the manifold phases of spiritual life. A remarkable illustration of this character of the pilgrimage occurs in this chapter — ranging, as its narrative does, from the sweet refreshment of the " River of God," and the cool shade and pleasant fruits and healing leaves of its goodly trees, to the gloomy dungeon of Despair and all its dread associations. A bright morning of spiritual enjoyment merges into a day of danger, and through a darkening twilight sets in the very midnight of despair. 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" (Ps. 46: 4; 65: 9; Ezek. 47: i- 9; Rev. 22: i). Now their way lay just upon thebankof the river; here therefore Christian and his companion walked with great delight. They drank also of the water of the river, which was pleasant, and enlivening to their weary spirits. Besides, on the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees for all manner of fruit : and 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 (Ps. 23: 2; Isa. 14: 30). When they awoke they gathered again of the fruit of the trees, and drank The river of God. — Once more are the Klgrims comforted. The wayside dangers and temptations have been surmounted ; profitable lessons have been learned; and now they need the comforts of the Spirit to refresh their soul. Accordingly, they are now led beside the still waters of comfort, beneath the grateful shade of the leafy trees which grew by the river-bank, and bear all manner of fruits for food, and medicine. This is a pleasant land — a land of meadows .and green pastures, of fruits and flowers — " Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow, Amidst the verdant landscape flow." Here they might lie down safely. — So they lay down and slept. All places are not sleeping-places for pilgrims ; but beside the river of God, and surrounded by the com- forts and consolations of the Spirit, they may lay them down in peace, and take their rest. This was a place of high festival, a feast of fat things, a season of special privi- lege. And it is well that such seasons are accorded. They come like sunshine after (183) ISl The Pilgrims Progress, Y^-\ '. I l;\ I THE RIVER OF THE WATER OF LIFE. again of the water of the river, and then lay down again to sleep- Thus they did several days and nights. Then they sang : Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide, To comfort pilgrim? by the highway-side. The meadows green, loesides their fragrant smell. Yield dainties for them; and he that 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. rain, and sometimes in advance of danger, like the opportune provision made for the prophet, when the angel touched him, and said : "Arise and eat ; because the journey is too great for thee" (i Kings 19 : 7). And it was well that our Pilgrims did thus eav and drink, for in the strength of that footl- they must go yet many days. By-path Meadow. 1H5- 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 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 " disco' i raged be- cause of the way" (Numb. 21:4). 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 us go 'ver into it. Then he went to the stile to see, and behold a path 1; ; alop'^ by the way on the other side of the fence. It is according to rr' ^ish, said Christian; here is the easiest going; come, good •ful, and let us go over. . loPE. But how if this path should lead us out of the way ? That is not likely, said the other. Look, doth it not go along by the wayside ? So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over tlie stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found it very easy for 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 whither that way led. He said, To the Celestial Gate. Look, said Christian, did not I tell you so? by this you may see we are right. So they followed, and he went before them. But behold the night came on. Tlic river and the way parted. — The path does not rontinue parallel to the river-bank all the way ; nor is it always covered with the grassy mead. There are times of with- drawal from the refreshing waters, when faith again is tried, and is still put upon probation. If pilgrims had their own way, they would, no doubt, build themselves tab- ernacles in the pleasant places of the pil- grimage ; but no, " they are not yet at their journey's end ;" and once more they must endure hardness. As the path diverges from the river, it be- comes rough and rugged. Seasons of com- fort give place to seasons of trial ; and they that have gone softly must now bear the flints, and patiently endure the ruggedness of the road. This is hard for flesh and blood to bear ; and the natural man sighs after an easier lot and a fairer heritage. A meadow and a stile. — This field was not the meadow of the river-bank. It was By- path Meadow. A stile separates it from the beaten track, so that the Pilgrims must go somewhat out of their way in order to pass from the one to the other. Their impatience of the road, and their desire for ease, sur- prised them to this divergence, and the tempting nature of the meadow-land de- ceived them. They saw its beginning, but they did not see its destination. Thus does 'the tempter blind our eyes. The moss- gr wn meadow, with its pleasant path and its seeming parallel, entices the Pilgrims from the road, and becomes the beginning of sdrrows. He went to the stile to see. — There is dan ger in a too close inspection of temptation. These Pilgrims stoutly resisted the invitation of DEHASto go and see the Silver Mine ; but. 186 The PUgrim*s Progress. ^^iliU 1 1 li! W and it grew very dark ; so that they that were behind lost the sigh* 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 vainglorious fools withal, and was dashed in pieces by his fall (Isa. 9 : 16). 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, Whore 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 very dreadful manner ; and the water rose amain. Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh, that I had kept on my way ! Chr. Who would have thought that this path should have led us out of the way ? Hope. 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. Chr. 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 an evil intent. Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee ; and believe too that this shall be for our good. Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother; but we must not stand here ; let us try to go back again. Hope. But, good brother, let me go before. Chr. 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 g^one out of the way. now, at the suggestion of his own heart, Christian must needs go and see this By- path ; and in going and seeing, he falls in- etween Kouuli seas and stormy skies." Diffidence. — This was the Giant's wife: too gentle a name, perhaps, for one w'lo proves herself to be as harsh, as cruel, ad as unrelenting in her wrath as Giant De- 190 The Pilgrim's Progress. jri l||,:il I v% ,«„ll perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had givenr 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 life, 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 hands. 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 : Brother, said Christian, what shall we do ? The life that we now live is miserable; for my part, I know not whether it is best to live thus, or die out of hand : " my soul chooseth strangling and death rather than Hfe" (Job 7: 15), and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon. Shall we be ruled by the giant ? Hope. Indeed, our present condition i^ 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 per- son; 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," etc. And let us consider again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair ; others, as far as SPAiR himself. Dr. Cheever very well ob- I serves that " Mrs. Diffidence ought rather to have been called Dame Desperation, or Desperate Pvcsolution ; for she seems, if anything, the more stubborn genius of the two." The night season is that selected for the counsels of Dii-fidence and Despair con- cerning their treatment of the Pilgrims. It is in the hours of darkness that the sorrows of the soul are most intense, and the spirit of despair takes a more vigo.'^us grasp of the troubled conscience ; just as, on the other hand, it is in the hour of sunshine (" the sunshiny weather ") that Giant De- spair is reft of his strength and spoiled of his power ; and opportunity is thereby al- lowctl, in t'^e interval, for the friendly coun- sels of Chri.tian and Hopeful. Brother, what shall we do f — Gloomy and dark thoughts fill the mind of Christian. He seems harder put to it here than ever before. He broods over the suggestions of Despair, and meditates release by untimely and unbidden means, even by his own hand — by suicide. How the man must have been possessed of the spirit of Despair, under the galling yoke of doubts that would Hopeful comforts Christian. 191 I can understand, have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped out of his hands. Who knows but that God, who made the world, may cause that Giant Despair may die, or that at some timeor other he may forget to lock us in; or that he may in a short time have another of his fits before us, and may lose the use of his limbs ? and if ever that should come to pass again, for my p£;rt I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and to try rny 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 a while ; the time may come that may give us a happy release ; but let us not be our own murderers. With these words Hopeful at pres- ent 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 ajive ; and, truly, alive was all. For now, what for want of bread and water, and by reason of the wounds they received when be 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 dis- course about the Giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best take it or no. Now Christian again seemed to be for doing it, but Hope- ful made his second reply as foUoweth. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast b^en heretofore ? ApoUyon could not crush thee, nor could all that not be solved, and of desperation that would not be comforted ! Hopeful's answer to his brother was worthy of the man. He, the younger and the weaker of the two, is now the adviser of better things and the counsellor of better purposes. He first dissipates these thoughts of self-murder, and will not permit them to be entertained at all. God's law, self-inter est, and future judgment — all cry out against the cowardice of the man who flees as a fugitive from life, and presents himself un- bidden at the bar of God. This point gained, Hopeful even ventures to lift the dark cur- tain, and to picture the possibility of a bright prospect beyond : the Giant may die, or may sometime forget his prey, or may abate his watchful vigilance, and thus leave a way of escape open to them. Such are ever the comforts of Hope in the very darkest mo- ments of Despair. The conflict, however, itinues ; the darkness is as yet unrelieved by the dawn of light. Chrlstian falls again beneath the frenzy of the Giant and meditates once more the surrender of self, and life, and all, at his suggestion. Hopeful again comes to the rescue ! This time he tries the power of retrospect, and bids his brother to call to mind the days of the past, and the scenes : 192 y^ M' ' ! ■ . 1 iiiil li lili ii! TAe PUgrim^s Progress. thou didst hear, or see, or feel in the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; what hardship, terror and amazement has thou already gone through, and art thou now nothing but fears? Thou seest that I 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 was neither afraid of the chain nor cage, nor yet of bloody death ; wherefore let us, at least to avoid the shame that 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 hardships than to make away with them- selves. Then said she. Take them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already despatched, and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou wilt tear them 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 on 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. of his bygone triumphs, and still to play the man. Heroes that have fought and won great battle-fields must not thus Hghtly allow themselves to be overcome. The hero of the Valley of Humiliation, who fought against Apollyon, and prevailed ; that patient Pil- grim who trod every dark step and dared every dangerous pass of the Shadow of Death ; that valiant heart that scorned the dangers of Vanity Fair, and uttered his pro- test in the face of fire and fagot —surely he knows better how to fight than thus cowardly to yield ! Aye, and even by comparison with himself, doth Hopeful rally his ^'espairing comrade — Thou strong man and brave warrior of the Cross, behold mc, a weaker man than thou art ! I too am wounded, weary of the strife, hungry, thirsty, dark and comfortless as thou ; and yet withal I am thy comforter — preaching to thee that thou shouldst live through this deep sorrow, and outlive this anxious struggle, and con- tinue in the spirit of patience and endurance to the end ! Brave words, good Hopeful, and yet braver deeds, thou man of God! He speaks out of his own darkness and dread uncertainty, and yet he speaks in words of comfort and in the fulness of his hope. " I know not what may soon tetide. Or how my wants shall Ix; supplied ; But Jesus Knows, and will provide I '' Thus the tide of Despair is stayed, and all the threats of Doubting Castle are held at bay. Hopeful stands in the gap, and stays his desponding brother. The con- tinued resistance of the Pilgrims now further provokes the angered spirit of the (iiant, Doubting Castle. 193 CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ESCAPE FROM DOUBTING CASTLE. 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 Giant wondered that he could neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied, I fear, said she, stayed, and stle are held he K^P« '^"<^' The con- ; now further f the ( Jiant, and he seeks by more demonstrative efforts to drive them to destruction. In the castle- yard are the bones of former victims of Despair. The Pilgrims shuddered at the sight, and trembled all the more at the angry threats now thundered forth from the mouth of the Giant. 13 This was Saturday — the end of a weary week, four days of which had been already spent in the dark dungeon-keep. A new spirit now possesses the imprisoned Pilgrims — "they begin to pray." Their prayer was like the wrestling of Jacob ; it continued all night, even to the break of day ; and that m 194 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. I.ff"^' Hiiiip'i hiiiiiiiil a^'iil that they live in hopes that some will come to relieve them, or that they have pick-locks 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 con- tinued in prayer till qlmost break of day. Now a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, brake out in this passionate speech : What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus 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's 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 outer door that leads into the castle-yard, and with this key opened that door also. After that he went to the iron gate (for that must be opened too), but that lock went desperately hard ; yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the gate ta 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. new day was the Sabbath. Bunyan evi- dently desires to leave on record in his im- mortal Allegory some testimony in honor of the Lord's day, and of its blessed privileges. So, upon this day of rest, this day of pecu- liar prayer, he represents the dawn of de- liverance beaming upon the prisoners of Despair, who now become "prisoners of Hope." And is it not true that the Sabbath day, by its holy rest and hallowed ministra- tions of the Word and prayer, breaks many a fetter, frees many a slave, dissolves the doubts of the week past, and delivers many a soul from the bondage of Despair ? A key called Promise. — In prayer comes the realization of the promises. Every prayer is founded on a promise, and every true prayer discovers this foundation. The promises of God, all of which are " yea and amen in Christ Jesus," penetrate every gloom and look beyond the thickest darknesr<. The promises fringe the thunder-cloud with rays of light, and enable us to discern the "smiling face" behind the "frowning provi- dence." Promise sees the dawn from the midnight, anticipates the suarise from the sunset, recognizes in the leafless trees and cheerless snows of winter the harbinger and earnest of the fruits and flowers and season- able enjoyments of the summer-tide. The Key of Promise now opens the doors and iron gates of the dungeon of Doubting Castle, and delivers the Pilgrims out of the hands of Giant Despair. So they escaped, and once more return to the narrow way. Bunyan's descriptions and delineations of the doubting character of Christians con- stitute some of the most striking and in> I! ! I The Pilgrims escape from Doubting Castle. 195 Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to con- trive with themselves 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 on the side thereof this sentence: "Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, ^^^o despiseth the King of the Celestial country, and seeks to destroy his holy pil- grims." 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 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground ; And let them that come after have a care, Lest heedlessness makes them as we to fare ; Lest they, for trespassing, his prisoners are. Whose Castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair. structive portions of his writings. He had been himself much exercised and tried by doubts and fears, and even by despair ; and in the school of experience he learned the great lesson he here teaches us. He there- fore lays stress upon this feature of Christian experience. In his " Holy War " he de- scribes a formidable force as having been sent against Mansoul, consisting of "an army of terrible doubters." The three great divisions of this army weie (i) the election doubters; (2) the vocation doubters; and (3) the grace doubters. He further develops this great topic in the scene now before us. off rlr R li i 1 ! . 1 1 1 . . mvf ;;', ^:"a? li I CHAPTER XVI. The Delectable Mountains. The Pilgrims have now attained to an advanced stage of their journey, to that point of elevation, the distant prospect of which Christian had been permitted to see from the Palace Beautiful, and of which the fair sisterhood of the palace had informed him, saying, •"When thou comest there, from thence thou mayest seethe gate of the Celestial City." Arrived afthis point, Christian a.id his comrade are introduced to the Shepherds who fed their Master's sheep, and with pastoral care tended the flocks con.;nitted to their charge. These are the Delectable Mountains ; and the country is called Immanuel's Land. The Shepherds are the appointed pastors of the flock of God ; and now for a season our Pilgrims are confided to their ministration, for instruction and advice. HEY went then till they came to the Delectable Moun- tains, which mountains belong to the Lord of that hill of whirh we have spoken before ; so they went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens and orchards, the vine- yards and fountains of water ; where also they drank and washed themselves, and did freely eat of the vineyards. Now there were on the top 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 is common with weary pil- grims 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 ? T/te Delectable Mountains. — Days of peace and a season of repose are granted to the Pilgrims after their hard experiences in Doubting Castle. A pastoral scene opens upon their view, and by-and by they are in the midst of orchard? and vineyards and flowing fountains and refreshing fruits — in- dicative of the high privileges and season- able comforts that refresh the sou's of them that are weary. Here are pasture-grounds and flocks of sheep, and shepherds tending them — a lovely illustration of "the Church of God which he hath purchased with his own blood " (Acts 2o : 28). Here are the under-shepherds, in charge of the folds of sheep, and responsi- ble to " the Great Shepherd and Bishop (overseer) of our souls." Just such a scene as is described by the prophet in view of the Gospel-day : " How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, t! at publish- eth salvation ; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth" (Isa. 52: 7). By the highway -side. — These Shepherds watch for sou's ; and theiefore do they stand in the thoroughfare, where pnlgrims pass, and need their counsel and communion for the further stages of the journey. The (196) The Shepherds. 197 Shep. 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 (John lo: ii, 15), Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City? Shep. You are just in your way. Chr. How far is it thither? Shep. Too far for any but those that shall get thither indeed. Chr. Is the way safe or dangerous ? Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe ; " but trans- gressors shall fall therein" (Hos. 14 : 9). Chr. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that are weary and faint in the way ? Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge •'not to be forgetful to entertain strangers" (Heb. 13 : 2) ; therefore the good of the place is before you. ' I saw, also in my dream, that when the Shepherds perceived that they were wayfaring 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 face on these mountains. But when the Shepherds heard their answers, being pleased therewith, they looked very lov- ingly upon them, and said, Welcome to the Delectable Mountains. The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Expe- rience, Watchful and Sincere, took them by the hand and had them to their tents, and made them partake of that which was ready at present. They said, moreover. We would that you should stay here a while, to be acquainted with us, and yet more to solace yourselves names of the Shepherds are suggestive, em- bracing the main features of the true Chris- tian minister. Rarely, indeed, are all these combined in any very high degree in any one person. The great lesson, however, is — not a fourfold classification of different gifts, but (as far as God's grace and human opportunity may permit) the combination of these fourfold gifts and graces in every min- ister of Jesus Christ. Knowledge. — Under the Jewish dispen- sation it was required that " the priest's lips should keep knowledge "(Mai. 2 : 7). How much more must this be demanded of the Christian minister, whose office it is to in- struct the people in the things of God ; to feed the sheep, and to tend the lambs of the flock! >ExPERiENCE. — Knowledge for the head, experience for the heart — " for the perfect- ing of the saints, for the edifying ofm „ ,;, nm ill' I i;| , 'M IS The Enchanted Ground, and the Descent Thereto. In the midst of blissful revelations, somewhat checkered by at least one dreadful scene of admonition, the Dreamer awakes. But by-and-by he dreams again. The same two Pilgrims are presented to his view ; they have now reached the levei plains, and have once more to meet the perils of the way. Here, fresh visions are vouchsafed, and new lessons taught. By a " crooked lane," from the country of Conceit, Ignorance enters on the pil- grimage. Of him we shall learn more by-and-by. Meanwhile, a critical stage of the jour- ney is being passed, with present evidences and bygone reminiscences of danger. Here TuRNAWAY is stayed in his unworthy career, and by his awful fate fills up a portion of the picture of the Allegory. And here, too, is the place where Little-faith was once over- powered by the assault of the robbers and bandits of the way, leaving an admonitory lesson, and a comforting truth withal, for those who would afterwards pass that way. " A little crooked lane," " a very dark lane," and " Deadman's-lane," are here set forth as perilous places, for admonition ; and " £«V//i?-faith," as the single ray of hope. '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 mountains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Conceit, from which country 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? Ignou. 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. Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate? for you may find some difficulty there. T/te same two Pilgrims. — The preceding scene had broken the slumbers of the Dreamer ; but he turns once more upon his side, and dreams again. It is not a new dream, but a continuance of the old. He sees the same twain Pilgrims. On his awak- ing, he had left them on the heights ; on his sleeping again, he sees them in the hollows — pursuing the self.same pilgrimage. The Dream does not lose sight of its great heroes ; and God does not lose sight of his faithful children : " He which hath begun a good work in you, will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ " (Phil, i : 6). A little crooked lane. — Not by the •' strait gate," but by the "crooked lane," has this (202) vijj'ii ,i[' ''."vmv-i fj"»WBii»t- TAe Pilgrims encounter Ignorance. 203 As other good people do, said he. Chr. But what have you to show at that gate, that the g should be opened to you ? Ignor. 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. Chr. But thou earnest not in at the Wicket-gate that is at the head of this way ; thou earnest 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. Ignor. 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 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 " (Prov. 26: 12): and said, moreover, "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" (Eecles. 10: 3). 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 after- wards, and see if by degrees we can dp any good to him ? Then said Hopeful — Let Ignorance 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. 1 \ new Pilgrim obtained admittance to the " Narrow-way," in his journey from the country of Conceit. Men that are wise in their own conceits consider their own way to be the best, and discern not the crookedness of the path they tread. Here is introduced a Pilgrim, who subsequently travels even to the gates of the Celestial City, and there meets his final destiny. A character that travels thus far, and approaches thus near to the end of the Progress, surely demands the serious attention of all If we would " finish our course 'uith joy," we do well to take warning by the example of Ignorance. U^ ■' lii-)k r ill;: m'w^ I^H kr\ ! (^1 1^ '- !!! ^1^^^ •;«i 1:1 1 ill ' » ti! : '\fe'' ' i^ P'f i T ft i > 204 ■s, ■^>h Christian's Story of Little-faith. 205 He further added, It is not good, I think, to say so to him all at once ; let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him anon, even as ,he is "able to bear it." So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now when they had passed him 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 back to thQ door that they saw on the side of the hill (Matt. 12 : 45 ; Prov. 5 : 22). Now good Christian began to tremble, and so did Hopeful, his companion ; yet as the devils led away the man, Christian looked to see if he knew him ; and he thought it might je one Turnaway, that dwelt m the town of Apostacy. But he die 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 spied on his back a paper with this inscription, " Wanton professor and damnable apostate.". Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to my remem- brance* that which was told me of a thing that happened to a good man hereabout. 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 Broadway- gate a lane called Deaoman's-lane ; so called because of the murders that are commonly done there ; and this Little-faith, going on pil- grimage as we do now, chanced to sit down there and sleep. Now there happened at that time to come down the lane from Broadway- / Mi A very dark lane. — This is evidently a perilous portion of the journey. Dangers are multiplied here, and the Pilgrims must needs be circumspect. This is the " dark lane " of perdition to at least one man, who is borne thence in the strong custody of devils. The remembrance of what the Shepherds had shown them is revived in the minds of our Pilgrims, by the fate of this victim of darkness, when they observed how he was cast into the door in the side of the Hill. And this remembrance awakens Oiher reminiscences of the dangers of the place. Here, Christian tells the story of one of the Pilgrims of former days — a story illustrative of some of the tests and trials of Faith, how nearly it may be overborne, and may at last be left, as it were, half-dead Littli-faith. — The mention of this man's name introduces a very instructive episode of the narrative. The " many ways that butt down "upon the path are doubly dan- gerous — (i) to the false Pilgrims who walk therein, and who enter the narrow way thereby ; and (2) to the true Pilgrims who tarry near those devious paths. Thieves and robbers enter by these side avenues, and by their assaults they ofttimes do injury to the Pilgrims Vf Zion. This man, Little-faith, not heeding the danger, had sat down at the junction of Deadman's-lane with the Narrow-way. Here he was overpowered by the desire to slumber, and he slept. This was neither the time nor the place for sleep ; hence the sequel —the assault by Faint-heart, Mis TRUST and Guilt. This is a remarkable description of the dangers incident to littleness of Faith. There are degrees of Faith ; some stronger, m & il! r! p,. I'i 206 T/ie Pilgritns Progress. gate three sturdy rogues, and their names were Faint-heart, Mis- trust, and Guilt, three brothers ; and they, espying Little-faith where he was, came galloping up with speed. Now the good man was just awakened 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 sheet, 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 loath to lose his money), Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hands 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, hearing that some were upon the road, and fearing lest it should be one Great- grace, that dwells in the town of Good-confidence, they betook them- selves 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 ? Chr. No ; the place where his jewels were they never ran- sacked ; so those he kept still. But, as I was told, the good man was much afflicted for his loss ; for the thieves had got most of his spending money. That which they got not, as I said, were jewels ; some weaker ; some greater, some lesser ; and according to its strength or weakness is the experience of its possessor. The man of little faith is more susceptible of alarms, more liable to assaults, and more vulnerable in the fight, than he that has great faith. Thus Little-faith is exposed to three suc- cessive assaults, progressive in their charac- ter and consequences. Through the weak- ness of his faith, his heart is faint ; he is brought to a standstill ; he has no boldness of resolution ; and his fears are more than his faith. This is straightway followed by a distrustful spirit, by which the Pilgrim loses many of the marks and tokens of his ac- ceptance. And, having thus far suffered by these successive assaults, his faith be- comes yet more feeble, and by-and-by he falls a victim to guilt, and is brought low, even to the dust of spiritual degradation, and to the poverty and need of spiritual loss. Whoso gives way to ^ faint heart in the pilgrimage, will soon mistrust the comforts and promises of God, and ere long this will amount to guilt of soul and conscience — and all through littleness of Faith ! Most of his spending money, — This was th"e amount of Little-faith's loss. The " pearl of great price" was his n.ain capital ; his comfort and confidence and assurance are the dividend or income, which will be more or less, in proportion as the value of the treasure of the heart is realized by faith. Over and above the jewels of the Kingdom are the joys and consolations of the Chris- tian, that tend to mitigate the burden and heat of the day, and to shorten the weariness of the journey home. These are the inci- dental possessions of the Pilgrim ; the cir- cumstantials, but not the essentials, of hit Discussion regarding' Little-Jaith. 207 also he had\ little odd money left, but scarce eno\igV. lo bring him to his journey's end (i Peter 4: 18) ; 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. Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his certifi- cate, by which he is to receive £ nission at the Celestial Gate ? Chr. 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 (2 Tim. I : 14; 2 Peter 2 : 9) ; so it was more by good providence than by his endeavor that they missed of that good thing. Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they got not his jewels from him. Chr. 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 becauae of the dismay that he had in the taking away of 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. Hope. Alas, poor man ! this could not but be a great grief to him. Chr. Grief! aye, a grief indeed. V^ould 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 wa.> ? It is a wonder he did not assurance and acceptance. Hence, Bunyan calls them "his spending money" — those minor joys, and passing sunshine, that may be clouded and darkened, that are liable to the ebb and flow of spiritual tides, and rise or fall according to the fluctuations of faith. Littleness of faith will have littleness of real- ization ; and when it is faint-hearted and ex- posed to the doubts and suspicions of mis- trust, it forfeits confidence, suffers spiritual loss, and becomes otherwise impoverished. They got not his jewels. — The main capi- tal, the treasure of the heart, is safe. That treasure is in heaven, where thieves ao not break through nor steal. His faith, though little, is alive. If it were great faith, it would reap great profits and enjoyments ; but this man's faith is small, and therefore he realizes but little of the joys and consolations of the way. These "jewels " are the essentials of the man of God — hving faith, holy love; the certificate of acceptance — " the witness of the Spirit," which is the credential of the pilgrimage. Little-faith still possesses these ; they are in safe custody — " hid with Chri:t in God." His gold, and his greater and m^re costly treasures, are intrusted, not to his own frail custody, but to a faithful Greater, to whom he has committed the keeping of his soul (1 Peter 4: 19). Thus does Bunyan further illustrate his meaning, when, in his " Grace Abounding," he says: 208 The Pilgrim's Progress. p ' CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ARE LED ASTRAY BY THE FLATTERER. die with grief, poor heart ! I was told that he scattered ahnost 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. Hope. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not put him upon selHng or pawning some of his jewels, that he might have wherewithal to relieve himself in his journey. " Oh, I saw that my gold was in my trunk at home, in Christ my Lord and Saviour. Now, Christ was all ; all my wisdom, all my righteousness, all my sanctification, and all my redemption !" The preservation of his "jewels" was owing to two reasons — (i) because they were treasured up in heaven ; and (2) because they were held as of no account on earth. (i) They were treasured up in heaven. * V Christian reproves Hopeful. 209 Chr. 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 missing 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. Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother? Esau sold his birth- right, and that for a mess of pottage (Heb. 12: 16); and that birth- right was his greatest jewel ; and, if he, why might not Little-faith do so too ? Chr. 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" (Gen, 25: 29- 34)? But Little-faith, though it was his lot to have but a little faith, was by his little faith kept from such extravagances, and made to see and prize his jewels more than to sell them, 9s Esau didhis birthright. You read not anywhere that Esau had faith, not so much as a little; therefore no marvel if, where the flesh only bears sway (as it will in I! The heavenly treasure is never committed to the sole charge and custody of human hands. The Christian Pilgrim's treasure is not here, but laid up in heaven. The road of life is far too dangerous for so great a charge as this. Therefore, like careful travellers, we journey lightly here ; the heavy and material things are in the charge of One who can keep that which is committed to his trust. Thus the true Christian sits loose to the things of this world ; his treasure is in heaven, and his heart is there also. " What have I left, that I should stay and groan ? The most of me to heaven has fled. My joys and hopes are all packed up and jone ; The rest muse follow on with speed." (2) They are held as of no account on 14 earth. The pearl of great price is not an article of earthly exchange; nor is it to be had for any earthly cost. It is ignored here, as it was in Vanity Fair. Whoso would have it must search for it in heavenly fields, and dig for it as for hid pearls. " Without money and without price" is the condition of the gift ; and if sold for earthly dross, this would constitute no spiritual gain. Even a little faith is the "gift of God," held in safe trust for man by him who is the Giver of the gift. The subsequent conversation between Christian and Hopeful is aptly introduced at this point of the narrative, illustrative of the difficulty of the warfare, the formidable nature of the spiritual antagonists, and the II ll ' f,ll 1lj 1" rlfif ^I'i: ' III 1!! 210 TAe FHlgrim's Progress. 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 occasion cannot be turned away : when their minds are set upon their lusts, they will have them, whatever they cost (Jer. 2: 24). 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 out- right 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. Hope. I acknowledge it ; but yet your severe reflection had almost made me angry. Chr. 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 mat- ter under debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee and me. Hope. 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. . Chr. 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 to little reliance to be reposed in our own strength. Hopeful's observations evidently prove that he has never experienced the strife, and knows not what the character of the warfare is ; whereas, Christian speaks out of the fulness of his own experience, as a disciplined soldier of the Cross, who has suffered adversity, and met with sharp re- verses, and through fields of blood fought on to victory. Hopeful acknowledges his Error. 211 their aid himself, and his voice is as the roaring of a lion (i Peter 5:8). I my:;elf have been engaged as this Little-faith was; and I found it a terrible thing. These three villains set upon me, and I beginning like a Christian to resist, they gave but a call, 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, I was clothed with armor of proof. Aye, and yet, though I was so harnessed, I 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. Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but suppose that one Great-grace was in the way. Chr. 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 in a wren ? Some are strong, some are weak ; some have great faitli, some have little ; this man was one of the weak, and therefore he "went to the wall." Hope. I would it had been Great-grace, for their sakes. Chr. 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 those 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 " (2 Cor. i: 8). How did these sturdy rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar!. Yea, Heman and Hezekiah too, though champions in their days, were forced to bestir them when by these assaulted ; and yet, notwitstand- ing, they had their coat soundly brushed by them. Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could do ; but, though some do say of The King's Champion. — This was Great- grace. He stands in contrast to Little- faith. Both were subjects of the King, but (as Bunyan says) " all the King's sub- jects are not his champions." The strong are desif.ned tJ help the weak. And yet, even Gpeat-grace has need to be watchful. T; e scars on his face prove how real is the I ( 'il ■III! ' ! 1 ii 1 Hi 1 1 'V •^'" r>!:,!! Imu; ti ^' 212 7>4tf Pilgrims Progress. 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 whisde ; he is never out of hear- ing ; 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 haber- geon. He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him flee ; sling-stones are turned widi him into stubble. Darts are counted as stubble ; he laugheth at the shaking of a spear" (Job 41 : 26-29). What can a man do in this case? 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 in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength ; he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, antl is not affrighted ; neither turneth he back from the sword ; the quiver ratdeth 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 tnunder of the captains, and the shouting" (Job 39: 19-25). But for such footmen as thou and I 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 own manhood, for such commonly come by the worst when tried. Witness Peter, of whom I made mention before ; he would swagger, aye, 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 ? conflict sometimes ; and that, with all the grace that is supplied to God's children, the best and bravest of them may be brought under the power of fear.faint-heartedness and guilt. I Two things become us to do. — Seeing that such are the perils of the way, it behooves us that we take all due precaution ere we commit ourselves to the journey, /and that we give all diligence, when, having begun, we pro- ceed upon the pilgrimage. (i) The first counsel is, that we be har- nessed for the way. Here Christian speaks from experience. How ill-prepared had he been for the assault of Apollvon had he no^ been armed in the Palace Beautiful ! Even with his armor, he found the battle to be sore and long, and for a time uncertain. (2) That we desire of the King a convoy. Alone, we cannot safely walk; alone, we cannot fight and be victorious. We must seek the presence and providence of God to attend us in all the stages of our pilgrimage — " If thy presence go not with me, carry us not up hence ! " In times of war, the pre- cious crai and cargo are convoyed across i <' ired had he ON had he : Beautiful ! the battle to e uncertain, ig a convoy, alone, we We must ce of God to r pilgrimage me, carry us /ar, the pre- oved across ^Z^UIyV^"ir"MJUA*/.AA*Afc*lu **i Ha ^'*1l'i W AA^AA. CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL DELIVERED FROM THE NET. 213 ii ) I '^X 'Hi''' „.\i w ';* •' 5 «; : i i 111 ^ ■■■ i ,1 : K'^ :,iL 214 7%^ Pilgrim's Progress. When therefore we hear that such robberies are done on the King's highway, two things become us to do : first to go out har- nessed, and to be sure to take a shield with us ; for it was for want of that, that he who laid so lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield ; for, indeed, if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. There- fore 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" (Eph. 6: i6). 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. O 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" (Exod. 33 : 15 ; Ps. 3 ; 5-8; 27: 1-3; Isa. 10: 4). I, fc ny 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 (i Sam. 17: 37). Then sang Christian : Poor Little-faith ! hast been among the thieves ? Wast robbed ? Remember this, whoso beUeves, ^ And get more faith ; then shall you victors be Over ten thousand ; else scarce over three. So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went then till they came at a place where they saw a way put itself in their way, and seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they should go. the seas, and in dangerous journeys escorts are furnished to conduct the caravans of pilgrims. So in the Christian pilgrimage, all times and places are fraught with danger ; and the provision of help is everywhere and always a wise precaution. This will be more clearly seen in the second part of the Pro- gress, where Great-heart escorts the sec- ond Pilgrimage to the journey's end. They saw a way. — Another seeming parallel presents itself. But at this point the two roads seem to be so equally straight as to cause the Pilgrims to " stand still to consider." It is plain that now they "lean to their own understanding ;" for, instead of pausing to take counsel with each other, they ought to have consulted the map of the way which had been given them by the Shep- herds. This they failed to do; and thus one of the great lessons of the past was despised or forgotten. So, in the moment of their perplexity, Satan appears, having The Flatterer beguiles the Pilgrims. 215 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 I am going. So they followed him in the way that but now came into the road, which by degrees turned, and turned them so far 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-by, 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 white robe fell off the black man's back; then they sa^/ where they were. Wherefore there they lay crying some time, for they could not get themselves out. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I see myself in an error. Did not the Shepherds bid us beware of the Flatterer ? As is the saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day, "A man who flattereth his neighbor spreadetha net for his feet" (Prov. 29: 5). Hope. 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 ourselves from " the path 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 of the destroyer" (Ps. 17: 4). Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they espied a Shining One coming towards them with a whip of small cords in his hand. When he was come to the place transformed himself into the appearance of an angel of light. " Though he seems so bright and fair, Ere thou trust his proffered care, ^ Pause a Uttle, and beware I " They followed him. — This departure from the right way was not because of any desire to choose an easier path, nor for the avoid- ance of any hardship or diQiculty, nor for any apparent superiority of one road above the other, but simply through the Pilgrim's forgetfulness of the counsel of the Shepherds. They were in doubt, and needed some one to advise them. The " note of the way " had been given them for the solution of such perplexities. Their sin was, not that they paused to consider, but that they omitted to consult the map. This " note of the way " is the Bible, in its higher and more spiritual direction to advanced pilgrims, who, by reason of their exercised experience, are exposed to the more subtle and spiritual temptations of the Evil One. In this, the Pilgrims had, moreover, ne- glected the second kindly counsel of the Shepherds — "to beware of the flatterer." Thus they had committed two evils — in re- jecting the counsel of God, and in accepting the counsel of Satan. I. i \ 216 The Pilgrims Progress. Il!„-|. ¥A^!\ K* iVl' !i il , ,: v.r 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 a flatterer, "a false aposde, that hath transformed himself into an angel of light" (2 Cor. 11 : 13-15; Dan. II : 32). So 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 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 Moun- tains. He asked them then if they had not of the shephertls a note of directions for the way ? They answered, Yes. But did you not, said he, when you were at a stand, pluck out and read your note? They answered, No. He then asked them. Why ? They said they forgot. He asked them, moreover, if the Shepherds did not bid them beware of the F^latterer? They answered Yes; but we did not imagine, said they, that this fine-spoken man had been he (Rom. 16: 17, 18). 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 (Deut. 25: 2; 2 Chron. 6: 26, 27); and as he chastised them he said, "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous therefore, and repent" (Rev. 3: 19). This done, he bids them go on their way, and take good heed to the other direc- tions 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 catchcd are in an entangled 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. Accordingly, chastisement follows ; yet not in judgment, but in mercy. God always grieves, with a true Father's tenderness, to see his children go astray; and, rather than give them over to their sin, he follows to reclaim them. This Shining One, with a whip of small cords, is the P'atherhood of God, dealing with his erring childrertV His chastisement is love. These stripes and scourges are not for his pleasure, but " for our profit, that we might be partakers of his hoHness " (fleb. 12 ; lo). His name was Atheist. — This second dan- ger w s also foreseen by the Shepherds, and a timely cauti^^n given to beware. How dif- ferent are the temptations of the way ! One down ; good ; and ; and done, direc- dness, pes and but " for jrs of his ! One The Pilgrims meet zviih Atheist. 217 CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL MEET WITH ATHEIST. Now after a while 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. Hope. I see him ; let us take heed to ourselves now, lest he should prove a Flatterer also. Sq he drew nearer, and at last came up to them. His name was Atheist ; and he asked them whither they were going ? Chr. We are going to Mount Zion. beguiles the Pilgrims into snares by flattering words; while another laughs to scorn the hope of the pilgrimage. Atheist would fain laugh down the evi- dence of faith, because he has not seen the bet- ter land with his bodily eyes. His only argu- ment is ridicule ; his only evidence is sight. He believes no future harvests, because he sees not the golden sheaves in the seed time. He receives not the bank-note, because he sees not the substance of its promise. But "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen " (Heb. II : I). And this faith — trusting, believing, far- seeing faith — sustains the Pilgrims. " Did we not see from the Delectable Mountains the gate of the City ?" Yes, with the quick- I j f !i I I ! I • . ,;'| 218 The Pilgrim's Progress. 1" !*«"'' 'I :;,!»■ Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. Chr. What is the meaning of your laughter ? Ath. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take upon you so tedious a journey, and yet are like to have nothing but your travel for your pains. Chr. Why, man ? do you think we shall not be received ? Ath. Received ! there is not such :* place as you dream of in all this world. Chr. But there is in the world to come. Ath. 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 thrm I did the first day I set out (Eccl. lo: 15; Jer. 17: 15). Chr. We have both heard and believe that there is sue h a place to be found. Ath. Had not I when at home believed, I had not come thus far to seek ; but finding 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. Then said Christian to Hopeful, his companion. Is it true which this man hath said ? Hope. 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? (2 Cor. 5 : 7). Let us go on, lest the man with the whip over- take us again. You should have taught me that lesson which I will round you in the ears withal : " Cease, my son, to hear the instruc- tion thatcauseth to err from the words of knowledge" (Prov, 19 : 27). ened eye of Faith they had spiritually seen the land afar off. This is the privilege of God's own children. " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart jf man the things which God hath prepared ; " therefore Atheist cannot see the end of the journey. " But God hath revealed them unto us by his Spirit ; " there- fore Christian and Hopeful have seen the land and the good things which God hath prepared " for them that love liim " (i Cor. 2: 10, II). This evidence of their faith cannot be overthrown — " Did we not see the gate of the City?" Thus true experimental faith can answer the objections of unbelievers. It is the inner testimony, the witness of the heart. This answer was not designed to con- vince Atheist, but to strengthen their own consistency, and to assist them to "beware of the flatterer." Such is the value of these blessed views revealed by faith ; they com- municate present joy, and inspire future confidence. One such vision of the other- %. I' Leaving Atheist. 219 which I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us " believe to the sav- ing of the soul " (Heb. lo : 39). ) Chr. 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 proof 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 me go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth, and " no lie is of the truth" (j John 2 : 21). Hope. 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, I then saw in my dream, that they went on until 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 to sleep ; wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin to grow so drowsy that I can scarcely hold open mine eyes ; let us lie down here, and take one nap. By no means, said the other, lest sleeping we never awake more. Hope. Why not, my brother? sleep is sweet to the laboring man ; we may be refreshed if we take a nap. Chr. Do not you remember that one of the Shepherds bid us beware of the Enchanted 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" (i Thess. 5:6). Hope. I acknowledge myself in a 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" (Eccl. 4:9). Hitherto hath thy company been my mercy ; and thou shalt " have a good reward for thy labor." wise Unseen is calculated to dispel a thou- sand doubts of unbelief. If it be not an answer to the world, it is a sufficient answer to one's own soul, sustaining the spirit of faith and hope and confidence in God. Oh, 9n such faith as Moses had ! " for he endured, as seeing Him who is invisible." The Enchanted Ground. — The third cau- tion of the Shepherds is now brought to mind — " to take heed that they slept not on the Enchanted Ground." The Pilgrims have now entered on that region of country. and they feel the spirit of slumber steal softly over them, and their eyes are heavy with sleep. Christian exhorts his comrade to be wakeful and vigilant. The Enchanted Ground means — politically — the mitigation of penalties and persecu- tions; when ease and liberty are enjoyed, and the Church has rest from strife. This is a season fraught with danger, lest a spirit of soft and luxurious ease should take the place of former vigilance and watchfulness. Spiritually (and here is its real significance), 220 The Pilgrinis Progress. Now, then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness in this place, let us fall into good discourse. With all my heart, said the other. Chr. Where shall we beein ? plea: Hope. Where God began with us ; but do you begin, if you se. Chr. 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, Thu^ to keep ope their drowsy, slumbering eyes. Saints' fellowship, if it be mannged well. Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell. ^ Then Christian began, and said, I will ask you a question : How came you to think at first of doing as you do now? Hope. Do you mean, how came 1 at first to look after the good of my soul? Chu. Yes, that is my meaning. Hope. 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, Ijad I continued in them still, drowned me in perdition and destruction. Chr. What things were they ? Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also I delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, swearing, lying, un- wmr ,,, the Enchanted Ground is meant to indicate such seasons of worldly prosperity as tend to render Christian men careless and " at ease in Zion." How often have njen fallen from the consistency of the Christian walk, when visited with the sunshine of temporal success ! " Give me not riches," said one of old, " lest I be full, and deny thee, and say. Who is the Lord ? " (Prov. 30 : 8, 9). Such is the position of our Pilgrims at this stage of their journey. They are repre- sented as tarrying for a time in a land of luxury and ease. They need to " watch and be sober." The whole tendency of such a season is in the direction of sloth and slumber and forgctfulness of God. To resist this temptation, they resort to the blessed expedient of Christian communion and fellowship of saints. Soft indulgence tends to blunt the keen edge of Christian experience; but, in Christian communion "iron sharpeneth iron." It is highly profit- able to the soul's health to review the past, to remember the days of old, and to call to remembrance the way in which the Lord hath led us. Where God began with us. — In this godly intercourse, we do well to begin, as the Pil- grims did, " where God began with us." This conversation conducts us through the past experiences of Hopeful — from his former darkness to his present enjoyment pf light in the Lord. Hoi'EKUL was once an inhabitant of Vanity Fair; in all respects conformed to the vani- ties of that sinful place. His observation of Christian and Faithful first led him on the way towards newness of life. He begaiu Hopeful tells his Experience. 221 Is place, n, if you n : How the good je things leve now aerdition Also I /ing, un- )f Christian communion ghly profit- ;\v the past, d to call to the Lord n this godly as the Pil- li us." This gh the past his former ent 9f light nt of Vanity to the vani- ser/ation of led him on l^Ie begaiu cleanness, Sabbath-breaking, and what not, that tended to destroy the soul. But I found, el., last, by hearing and considering of things that are Divine, which indeed I heard of you, as al^o 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 disobe- dience " (Rom. 6: 21-23; Eph. 5: 6). Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of this conviction ? Hope. No, I wa's not willing presently to know the evil of sin, nor the damnation that follows upon the commission of it ; but endeav- ored, when my mind at first began to be shaken with the word, to shut mine eyes against the light thereof, Chr, But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon you ? Hope, The causes were: (i) I was ignorant that this was the work of God upon me. I never thought that by awakenings for sin God^t first begins the conversion of a sinner, (2) Sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and I was loath to leave it. (3) I could not tell how to part with mine old companions, their presence and actions were so desirable unto me. (4) The hours in which convictions came 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, Chr. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your trouble. Hope, Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind again ; and then I would be as bad, nay, worse than I was before. Chr Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again ? as most men begin, by strong conviction of his sin, and of his consequent danger. He, however, sought to stifle these convictions, and to blind himself to the real peril of his state. He tells us what were the chief causes of this resistance to the strivings of the Spirit. (i) Hisigncranceof God's mode of opera- tion. He had never trod this path before, and hi' carnal heart would not admit that this wr 3 God's work in his soul. He thought not that God would accomplish the cleansing of his conscience by first stirring it to its depths, and reveahng all its hidden defile- ment. (2) Sin was yet sweet to his taste. Sin had struck its fibres deep into his soul, and had twined itself around the affections of his heart. Therefore he was loath to leave it. Alas! these fondled ?ins, these idols of the heart — how they gathv • round us, and do so easily beset us, and hinder us in running the race that is set before us ! (3) Unwillingness to part with old com- panions. As are our sins so are our partners in sin. Friendships are formed, and we are unwilling to abandon them ; and the com- panionships being unchanged, the soul con- tinv^s in the bond of iniquity. Such are the stern demands of righteousness, t'hat sin J ' i t I \ ;"li3 i 222 The Pilgrim's Progress. I li !- Hope. Many things ; as, if I did not but meet a good man in the street ; or if I have heard and read in the Bible ; or if mine head did begin to ache kor 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 if I heard that sudden death happened to others ; but especially when I thought of myself, that I must quickly come to ; dgment. Chr. And could you at any time, with ease, get off the guilt of sin, when by any of these ways it came upon you ? Hope. 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. Chr. And how did you then ? Hope. I thought I must endeavor to mend my life ; for else, thought I, I am sure to be damned. Chr. And did you endeavor to mend ? Hope. 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 neighbors, etc. These things did I with many others, too much here to relate. Chr. And did you think yourself well then ? Hope. Yes, for a while ; but at the last my trouble came tumbling upon me again, and that over the neck of all my reformations. Chr. How came that about, since you were now reformed ? Hope. There were several things brought it upon me, espe- cially such sayings as these: "All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags ;" "By the works of the law shall no man be justified ;" "When ye have done all these things, say, We are unprofitable ;" with many more such like (Isa. 64: 6; Gal. 2: 16; Luke 17: 10). From whence I began to reason with myself thus : If all my righteousnesses are as filthy rags ; if by the deeds of the law no man can be justified ; and if, when we have done all, we are yet unprofitable, 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 must be plucked up, even to the last, the least, the lowest fibre of its root. (4) The seasons of conviction were sore and trying ; and therefore he sought to be rid of them, as one would be rid of unquiet hours, and days of anguish and sore afflic- tion. Ah, what a coward is the conscience when brought face to face with its own sins and forced to fight its fierce battle of con- viction ! Such were the strivings of Hopeful's con- science ; at one time rampant, at another time restrained ; rising to convulsive throes as circumstances provoked its sensitiveness. ^Ml \yy H'ifl \ ' ' ''^ \\ \x lili Hopeful's Experience. 223 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. Chr. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself? Hope. Why, I thought this with myself: I have by my sins run a great way into God's book, and that 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 I brought myself in danger of by my foimer transgressions ? Chr. a very good application ; but pray go on. Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me, even since my late amendments, 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 what I do; so that 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. Chr. And what did you do then ? Hope. 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. Chr. And did you think he spake true ? Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied' with mine own amendments, 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. Chr. 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 ? KorE. 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. Chr. And did you ask him what man this was, and how you must be justified by him? sitiveness. What a creature of circumstances is an awak- ened conscience ! As Madame de Stael observes, "The voice of conscience is so delicate that it is easy to stifle it ; but it is also so clear that it is impossible to mistake it." The sight of a good man, the testimony of a verse of Scripture, an aching head, a trifling illness, a toUing bell, a passing funeral, a serious reflection, or a thought of death — any of these would suffice to revive the power of conscience in the awakened sinner. ! I II 224 IVie [^ilgrims Progress. \X\ •. sj iH > HOPEFUL TELLS CHRISTIAN HIS EXPERIENCE. Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth on the right hand of the Most High (Rom. 4; Col. i; Heb. 10; 2 Pet. i); and thus, said he, you must be justified by him, even by trusting to 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 such efficacy as 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. Hopeful, ihus pursued by au .iquiet conscience, sou'^ht refuge in reformation of life. He left off doing evil and applied him- self to the performance of religious duties. This was a step in the right direction, but it was not everything. Sin must be dealt with, not only as to its outward fruits, but also as to its innermost root. If the foun- \ ?<5S leth on Pet. i); to what d when man's before he did, om his elieved on, but it be dealt Tuits, but the foun- Hopeful's Experience. Tlh Chr. And what did you do then? Hope. I made my objections against my believing, for that I thought he was not willing to save me. Chr. And what said Faithful to you then ? Hope. He bid me go to him and see (Matt. 1 1 : 28). Then I said it was presumption. He said, No ; for I was invited to come. Then he gave me a book of Jesus's 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 (Matt. 24: 35). Then I asked him what I must do when I came. And he told me, I must entreat upon my knees, with all my heart and soul, the Father to reveal him to me (Ps. 95 : 6 ; Jcr. 29 : 12, 13 ; Dan. 6: 10). Then I asked him further, how I must make my supplications 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 (Exod. 25 : 22 ; Lev, 16: 2 ; Heb. 4: 16). I told him that I knew not what to sa/ when I came. And he bid me say to this effect: "God be mercifui 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, I have heard that thou art a merciful God, 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 I am (and lam a sinner indeed). Lord, take there- fore this opportunity, and magnify thy grace in the salvation of my soul, through thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen." Chr. And did you do as you were bidden ? Hope. Yes, over and over and ov^r. Chr. And did the Father reveal the Son to you ? Hope, No, not the first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, fifth, no, nor at the sixth time neither. Chr. What did you then ? Hope. What ! why I could not tell what to do. tain be not cleansed, the stream cannot be continuously clean. If the corrupt tree be not wholly healed at the root, nothing yet is done. Bunyan introduces much of his own ex- Derience into this description of Hopeful's spiritual state. In his " Grace Abounding " he tells of his own reformation of life: 15 " Thus I continued about a year ; all which time our neighbors did take me to be a ver>' godly man, and did marvel much to see such a great and famous alteration in my Hfe and manners ; and, indeed, so it was, though yet I knew not Christ, nor grace, nor faith, nor hope." Thus far had Hopeful attained : and yet ( 1 i i \\\ irf^'litiii P) ■*:: i 226 The Pilgrim's Progress, Chr. Had you no thoughts of leaving off praying? Hope, Yes ; and a hundred times twice told. Chr. And what was the reason you did not? Hope. I believe that it was true which hath 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, "If it tarry, wait for it, because it will surely come, and will not tarry" (Hab. -z . 3). So I continued praying, until th': Father showed me his Son. Chr. And how was he revealed unto you ? Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes of mine understanding (Eph. i : 18, 19). And thus it was: One day I was very sad, I think sadder than atany one timein my life; and this sa.dness was through a fresh sight of the greatness and vileness of my sins. And, as I was then looking for nothing but hell, and the ever- lasting damnation of my soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus looking down from heaven upon me, and saying, " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved" (Acts 16: 30, 31). 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" (John 6 : 35) ; that believing and coming was all one ; and that he that came, that is, that ran out in his heart and affections aftersalvation by Christ, he indeed believed in Christ. Then the water stood in my 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 " (John 6 : 2)1)- Then I said, But how. Lord, must I consider of thee in my coming to thee, that my faith may be placed aright upons thee ? Then he said, " Christ Jesus came into the world to save he was not satisfied with his spiritual pro- gress. Sin was not uprooted; sin entered into, and intermingled with, all his deeds. A better righteousness than his own must needs be provided, if his soul is to be fully and finally saved. Here he breaks his mind to Faithful, and is by him instructed to seek " the righteousness of One who never had sinned." The conversation now unfolds the great essential doctrine of the cross — the imputed' righteousness of Jesus Christ, who had nO' sin, but was " made sin " for us, " that we might be made the righteousness of God in him " (2 Cor. 5 : 21). Hopeful rejoices in this precious truth, and at once begins to- seek for this righteousness ; so that of him, it may now be said, " Behold, he prayeth l"' Hopefurs Experience. 227 sinners ; " " He is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that beheveth ; " " He died for our sins, and rose again for our justifi- cation;" "He lovtd us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood;" " He is mediator betwixt God and us;" "He ever liveth to make intercession for us" (i Tim. i : 15 ; Rom. 10: 4; Heb. 7: 24, 25). From all which I gathered that I must look for righteous- ness in his person, and for satisfaction for my sins by his blood ; and that what he did in obedience to his Father's law, and in submitting 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. Chr. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed ; but tell me particularly what effect this had on your spirits. Hope. 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 mine own ignorance ; for there never came a thought into mine 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. And what earnest prayer, what wrestling agony, was this ! Undaunted by failure, again and again he prays, and at last re- ceives the great revelation to his soul : " the Father showed me his Son ! " What effect this had. — Such a revelation of Jesus to the soul must surely have been confirmed by signs following. This view of Jesus was all in all to the anxious, awakened sinner. It was the Wicket-gate, and the view of the Cross, and release from his bur- den, id pardon and peace — all in one. This was the sec et of that " brotherly cove- nant," into which Hopeful, had entered with Christian, when proceeding 'orth from Vanity Fair as his companion (.q the Celestial City. H, i i':'J Pi) ' ? \:i !^ • H« 228 CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTS IGNORANCE. ^^1 ^ \,.> CHAPTER XVIII. Ignorance. ' The Pilgrims are still ]).issing through the Enchanted Ground. They have thus far, in accordance with the advice of the Shepherds, resisted the spirit of slumber, by sustaining an interesting and instructive conversation on the matter of their spiritual experience. This vigilance of the Pilgrims is still further maintained by a spirited and suggestive argument with Ignorance, a man whom they have met on their descent froT* the Delec- table Mountains. On their first meeting with him, as he entered by the " lUlo crooked lane " from the Country of Conceit, the Pilgrims had rebuked him for his self-righteousness and ignorance of the conditions of the Pilgrimage ; they had then gone forward, leaving him for a time to muse upon their conversation. 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. Chr. Aye, aye, I see him ; he careth not for our company. Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt him had he kept pace with us hitherto. ' Chr. That is true ; but I warrant you he thinketh otherwise. Hope. That I think he doth ; but, however, let us tarry for him. So they did. Then Christian said to him, Come away, man, why do you stay so behind ? Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone ; even more a great deal than in company, unless I like it better. Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), Did I not tell you he cared riot for our company ? But, however, come up, and let us talk away the time in this solitary place. Then directing his speech Saw Ignorance coming after. — This man had been allowed time and opportunity to ponder in his heart the things already spoken by the Pilgrims. He is, however, a stranger to such teaching, and savoreth not the cortversation or companionship of such men. He therefore "loitereth behind," seeking rather to avoid their company, and, in his self-sufficiency, to walk alone. Ele- ments that are unlike do not easily inter- mingle When Jesus came as the Light into this dark world, it is said: "The light ^hin- (229 .! 'H :> n ? if mi^rtm si M I III t!i'^ iii! *t> 1 230 TAe Pilgrim^ s Progress. to Ignorance, he said, Come, how do you do? How stands it be- tween God and your soul now? Ignor. I hope well, for I am always full of good motions, that come into my mind to comfort me as I walk. Chr. What good motions ? Pray tell us. Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven. Chr So do the devils and damned souls. Ignor. But I think of them and desire them. Chr. So do many that r e never like to come there. " The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing" (Prov. 13 : 4). Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for them. Chr. That I doubt ; for leaving of all is a very hard matter ; yea, a harder matter than many are aware of. But why, or for what, art thou persuaded that thou hast left all for God and heaven ? Ignor. My heart tells me so. Chr. The wise man says, "He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool" (Prov. 28: 26). Ignor. That is spoken of an evil heart, but mine is a good one. Chr. But how dost thou prove that ? Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. Chr. That may be through its deceitfulness ; for a man's heart may minister comfort to him, in the hopes of that thing for which he has yet no ground to hope. Ignor. But my heart and life agree together ; and therefore my hope is well grounded. Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together ? Ignor. My heart tells me so. Chr. " Ask my fellow if I be a thief." Thy heart tells thee so ! eth in darkness ; and the darkness compre- hended it not" (John i : 5) ; and again, " Everyone that doeth evil hateth the light, neither conieth to the Hght lest his deeds should be reproved " (John 3 ; 20). Let us talk away the time. — Still to resist the spirit of slumber, is the duty of the Pil- grims, at least until they have got quite over the Enchanted Ground. Another oppor- tunity is thus created in the Allegory for the introduction of doctrinal truth in contrast to the misapprehensions of spiritual ignorance. So they begin to question with Igno- rance, and thus they draw him out in con- versation. The self-satisfaction of this man is evident from the very outset. " To think of God and heaven " he deems to be the sum and substance of religion ; and to " de- sire" the possession of God and heaven, he esteems as a distinguishing characteristic of his spiritual state. Poor Ignokance knows not that the very devils " think " much of God, and that even the worst of sinners do " desire " the things of heaven. His own " heart " ^s the witness that lays the flattering unction to this man's soul. But the heart is "deceitful " and cannot be trusted ; and, besides, it is not an independ- ent witness, but mere self-testimony. It needs the witness of the Spirit, and the wit- Ignorance tells the Grounds of his Hope. 231 is it he- rn s, that The 0- matter ; Dr what, 1? irn heart )od one. I's heart ^hich he ore my ler ? hee so ! ' To think to be the id to " de- leaver!, he cteristic of JCE knows much of sinners do s that lays in's soul, an not be independ- inony. It d the wit- Except the word of God beareth witness in this matter, other testi- mony is of no value. Ignor. But is it not a good heart that has good thoughts ? and is not that a good life that is according to God's commandments ? Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that has good thoughts, and that is a good life that is according to God's commandments ; but it is one thing indeed to have these, and another thing only to think so. Ignor, Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life accord- ing to God's commandments ? Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds ; some respect- ing ourselves, some God, some Christ, and some other things. Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves ? Chr. Such as agree with the Word of God. Ignor. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with the Word of God? Chr. 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 imagination of the hea /t of man is only evil, and that continually." And again : "The imcigination of man's heart is evil from his youth" (Gen. 6 : 5; Rom. 3: 10). Now, then, when we think thus of ourselves, having sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, because according to the Word of God. Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad. Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought concerning thyself in thy life. But let me go on. As the Word passeth a judg- ment upon our hearts, so it passeth a judgment upon our ways ; and when the thoughts of our hearts and ways agree with the judgment Tvess of the Word, to tell the true testimony respecting our hearts, and to say " how it stands between God and our souls." Good thoughts respecting ourselves. — The best thoughts we can entertain respecting our- selves are, that we have no good thing dwell- ing in us by nature ; that the whole heart and life are corrupt and evil ; that our spir- itual health is diseased ; and that we need a Physician, a Helper, a complete Saviour ; and that without this salvation, we are lost, and lost forever. These are the thoughts that spring from "heart-humiliation," and consciousness of sin. The self-righteous spirit of the unregen- erate man arises from many secret sources, deeply laid in the carnal and unrenewed heart: (i) from an overestimation of self — "the righteousness of the Scribes and Phari- sees;" (2) from an under- estimation of what God requires of us — a perfect righteousness ; (3) from ignorance of self — " thinking our- selves to be something when we are noth- ing ;" and (4) horn forgetfulness of our act- ual condition — forgetting ourselves as we really are. In the mirror of God's Word, and in the light of his Holy Spirit, we are permitted to behold ourselves as in a glass, Ifl, •% "^ ' !ri >' I I !, i<( r P5« if| *!f * I'll 4.: i ^ it ' TAe Pilgrim s Progress. IGNORANCE STEPS BEHIND. which the Word giveth of both, then both are good, because agree- ing thereto. Ignor. Make out your meaning. ' Chr. Why, the Word of God saith that man's ways are crooked ways (Ps. 125 : 2) ; not good, but perverse ; it saith they are naturally out of the good way; that they have not known it (Prov. 2:15; Rom, 3: 17). 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. Ignor. What are good tnoughts concerning God. and thus to dispel self-ignorance (James I : 25). Good thoughts concentittg God. — All men think some thoughts respecting God; and theirthoughts are generally "good thoughts," that is, they think good of him, because God is good, and he is the author and giver of all good things. It is also possible to enter- I'.: as from •t thou ; He had ipon him ; e have no ousness is e in him. Isely con- iNORANCE ■ a broken 'ill go into jst, partly irtly upon to Christ, I'ation be- lls is both ur faith." €ven this thy answer demonstrateth what I say. Ignorant thou art of what Justifying r'ghteousness is, and as ignorant how to secure thy soul, through the faith of it, from the heavy wath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith in this righteouness of Chfist, 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 igno- rantly imaginest. Hope. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him from heaven, Ignor. What! you are a man for revelations ! I do believe that what both you and all the rest of you say about that matter is but the fruit of distracted brains. HoFE. Why, man ! Christ is so hid in God from the natural ap- prehension of all flesh, that he cannotby any man be savingly known unless God the Father reveals him to him. Ignor. 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. Chr. Give me leave to put in a 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 ot his migh<"v povv r (Matt, ii: 27; i Cor. 12: 3; Eph. i: 17- 19); the woHving of w^.lJh faith, I perceive, poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant cf. Be awakened, then, see thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus ; and by his righteousness, which is the right- eousness of God (for he himself is God), thou shalt be delivered from condemnation. This true faith puts forth its hand, and takes the righteous robe; it is that faith "under the skirt of which, the soul being shrouded, and by it being presented as spotless before God, it is accepted." If he had Christ revealed to him f — This question of Horr.FUL takes the direction of his own experience. In the preceding con- versation between the Pilgrims, wf. have been informed how it was that Hopeful's conver- sion was brought about, even as was the con- version of Paul. " It pleased God to reveal -his Son in me" (Gal. i ; 15, 16). But this experience is too deep, too lofty, too pro- found, too heavenly for Ignorance to com- prehend or understand. You go so fast. — Yes, Hopeful has al- ready proceeded in his spiritual teaching far beyond the power of Ignorance to follow. High as the heaven is the exalted doctrine of this devoted believer in Jesus, who has in his own experience " seen the Lord," in the spiritual vision of his soul. Behind such advanced Pilgrims, yea, very far behind, must such carnally-minded men as Igno- rance walk. ;i;i«,;„i-i ' -i.Lt im"'\ '!'i Ml* v<^ I 236 734^ Pilgrim's Progress. Ignor. You go so fast I cannot keep pace with you ; do you go- on before ; I must stay a while behind. Then they said : * Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be, To slight good counsel, ten times given thee ? And, if thou yet refuse it, thou slialt 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, I'll warrant thee. Then Christian addressed himself thus to his fellow : Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that thou and I must ^yalk by ourselves again. So I saw in my dream, that they went on apace before, and Ignorance, he came hobbling after. Then said Christian to his com- panion, I much pity this poor man ; it will certainly go hard with him at last. Hope. 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 ? Chr. Indeed the Word saith, " He hath blinded their eyes, lest they should see," etc. But, now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such men? have they at no time, think you, convictions of sin, and, consequently, fears that their state is dangerous ? Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for you are the elder man. Chr. 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, True or right fear. — The reckless uncon- cern of Ignorance suggests to the pious mind of Hopeful how good it would be for men's spiritual interests, if they were more actuated by the " fear " of God. Chri.stian would qualify the expression, and calls it "true or right fear," which is discovered by the following marks and tokens : (i) By conviction of sin. This is the awakening of the soul, as from a deep slum- ber of ignorance and unconcern. It is the opening of the eyes to impending danger ; the sensitiveness of the soul, enabling the sinner to feel the burden of his sin. Hove, all as yet is fear and trembling, as Chris- tian himself once wept and trembled in the plain, and "brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, • What shall I do ?' " How can a man see himself in the midst of wrath, and not fear ? How can he behold the The Effects of a Right Fear of God. 237 1 you go i I must ore, and his com- bvith him Dndition, And if there be syes, lest ch men? jquently, you are 3ut they, Dns tend fie them, It is the ig danger; labling the iin. Here, as Chris- bled in the lamentable How can : of wrath, behold the and presumptuously continue to flatter themselves in the way of their own hearts. Hope. 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. Chr. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right ; for so says the Word, "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom" (Job 28: 28; Ps. Ill: 10; Prov. i: 7; 9: 10), Hope. How will you describe right fear ? Chr. True or right fear is discovered by three things : (i) 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 con- tinueth 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 reproach- fully. Hope. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth. Are we now almost got past the Enchanted Ground ? Chr. Why ? are you weary of this discourse ? Hope. No, verily, but that I would know where we are. Chr. 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. Hope How do they seek to stifle them ? Chr. (i) They think that those fears are wrought by the devil (though indeed they are wrought of God) ; and, thinking so, they resist mouth of hell, and not fear ? How can he feel his weight of woe and condemnation; and not be affected with fear ? Such fear as this is that " true or right fear " that is akin to "godly sorrow," which "worketh re- pentance to salvation " (2 Cor. 7 : 10). (2) By laying fast hold on the Saviour. Consciousness of danger impels a man to seek for safety. Instant, earnest and imme- diate is the effort of the shipwrecked mar- iner to strike out for the rock, and be safe. Who could stay the impetuous course of the man-slayer when pursued, so fast and so very near, by the avenger of blood ? And Christ is our Refuge, the Rock of our strength, the God of our salvation. It is true, his love must draw us, and his com- passion win us ; but there is ground for fear, too, as an cIciiK..;t ?f safety — fear of danger, that makes us flee from wrath, and take refuge in the arms of Jesus, "till this ty- ranny be over-past." (3) By the effect of pardon on the soul. "There is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be /^artf■ •240 The Pilgrim's Progress, n 1; ; I i Itji'i'':!' i: ' !i«'' li^r-'iir! own vomit again" (2 Peter 2: 22). Thus, I say, being hot for heaven, by virtue only of the sense and fear of the torments of hell, as tlieir sense of hell and fear of damnation chills and cools, 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. (2) Anodier reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster them. I speak now of the fears that th6y have of men ; " for the fear of man bring- eth a snare" (Prov. 29: 25). So, then, though they seem to be hot for heaven so long as the fiames 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. (3) The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in the way. They are proud and haughty, and relig- ion in their eyes is low and contemptible ; therefore, when they have lost their sense of hell and the wrath to come, they return again to their former course. (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 at first, if they loved that sight, might make them fly whither the righteous run and are safe. But because they do, as I hinted before, even shun the thoughts of guilt and ter- ror, therefore, when once they are rid of their awakenings about the terrors and vrath of God, they harden their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will harden them more and more. Chr. You are pretty near the bu^siness ; for the bottom of all is, for want of a change in their mind and will. And therefore they are but like the felon thatstandeth 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 that he hath 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. things Divine. They then withdraw them- selves from the private duties of religion. By-and-by they forsake the communion of saints. Ere long they become captious and cynical. Now the tide turns in the fulness of its might, and these men resign them- selves to positive iniquity and evil compan- ionships. And now, having ventured this far, they are borne into the adverse current, and are hurried away into the vortex ; and ("unless," as Bunyan says, "a miracle of grace prevent it ") they are, as Ignorance by-and-by will be, cast into the abyss of eternal wrath. m The Effects of False Fear, 241 iioPE. Now I have showed you the reasons of their going back, -do you show me the manner thereof. Chk. So I willingly will. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from the remembrance of God, death and judgment to come ; then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet-prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, -^.nd the like; then they shun the company of lively and warm Christians ; after that they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, reading, godly conference, and -the like ; they then 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 in- firmities they have spied in them) behind their backs; then they be- gin to adhere to, and associate themselves with, carnal, loose and wanton men ; then they give way to carnal a^nd 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 ooldly do it through their example. After this, they begin to play with litde sins openly ; 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 everlastingly perish in their own deceivings. m , "'It *i m^i.,:^; CHAPTER XIX. The Land of Beulah— The Fords of the River— At Home. " Methinks I feel the balmy air Breathe un a pleasant land ' Mid joys so great and scenes so fair, In Beulah's plains I stand. A land of everlasting spring, Of seasons bright and gay, Where birds are ever on the wing, And night is lost in day. The turtle sings the whole day long The birds in chorus sing Their matin-hymn and even-song. To God, their God and King. From gloom and doubt and dark despair An endless rest is given ; The shining ones are walking tliere, The border- land of heaven I" The Enchanted Ground ^as been passed in safety ; the Pilgrims are now in the Land of Beulah. Peace ! it is a marriage scene ! far from Apollyon's wrath, far from the darkness of Death's shadow, far from even the sight of Doubting Castl« — away upon the heights, embowered in vineyards and orchards of the choicest fruits, is the Land of Beulah. Bright and blissful are the visions of their sleep, as now, released from the toil and travail of the way, they rest upon their peaceful pillow. " They are come unto Mount Zion and unto the City of the Living God, the heavenly Jerusalem." Yet, one step more ; one more ordeal must be passed. A flowing River, dark and deep, touches the base of the mount, and divides things present from things to come. This River must be forded, and it is only buoyant Faith that can overpass it safely. OW I saw in my dream that by this time the pilgrims were got over the Enchanted Ground ; and, entering into the country of Beulah (Sol. Song 2: 10-12; Isa. 62: 4-12)^ whose air w^as very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves there for a season. Yea, here they heard continually " the singing of birds," and saw every day "the flowers" appear in 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 TAe Country of Beulah.-^" Thou shalt no more be termed Forsaken ; neither shall thy land any more be termed Desolate ; but thou shalt be called Beulah ; for the Lord delighteth in thee, and thy land shall be married" (Isa. 62: 4). Beulah means " MARRIED ; " and, in prophetic language. it speaks of the final blessedness of the Church — the bride of Christ, when the Bridegroom shall return to his now widowed spouse, and the marriage contract shall be renewed. Here, the allusion is appropriated to the advanced stage of the Christian pil- grimage, which conducts the Pilgrims inta (242) The Pilgrims reach the Land of Beulah. 24J At Home. ay long ■sotiK. iing. lark despair K there, are now in the irath, far from l« — away upon is the Land of n the toil and ito Mount Zion tep more ; one le base of the ! forded, and it gfrims were g into the 62:4-12), way lying there for a birds," and heard " the ineth night shadow of could they edness of the 5t, when the now widowed itract shall be s appropriated Christian pil- Pilgrims inta 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 Bridegroom was renewed ; yea, here, " as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so doth their God rejoice over them. " Here 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 daughters of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh ! Behold, his reward is with him !" Here all the inhabitants of the country called them "the holy people, the redeemed of the Lord, sought out, " etc. 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 built 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 t'le sunbeams upon it, Christian with de- sire fell sick. Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease. Wherefore here they lay by it a while, crying out because of their pangs, "If ye 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 delights, and also for the solace of Pilgrims. So the gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with the dainties (Deut. 23: 24); he also the very suburbs of the land, and nigh unto the gates of the Celestial City. " Let me die the death of the righteous !" Here is a descripticJn of a Christian's sun- setting in this world, and the rising gloriously in the other and the better land. Here is the peaceful quietude of the departing Christian, finishing his course with joy. Al- ready does the communion of the skies com- mence ; heavenly messengers, with mes- sages of love and peace, hover around the bed of the Pilgrims. The storms of the Pilgrimage are hushed to silence ; fierce tempests cease to blow ; all here is blewss^d sunshine, calm and sweet repose — here in the Land of Beulah. Nearer and nearer ! It is a Progress still. and as yet they are not at home. The light now dazzles them with its exceeding gloi7 ; and they can yet behold it only " as through a glass, darkly;" but they are advancing " nearer and nearer." They have, however, i;i''f;,iCli; iili"'":^ li I!': ■ ' ,\\ ! -ii^tiiM' p!^' m it'"" ti.'li' I' ■■ iJi lii;i if'ii t* \l :l!n?s ■iliii ii. ^ < w n o Q w s: o w o H H W w 1:3 w c/2 s u 244 y J ik .ii'i ,.;t The Pilgrims reach the Land of Beulah. 245 showed them there the King's walks and the arbors, where he delighted to be ; and here they tarried and slept. Now 1 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 thereabouts, 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 that 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) (2 Cor. 3:18; Rev. 21 : 18) 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, and 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 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 further saw that between them and the gate was a river; but there was no bridge to go over, and the river was very deep. At the sight thereof 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 they answered, Yes ; but there |iath not any. two difficulties more to meet with: (i) the intervening river; and (2) that river must be crossed. .'1 River. — This is the River of Death ; a river without a bridge to span it, and its waters are very deep. The men shuddered at the sight. Yes, Death is the "king of terrors" still! The requirement is sternly exacted — "you must go through, or you cannot come at the gate." Yet, to believing faith is given a great reward — "you shall find it deeper or shallower, as you believe in the King of the place." The Pilgrims would avoid the crossing of this river, if they could. It is a cold flood ; a stormy sea ; at best it is a bitter pang, the residue ofthe curse of sin. Even Standfast, a brave and good comrade of the Second ■ t nil 'it/ Mi 4 IT ' ' ^ r 246 7%^ Pilgrim's Progress. save two — to wit, Enoch and Elijah — 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, and looked this way and that, but could find no way by which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all of the same 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 believe in the King of the place. They then addressed themselves to the water, and, entering, Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, " I sink in deep waters ; the billows go over my head all the 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 refresh- ments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spoke 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 per- ceived, he was much in the troublesome 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 hobgob- lins 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 m 1 1 IP ipflpj i ^^^m ^'11 rf-vri lIj" 1' L_ Pilgrimage, did with a shudder say, as he adventured himself into the flood, " The waters, indeed, are to the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold." In these fords of the river are described two Christian death-beds: the one filled with fears and terrors, his faith feeble and faint, and therefore the waters in proportion deep ; the other, ever hopeful and still re- joicing, upholds his more feeble brother, and is himself upheld ; his faith is firm, and there- fore his footing is sure. " Be of good cheer, my brother ; I feel the bottom, and it is good ! " How long shall Christian be thus pursued by the great enemy of souls ? Would Satan have him even yet, and in death de- stroy him who in life had proved so faithful ? Yea, even in the fords of the river, Satan standeth at his right hand ; as Bunyan else- where says, " I find he is much for assault- ing the soul when it begins to approach towards the grave." Christian seems to have failed to gain the foothold of the promises in these deep Christian in the Deep Waters. 247 I CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL CROSS THE RIVER. also would endeavor to comfort him, saying, Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive us ; but Christian would answer, 'Tis you, 'tis you they wait for ; you have been hopeful ever since I knew you. And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah, brother, said he, surely if I were right, He would now rise to help me; but for my sins he hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me. Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite forgot the text, where 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 are no sign that God hath forsaken you, but are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which hereto- waters. Hopeful feels that goodly ground- work, and would share this platform of his faith and confidence with his comrade, if he could. This hopeful companion suggests the promises of God, beckons his partner on in hope, points to the shining ones that wait to receive them on the further shore; but Christian, by reason of his doubts and fears, cannot realize so bright a prospect of the coming end. And yet it is one of the Wip: * 'Li" m\ i ' i HJ' r iin r'll! I! I '• 111. '.(..3 ■; . 248 7>4tf Pilgrim's Progress. fore you have received of his goodness, and live upon him in your distresses. Then I saw in my dre^m that Christian was in a muse awhile. To whom also Hopeful added these words, " Be of good cheer; Jesus Christ maketh thee whole." A^nd 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" (Isa. 43 : 2). Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as still as a stoiie, until they were gone over. Christian therefore presently found ground to< stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was but shallow ; thus they got over. Now upon the bank of the river, on the othei side, they saw the two shining men again, who there waited for them. Wherefore being come up out of the river they saluted them, saying, "We are- ministering spirits sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation" (Heb. i : 14). Thus they went along towards the gate. Now you must note 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, being comforted because they safely got over the river, and had such glori- ous companions to attend them. The talk that they had with the shining ones was about the glory of the place ; who told them that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they, is "Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect" (Heb. 12: 22-24). You are going now, said they, to the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the Tree of precious promises that at last sustains him : " When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee;" and boldly resting himself on the strength of this plighted word of his God and Father, the scales of darkness fall from his eyes, his feet are grounded on a sure place ; and, ere long, both Christian and Hopeful have gained the eternal shore. " The world recedes, it disappears ; Heaven opens on mine eyes ; my ears With sounds seraphic ring. Lend, lend your wings, I mount, I fly; O grave, where is thy victory ? O death, where is thy f ting ? " Thus they went alon^. — The River o£ ^ The Pilgrims are Welcomed to Heaven. 249' iim in your OPEFUL have 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 (Rev. 2: 7 ; 3: 4. 5 ; 22: 5). There you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower regions upon the earth, to wit : sorrow, sickness and death ; for the former things are passed away (Isa. "5' 16). You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac and Jacob, and to tne prophets, men that God hath " taken away from the evil to come," and that are now " resting upon their beds, each one walk- ing in his uprightness." 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 (Gal. 6 : 7, 8). In that place you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One ; for there you " shall see him as he is" (i John 3 : 2). 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 hearing 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 nim; yea, and when he shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be angels or men, you shall also have a voice in that judg- ment, because they are 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 (i Thess. 4: 13-17 ; Jude 14, 15 ; Dan. 7: o, 10; i Cor. 6: 2, 3). Now while they were thus drawing toward the gaLc, behold a he River o£ Death has been safely overpassed. All that was mortal has been left behind ; they now are disembodied spirits, unclothed of their mortality, and "clothed upon with their houce which is from heaven," rising and soaring higher than the clouds. There, citizens of heaven receive them ; minister- ing spirits, that once invisibly ministered to them here, now minister to them in glory, and open up the prospect of the things that yet shall be, and the part the redeemed shall yet bear in the coming kingdom of our ^5 tt f-i 1; I.: wm\.: 250 Tke Pilgrim's Progress. 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 they were in the world, and that have leit all for his holy name, and he hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought 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 unto the mar- riage supper of the Lamb" (Rev. 19 : 9). There came cuL 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 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 around 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 sound- ing 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 were come down to meet them. Thus therefore they walked on together; and as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even with joy- ful sound, would, by mixing their music with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and his brother hew 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 their melodious notes. Here also they had the cityitself in view ; and they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to 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 ! 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, " Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city." (Rev. 22 : 14). Then I saw in my dream that the shining men bid them call at the Lord and of his Christ. Meanwhile the retinue enlarges, and swells into a glorious train of triumph and rejoicing ; and, amid {jraises, and hallelujahs and glad anthems of the skies, " an entrance is ministered unto them abundantly into the everlasting king- dom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ " (2 Peter i : 11). w\ whom it that have ett all for 2 brought and look )st gave a the mar- ^l also at lothed in )ud made s saluted le world ; )me went e left (as lysound- ' that the >elf were ogether ; vith joy- Jres, still nto their \nd now le at it; ng their and they le them hey had for ever 5 joy be ten over dments, through ill at the m Sf a w C/5 w M tered unto ting king- is Christ •• ■'a; 252 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. gate ; the 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, "that keepeth truth may enter in" (Isa. 26: 2). 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 some that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them ; the harps to praise withal, 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 our Lord." I also heard the men themselves sing with a loud voice, saying, " Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unco the Lamb for ever and ever" (Rev. 5 : 13). 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. Went in at the gate. — They have ascended the hill of the Lord ; and now they enter, by those golden gates, the object of their long- ing hope and expectations, for which they have been striving all their journey through. These are the gates they had seen in the distance, through the telescope of faith. Their faith , is now lost in sight ; and their hope resigns her office, for all is full fruition. This is their Mount of Transfiguration — they shine resplendent as the sun when he shineth in his strength, with transformed powers to bear iheir transfigured glory. / looked in after them. — As it were a glimpse, and but for a moment, revealed to tlic Dreamer; enough to tell him that heaven is more glorious than human words can possibly describe, or human heart con- ceive. As those great golden gates turned for a brief moment on their hinges, a view is given along the golden streets -the grand and glorious vistas of the City of the Lord. And then the inner scene is closed to mortal eyes. The Pilgrims have reached their journey's end, and are safely housed in heaven. He that once wept and trembled outside the City of Destruction, now sings his salvation song within the walls of the heavenly Jerusalem — at home, at rest, for ever with the Lord ! " His soul to Him who gave it rose ; God led it to its long repose, Its glorious rest I And, though the warrior's sun has set, Its light shall linger round us yet, Bright, radiant, blest I " / wished myself among them. — Oh, that such blissful dreams could but become real- ities ! Truly, one longs to be there, among the myriad choir, among the harpers harp- ing upon their harps ; to enter those pearly gates, to tread those golden streets, to wear those jewelled crowns, to wave those tri- umphant palms, and to be present with the Living Lord ! But it must be to us, as it was to the Pilgrims — a Progress; and if we patiently endure, as they did, to the end,. .'1 i % .ed over the- it was said, for the love ilgrims gave :eived in the , who, when ^hom it was ■ King then on," said he, at the gate ; had raiment at met them ■ps to praise » my dream it was said heard the I", and honor, throne, and n, I looked the streets. reached their fely housed in t and trembled ion, now sings e walls of the le, at rest, for :rose; n has set, i yet, rm.~Oh. that : become real- there, among harpers harp-' r those pearly reets, to wear ve those tri- sent with the e to us, as it RKSS; and if i, to the end,. 7''Ae Doom of Ignomnce. 253 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 pi ie- withal. There ;ere also of them that had wings, and they answered one aiO«:ht/ without intermission, saying, "Hc'y, holy, holy is the Lord ! " And after that they shut up the gates ; which when I had seen I "ished myself among them. Now, while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to ok 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 that place one Vain-hope, a ferry-man, 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 v/ich 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 who looked over the top of the gate. Whence come you ? and what would you have ? He answered, I have eaten and drunk in the presence of the King, and he has taught in our streets. Then they asked him for his certificate, that they might go and show it to the King. So he fumbled in his bosom for one. and found none. Then s; they. you none we too shall be saved, and shall join them in the blessed throng of glorified saints in heaven. Now, while I was gazing. — To please the taste, and to satisfy the utmost cravings of curiosity, Bunyan might well have con- cluded here. His Pilgrims once safe in Heaven, what more can we need to know ? But he writes his inimitable Dream, not only to please, but also to profit; not only to gratify, but also to admonish. And, accord- ingly, the finishing touch, with which he concludes his Allegory, is one of the darkest tints contained within the canvas of the pict- ture. Scarce has he ceased to look upon the glories opened to his vision, his eyes yet dazzled by the sight, when he beholds just one more earthly scene, and with a shudder of alarm the Dreamer awakes ! What was his scene of horror ? As soon as the Dreamer had seen the last of the heavenly vision, he saw Igno- rance come to the river-bank ; and, strange to say, he crossed, without any difficulty, to the other side ! This is a representa- tion of the death of the self-righteous man. One Vain-hope, a ferryman, con- ducted him across the stream. What a masterly touch is this, descriptive of the death of thousands, who have no bands in their death, nor fear, as other folk ! It is, perhaps, the only account we can give of the unconcern with which so many approach the realities of the death-bed ; and if Vain- hope be the ferry-man. Self-righteousness is the ferry-boat. Aye, and large convoys of these spiritual emigrants are day by day being conveyed across in this frail, perilous bark, all unconscious of the fathomless depths beneath, and of the vast future be- yond. Ignorance has crossed the flood of Death m^4 I 1" !' I . , 'I hi^^ ' t 1 254 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. But the man answered never a word. 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. — all, both bad and good, must cross it somehow — but he meets no shining ones, and has no escort to the gates of the city. He has no credential, no pledge or token of acceptance, no sealed roll, no robe of right- eousness, no wedding garment. So he an- swered never a word ! Volubly enough did he talk to the Pilgrims in the Enchanted Ground ; but now he has not a word to utter — he is "speechless" (Matt. 22: 12). Here mark the difference ! — The shining ones that had conducted Christian and Hopeful to the Gates, are now commis- sioned to conduct Ignorance, bound hand and foot, to the Door in the side o.' the hill. The same angels that bind the wheat ia sheaves, to be treasured in the garner, shall bind the tares in bundles, to be cast into the fire ! And these shining ones executed the commission of their Lord. "Then I saw," says the Dreamer, " there was away to hell, even from the gates of heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction !" Thus, in this wondrous Allegory, the sinner is the last remembered, and his fate supplies the final touch ; and with the echoes of that awful sentence, still vibrating in the ears of Christendom, the First Part of the Dream concludes. " So I awoke, and behold it was a Dream l" 'Twas not a vision of my sleep, nor dream that fancy paints; It was a view of heaven itself, the dwelling-place of saints. It was the glory of the Lord, the Spirit hatn reveal'd: The final happmess of those that God the Father seal'd. r&iiu 111 mc luj^^cu niiuciiicsa, ft luui^cu diiu ai^iicu in |jl.iycx. " O God ! complete my pilgrimage, conduct me safely there v' 'as a Dream r (i>oncPuK&ior\, OW, Reader, I have told my Dream to thee, See if thou canst interpret it to me, Or to thyself, or neighbor ; but take heed - . 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 the veil, Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail. There if thou seekest them, such things thoul't 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 wrapped up in ore ? . " None throws away the apple for the core ; But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, I know not but 'twill make me dream again. (255) m Arm Ml IH'fim* i ,it m m fi U ,Jfi' I' 1 i / ?5||{>m If -r [fas, •: ■< llliil ' ti; I 268 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. panions, and that he is as familiar with them in the place where he is as here one neighbor is with another (Zech. 2i'' !)• 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 dwell- ing at court, and that he every day eateth and drinketh and walketh and talketh with him, and receiveth the smiles and favors of him that is Judge of all there. Moreover, it is expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that country, will shordy come into these parts, and will kn^ the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbors set so little by mm and had him so much in derision, when they perceived that he would be a pilgrim (Jude 14, 15). For they say, that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, and that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the indignides that were cast upon Christian, when he became a pilgrim, that he will look upon all ?.s if done to himself;, and no marvel, for it was for the love that he had to his Prince, that he ventured as he did (Luke 10 : 16). I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on'i; I am glad for the poor man's sake, for that now he has rest from his labor, and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his tears with joy (Rev. 14: 13; Ps. 126: 5, 6); and for that he has got beyond the 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. Sag. 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 wonder- fully 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? Sag. It is true : I can give you an account of the matter ; for ings, but have sought after and got the rec- ords of his pilgrimage." No book of un- inspired origin has been more widely read than the Pilgrim':. Progress. Anything of his wife and children ? — This question introduces the details of the Second Pilgrimage: Christiana had resisted con- viction during the whole period of her hus- band's Hfetime. His death — when he had gone " over the river " — awakened her con- science to a sense of her own sin, and of her guilt in joining hand-in-hand with the un- godly, to resist good Christian's desires for heaven, and his earnest efforts to attain it -f -^Um Sagacity s Account of Christiana. 269 Inhere he is isides, it is ace where ant dwell- d walketh )f him that e, that his ese parts, ghbors set perceived lis Prince, nities that e will look >r the love e lo: 1 6). )oor man's at he now 126:5, 6); ies, and is for that a lio can tell ft behind ? nything of lind what like to do d the fool e tears or t wonder- after him. dren, and itter; for '■■ of her hus- hen he had led her con- 1, and of her 'ith the un- s desires for to attain it I was upon the spot at the instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair. ^ Then, said I, a man may, it seems, report it for truth. Sag, 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 seeing we are, as I perceive, going some considerable way together, I will give 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 lifei| after her husband was gone over the river, and she could hear of him no more, began to have thoughts working in her mind : first, for that she had lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly broken betwixt thern. For you know, said he to me, nature can do no less but entertain 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 not all ; for Christiana did also begin to consider with herself, whether her 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 carriage to her dear friend ; which also clogged her conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was more- over much broken with calling to remembrance the restless groans, the 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: especially 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 al) 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 it had fared well with us, beyond what it is likely to do now. For, though I formerly foolishly imagined concerning ihe troubles of your father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy humors, \ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) k A {/ ^^ .^i^. C ^ /- ^^ 1.0 I.I if iii IIIIIM S ■- IIIIIM lii 1^ liiio 1.8 1-25 1.4 1.6 ■m 6" ► w ^w ^. ^ ,>* // o / /A Photographic Sciences Corporation i\ ^ s \ *-\ 33 WEST MAIN STREIT WEnSTER.N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 ^ ^ % %> \ K v'o'^ v1^ 270 The IHlgrim's Progress, IliP^* I. \\\ M f ' t''' I 1 I il'ii I iilll!!! 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 (John 8: 12); 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 worth the day ! The next night Christiana had a dream ; and behold she saw as if a broad parchment was opened before her, in which was recorded the sum of her ways ; and the crimes, as she thought, looked very black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, " Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner!" (Luke 18: 13), and the little children heard her. After this, she thought she saw two very ill-favored ones standing by her bedside, 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 she 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 husband, 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 towards the paved work that was under his Prince's feet, saying, I heartily thank my Lord and King for bringing 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. Christiatta had a dream. — She had three dreams — two for her admonition, and one for her encouragement. These dreams in- dicate the promptings of her mind, as they arose from the power of Satan, or from the struggles of Divine grace, or from the love of God revealing itself to her soul. ( I ) The dream of the broad parchment — the scroll of remembrance. This was for conviction of her sin. Christian had felt his sin as the weary burden on his back, and Christiana now sees her sin unfolded to ^er conscience in the record of the roll. Thus, by different ways, conviction and con- sciousness of sin are brought home to the heart of the sinner. (2) The sight of the two ill-favored ones. This was an effort of the carnal mind to shake off conviction of sin, and to win back the awakened conscience to its sleep again. This dream was, however, in mercy sug- gested, being a presentiment of a scene by- and-by to happen, and a premonition to Christiana, who was thereby forewarned of a temptation that would ere long arise. (3) The vision of her husband in glory. A Messenger for Christiana. 271 CHRISTIANA PREPARES TO DEPART. :tion and con- home to the Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God, and talked with her children a while, one knocked hard at the door; to whom she spake, 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 nam.e 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 ; This dream was sent for her encouragement. She is enabled in some measure to reaUze her husband's bliss, the glory that is beyond the tomb. She is thus encouraged to advent- ure the journey, for the attainment of "the rest that remaineth for the people of God." One knocked hard at the door, — The in- ward musings of the awakened soul are an- i, io^' r t i U*! Ill 11 •li l!ii liin! : ! •■ii.ti ; 272 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. also there is a report, that thou art aware of the evil thou hast form- erly done to thy husband, in hardening of thy heart against his way, and in keeping of these babes in their ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One has sent me to tell thee that he is a God ready to forgive, and that he taketh delight in multiplying the pardon of offences. He also would have thee to 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 heritage of Jacob thy father. There is Christian, thy husband that was, with legions more, his companions, ever beholding that face that doth minister life to the beholders ; and they will all 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 vision proceeded, and said, Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which I have brought to thee from thy husband's King. r So she took it and opened it ; but it smelt after the nianner of the best perfume (Sol, Song i : 3). Also it was written in letters of gold. The contents of the letter were these : tiiat the King would have her to do as did Christian her husband ; for that was the only 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 her visitor. Sir, will you carry me and my children with you, that we also may go and worship the King ? Then said the visitor, Christiana, " the bitter is before the sweet." Thou must through troubles, as he did that went before thee, enter this Celestial City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy husband : Go to the wicket-gate yonder over the plain ; for that stands at the head of the way up which thou must go ; and swered by the outward calls of God's grace and the visits of his mercy. One now stands at the door and knocks. His name is Se- cret, from which we would gather that this messenger was a Divine person (see Judges 13: 18, and marginal reading, compared with Isa. 9 : 6). Here is Divine grace with a Divine hand knocking at the door of the widow's heart — " Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see How he persists to knock and wait for thee ! " Secret, being in possession of God's mind, tells what is already known in heaven respecting Christiana's spiritual state; and he comes with such kindly greetings and welcome invitations as must have brought rich and abiding comfort and consolation to the oppressed spirit of the penitent. Oh, how blest are these tidings of pardon ! these full and free promises of mercy ! Is not this "good news" indeed, sweeter than honey to our taste, and soft as refreshing showers when they fall upon the parched and thirsty ground ? This Divine ambassador furthermore pre- sents to Christiana the "golden letter" of Mrs. Timorous and Mercy visit Christiana. 273 I wish thee all good speed. Also I advise thee that thou put this letter in thy bosom ; that thou read therein to thyself and to thy children, until they have got it by heart : for it is one of the songs that thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgrimage (Ps. 119: 54) ; also this thou must delive.' in at the far gate. Now I saw in my dream that this old gentleman, as he told me this story, did himself seem to be greatly affected therewith. He moreover proceeded and said : So Christiana called her sons together, and began thus to address herself to theni : My sons, I have, as you may perceive, been of late under 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 he is well. I have also been much affected with the thoughts of mine own estate and yours ; which I verily believe is by nature miserable. My carriage also \ to your father in his distress is a great load to my conscience ; for I hardened both mine own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with him on pilgrimage. The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but for a dream which I had last night, and but for the en- couragement this stranger hath given me this morning. Come, my children, let us pack up and be gone to the gate that leads us to the Celestial Country, that we may see your father, and be with him and his companions in peace, according to the laws of that land. Then did her children burst out into tears, for joy that the heart of their mother was so inclined. So their visitor bid them farewell ; and they began to prepare to set out for their journey. But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the women that were Christiana's neighbors came up to her house, and knocked at her 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 the King. The golden counsel of this letter was : On to thy pilgrimage ! tread the ground that Christian trod ; enter by the Gate as Christian entered ; walk by the same rule ; mind the same thing ; sing these songs to cheer thee as thou goest ; keep this counsel in thy bosom ; and present it at the fa gate ! " The bitter is before the sweet." The far gate. — There is a near gate — the " strait gate ;" and there is a " far gate " — away in the distance-rso narrow that only true men can enter there, and yet so wide as to administer an " abundant entrance " to 18 all God's child/en. Between the near gate and the far gate intervenes the path of the pilgrimage — " from this world to that which is to come." Two of Christiana's neighbors. — Such holy determinations are not undertaken with- out strong opposition from the world and the things of the world. As Christian had to resist the entreaties of his wife and n.igh- bors, so Christiana must now be strong to resist the ill advice of those who would turn her feet back, ere she has well gained the threshold of the way. When God, by his 274 The Pilgrim's Progress. :; I 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. Timorous, I am preparing for a journey. (This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon the hill of Difficulty, and would have him go b§ck for fear of the lions.) Tim. For what journey, I pray you ? Chr. Even to go after my good husband. — And with that she fell a weeping. Tim. I hope not so, good neighbor; pray, for your poor chil- dren's sake, do not so unwomanly cast away yourself. Chr. Nay, my children shall go with me ; not one of them is willing to stay behind. Tim. I wonder in my very heart what or who has brought you into this mind? Chr. O neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you would go along with me. Tim. Pr'ythee what new knowledge hast thou got, that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that tempteth thee to go nobody knows where ? 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 carriage to him, when he was under his distress. Besides, I am now as he was then ; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. I was dream- ing last night that I saw him. Oh, that my soul was with him \ He 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 palace awakening Spirit, knocks at the door of our hearts, we may be sure we shall hear other knocks besides — of those who would in- quire what we mean to do, and whither we would go. One of these neighbors of Chris- tiana strongly urges her to abandon her projected pilgrimage. Her namo is Mrs. Timorous. She has come of no worthy peJig-ee; her family failing being to turn people back from good designs and from heavenly intentions. In vain does Christiana plead the inward convictions of the soul, which will not be set at rest by any other means ; in vain does she plead the willingness of her children to accompany her ; in Ajain does she relate her dreams, and the visit of the Man of God — Timorous calls it " madness," and recites iil'l our meaning whose name his Timorous of Difficulty, with that she ted since my ent over the isigns and from plead the inward h will not be set s ; in vain does f her children to es she relate her e Man of God — iss," and recites .v«s4^^;5^555^^r:^- CHRISTIANA AND FAMILY SET OUT. 275 till;'" 276 T/ie Pilgrim s Progress. on earth, if compared, seems to me but as a dunghill (2 'Cor. 5: 1-4). The Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promises of entertainment, if I s' " come to him ; his messenger was here even now, and brought ■^' 1 letter which invites me to come. — And with that she plucked out her letter, and read it, and said to them, What now will you say to diis ? 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 him ; yea, and Pliable too ; until they, like wise mer., were afraid to go any further. We also heard, over and above, low he met with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and mi ny other things. Nor is the danger that 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 c^re thy children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wherefore, though thou shouldst be so ra^h as to cast away thyself, yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy body, kesp thou at home. But Chrisdana said unto her, Tempt me not, my neighbor ; I have now a price put into my hand to get gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest sort, if I should have no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that you tell me of all these troubles that I am like to meet with in the way ; they are so far 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 begone, and do not disquiet me further. Then Timorous also reviled her, and said to her fellow. Come, neighbor Mercy, let us leave her in her own h.\nds, since she scorns the difficulties and hardships of Christian's own experience, and, plausibly enough, re- minds her that he was a strong man, but she a weak woman. Thus the tempters of this world do the duty of the great Tempter, and would dissuade even the true Pilgrims from their progress heavenward. Tempt me not. — Christiana's convictions were more to her than the plausible dissua- sives of her neighbor. She therefore ap- peals to her that she cast no more tempta- tion in her way, hindering her progress to the Kingdom, and prejudicing her fair ffos- pects of future glory. " The bitter before the sweet ! " Yes, the thorns first, and then the blooming rose ; the rude, rough plough- share first, and afterwards the golden har- vests ; the Cross, with all its weight and bit- terness, and then the Crown ! " Come, neighbor Mercy y — The second of these two neighbors, it now appears, was one named Mercy. This is the introduction of , I I The Neighbors hear of Christiana's Departure, 277 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 : first, her bowels yearned over Christiana. So she said within herself, If my neighbor will needs be gone, I will go a little way with her and help her. Secondly, h'"* bowels yearned over her own soul ; for what Christiana had said had taken some hold upon her mind. Wherefore she said within herself again, I will yet have more talk with this Christiana ; and, if I find truth and life in what she shall say, I myself with my heart shall also go with her. Wherefore Mercy began thus to reply to her neighbor Timorous : Mer. Neighbor, I did indeed come with you to see Christiana this morning, and since she is, as you see, taking her last farewell of the country,! think to walk this sunshiny morning a litde with her, to help her on the way. — But she told her not of her second reason, but kept it to herself. Tim. 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 we 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. 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: Neighbors, having but 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 The second of one of the main characters of the Second Pilgrimage, who by-and-by joins herself to Christiana, and bears her company to the end. She had come, in questionable com- panionship, to remonstrate, but she remains to sympathize. Two causes contributed to this change of mind : (i) Her sympathy for Christiana. The knowledge of another's sorrow and affliction ofttimes changes a spirit of reproof into a spirit of compassion. There is vast power in Christian earnestness, and much moral force in that deep-rooted solicitude, arising from heartfelt conviction of sin, which dis- poses the sinner to forsake all for Christ. This woman could not but feel that there was genuine reality in that self-denial, that now enables her neighbor to leave all and follow Jesus. (2) Her anxiety respecting herself. This feeling, though not expressed at the time, yet abided deep in the heart of Mercy. She must look to herself, and see and judge whether these things are so, as reported bj Christiana. Self-preservation is said to be the first law of nature ; and so, in spiritual 278 The Pilgrim's Progress. ti 1 V.' i^Ji si s" It ■' 'ft ; i" \ f . '1 I ^il 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 ? Tim. Aye, go she will, whatever come of it ; 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 doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter. Mrs. Bat's-eyes. Oh, this blind and foolish woman ! and 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 fantas- tical fools from the town ; a good riddance, for my part, I say of her. Should she stay where she dwells, and retain this mind, who could live quietly by her ; for she will either be dumpish or unneighborly, to talk of such matters as no wise body can abide. Wherefore, for my part, I shall never be sor'y for her departure ; let her go, and let her better come in her room : it was never a good world since these whimsical fools dwelt in it. Then Mrs. Light-mind added as foUoweth : Come, put this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at Madame Wanton's, where we were as merry as the maids. For who do you think shouit. l. m !■ 'I ii! !ti ■ 'I si ^'^* THE BOYS EAT OF THE FRUIT. Chr. When he heard your lumbering noise, lie gave a wonder- ful innocent smile ; I believe what you did pleased him well, for he showed no sign to the contrary. But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog ; had I known that before, I should not have had heart ouough 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, ne.Kt time he comes down, why he keeps such a filthy cur in his yard ; I hope he will not take it amiss. Do so, 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." '¥. The Story of the Dog. 289 So he said unto her, Peace be to thee ; stand up. But she con- tinued upon her face, and said, "Righteous art thou, O Lord, when I plead with thee; yet let me talk with thee of thy judgments" (Jer. 12 : 1,2); 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 for 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 bark- ing ; 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 roar- ing. 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 loved ; but I take all at present patiently. I also give my pilgrims timely help, so that they are not delivered to his power, to do with them whatliis doggish nature would prompt him to. But what! my purchased one, I trow, hadst thou known never so much beforehand, thou wouldest not have been afraid of a dog. 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, a dog in another man's yard, a dog whose barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims, keep any one from coming to me ? I deliver them from the lions, and " my darling from the power of the dog" (Ps. 22: 20, 21). Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance ; I spake what I understood not ; I acknowledge that thou dost all things well. 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 v/ay of his steps," according as he had dealt with her husband before. So I saw in my dream, that they walked on their way, and had the weather very comfortable to them. livers His servants from such fears and alarms of the pilgrimage. The weather was comfortable. — This part of the road is pleasant; their lines have fallen unto them in a fair place. The reliipf is great, the promise of pardon is sure, knd has already insured to them the realization 19 of the peace that pardon brings. They now sing the songs of their pilgrimage ; and from this fair beginning they are enabled to anticipate what shall be the end of their journey. Yet, not altogether without danger is this path of the Wicket-gate. The trees of the »H^iiiiiiii.ii !.ii,„ i.H I" ill 290 7%* Pilgrim's Progress, Then Christiana began to sing, saying — Bless'd be the day that I began A pilgrim for to be ; And blessed also be that man That thereto moved me. 'Tis true, 'twas long ere I began To seek to live forever ; ' But now I run fast as I can : 'Tis better late than never. Our tears to joy, our fears to faith, Are turned, as we see : ^ That 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 eat of them to their hurt. So Christiana's boys (as boys are apt to do), being pleased with the trees, and with the fruit that hung thereon, did pick 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 belonged 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 bow-shots from the place that led them into the adjoining garden shot their branches over the wall of the narrow way, and presented their mellow and luscious fruits full in view of Christiana's children. This was their temptation ; and they plucked them, and did eat. Christiana's conscience is somewhat troubled by her children's conduct, and she reproves them, on the score that these fruits did not belong to them. Had the good woman known more, had she traced those fruits to the root that bote them, her voice had been lifted up more loud and more com- manding, that her children should straight- way forbear to eat. These fruits were in the- narrow-way, but they formed no part of the King's possessions; the root of that tree grew in the garden of the Tempter, who threw these tempting baits ver the very walls of salvation. These are the seductive pleasures and gayeties of life, those " youth- ful lusts" which war against the soul. Two very ill-favored ones. — This danger tests the elder Pilgrims. Alone upon the highway, their virtue and innocence are as- sailed by those who would plunge them into sin and shame, and so recover them to the power of Satan. But Virtae, though 1"V 1 ■ H K j I! I! H 1 1 ni A New Danger, 291 way, they espied two very ill-favored ones coming down apace to meet them. With that Christiana and Mercy her friend covered themselves with their veils, and so kept on their journey ; the children also went on before ; so 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 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. Then said one of the two men. We make no assault upon you for money, but are come to tell you; that if you will but grant one small request which we shall ask, we will make women of you forever. 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 business of life and death. So again she and her companion made a fresh essay to go past them ; but they letted them in their way. And they said, We intend no hurt to your lives ; 'tis another thing we would have. Aye, quote Christiana, you would have us body and soul, for I know 'tis for that you are come ; but we will die rather upon the spot, than suffer ourselves to be brought into such snares as shall hazard our well-being hereafter. And with that they both shrieked out, and cried Murder! Murder ! and so put themselves under those laws that are provided for the protection of women (Deut. 22 : 25-27). But the men still made their approach upon them, with designs to prevail against them. They therefore cried out again. Now they being, as I have said, not far from the gate in at which they came, their voice was heard from whence they were, thither ; unprotected, is her own best protector. She first drops the veil of modesty over her face, and then resists with that native power that indignantly repulses the first approach of audacious violence and continues to hold her own, while yet she cries aloud for help. Their voice was heard. — Prayer calls to God for aid, and is always acceptable in his sight, whether it be the silent supplication, offered during the "still hour" of com- munion with his throne, or the sudden out- cry of alarm, raised in the face of sudden danger. Never yet did an afflicted pilgrim cry unto the Lord, but some one of the army of relief has been despatched to the scene of danger, to repulse the assailants and to de- I :ii ; j ) 1 1 ii: K. f i' ■■!.'■■ m. if III hi i .•Mi jl I'liilP If. "!l t 1 ' ^ 1 iji 1 1 i 1 ' ' 1' h ill i , " ti . 11 'I'll!! '■m liiSiJ f;:l 1 i n lllll ii : ? II is ■|! i V ili,i :S illiiil 5^ Pilgrims Progress'. Chr. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess our folly, and ask one ? Rel. Your confession of your folly I will present him with : to go back again you need not ; for in all places where you shatl come you shall find no want at all ; for in every one of my Lord's lodgings, which he has prepared for the reception of his pilgrims, there is suf- ficient to furnish them against all attempts whatsoever. But, as I said, he "will be inquired of by them, to do it for them" (Ezek. 36: '^'])\ and 'tis a poor thing that is not worth asking for. When he had thus said, he went back to his place, and the Pilgrims went on their way. Then said Mercy, What a sudden blank is here ! I made account we had been past all danger, and that we should never see sorrow more. 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. I am much to be blamed. Then said Mercy, How knew you this before you came from home ? Pray, open to me this riddle. Chr. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of doors, one night, as I lay in my bed, I had a dreatji 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 provided when provision might have been had. Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have an occasion minis- tered 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 his mere good pleasure. sequently vouchsafed, reminds them of the oversight, and urges them instantly to repair the mistake. It is in vain to excuse ourselves by saying that if it were necessary to have such help, God would have granted it. CHAPTER III. The Interpreter's House. *" Once, again, we have arrived at the gate of the Interpreter's Houje, and, under the guidance of the good Interpreter, we are about to be conducted through the " Sig- nificant Rooms" of this fair house, built for the refreshment and instruction of pilgrims. Here we also read other lucid representations — of patience under sufferings ; the discharge of our rightful duty in our appointed place; the worthlessness of mere profession without fruits answe'able thereto, and the inconsistency of carnal appetites with the fair-seeming exter- nals '/f religion. These lively emblems are further strengthened and supported by the weighty aphorisms enunciated ijy the wisdom of the Interpretkr, and are followed up by the experience of the Pilgrims, as related by them to the good man of the house, who sends them forth upon their w.tv rejoicing, under the protection of the brave champion of the road, whose name is Great- heart. 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 going on pilgrimage. And this was the more pleasing to them be- cause they had heard that 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 com- mending her, who they little thought stood at the door. At last Christiana knocked, as she had done at the gate before. Now, when For the relic/ of Pi(i;^ri»is. — To Chris- tiana and her companions the Inter i're- ter's house was a " relief" in a double sense, (i) They had been alarmed and affrighted by the " ill-favored men " who had encoun- tered them on the way ; and now they enter this house of rest, for the purpose of [leaceful retirement from the dangers of the outer road. (2) It was also for their relief, inasmuch as they there received those abiding helps, and gifts, and graces, and tokens of acceptance, which they sr- consistently retained even to their journey's end. Christiana mentioned by name- -The tid- ings of this woman's conversion had been flashed on lightning wings all along the route of the pilgrimage, far in advance of her prog- ress in the way. " There is Joy in the pres- (286) iHli V]i \\ ,1 iV\"' I [I IS I if "''Hil '■'■i-i-ifVii.. ^ ';''l*^'' i I ■i! 'V'^m 296 77^^ Pilgrim's Progress. she had knocked, there came to the door a young damsel, and opened the door, and looked, and, behold, two women were there. Then said the damsel to them. With whom would you speak in this place ? 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 loath to-night to go any further. Dam. Pray, what may I call your name, that I may tell it to my Lord within ? Chr. My name is Christiana ; I was the wife of that pilgrim that some years ago did travel this way ; and these be his four children. This maiden also is my companion, and is going on pilgrimage too. Then Innocent ran in (for that was her name), and said to those within, Can you think who is at the door? There is Christiana, and her children, and her companion, all waiting for entertainment here ! 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 Chris- tiana whom Christian, the good man, left behind him, when he be- took himself to a pilgrim's life ? CiiR. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight my husband's troubles, and that left him to go on his journey alone ; and these are his four children ; but now I also am come, for I am con- vinced that no way is right but this. Int. Then is fulfilled that which was written of the man that said to his son, " Go work to-day in my vineyard ; and he said to his father, I will not; but afterward he repented, and went" (Matt 21: 28, 29). Then said Christiana, So be it: Amen. God make it a true say- ing upon me, and grant that I may be found at the last "of him in peace, without spot and blameless." Int. But why standest thou thus at the door ? Come in, thou daughter of Abraham ; we were talking of thee but now ; for tidings ence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." They that turn to God are spoken of by angels, and rejoiced over, too, as these heavenly messengers await the bidding of their Lord to go forth as minister- ing spirits, to minister to them that are the heirs of salvation (Heb. i : 14). Her past unbelief is indeed well known, and how she sought to hinder Christian in the way ; but now these things should be no more re- membered against her ; and rather is fulfilled in her the parable of the once disobedient son, who ignored his father's counsel, re- fused to obey his will, promised nothing but disobedience, and yet " afterwards repented and went" (Matt. 21 : 28, 29). iitijl id opened I speak in :ged place are such; lich we at ipent, and II it to my Igrim that • children, lage too. d to those riana, and ent here ! •. So he lat Chris- in he be- slight my one; and [ am con- that said lis father, 28, 29). true say- 3f him in J in, thou )r tidings in the way • no more re- er is fulfilled disobedient counsel, re- nothing but ds repented MR. (JREAT-HEART. J8I 'Ik '=• t likw..* )''^'p!' '^i:' in^^ I! if 'I mi'. ■Jill ifiiiii i I : ^ I 1 1 1 ]• 1 ' ' ' ill ii l-4l MR. imiSK. II 11 m\ Christiana in the Significant Rooms. 297 have come to us before, how thou art bfjrome a pilgrim. Come, chil- dren, come in ; Come, maiden, come. So he had them all into the house. So when they were within, they were bidden to sit down c nd 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 pilg ui. They also looked upon the boys ; they stroked them over their faces with the hand, in token of their kind reception of them ; they also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all wel- come 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 Chris- tiana'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 all, together with the rest of those things that were then so profit- able to Christian. This done, and after those things hard 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 him that crown for his muck-rake ; but the man did nei- ther look up nor regard, but raked to himself the straws, the small sticks, and the dust of thi floor. Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know somewhat the meaning of this ; for this is the figure of a man of this world ; is it not, good sir ? Thou hast said 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 what He says that calls to him from above, with the celestial crown in his hand ; it His Significant Rooms. — These are the chambers of imagery, through which the Interpreter had conducted C hristian. And " significant " they are — of tlco ministry of the Word, of the power of indw eliing sin, of the peace of I'ati jnce, and of the folly of blind Passion ; significant, too, of the sus- taining power of Divine grace, and the unc- tion of the Spirit ; significant of the good fight of faith ; significant, also, of dark de- spair and of the scenes of final judgment. The muck-rake. — This is the first of the illu^rations peculiar to Christiana's visit. The crown celestial is proffered in exchange for that implement of Mammon, that muck- rake of worldliness, and the offer is not only ;^^^ if! ^ ^ ir*^'* (i ! ' »'. '' ii ii [v,^f. ,^ , , -i ffl fi Hill 1 tiff? ' ' i ■ ' T- ^'i.-'^'' ■ I !'>' '■ ; 1 4 • 1 i rn ; » ik ' 'J' ' . 1 *' ' ^S^i iipi 298 77/^ Pilgrim's Progress. is to show that heaven is but as 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 is to let thee know that earthly things, when they are with power upon men's minds, quite carry their hearts away from God. Then said Christiana, Oh, deliver me from this muck-rake ! That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain by till it is almost rusty. "Give me not riches" (Prov. 30: 8) is scarce the prayer of one of ten thousand. Straws and sticks and dust with most are the thincTs 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 pro- fitable 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 overlooked. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing ; but Christiana held her peace. 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 apprehension ; and she said, Yea, Lord, there are more here than one ; yea, and spiders whose venom is far more destructive than that which is in her. The Interpreter then looked pleasantly on her, and said, Thou hast said the truth. This made Mercy to 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 unheeded, but is not even recognized I Thus does the service of Mammon blind the eyes, and turn away the attention of the heart from the bright and glorious things of heaven. Aye, while we are, with an earthly mind, gathering the waifs and strays and worth- less things that are borne on every breeze, all heaven is passing over us, and away from us, and beyond our reach, with its crowns and joyF and its eternal wei^^ht of glory. The spider. — The meaning of this emblem does not at once occur to the minds of the Pilgrims; nor would it be likely to discover itself to our minds without the aid of inter- pretation. True faith is an active power. It climbs, notwithstanding the known in- its crowns if glory, his emblem linds of the to discover lid of inter- :tive power. known in- 1 i^ ' l; '-I 1 ■11,1; • ■Mil i 299 h. "»»;' :l*|:ll h:lM«'K^ tl !! K'l iilfi M.t g (V" 'i ! i 300 77^^ Pilgrim s Progress. 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. 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 thoughts ; and yet she had 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 \v^ater stood in their eyes ; yet they looked upon one another, and also bowed before the Interpreter. He had them then into 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 towards heaven. See, said he, what this little chick doth, and learn of li?r 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, (i) She had a common call, and that she hath all day long. (2) She had a special' call, and that she had but sometimes. (3) She had a brooding note. And (4) she had an outcry (Matt. 23 : 37). 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 towards his people ; by his common call he gives nothing ; by his special call he always has something to give ; he has also a brooding voice for them that are under his wing ; and he has an outcry, to give the alarm when he seeth the enemy come. I choose, my darlings, to lead you into the room where such things are, because > ou are women, and they are easy for you. firmity of the flesh, and is not deterred, even by the felt venom of sin, from laying hold upon Christ, and seeking and finding an entrance into the very best room of his household. The hen and chickens. — This is an em- blem that has been honored by the Master's own selection, in his Divine instructions to the people (Matt. 23 : 37). The great point of the illustration here is in the allusion to the fourfold "call" — (i) the "common call " — universal offer of the Gospel ; (2) the "special call" — the moving influence of the Spirit; (3) the "brooding note" — the love andcareof Jesus ; and (4) the "outcry" — the alarm or admonition by which, in seasons of danger, we are recalled to the side of Jesus. Let us see some more. — The Sheep led to the slaughter, and so patiently suffering its death, is an emblem of that patience under sufferings \^ich it becomes all true children Interpreter discourses with the Pilgrims. 301 And, sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some more. So he had them into the slaughter- house, where was the butcher killing a sheep ; and behold the sheep was quiet, and took her death patiently. Then said the Interpreter, 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 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 he said again. Behold the flowers are diverse in stature, in quality, and color, and smell, and virtue ; and some are better than others , also, where the gardener hath set them, there they stand, and quarrel not with one another. Again he had them into his field, which he had sown with wheat and corn ; but, when they beheld, the tops of all were cut off, only the straw remained. He said again, this ground was dunged, and ploughed, and sowed ; but v/hat 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 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 men. 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 others, to of God to exemplify, and of which Jesus was himself the great Exemplar. The Garden of ^lowers is design id to teach us the importance of discharging well the duty of our station and calling, as mer..- bers of one body, in which all the r lembers have not, indeed, the same once, but each is honorable and honored in the fulfilment of h's own vocation. The Corn field, rendering back only straw and stubble as the fruit of the seed-time, represents the unfruitful recipient rf God's grace and favor. What saith the Master ? " Cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground ?" wm 1 ' 1 n I'^llffl 'lihiiiiilil i IH 1 1 wip ''iX. . ' , ' i ! n ■ 'ii U;ir i'li:!:. ■I* n 1:1' I'- ^^^ Ill l^^r , ill- I '5 i-'i W I ill 302 T/ie Pilgrhns Progress. desire to associate with them, and to be in their company, as if they could live upon the good man's crumbs. They pretend, a],so, 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 thv^y were come again into the house, because supper was as yet not ready, Christiana again desired that the Interpreter would either show or tell them of some other things that are profitable. Then the Interpreter began, and said: The fatter the sow is, the more she desires the mire; the fatter the ox :3, the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; and the more healthy the lustful 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. It is easier watching a night or two, than to sit up a whole year together ; so it 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 over- board 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 friertd is ungrateful unto him ; but he that forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to himself. He that lives in sin, and looks for happiness 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 loath to be let go by us, what is the life above ? " The Robin, with the spider in its mouth, is an emblem of the professor who makes a fair show of religion, and yet is dependent on his carnal appetites. This lovely-feath- ered bird, looking so innocent and fair, is yet degraded in its grovelling tastes. It may soar aloft toward heaven, and sing its joy- ous song ; but its food and nourishment are of the earth, earthy. The Interpreter asked Christiana. — In the details of their experience, Christiana speaks with the boldness of a more ad- vanced Pilgrim, while Mercy speaks with the becoming modesty of one who has but Chris tia7ta' s Experience. 305 Everybody will cry up the goodness of men ; but who is there that is, as he should be, affected with the goodness of God? We seldom sit down to meat, but we eat and leave ; so there is in Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the whole world has need of. When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out into his gar- den again, and had them to a tree, whose inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it grew and had leaves. Then said Mercy, 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 gar- den of God, who with their mouths speak high in behalf of God, but in deed 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 <"he song and music were ended, the Interpreter asked Christiana what it was that at first did move her thus to betake her- self 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 pilgrimage 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 me 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 before you set out of doors ? lately entered on the pilgrimage. She would nor yet by the example of former Pilgrims, be silent, if she could, until her experience but by the invitation of Christiana, such is m3re enlarged. Not in visions and in as Moses gave to HoL-'.b : " Come thou with . dreams was she warned to flee from wrath ; us, and we will do thee good." . A- i in'?:. i p 1% 304 TAe Pilgrivi's Progress. Chr. Yes, a neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timorous (she was akin to him that would have persuaded my husband to j^o baclc, for fear of the lions), she also befooled me for, as she called it, my intended desperate adventure; she also urged what she could to dishearten me from it; the hardships and troubles that my husband met witii in the way ; but all this I got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of two ill-looking ones, that I thought did [)lot 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 oik! 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 everybody know of it, that, between this and the gate by which we got into the way, we were both so sorely assaulted that we were made to cry 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 him 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. Then said he. Be not afraid ; only believe, and speak thy mind. Then 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 of the counsel of those that were good relations. 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 see- ing 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 a crown, playing upon a harp, eating and drinking at his Prince's table, and singing praises to him for bring- ing him thither, etc. 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 s'i-t,: Preparations for Departure. 305 asked her furtherof 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 1 was unwilling to come away, but for that so many of my relations were left behind. And I am come with all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I may, with Christiana to her husband and his King. Inikk. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given credit to the truth ; thou art a Rutli. 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 here- tofore. "The Lord recompensti thy work, and a full reward be given thee of the Lonl God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust" (Ruth 2: 1 1, 12). Now supper was ended, and preparation was made for bed ; the women were laid 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 such favor for her. In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared them- selves for their departure; but the Interpreter would have them tarry a while ; for, said he, you must orderly go from hence. Then said he to the damsel that first opened unto 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 led them into the garden, and brought them to the bath ; so she told them, that there they niust 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 20 \% W' 4rm ;;ii!liiii|«l :?ii iiii m {'iii!' '' .it m ill iiii I ■■■; li ■ <■: ;i '! 1 1. 1 V\ i ■ t-.i ;]or. Great-heart becomes the Pilgrims Guide. 307 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 (Exod. 12: 8-10); and the mark was set between their eyes. This seal greatly added to their beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also added to their gravity, and made their countenances more like those . £ 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 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 '">ne; 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 a sword and helmet and shield ; and take these my daughters, said he, conduct them to the house galled 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 h loose those bonds, and set him free. And therefore Bunyan adds : " It was to give him a proof of the virtue of this, that he was suffered to carry his burden to the Cross." But in both experiences — of Christian and Christiana — the Crucified One is honored and magnified, as the sinner's only hope ; and both could alike say with Paul : " God f'>rbid that I should glory, save in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Gal. 6:14). [OW I saw in my dream that they went on, and Great- heart before tliem ; 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, it 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 sup- pose you know; wherefore, if you please, let us hear you discourse thereof. also " clothed with humility," each seeing the glory of the rest, and esteeming others better than themselves. And now, as the las are since stopped up with chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there are those that will choose to adventure here rather than take the pains to go up this hill. Chr. " The way of transgressors is hard " (Prov. 13: 15); it is a wonder that they can get into those ways without danger of break- ing their necks. Great. They will venture ; yea, if at any time any of the King's servants do happen to see them, and do call upon them, and tell them that they are in the wrong way, and do bid them beware of the danger, then they railinprly 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 whatso- ever thing goeth out of our mouth " (Jer. 44 ; 16, 17). Nay, if you look a little further, you shall see that these ways are made caution- ary enough, not only by these posts, and ditch, and chain, but also by being hedged up ; yet they will choose to go there. is there placed, as an ordeal or sifting pro- cess, for trial and proof of faith ; for only they who are prepared to combat with diffi- culties, and to overcome them, shall be ac- counted worthy of the more exalted privileges of the way. But here is a drawback or disadvantage at the very base of the ascent : the spring of which Christian drank, and by which he was refreshed, is now soiled and made muddy by the feet of some who are ill-disposed to- wards the Pilgrims of the Lord. This spring is the Word of God, in its refreshment of the soul. It was clear as crystal for the former Pilgrims, but not so now. Allusion is, no doubt, intended here to some degeneracy of (I / Is' 4 Hii, \ ... 1 i'\i lii ■. ■■^■'■m! '>.-'] ■ . villi '■■ t^' 'I ! ,-l 'I'll • , iiii li ".!■;■ ii I'll! ■ , 1 r ■ ■ 1 ■ . 1 . ■ " ;lj;iiiMiil l> ! il i 1 1 o A to W H o >^ 2 Q a. c ►J 'A 31b El- ' The Pilgrims refresh Themselves in the Prince's Arbor. 317 o A U K H O U 'A 2 Q en a. c ►J Chr. They are idle ; they love not to take pains ; up-hill way is unplei'sant to them. So it is fulfilled unto them as it is written. " The way of the slothful man is a hedge of thorns" (Prov. 15 : 19). Yea, they will rather choose to walk upon a snare than to 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 say this is a breathing hill ; no marvel if they that love their ease more than their souls choose to themselves a smoodier way. Then said Mercy, I must sit down ; also the least of the cliildren began to cry. Come, come, said Great-heart, sit not down here, for a little above is the Prince's arbor. Then he took 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 (Matt. 11 : 28). 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, that cost poor Christian dear. Then said Mr. Great-heart to the litde ones, Comt.', 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 me a hand in my need. And I remember now what my mother hath told me, namely, that the way to heaven is as a ladder, and the way to hell is as down a hill. But I had rather go up the ladder to lite, than down tne hill to death. Then said Mercy, But the preverb 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 the hill will be the hardest of all. 'Tis a good boy, said his master, thou hast given her a right answer. Then Mercy smiled, but the litde boy did blush, Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit to sweeten your mouths, while you sit here to rest your legs ? for I have here a piece of pome- granate, which Mr. Interpreter put into my hand just when I came spiritual lite, and especially of spiritual teach- ing. This is the second allusion of the kind ; a for':j^r instance being found at the Slough of D jpond, which had been growing worse, owi g to the indifferent materials used for mending it. It is supposed that during the interval between the writing of the two parts of the Progress, this declension had ap- peared in the ministers of the Word — their doctrine and teaching being not so pure as it had once been. The advice here is goodly counsel : " Let It. ■%m ** ,\ u \kU' 'if,^;::;!i ' 11 318 The Pilgrim's Progress. » % I 'ijl! ■ "'I ' IIjIIB! I'll out of his door. He gave me also a piece of an honeycomb, and a litde botde of' spirits. I thought he gave you something, said Mercy, because he called you aside. Yes, so he did, said the other. But, said Christiana, it shall be still 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? liut he an- swered, 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 c.iatted 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 gc, and the little boys went before ; but Christiana forgot to take her mottle 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 'v'- So their guide made answer, and said, The cause is sleep or forget- fulness ; 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 come 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 Timor- ous 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, underneath, the reason of raising up of that stage in that place rendered. The verses were : Let him that sees this stage, take heed Upon his heart and tongue ; Lest, if he do not, here he speed As some have long agone. it stand a while." Degenerate preaching of the Word is the admixture of error with truth ; and as these elements cannot com- bine, they must be separated ; and by-and- by the error will settle down by itself, and leave the waters pure. Then you may safely drink it, and be refreshed to meet the diffi- culties of the way. The ascent, as its name implies, proved difficult. An interesting feature in the char- iJi ^^M The Encounter with Grim. 319 The words underneath the verses were, "This stage was built to punish such upon, who, through tirnoroiisncss or mistrust, shall be afraid to go further on pilgrimage. Also on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous were burnt through the tongue with a hot iron, for en- deavoring to hinder Christian on his journey." Then said Mercy, This is much like 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 " (Ps. 120: 3, 4). So they went on, till they came within the 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 p'.x(^ where the lions were, the boys that went before were now glad to cringe behind, for they were afraid of the lions ; so they stepped back and v^ent behind. At this their guide smiled, and said, How now, my boys ; do you love to go before when no danger doch approach,, and love to come be- hind so soon as the lions appear? Now as they went on, 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 cause of your coming hither ? Now the name of that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, be- cause of his slaying of pilgrims ; and he was of the race of the giants. 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. Grim. 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 the truth, by reason of the fierceness of the lions, and of the grim carriage of him that did back them, this way of late had been much unoccupied, and was almost all grown over with grass. I 'H acter of Great-heart occurs here — his care cf the httle children. He is like the Good Shepherd that has love and tenderness enough to take the young lambs in his arms, and yet power and strength enough to slay the roaring lion that would devour the flock. IVithin sight of the lions. — The experience of the path is unchanged, except in some few incidental circumstances. One of these in- cidents, that diversify the scene, is now be- fore us. The pass of the lions seems even more dangerous now than it had been when Christian passed that way. The lions are quite as wrathful ; they are, moreover, backed by a Giant ; the porter, Watchful, is not in view ; and the party consists of women .,: v,.,! I,! ■ II 'A w 320 T/ie Pilgrim s Progress. THE PLACE WHERE ^^STRUST AND TIMOROUS WERE PUNISHED. \"'^' (•iiiii Then said Christiana, Though the highways have been unoccupied heretofore, and though the travellers ha\ebe(!n made in times past to walk through by-paths, it must not be so now I am risen — " Now I am risen a mother in Israel'* (Judg. 5 : 6, 7). Then he swore by the lions that it should ; and therefore bid them turn aside, for they should not have passage there. P)Ut Great-heart their guide made first his approach unto Grim, and laid so heavily on him with his sword, that he forced him to retreat. Then said he that attempted to back the lions, Will you slay me upon mine own ground ? and children. But, over against all these disadvantages, there is one countervailing advantage — they have brave Grkat-heart with them ; and this is everything. This way had lain much unoccupied — The political allusion here seems to be suf- ficiently apparent. The persecutions and disabilities of Banyan's days had already %i: ■ m The Pilgrims pass the Lions. 321 Great. It is the King's highway that we are in, and in this way it is tliat thou hast placed the lions ; but these women and these children, though weak, shall hold on their way in spite of the 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 cut off an arm. Then did the giant roar so hideously that his voice frightened 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 in- tended to back them was dead, Great-heart said to the pilgrims. Come now, and follow me, and no hurt shall come to you from the lions. They therefore went on, but the women trembled as they passed by them ; the boys also looked as if chey would die ; but they all got by without further hurt. 1^ *if I vc deterred many from joining themselves in Christian fellowship, such as is indicated by the intercourse of the I'ala e Beautiful. The "lions" of ])ersecution, backed by the "giant "hand of power, during that un- hapjiy period, had desolated the highways of Christian communion, and driven back many from the companionships of the spirit- ual pilgrimage. In the latter days of Bunyan's life, the lions of persecution were " chained," that is, the persecuting laws were rendered inop- erative; but the spirit of persecution (Giant Grim) still remained, sufficient to deter the timid and faint-hearted ones from trying the pass. It needed but the vigorous effort of some Great-heart of the period to clear the path for the liberty of after-ages of the Church. It is the Kings Jtighiuay. — Great-heart lacks neither words nor deeds of greatness. He will enjoy for himself, and will have otliers to enjoy, the sweet communion of saints, and all other privileges of the people of God ; and he enforces liis demands be- cause he is on the highway of the Lord his King. With a brave heart and a strong arm (now bearing only a spiritual interpre- tation) the journeying pilgrim of the road must be a hero in the strife, such as those great-hearted men of old, who stopped the mouths of lions, and laid grim giants pros- trate on the battle-field. 21 r^!-f'-' u.,;3;<;" CHAPTER V. The Palace Beautiful. The sojourn in the Palace Beautiful, as described in the narrative of the former Pil- grimage, was characterized by all that was " lovely and of good report " in the provision and eijjoyment of Christian privilege and opportunity. The second narrative well sustains the reputation of that fair house of godly communion and Christian fellowship. It is still, as before, a privilege so exalted as to be guarded by an ordeal of difficulty in the entrance thereto, lest any unworthy pilgrims should cross that threshold of joy and peace. The scenes of this stage of the journey assume a more familiar character, and some- times are so quaint as to be almost amusing. The catechising of the children, and the ready answers of the boys; Mercy's courtship with Mr. Brisk, and the sudden break-off of the suitor's attentions ; Matthew's illness, its cause, and its cure by Mr. Skill ; the subsequent conversations ; propounding of difficult questions ; seeing of wondrous sights, and breath- ing of fervent farewells — all make up an interesting, entertaining, and instructive chaptef of the Allegory of the Dreamer. OW, when they were within sight of the porter's lodge, they soon came up unto it; but they made the more haste after this to go thither, because it is 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 thither as a conductor of pilgrims. When he was come down, he opened the gate, and seeing the guide standing 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 at night? 1 have brought, said he, some pilgrims hither, where, by my Lord's commandment, they must lodge. I had been here some time ago, had I not been opposed by the giant that used 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. Dangerous travelling in the night. — ^Yes, even though Great-heart is with them, as the brave conductor of the way. To the strongest and the best equipped there is no room for that bravado spirit that sees no danger and knows no peril. There are times when even Great-heart is safer with- in the shrine of his great Master's house — (322) The Pilgrims arrive at the Palace Beautiful. 323 PoR. Will you not go in and stay till morning ? Great. No, I will return to my Lord to-night. Chr. O 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 coun- selling of us, that I shall never forget your favor towards us. 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 or defender ? Then said James, the youngest of the boys. Pray, sir, be per- suaded to go with us and help us, because we are so weak, and the way so dangerous as it is. Great. I am 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, I come from the City of Destruc- tion ; 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 noise for gladness was therein, when the damsel did but drop that out of her mouth ! seasons of darkness, the midnights that fol- low after our best and brightest days, during which we are reminded that we are not yet at home, but are still in the weary wilderness. " I wiil return to-night." — Alas! evil tid- ings on the very threshold of enjoyment ! Great-heart is bidding them farewell ! Having thus far conducted his company, he must now return to his Lord for fresh instruc- tion and another mission. He has fulfilled the commission he had received at the In- terpreter's House : " Conduct them," said his Lord, "to the house called Beautiful." The Holy Spirit gives " grace by measure," and according to our asking. We must ask, and then we receive ; we must ask for large things and for long-continued blessings, else we rhust not expect to receive largely. And herein was Christiana's double mistake : in the first place, she had not asked at all , and in the next, she had not asked enough. Ac- cordingly, at the outset she was granted no '^r^^"'" mil m {» ,1 ; ■'■ '■ ir' i »^i'«!:;:, ''!■;:■ 1, ' 1 1 ijiliii 1 , ■■ii Ifi 1' - ; ; ■ 1 }^ IS J H U 324 The Pilgrims Kindly Reception. 325 < o < So they came with haste to the porter, for Christiana stood still at th . 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. 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 large room, and bid 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, under- standing who they were, did salute each other with a kiss, and said, Welcome, ye vessels of the grace of God, welcome unto us who are your faithful 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 the terrible lions, they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to ^ to rest. Nay, said those of the family, refresh your- selves with a morsel of meat ; for they had prepared for tiiem a lamb, with the accustomed sauce thereto (Exod. 12:3; John i : 29). 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 that 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 all lay in a room. When they were at rest, Chris- ti-'tna and I'srcy entered into discourse about things that were con- venient. convoy for the ro;id, and when she did re- ceive the yift, it was but for a single stage — she had asked no more. Thus does Ciod experimentally teach his children to feel their wants and to pray for needful supplies ; and when they ask, he means that they should ask liberal things of him that giveth liberally, and upbraideth not. IVhiit noise for f^iiitiness. — The greatness of their need is only equalled, perhaps sur- passed, by the greatness of the welcome they receive. If men did but know the thousand welcomes that await them on the road to heaven, would they not gladly leave their sin and follow Christ ? All along the road are friendly greetings. Christian welcomes, and kindly gratulations. Thus the I'ilgrims go on "from streni;th to strength," from stage to stage ; and all along and everywhere they are entertained by the Lord of the Hill, who graciously provides helps, rests, and all other things that are necessary for the refreshment of the weary. The great gladness expressed on this oc- casion was on account of the fact that, by the arrival of this company, the Christian family was completed. If there be joy in heaven over any one member that is brought to Jesus, there is greater joy when other members of the family follow, and yet greater gladness if the family circle is wholly given to Christ. Besides, the fair inhabitants of the palace had already taken an interest in Chri.stian personally, and had made special inquiries about his family. He had at that time no good report to gi . e respect- ing them; but now his wife and children present themselves as candidates for the 4i I . Tiir- it m (,fl;.Lii *llii nf I ►li -,r IS'. 1 1 ll'l ' L I m p^mi- 326 T'i^tf Pilgrim's Progress. Chr. Little did I think once, when my husband went on pilgrim- age, that I should ever have followed him. Mer. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and in his chamber to rest as you do now. Chr. And much less did I ever think of seeing his face with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord the King with him ; and yet I believe I shall. Mer. Hark ! don't you hear a noise ? Chr. Yes, it is, as I believe, a noise of music for that we are here. Mer. Wonderful ! Music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in heaven, for the joy that we are here ! Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to sleep. So in the morning when they awaked, Christiana said to Mercy, What was the matter that you did laugh in your sleep to-night? I suppose you was in a dream. Mer. So I was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are you sure I laughed ? Chr. Yes; you laughed heartily. But pr'ythee, Mercy, tell me thy dream. Mer. I was dreaming that I sat 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 ^athered 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 at me, some called me a fool, and some began to thrust me same communion of saints which Christian had so largely enjoyed during his sojourn in this fair dwelling-place. This makes the damsels glad. AH the graces oi" the Spirit are made stronger and more permanent, in proportion as they are enjoyed aad culti- vated in the genial atmosphere of the Chris- tian home and family. When they were at rest. — Upon their own petition they were permitted to choose the Chamber Peace, in which Christian had slept during his visit to the palace. Bunyan has introduced a side-note here, which is suggestive of profitable thoughts. He writes, " Christ's bosom is for all pilgrims." Yes, the resting-place of the Christian is on Jesus' breast ; that is, indeed, the Chamber of true Peace, where this soft pillow may be found on which to lay the aching head, and be at rest — even upon our good Father's bosom. Mercy, tell me thy dream. — Mekcv dreams a dream, which contains, within a few sen- tences, the cross of many, and dissolves away into the glory of their crown. It was a dream well suited to the case of one like Mercy, who has been the only member of her family, as yet, to undertake the pilgrim- age. Such lonely and solitary ones — wit- nesses for Christ in the midst of home dis- couragemente — surely, they may take cour- age by the example of Mercy ; her dream may be their reality. They are, perhaps, sore hindered in their way, laughed at, mocked and ridiculed. This, no doubt, was Mercy's case ; this the cross she had to bear Mercy tells her Dream. 327 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 hand- kerchief, and clad me in silver and gold. He put a chain upon my neck, and earrings in my ears, and a beautiful crown upon my head (Ezek. 1 6 : 8-13). Then he took me by the hand, and said, Mercy, come after me. So he went up, and I followed, till we^came at a golden gate. Then he knocked ; and, when they within had 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 ? Chr. Laugh ! aye, well you might, to see yourself so well. For you must give me leave to tell you, that 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 slumbering upon the bed" (Job 33 : 14, 15). We need not, when in bed, to lie awake to talk with God ; he can visit us while we sleep, and cause us to hear his voice. Our heart ofttimes wakes when we sleep; and God can speak to that, either by words, by proverbs, by signs and similitudes, as well as if one was awake. Mer. Well, I am glad of my dream, for I hope ere long to see it fulfilled, to the making me laugh again. Chr. I think it is now high time to rise, and to knov/ what we must do. Mer. Pray, if they advise us to stay a while, let us willingly ac- cept of the proffer. I arp the willin^er to stay a while here, to ghow better acquainted with these maids ; methmks. Prudence, Piety, and Charity have very comely and sober countenances. Chr. We shall see what they will do. 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. x f at home, else she had not dreamed this dream. But she sought Christian fellowship elsewhere, and found it in the company of her friend, and now enjoys a high festival of such holy gladness in the communion of the Palace. Here she seems to see the peculiar cross she has to bear, and how it changes into the crown of glory, as, in her dream, she is lifted to the th»-one of light ; and she that finds no sympathy in her home \.fm} If "■■'■] 'Hill 328 T/ie Pilgritns Progress. Very good, said Mercy; it was one of the best night's lodgings that ever I had in my Hfe. Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be persuaded to stay here a while, you shall have what the house will afford. Aye, and that with a very good will, said Charity. So they con- sented, and stayed there for 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 catechise them ; so she gave her free consent. Then she began with the youngest, whose name was James. And she said, Come, James, canst thou tell me who made thee ? Jam. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. Prud. Good boy. And canst thou tell who saves thee ? Jam. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. Prud. Good boy still. But how doth God the Father save thee? Jam. By his grace. Prud. How doth God the Son save thee ? Jam. By his righteousness, death, and blood and life. Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee ? Jam. By his illumination, by his renovation, and by his preser- vation. 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 wcii. I will therefore now apply myself to the next youngest. Then she said. Come, Joseph (for his name was Joseph), will you let me catechise you ? -v Jos. With all my heart. Prud. What is man ? on earth, now finds the sympathy of her home in heaven, and hears her heavenly Father's voice address her, saying — " Wel- come, daughter! " Stayed there about a month. — The com- munion of saints ought to be ofttimes en- joyed, or else for a long time together. The heart has a natural tendency to decHne from grace, and to decay in Christian strength. Christian intercourse is as the dew of heaven to the soul ; it is as the fatness of the earth to the hidden root ; it is as the supply of oil to the expiring lamp. Long continuance in these blessed opportunities is profitable to the soul's health and increase. The catechising. — This is designed not only to test the amount of the children's attainments in religious truth, but also to test the faithfulness of Christiana, as a Chris- tian mother, in the education of her children. Great responsibility devolves upon the mothers o' our Israel, as to how they per- form this great duty. Maternal influence is that which chiefly contributes to the forma- itmuance in )rofitable to esigned not children's Prudence commends Christiana. 329 PRUDENCE CATECHISES THE BOYS. Jos. A reasonable creature, made so by God, as my brother said. Prud. What is supposed by this word saved? Jos. That man by sin has brought himself into a state of cap- tivity and misery. Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by the Trinity? Jos. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant, that none can pull us out of its clutches but God ; and that God is so good and loving to man, as to pull him indeed out of his miserable state. Prud. What is God's design in saving poor man ? Jos. The glorifying of his name, of his grace, and justice, etc., and the everlasting happiness of his creature. tion of the habits of children ; and, in a great measure, the spiritual education of the young belongs to a mother's care. In this case, Christiana had well discharged her responsibilities. "The manner of the catechising is worthy of notice. Prudence is the catechist The questions proposed are adapted to the ages and capacities of the children. Beginning with the youngest child, and with the most elementary Christian truths, she advances to higher principles as she passes on to the ?l sill ■'15'UlMi (V ^p. -».<—■ m^ a 'y I ' [i '■ \;^Q ' "... iiSt' i.*l!l: i^:'|! 330 77/6' Pilgrim s Progress. Prud. Who are they that must be saved ? Jos. Those that accept of his salvation. Prud. Good boy, Joseph; thy mother hath taught thee well, and thou hast hearkened to what she has said unto thee. Then said Prudence to Samuel (who was the eldest son but one). Come, Samuel, are you willing that I should catechise you also ? Sam. Yes, forsooth, if you please. Prud. What is heaven ? Sam. a place and state most blessed, because God dwelleth there. Prud. What is hell ? Sam. a pla^e and state most woful, because it is the dwelling- place of sin, the devil, and death. Prud. 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. Prud. 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 catechise you? Matt. W^ith a very good will. Prud. I ask, then, if there ever was anything that had a being antecedent to, or before, God ? Matt. 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." Prud. What do you think of the Bible ? Matt. It is the holy Word of God. elder boys. This is an important element in the art of catechising. In examining, as in teaching, the order must be — milk for babes, and strong meat for those of riper age and larger powers. The subject-matter of the examination, also, demands attention. The questions are all on essential doctrines The answers are prompt and ready, and pointed too, even to quaintress. The fundumental verities of the Christian faith are introduced even in the more elementary catechising ; and the youngest of the children is able to express himself on the subject of grace and right- eousness and sanctification. Bunyan thus shows the importance of instructing even the youngest in the essentials of Christianity. He so sets forth the doctrine of the Trinity, and the offices of the Three Divine Persons respectively, as that even a little child should know them. The progressive character of this catechis- Prudence catechises Matthew. 331 )d dwelleth weariness ; Prud. Is there nothing written therein but what you under- stand? Matt. Yes, a great deal. Prud. What do you do when you meet with such places therein that you do not understand ? Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that he will please to let n.e know all therein that he knows will be for my good. Prud. How believe you as touching the resurrection of the dead ? Matt. 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 harken to your mother, for she can teach you more. You mui't also diligently give ear to what good talk you shall hear from others, as 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 which 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 ques- tions that tend to godly edifying. Now by that the 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 )f this catechis- ing conducts us from the simpler to tr-i more abstruse subjects of Christian doctrine. For example : the youngest is examined in the plan of salvation, through the joint offices and individual work of the Trinity in Unity ; the next in age is examined as to the natuie of man and the philosophy of the scheme of redemption ; the elder than he must tell somewhat respecting the world to come, and our relationship to its eternal destinies ; while the eldest is catechised in the more abstract topics of religion — the nature of God, the character of the Bible, the limits of man's understanding, the ne- cessity of Divine faith, concluding with a question and answer concerning the resur- rection of the dead. Prudence is pleased with the progress of the children, and commends them to the further care of their pious and devoted mother. They are to learn from the open book of Nature, but, above all, to receive their chiefest instruction from the unfolded book of God's revelation to man. Mr. Brisk. — This character introduces one of the amusing, but yet instructive, incidents of the narrative. This Second Allegory de- scends to the concerns of ordinary life, and, ii''.'i \ mM U^ »v ^tii' :|l!| iiiiiii x- li!W| 332 77/^ Pilgrinis Progress. she had nothing to do for herself, she would be making hose and garments for others, and would bestow them upon those 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 warrent 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 that 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 on my soul. Prudence then replied that there needed no great matter of dis- couragement to be given to him ; for 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 mak- ing 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. 1 do these things, she replied, that I may be "rich in good works, laying up a good foundation against the time to come, that I niaylay hold of eternal life" (i Tim. 6: 17-19). Why, pr'y- thee, what dost thou do with them ? said he. Clothe the naked, said she. With that his countenance fell. So he forbore to come to 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 would soon forsake thee ? yea, he will raise up an evil re- port 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 before now, though I spoke accordingly, includes a scene ot courtship, in order to illustrate, in the person of Mr. Brisk, the choice of worldly wisdom, and, in the character of Mercy, how a Christian maiden determines to marry only "in the Lord." To young persons, this scene con- tains a pointed moral and a practical ex- ample worthy of being attended to. Mr. Brisk is that character of young man, so often seen in society, that has discern- ment enough to know what constitutes a good housewife, and, seeing in such an one as Mercy the combination of beauty, indus- try, and religion, determines to set his heart upon her, for the worldly gain that such connection seems to promise and insure. Mercy, perceiving these approaches, acts a wise part, by making inquiry respecting Mr. natter of dis- le had begun ivork, a mak- s at it? Yes, nst thou earn may be " rich time to come, Why, pr'y- e naked, said > come to her d that Mercy ion, and his . so different, hat has discern- hat constitutes a ig in such an one of beauty, indus- 2S to set his heart y gain that such nise and insure, pproaches, acts a ry respecting Mr. 'H»' . m *i ,1' IS. MR. BRISK AND MERCY. I' m ,r *#: Ml m 334 7)4^ Pilgrim's Progress. 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. Prud. Mercy in our days is little set by, any further than as to its name ; the practice which is set forth by the conditions, there are few that can abide. Well, said Mercy, if nobody will have me, I will die a maid, or my conditions 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. I had a sister named Bountiful, 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. Prud. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you. Mer. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as the world is now full ; but I am for none of them 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 had 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 diet hath Matthew of late fed upon ? Diet, said Christiana ; nothing but \vhat is wholesome. The physi- cian 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. Brisk. The result is that she learns his character and aims. He thinks that this industry of Mercy is for the market of earthly gain ; and when he is informed that, like Dorcas of old, this fair Christian maiden, having the root of faith, desires to be rich in good works and fruitful in godly labors, he has learned enough to prove that the spirit- ually-taught character of Mercy would but ill suffice to satisfy his greed of gain and worldly-wise policy. So he withdraws from the scene ; and Mbrcy, by her consistent resolution, illustrates the counsel of the Word : " Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers " (2 Cor. 6: 14). Now Matthew fell sick. — Here, again, is a quaint scene, but true to the letter. It is also well told, and in full detail, after the fashion of the period. The moral is this : Matthew was sin-sick; an internal dis- ease had been engendered by some sin which he had committed, and by reason of which "the whole head was sick, the whole heart faint." The cause of this sickness. Sin takes root in the heart and conscience, but does not 4 ^«i Matthew's Sickness. 33f le world is now Then said Samuel, Mother, what was that which my brother did gather and 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 pluck and did eat. True, my child, said Christiana ; he did take thereof, and did eat ; naughty boy as he was ; I chid him, and yet he would eat thereof. SkiIvL. 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. It is the fruit of Beelzebub's orchard. I do marvel that none did warn you of it ; many have died thereof. Then Christiana began to cry ; and she said, O naugiity boy ! and O careless mother! what shall I do for my son ? Skill. Come, do not be too dejected ; the boy may do well again, but he must purge and vomit. Chr. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, whatever it costs. Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So he made him a purge, but it was too weak ; 'twas said it war made of the blood of a goat, the ashes of a heifer, and with some of the juice of hyssop, etc. (Heb. 9: 13-19; 10: 1-4). When Mr. Skill had seen that that purge was too weak, he made him one to the purpose ; it was made Ex car tie et sanguine Chris ti (John 6: 54-57; Heb. 9 : 14) (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 loath to take I*v m always at the moment produce its evil results. Here, a season (how long, we know not, but an appreciable interval) had elapsed, so that at first it was hard to say what overt act or presumptuous deed had given cause to such disquietude. On inquiry, however, the by- gone sin is brought to remembrance — the eating of the fruit of the trees that did over- hang the way at the Wicket-gate. Sin is an evil seed, and, when planted, it springs up, sooner or later, prolific of its own bitter fruit. The cure of the sickness. For the one cause of evil there is but the one remedy ; and the cause being discovered by Mr. Skill, he had but to apply this remedy. He first administers it in a weak and modified form, the allusion being to the remedy of the law, which was Christ in type and shadow, of use only to those who looked through the type to Christ, who was typified thereby. Buttlie medicint, of the law is weak ; the strong and sufficient remedy must be found in Christ, revealed, manifested, and offered up for sin. Hence the potent cure prescribed is "the body and blood of Christ," spiritually re- ceived, as the balm for the sin-sick soul. \l\r, '\,- 336 TAe Pilgrim s Progress. it, though torn with the gripes as if he should be pulled to pieces. Come, come, said the physician, you must take it. It goes against my stomach, said the boy. 1 must have you take it, said his mother (Mark 9 : 49 ; Zech. 12 : 10). I shall vomit it up again, said the boy. Pray, sir, said Christiana to Mr. Skill, how does it taste ? It 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 mother, if thou lovest thy broihers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy life, take it. 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, to sleep, and to rest quietly ; it put him into a fine heat and breathing sweat, and rid him of his gripes. So in a little time lie 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, Ciiristiana asked Mr. Skill, saying. Sir, what will content you for your care and pains to me, and of my child ? And he said, You must pay the master of the College of Physicians, according to rules made in that case and provided (Heb. But, sir, said she, what is this pill good for else ? Skill. It is a universal pill ; it is good against all diseases that pilgrims are incident to, and, when it is well prepared, will ketj[) good time out of mind. Chh. Pray, sir, make up twelve boxes of them ; for, if I can get these, I will never take other physic. Skill. 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 physic as he should, it will make him live for ever (John 6: 51). But, good Christiana, thou must give these pills no other way but as I have prescribed ; for if you do they will do no f There is a graceful modesty in Bunyan's character displayed here. He records the prescription in Latin, afier the fashion of physicians; but, being himself illiterate in this world's learning, he apologizes for the use of these Latin words, observing in a side- note, "The Latin I borrow"— an incident illustrating tlie genuine spirit of the man. There is nmch spiritual significance in the sequel — the manner of taking this spiritual prescription, the mingling of the medicine in the " teiirs of repentance," the loathsome- ness of the remedy to Matthew's carnal taste, the urgent necessity of the case, the authoritative tone of the physician, the touch of nature in the scene when Christiana tastes the supposed nauseous thing, and pro- nounces it to be "sweeter than honey" — all id breathing t? this spiritual tlie medicine tiie loathsoine- niKw's carnal ti.e case, the :ian, the touch 1 Christiana hinj;, and |)n)- 1 honey "—all Matthew and Pi'udc7ice, 337 MATTHEW AND PRUDENCE. good. So he gave unto Christiana physic for herself and Jier boys and for Mercy, and bid Matthew take heed how he ate any more green phims, and kissed him, and went his way. It was told you before that Prudence bid the boys, that at any time they would, they should ask her some questions that might be profitable, and she would say something to them. Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her. Why for the most part physic should be b'tter to our palates? PuuD. To show how unwelcome the Word of God, and the effects thereof, are to a carnal heart. this contains deep meaning, suggestive of most profitable reflections to thoughtful minds. Then Matthew asked her. — Prudence, who had been the examiner, is now appealed to as a teacher. Significant questions elicit equally significant answers. 22 (i) Christiana's own motto is brought to mind here: "The bitter must come before the sweet, and that also will make the sweet the sweeter." The discipline of the Word of C'tod is against the grain of the carnal heart, but is good for the soul's health and well-being. ' *. I 1 JKVVi ■Jl' ■ «^^' [l til •il- r.i ''•' .1^ I t'if 338 T/ie Pilgrim's Progress, Matt. Why does physic, if it does good, purge, and cause to vomit ? Prud. To show that the Word when it works effectually, cleans- eth the heart and mind. For, look, what the one doeth to the b'>J.y the other doeth to the soul. Matt. What should we learn by seeing the flame of our fire go upwards, and by seeing the beams and sweet influe.ices of the sun strike downwards ? Prud. By the going up of the fire we are taught to ascend to heaven by fervent and hot desires. And by the sun sending his heat, beams, and sweet influences downwards, we are taught that the Saviour of the world, though ? 'crh, reaches down with his grace and love to us below. Mait. Where have the clouds their water ? . Prud. Out of the sea. Mait. What may we learn from that ? Prud. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from God. Matf. Why do they empty themselves upon the earth ? Prud. To show that ministers should give out what they know of God to the world. . Matt. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun ? Prud. To show that the covenant of God's grace is confirmed to us in Christ. (2) The natural heart is filled with all manner orspiritual uncleanness. The Word of God is the medicine of the soul, rendering the corrupt heart pure and holy, meet dwell- ing-place of a righteous God. (3) The sun is the source of light; its rays are diffused over all the globe, descending in a flood of glory. Such is the fulness of God's gift of light to the world. But earthly fire rises, as though it would return to its birth-place. Hence the ascending fire of the altar, and the smoke of the incense coiHng upward to the skies, are used in Scripture as the emblems of prayer and thanksgiving (Ps. 141 : 2). But how faint are the fires of our sacrifices, and how few our pillars of in- cense, in comparison with the full and omni- present sunlight of heaven ! (4) The fulness of the ocean flood is de- rived from the rains of heaven ; and in the mists and evaporations the waters of the earth do but render back a portion of the gift they have received — the springs, and rivers, and rich harvests, and other gifts, being the blessings that they leave behind. (5) The rainbow is caused by the conjunc- tion of sunshine and rain. It is the emblem of hope — nature's sunshine amid nature's tears. Without the cloud it could not be seen, and without the sun it could not appear. (6) The waters of the great deep are fil- tered for our use through the earth, and are thus adapted for the use of man. So is the glory of Jehovah revealed to us through the earthly body of Jesus, and through his human sorrows and sufferings we receive " the grace of God, which bringeth salvation." (7) Not only are the low-lying valleys watered with refreshing streams, but also high upon the hills do springs of waters break forth. God visits all sorts and con- ditions of life with the joys of his salvation. I id cause to f our fire go J of the sun s confirmed Matthew and Prudence. 339 Matt. Why do the springs come from the sea to us through the earth ? Prud. To show that the grace of God comes to us through the body of Christ. Ma'it. Why do some of the springs rise out of the tops of high hills? Prud. 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. Matt. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candle-wick ? Prud. To show that, unless grace doth kindle upon the heart, there will be no true light ol life in us. Matt. Why are the wick and tallo.w and all spent, to maintain the light of the candle ? Prud. To show that body and soul and all should be at the service of, and spend themselves to maintain in good condition, the grace of God that is in us. Matt. Why doth the pelican piercfe her own breast with her bill ? Prud. 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. Matt. What may one learn by hearing the cock crow ? Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin and Peter's repentance. The cock's crowing shows also that the 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 sig- There are lofty mountains that send down their streamlets to the valleys ; and so are there great and rich and mighty men, who use their Christian influence aright, in serving their generation and doing good to their fellow-men. (8) The wick of a candle is to consolidate the light and to prevent its burning out too suddenly or too soon. The candle thus burns regularly and on system, and gives light to the end of its course. True religion must not be a mere flash of momentary im- pulse, but a steady-burning and shining light in the soul. (9) And as the candle burns, it needs to be fed and nourished. The material that surrounds it is its (ood ; %nd as it gives light on system, so on system it receives its nour- ishment. (10) There are in nature many illustra- tions of the Divine mystery of godliness : the faint echoes of creation responding to the voice that called it into boing, evidences that, before the '".ndatior of the world, the scheme ot redtmntio:,, by the shedding of the blood of Christ, had been foreordained and appointed. (I i) So also are these natural emblems of Divine lessons. The cock-crowing, for in- stance, serves to remind us of many profit- able reflections, associated wita the examples of those that have gone before, as well as with the duties that now devolve upon our. selves. m. ?!lf f i\ \- i «"*?' J,' >1 < l.l'' \: i III,* [ifc k f ^'' I. 340 77/^ Pilgrim's Progress. nified to those of the house that it was convenient for them to up and be going. Then said Joseph to his mother, It is proper that you forget not to send to the house of Mr. Interpreter, 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 ; I had almost forgot. So she drew up a petition, and prayed Mr. Watch-" ful. the porter, co send it by some fit man to her good friend Mr. Interpreter ; who, when it was come, and he had seen the contents of the p "tition, 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, as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on which thou mayest meditate when thou art on the way ? So they took Christiana, her children, and Mercy into the closet, and showed \\\v.\w one of the apples that Eve atfe of, and that 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 (Gen. 3: 1-6; Rom. 7: 24). 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 ; so did the rest of the company (Gen. 28: 12). 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 on this so pleasant a prospect. After this they had them into a place where there did hang up a 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 lay hold of " that within the veil," and stand Now their month was out. — Thus did the Pilgrims spend the period of their sojourn ; and now it was time to arise and go forward, and once more to face the dangers of tiie way. In the anticipation of their need, they arc reminded of the departure of (".reat- HEART, and that he may be fetched \y,\cV again only for the asking. Accordingly, they forward a petition to the Intickprkpicr that he would renew his grant of (iRKAT-iii;ART, still to be the conductor of the pilgrimage, even to the end ; and their prayer is granted. I lem to up oper thai pray him le may be le ; I had r. Watch-- riend Mr. : contents will send ley had a ir, to tjive (guests as 11 we not on which they took wed the; in ive to her Lirned out ? Then So they kvondered s ladder, n it. So o did the oing into aid to his a curious Dn this so ce wiiere la take it absolute ind stand itclicd back (lint^ly, they 'RETKR that KAT-IIKART, pilgrimage, r is granted. ( ' :t| V, .CB'S LADDER. 341 342 The Pilgrim's Progress. steadfast, in case you should meet with turbulent weather ; so they were glad thereof (Joei 3: i6 ; Heb. 6 : 19). Then they took them and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our father 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 him- self, was Abraham ! After they had showed them all these things, Prudence took them into a 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 — 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 received have ; But let not this suffice, Until with Abra'am you have gave Your best ol sacrifice. Now about this time one knocked at the door ; so the porter opened, and, behoid, Mr. Great-heart was there. But when he was come in, what joy was there! for it came now fresh again into their minds how but a while ago he had slain old Grim Bloody-man the giant, and had delivered them from the lions. Then said Mr. Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy, My Lord hath sent each of you a bottle of wine, and also some parched corn, together with a couple of pomegranates ; he has also sent the boys some figs and raisins, to refresh you in your way. Then they addressed themselves to their journey ; and Pru- dence and Piety went along with them. When they came at the gate, Christiana asked the porter if any 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, said he, 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 kindnesses that you have showed to me since I came hither ; and also that you have been so loving and kind to my chil- dren. I know not how to gratify your kindness ; wherefore, pray, as a token of my respect to you, accept of this small mite. So she put a gold angel into his hand ; and he made her a low obeisance, The Pilgrims leave the Palace Beautiful. 343 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 : ier godliness with them that are grave and wise ; so shall you put uiadness into your mother's heart, -ind 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 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. When 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 shown to me, That in thy house for evermore , ~ My dwelling-place shall be. And listening till she thought she heard another answer it, saying — For why ? The Lord our God is good, His mercy is forever 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 curi- ous notes. They are, said she, our country birds ; they sing those 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 desirous to be in (Song of Sol. 2: 11, 12). 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 find est thyself forgetful, and call those things again to remembrance, for thy edification and comfort. ^ i^;t,i; ' 1 'I 'i: ■ Is ' 1 '4" "-Hi I *■ "I'i , • •' it: uvM lil'ii :; CHAPTER VI. The Valley of Humiliation. The Valley of the Shadow of Death now opens to their view, and Great-heart leads the way. This valley is still filled with horrors ; but it is less perilous to our present Pil^nims, because it is day, and the sun shines upon their path, and their dauntless guide is with them. Still, darkness suddenly descends, and intercepts their progress; and, like Christian, they are made to feel the necessity and power of prayer; for, on the descent of darkness, they pray for light, and, lo! the blessed light of heaven doth again encompass them. iOVV they began to go clown the hill into the Valley of Hu- miliation. It was a steep hill, and the way was slippery ; l>ut they were very careful ; so they got clown pretty well. When they were down in the valley, Piety said to Chris- tiana, This is the place where your husband met with the foul fiend ApoUyon, and where they had that dreadful fight that they had ; \ know you cannot but have heard thereof. But be of good courage; as long as you have here Mr. Cireat-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. Then said Mr. Great-heart, We need not be so afraid of this valk/ for there is nothing to hurt us imless we procure it to our- selves. It is true Christian 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 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 7/tc Valley of Humiliation. — Once more we are introduced to the datii^crons descent of i\\edijfuult hill. Difficulties and dangers-, however, are greatly mitigated in the case of Christiana and her companions. Even here, though the descent was steep and slippery (as it always is), this company of pilgrims, with care and caution, got down safely. It is important to observe the position in which the Lord of the hill has thus caused to be built this fair house of his — the Palace Beautiful, the abode of Christian communion and fellowship. At one side there is diffi- culty, in climbing to its elevation ; this is so designed as to render pilgrims conscious of their urgent need. At the other side, there is danger, in descending from its sub- iREAT-HEART o our |)resent itless guide is ss; and, like the descent in encompass B position in thus caused — the I'aUice comnuinion lere is diffi- tion ; this is is conscious other side, rom its sub- ««THE MAN COULD LOOK NO WAY BUT DOWNWARDS." mw '■ I h :l' ,, 1 ■1 1 :.4i|l: 1 'i 1 '■: ' '1 'fi' t\\-n ' i ■ ! ; : i ■1' i i i 1 : : iy 1 i "l • k 1 ! - ;■ ■in 1 '^i.i! "; >r|*V ll' , t:'( ^ ■" !:: :i ■ . :.kI^^: II'! OI.l) HONEST. ir^a *■. ■-' The Valley of Jlumilialiun, 345 thing has befallen such an one, in such a place, are of opinion that that place is haunted with some foul fiend or evil spirit; when, alas! it is for the fruit of their doinor diat such things do befall them there. This Valley ot Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place as any the crow Hies ov r ; and I am persuaded, if we could hit upon it, we might find som here hereabout something that might give us an account why CL ' .^tian was so hardly beset in this place. Then James said to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a pillar, and it looks as if something was written thereon ; let Ms 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." Lo, said their guide, did I not tell you that there was something hereabouts that would give in- It, ! n lime enjoyments ; this is also designed for a purpose — to suggest the need of caution, and f to furnish scope and opportunity for jjutting forth and using the supplies of spiritual liili TO ' w>¥ lil:l " : ; .1': • -•■!! !■(';,-; L'v; plr 1 ![ -;: 348 T/ie Pilgrim s Prqgress. and that he loved here to walk ? I will add, in this place, and to the people that love and trace these grounds he has left a yearly revenue, to be faithfully paid them at certain seasons for their main- tenance by the way, and for their further encouragement to go on in their pilgrimage. 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 the battle vith Apollyon at a place yonder before us, in a narrow passage just beyond F'orgetful Green. And indeed that place is the most dangerous place in all these parts ; for if at any time pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when they forget what favors they have received, and how iniworthy 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 was fouirht there. Then said Mercy, I think 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 rat- tlinyf with coaches, nor rumblino- with wheels. Methinks here one may, Avithout 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 one's spirit, until one's eyes become " as the fishpools of Heshbon." They that go rightly through this "Valley of Baca, make it a well ; the rain," that Goil sends down from heaven upon them that are here, " also filleth the pools" (Song of Sol. 7.4; Ps. 84: 5-7; Hos. 2: 15). This val- ley is that from whence also the King will give to them their vine- yards ; and they that go through it shall sing as Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon. Forgttful Green. — The cause of Chris- tian's liard experience in this valley receives here additional illustration. 15esidcs his "slips" in the descent of the hill, there was yet another cause of offence — his tlcpartute from the right way, by which he wiindered into the place of Forj^etfulness. The dis])en- sation of Providence to the I'ilyrim had been a dispensation of (avor and goodnesr;. The Author of these blessinj/s was ever to be rcmemliered, never to be for};otten ; more particularly after the larj^e and libera: lavors bestowed upon him in the comnninion of the Palace. Yet !♦ would a|)pear that this was a moment of forgetfulness, a season of oblivion of ("lod's f^oodness, while Christian trav- ersed the valley, and that therefore he met with that fierce encounter and that long-ron- tinued conllict, so that he might again be taught to know and recognize the hand that , . 4.. 'Li ilace, and to eft a yearly r their main- mt to go on :-heart, Sir, I their battle ; is large. 11 at a place retful Green. in all these t, it is when iworthy they e been hard : to it ; for I some sign of a battle was ey as I have ethinks, suits :re is no rat- iks here one s, whence he d him ; here t, until one's at go rightly n," that God so filledi the This val- n their vine- stian did, for forgotten ; more :\n(l lilicra; Mvors oniiiuinion of the ar tliat this was a se.ison of oblivion Christian tiav- ♦herefore he met nd that lonj,'-r'(in- ; might again lie i/R the hand tiiat T/te Monument in the Valley of Humiliation. 349 It is true, said their guide; I have gone through this valley many a 'rie, 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 that trembleth at my word" (Isa. 66 : 2). Now they were come to the place where the afore-mentioned batde was fought. Then said the guide to Christiana, her children and Mercy, This is the place; on this ground Christian stood, and up there came Apollyon against him; and, look, did not I teli 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 |)lace some of the shivers of Apollyon's broken darts. See also how t'ney did beat the ground with their feet as they fouLrht, lo make Vood their places agauist each other ; how also, with their by-blows, did they split the very stones in pieces. Verily Christian did -here play the man, and showed himself as stout as Hercules could, had he been there, even he himself. When Apollyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called the Valley of the Shadow of Death, unto whicli we shall come anon, Lo, yonder also stands a monument, on which is engraven this battle, and Christian's vic- tory, 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 thus : Hard by here was a battle fought, Most strange, ar.d 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. hitherto had been over him good, for guiding and guarding him in his Tilgrimage. This is the plaie. — The realization of pre- vious downfalls and reverses may be as ad- monitory to the I'ilgrims as the review of successes would be encouraging. Memorials of the conflict remain long after the battle has concluded, long after the champions have ceased to fight. God.i' his providence, permits the marks and tokens of the fray to abide, as an evidence of thf intensity of the strife, and a proof of the greatness of the victory. Veteran heroes jjenerally show their scars and wounds, as tokens of many a hard- fought battle, and of many a campaign through which they have passed. This battle-field was, indeed, a part of the valley into which Christian ought not to have ventured ; but from the moment he was •recalled to the remembrance of his Cod and Father, all hi'; wounds w:re proofs of the genuineness of his fidelity and of the power of his faith — evidences that he would not be brought into i)ond.T.ge of the Destroyer. l lif Shadow of Death. — " '("his doleful place," though not utterly dark, was yet dis- jnal enough to our I'ilgrim-company. The intense horror of the place w;is much mod- erated on this occasion ; for iIreai iii^art was with the Tilgrims, Dangers arise ; fiends Hif ?». :•! iliilli' Hrnnni''' i\':r\yr 350 The Pilgrim! s Progress. \Vhen they had passed by this place, they came upon the borders of the Shadow of Death, and this valley was longer than the others, 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. Whon they were entered upon this valley, they thought that they heard a groaning as of dying 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 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 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 Christiana said, Methinks I see something yonder en the road before us ; a thing of a shape such 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, 'Tis like, I cannot tell what, said she. And now it is but a little way off Then said she. It is nigh. Well, said Mr. Great-heart, let them that are most afraid keep appear; groans are heard; earthquakes j rumble beneath their feet ; and serpents and A scorpions, with a hissing sound, alarm them. Thus do spiritual misgivings croud upon the soul, and at tinies sfnrtle the spirJv of true pilgrims. Convictions, doublings, fear^ lay siege round about the spiritual man, and, more or less, disturb his peace, veaken his faith, and darken the prospect of his hops;. Even with the company of (^iREAT-iiEAf'.T, these troubles came upon these Pilgrims ; but when they kepi close to his protecting hand, and set his great strength in advance, the danger vanished. Greal-hedyt went behind. — Here is Che protecting providence of Divine favor once more screening the Pilgrims tVoiii assault. At one time it goes befc-e them, at another time it follows them— always standing ' e- tween vhe Pilgrims and tlse harm that is dc signed against tl.cn>. Like the pillar c,f cloud in the wilderness, it acts both as a protection and a guide. A great mtil and a derktKSi. — Dangers •ength in advance, The Fiend and the Lion. 351 close to me. So the fiend came on, and v^e conductor met it ; but when it was just come to him it vanished to dl 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 it gave it made 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. T he lion also came on apace, and Mr. Great-heart addressed himsf 1/ to give him battle. But wh-^^n i-e saw tiiat it was determined ihat resist- ance should be made, he also drew back, and came no farther (i Peter 5: 8, 9). Then thf^y v ^nt on again, and their conductor dkl go before them, till they vae to a place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of tht ay; and before they could be prepared to ^o over that, a great misv and a darkn-^ss fell upon them, so thrt ihey could not see. Then said s.h ? pilgrims, Alas ! what now shall we do? i'iut their guide made an.,Aer, 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 iicar more appar- ently the noise and rushing of th'^ enemies ; the fire iilso ara _ moke of the pit were much easier to be discerned. Then said Christiana to Mercy, Now i see what my poor husband went thro :>;;i. 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 )K\urt knoweth his own bitterness; and a stranger doth not intermeddle w^ith his 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 z^knesi,. — Dangers thicken nftw arriund the fett of the Pilgrims. Some datk moment of siji-itual fear io indi- cateil liere, the darkness increasing the ef- fect of their otlier sorrows. Even Great- HE.iVRT seems as though he were broupht to a standstill at this dark spot ; and, having large e.\periente of the way, he suggests the use of that potent weapon by which ChriS' I. i ■1 ■<':-(:*;.'.■ 352 The PUgt'ims Progress. ii * % ':it' '■ •!' ■' ii f^( liMii ' sea," and like "going down to the bottoms of the mountains." Now it seems as if " the earth with her 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 valley, and have been much harder pjt to it than now I am ; and yet you see I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am not my 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 can 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 now the\' were stopped with a pit. Yet they were not got througli the vallt#y ; 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 Inter- preter's, or at the house where we lay last. Oil, 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 sweeter to us. Well said, Samuel, quoth the Guide ; thou hast spoken now like a man. 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-by. .So on they went, and Joseph said, Cannot we see to the entl of this valley as yet? Then said the guide, Look to your feet, for we shall presently be among the snares. So they looked at 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 ca. t into the ditch on the lelt hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. Then said the Guitle, That is one Meedless that was going this way ; he has lam 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 TiAN had been delivered in his deepest and. darkest extremity — the weapon of All- prayer. " So they cried and prayed.' God will not conduct them out of that dark place without being inquired of concerning these tliinffs. Thftir need is feit ; their prayer is offered , the prayer is heard — yea, it is answered — " and God sent light and deliverance I" Matil, a i^ant. — The former, narrative places the cave of Giants Pope and Pagan at the end of this valley. In this Allegor\ another giant is represented an issuing forth from this same cave. The name of this ken now like oy, I think I all mv lite. inia as the defenders of the weak, and engaged in moral combat against the persecuting stafites of the period^ the weaker ones stood by, as Christiana and her children did, and w.-tched the issue of the fight, until, by-and-by, the faith and steadfastness of a noble few opened the gates of liberty t» all ; and, thank God, those gates of freedom have never since been utterly closed, at lt;ai.t in these lands. Its • I generals, idnapper ; :m into a But now my busi- [ to do my ss to light, ndeed the meet him ; club. So, iant struck uhe women mself. laid )und in his ^htof heat It doth out art betook ig but sigh th fell to it yiant down Mr. Great- the giant his club, his spirit, began to reat-heart from his defcnilers of mor.il combat iittheperiod^ Christiana tched the issue the faith and )one(l the gates k God, those ;r since been landb. r They rejoice at the Deliverance, 355 shoulders. Then the women and children rejoiced, and Mr, Great- heart also praised God for the deliverance he had wrought. When this was done, they among them erected a pillar, and fastened the giant's head thereon, and wrote under it, in letters that passengers might read : . I He that did wear this head was one That pilgrims did misuse : He stopp'd their way, he spared none, But did them all abuse ; Until that I, Great-heart, arose, The pilgrims' guide to be ; Until that I did him opposf. That was their enemy. I ' 18 «' III I III f iiiii I ,1 1 W" CHAPTER VII. Mr. Honest and Mr. Fearing Mr. Honest and Mr. Fearing are two characters magnificently drawn by the skill of the Dreamer, who has thereby set before his readers two very sublime descriptions of men f God — characters, however, which are essentially unlike, except in just one pomt of similitude — that they were both Pilgrims, with their faces Zionward. OW I saw that they went on to the ascent that was a Httle 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 got 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. Chr. But you were not afraid, good sir, when you saw him come with his club? It is my duty, said he, to mistrust my own ability, that I may have reliance on him who is stronger than all (2 Cor. 4). Chr. But what did you think when he fetched you down to the ground at the first blow ? Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my Master himself was served, and yet he it was that conquered at last. Matt. When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been wonderfully good unto us, both in bringing us out of this valley, and in delivering us out of the hand of this enemy ; for my Tkejf went to the ascent. — The same stand- point from whence Christian had espied Faithful in the distance, now serves as a place of rest, and for purpose of refresh- ment, after the hard encounter of Great- heart with Giant Maul, and the painful anxiety of the Pilgrims as to the issue of the conflict. At this point, too, where Christian had sought for fellowship and communion, our present Pilgrims enjoy this privilege ; he was but one, and they arc many. So, thev take occasion ' to talk of the late mercy an^ (356) The Pilgrims encounter Mr. Honest. 357 ;aw him come f was served, 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. Then they got up and went forward. Now a litde 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 gentle- man, 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 what they are. Then said the guide, My name is Great- heart ; I am the guide of these pilgrims, which are going to the Celestial Country. Then said Mr. Honest, I cry your 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 indeed we had been of that company? Hon. Done ! why, I would have fought as long as breath had been in me ; and 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 should yield himself. Well said, father Honest, quoth the guide ; for by this I know that thou art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth. Hon. And by this also I know that thou knowest what true pil- grimage is ; for all others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any. deliverance vouchsafed to them, and are thankful. An old Pilgrim, fast asleep. — This is old Mr. Honest, who is now, for the first time, introduced to our notice. Whether this was a time and place allowed for sleep, we can- not well decide. He certainly awaked with a shock of fear, as though from a forbidden or unlawful slumber ; and yet his conscience does not seem to have been at all uneasy, for he begins to testify wherein is his con- fidence, and what would be his conscious strength in case of'any assault by the bandits of the way. What -would yoti have done? — Mr. Hon- est is a brave old Pilgrim. His bold speech, in answer to Great-heart's question, at once shows what style of man he is, and seems rather to amuse the great warrior- guide. They are two like-minded men — very brave, very trustful, and therefore very joyous. My name I cannot. — This good man is not presumptuous or proud. His spirit of hu- ii »\ \ ft"-' ii IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) fe A 1.0 I.I Is IS 18 1.25 1 U II 1.6 ill! — II — 4 6" ► Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. I4S80 (716) 872-4S03 f||i:«|.;i|lMli i is P' W'^^, ■'t-HJ m 358 TAe Pilgrim! s Progress. Great. Well, now we are so happily met, let me crave your name, and the name of the place you came from ? Hon. My name I cannot ; but I came from the town of Stupidity ; it lieth about four leagues 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? So the old gentleman blushed, and said, Not Honesty in the abstract ; but Honest is my name, and I wish my nature may agree to what I am called. But, sir, said the old gentleman, how could you guess that I am such a man, since I came from such a place } Great. I have 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 senseless ; but, were a man in a mountain of ice, yet, if the Sun of Righteousness should arise upon him, Jiis frozen heart shall feel a thaw. And thus it has 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 of them their names, and how they had fared since they had set out on their pilgrimage. Then said Christiana, My name I suppose you have heard of; good Christian was my husband, and these four are his children. But can you think how the old gentleman was taken, when she told mility is apparent from the first. He deems his name to be too good for him, and better than his nature ; and lest he should seem to make undue pretensions by paradinjj; his name, he chooses rather to tell his origin, which is not so fair or flattering. We are thus informed that he is not one of the wise, mighty, noble, or learned, but that he is (as others may be) " honest " for all that. He does not forget the rock from which he was hewn, nor the hole of the pit from whence he was digged. Out of the same region as Destruction, and from no very promising pedigree, has he proceeded. He feels, how- ever, the great spiritual change that has been wrought in his soul; and when Great- heart tells him he knows it all. Old Honest " blushes to find it fame." Your name is Old Honesty. — And when Great-heart does name his name it is somewhat higher and more honorable than even that by which he calls himself " Not Honesty in the Abstract," says the good old man, showing that he has learned some of the science of Christian philosophy since he left the town of " Stupidity." And he is right. Honesty in the abstract would mean the jjossession of that virtue in perfection and in all its power; but " Honest " means that he is aiming to attain that goodly char- acteristic. And this man's change was indeed a Mr. Honest joineth the Pilgrims. 359 crave your 3f Stupidity; deem I have 3t? So the .bstract ; but what I am :ss that I am or he knows )ndered that e than is the -e more cold ;t, if the Sun t shall feel a • I know the h a holy kiss y had fared re heard of; lis children. len she told all, Old Honest sty. — And when his name it is honorable than himself. " Not ays the good old learned some of osophy since he ' And he is act would mean je in perfection Honest " means hat goodly char- was indeed a him who she was ! He skipped, he smiled, and blessed them with a thousand good wishes, saying, 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 sin- cerity under all have made his name famous. Then he turned him to the boys, and asked of them their names, which they told him. And then said he unto them, Matthew, be thou like Matthew the pub- lican, not in vice but in virtue (Matt. lo: 3). Samuel, said he, be thou like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and prayer (Ps. 99: 6), Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flies from temptation (Gen. 39), And, James, be thou like James the Just, and like James the brother of our Lord (Acts i : 13, 14). Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her own town and her kindred to come along with Christiana and with her sons. At that the old honest man said, Mercy is thy name ; by mercy thou shalt be sustained, and carried through all those difficulties that shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither where thou shalt look 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 pilgrim- age out of his parts. 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. Grkat. 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 great one ; from a state worse than that of Destruction itself, farther removed from the Sun of Righteousness, and yet (oh, great miracle of grace !) the hght-bearing, life-giv- ing rays of the Light of the World penetrated even to that cold, dark, senseless place, and warmed the heart of this man into love to God in Christ. One Mr. Fenrins;. — We do v/ell to give heed to the description of this man's spirit- ual character. Itj^illustrates another phase of spiritual life. He was known to Mr. Honest, but much better known to Great- heart, who had been the convoy of his pilgrimage, as he now is of Christiana's company. From Great-heart's descrip- tion of this worthy Pilgrim, we are enabled to obtain a very picture of the man and of his spiritual state ; and the whole scene forms a study in itself for the Christian man — a combination of natural weakness and of spiritual strength ; of constitutional depres- sion, and yet of holy determination, that, come what may, he would still hold on to m 1. ... i' 360 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. most an end. When he first began to think of what would come upon us hereafter, I was with him. Great. I was his guide from my Master's house to the gate o the Celestial City. \ Hon. 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 otttimes intrusted with the conduct of such as he was. Hon. Why, 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 wi>ither he had a desire to go. Everything frightened him ihat, he heard anybody speak of, if it had but the least appearance of opposi- tion in it. I have heard 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 hands. He would not go back again neither. The Celestial City, he said he should die if he came not to it; and yet he was de- jected 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 sunshiny 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 mean) that stands at the head of this way ; ard there also he stood a good while before he could venture to knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back, and give place to others, and say that he was not worthy ; and, for all he got before some to the gate, yet many of them went in before him. There the poor man would stand shaking and shrinking. I dare say it would have pitied one's heart to have seen him ; nor would he go back again. At last he took the hammer that hanged on the gate in his hand, and gave a small rap or two ; then one opened to him, but he shrunk back as before. He that opened stepped out after him, and said, his pilgrimage. We will follow Great- heart's review of this man's strangely checkered career in its successive stages : At the Sloue^h of Despond. ~\it.x^ he would be peculiarly liable to suffer loss, his own nature being in such near conformity to the spirit of this miry place. Even a would suffice to stumble him ; and a more sanguine spirit would see a straw where possibility of escape, he could see none. His soul refused to be comforted. Uespond war. not merely a stage of his pilgrimage, but thi very type of the man himself. At the Wicket-gate. — The entrance-gate i come upon > the gate o ■ men of my ; he was. ind how he )me short of him that he :e of opposi- ot Despond w several go ered to lend rhe Celestial he was de- iiat anybody f Uespond a don't know r, he would pond in his or else he le gate (you ; ard there ock. When :e to others, "ore some to re the poor would have back again. In his hand, it he shrunk tn, and said, nible him ; and rit would see a 1 see none. His Despond war. primage, but th ; If. e entiance-j^ate MR. FEARING AT^THB GATE. sffVil ^'III^' t'"r FEEHI.E-MIND WEI,COMES READYTO-HALT, ^ l^m'-^ How Mr. Fearing Jared. 361 FEARING AT THE INTERPRETER'S DOOR. Thqu tiemblinij one, what wantest thou ? With that he fell down to the ground. He that spake to him wondered to see him so faint ; so he said to him, Peace be to thee. Up, for I have set open the door to thee ; come in, for thou art blessed. With that he got up, and went in trembling ; and when he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, after he had been entertained there a while (as you know how the manner is), he was bid to go on his way, and also told the way he should take. So he went on till he came to our house ; but as he behaved himself at the gate, so he did at my Master the Interpreter's door. He lay thereabout in the rold a good of the Narrow-way is a place of promise and command ; " Knock, and it shall be opened unto you." Yet, here he hesitated to obey the command, and therefore so long postponed the enjoyment of the promise. Such a one, in the depression of his heart, has no bold- ness ; he feai s to knock, or to arour i ^ e Master ; and when at last he does knc^K, it is with so feeble a hand as scarcely io be heard. Yet the ear of the porter at the ■'CI.* \ hH-^ ' I If! 1^1. «:* 111 302 The Pilgrim's Progress. while before he would adventure to call ; yet he would not go back, and the nights were long and cold then. Nay, he had a note of necessity in his bosom to my Master, to receive him and grant him the comfort of his house, and also to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because he was himself so chicken-hearted a man ; and yet for all that he was afraid to call at the door. So he lay up and down thereabouts, till, poor man ! he was almost starved; yeL, so great was his dejection, that, although he saw several others for knocking get in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last, I think, I looked out of the window, and pet-ceiving a man to be up and down abf the door, I went out to him, and asked what he was; but, po'- man! the water stood in his eyes; :;o I perce.ved what he Wb..iLed. I went therefore in, and told it in the house, and we showed the thing to our Lord ; so he sent me out again, to entreat him to come in ; but, I dare say, I had hard work to do it. At last he came in ; and I will say that for my Lord, he carried it wonder- fully loving to him. There were but a few good bits at the table, but some of it was laid upon his trencher. Then he presented the note, and my Lord looked thereon, and said his desire should be granted. So, when he had been there a good while, he seemed to get some heart and to be a little more comfortable. For my Master, you must know, is one of very tender bowels, especially to them that are afraid ; wherefore he carried it so towards him as might tend most to his encouragement. Well, when he had had a sight of the things of the place, and was ready to take his journey to go to the City, my Lord, as he did to Chrisdan before, gave him a bottle of spirits and some comfortable things to eat. Thus we set for- ward, and I went before him ; but the man was but of few words, only he would sigh aloud. When we were come to the place where the three fellows were hanged, he said that he doubted that that would be his end also. Only he seemed glad when he saw the cross and the sepulchre. gate is quick to catch the faintest sound of the inquiring sinner ; and to these trembling ones he speaks words of peace, and presents an open door of pardon and acceptance. At the Interpreter's house. — To this house of call he had an invitation and a note of introduction, and yet he feared to enter or to ask the favors he required. Here the In- terpreter (the Holy Spirit) " helpeth his infirmities," and pours out the abundance of his love towards him ; and, because the man is lowly and abased, the Spirit welcomes him the more, pours consolation into his bosom, reassures his doubting heart, and also pro- vides CiKEAt-HEART as his Conductor. At t/ir Cross. — His fearful spirit was re- freshed as he lingered beside the Cross and the Sepulchre. Kindred sympathies were ! .1 ¥ Great-hearis Description of Mr. Fearing. 363 ot go back, a note of 1 grant him and valiant man ; and lay up and lid ; yeL, so others for ,t, I think, I 3 and down ; was ; but, ;d what he ;e, and we , to entreat it. At last it wonder- It the table, esented the should be seemed to my Master, ly to them 1 as might 1 a sight of ey to go to im a botde ve set for- "ew words, lows were end also, sepulchre. abundance of cause the man welcomes him ito his bosom, and also pro- nductor. spirit was re- the Cross and Tipathies were There I confess he desired to stay a little to look, and he seemed for a while after to be a little cheery. When he came to the hill Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did he much fear the lions ; for you must know that his trouble was not ^bout such things as these ; his fear was about his acceptance at last. I got him into the house Beaudful, I think, before he was will- ing ; also, when he was in, I brought him acquainted with the dam- sels of the place, but he was ashamed to make himself much in company ; he desired much to be alone, yet he always loved good talk, and often would get behind the screen to hear it ; he always loved much to see ancient things, and to be pondering them in his mind. He told me afterwards, that he loved to be in those two houses from which he came last, to wit, at the gate, and that of the Interpreter, but that he durst not be so bold as to ask. When we went also from the house Beautiful down the hill, into the Valley of Humiliation, he went down as well as ever I saw a man in my life ; for he cared not how mean he was, so he might be happy at last. Yea, ! think there was a kind of sympathy be- twixt that valley and him ; for I never saw him better in all his pil- grimage than he was in that valley. Here he would lie down, em- brace the ground, and kiss the very flowers that grew in this valley (Lam, 3 : 27-29). He would now be up every morning by break of day, tracing and walking to and fro in the valley. But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I thought I should have lost my man ; not for awakened in his breast as he contemplated -that scene of the Saviour's suffeii-.^i. The great love of Jesus, the cross and passion, the blood of Christ, the agony and the death Oi the great sacrifice — these topics revive and refresh his spirit ; for this good man did love the Saviour with devoted love, though with a weak power of faith. At the hill Difficulty.— Yi^x^ he felt no such drawbacks as other Pilgrims had encoun- tered. His fears were not earthly fears, but spiritual; not about his body, but about his soul. Therefore the " lions " of persecution alarmed him not His fear was for the safety of the jewel, not of the setting ; for the pearl of great price, not of the earthen casket that contained it. The house Beautiful. — His constitutional diffidence still haunts him, and restrains him from the free interchange of Christian com- munion. He fears to make an open profes- sion of religion, or to raise expectations as to his own spiritual state ; and yet he longs to hear the conversation of those that fear his much-loved Saviour. He therefore, rathe by stealth than openly, listens to the sweet communion of the palace, and is comforted. In the Valley of Humiliation. — This would seem to be his native air and the abode of his choice; and accordingly, here he was perfectly at home and at ease. He loved the deepness of this low-lying • vale, its quietude and its peace. Here he could in- dulge the spirit of lowliness, and rejoice tc say, as the Psalmist said : " My soul is even as a weaned child " (Ps. 131 : 2). In the Valley of the Shadow of Death. — This would be the crisis of the fears of such [ }»M I 364 T/ie Pilgrim's Progress. that he had any inclination to go back (that he always abhorred), ';ut he was ready to die for fear. Oh, the hobgoblins will have me ! the hobgoblins will have me ! cried he ; and I could not beat him out of it. He made such a noise and such an outcry here, that, had they but heard him, it was enough to encourage them to come and fall upon us. But this I took very great notice of, that this val- ley was as quiet when he went through it as ever I knew it before or since. I suppose those enemies here had now a special check from our Lord, and a command not to meddle until Mr. Fearing had passed over it. It would be too tedious to tell you of all ; we will therefore only mention a passage or two more. When he was come to Van- ity Fair, I thought he would have fought with all the men in the fair ; I feared there we should have been both knocked on the head, so hot was he against their fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground he also was very wakeful. But when he was come at the river where was no bridge, there again he was in a heavy case. Now, now, he said, he should be drowned forever, and so never see that face with comfort that he had come so many miles to behold. And here also I took notice of what was very remarkable: the water of that river was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my life; so he went over at last, not much above wet-shod. When he wr.s going up to the gate, I began to take my leave of him, and to wish him a good reception above ; so he said, I shall ! I shall ! Then parted we asunder, and I saw him no more. Hon. Then, it seems he was well at last ? a fearful and faint-hearted man. Here are spiritual dangers — those that most of all were the terror of his soul. You see the goodness of the Lord in measuring out the proportion of discipline tc his sensitive and fearful children ! The Valley was still and quiet — no dread visions of darkness and of the deep ; no strong assaults of the Evil One. Demons and devils were restrained in their dens that day, till Mr. FEARiNa had over- passed the valley. Oh, ye feeble-minded men ! be strong, be comforted ! God hath not forgotten you ; he will be better to you than all your fears. In Vanity Fair. — Here, again, his fears are proved not to have been carnal fears — of man or of earthly things. In Vanity Fa:r, and in his intercourse with its vain inhabi- tants, he was bold as a Hon, reproving and rebuking the men of the fair and their vain and profitless vanities. He had not the fear of man before his eyes, but ever lived as in the sight of God, his conscience ever tender, his heart ever fearful, lest he should in any- wise offend, and so lose his acceptance at the last. At the fords of the River — His fears were at all times great ; but the provisions of God's grace were in proportion large. Once more the way is made easy before him, and, in the passage of the River of Death, God's good mercy is upon him. Instead of depths to pass through, he has shallows to wade in ; instead of troubles answerable to his fears, he is assured that all is well at last ; and thus, without a pang, and in fuller assurance^thaa 1 lil! abhorred), 1 will have d not beat here, that, m to come lat this val- vv it before tc\a\ check Ir. Fearing 1 therefore ne to Van- nen in the n the head, ed Ground t the river ise. Now, er see that lold. And le water of ny life; so 2n he wcs nd to wish ill! Then reproving and md their vain ad not the fear ^er lived as in :e ever tender, should in any- acceptance at His fears were isions of God's Once more him, and, in Death, God's tead of depths ivs to wade in ; e to his fears, ast; and thus, issurance^than HUMILIATION 365 3^6 The Pilgrim's Progress. |tf^'< ll 'I it's ■:h r'h wm <>M\.\ S1 illt!: .?! M>«i 370 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. Hon, You must understand me rightly. He did not say that any man might do this ; but tliat those who had the virtues of those that did such things might also do the same. Great. But what more false than such a conclusion ? for tins is as much as to say, that, because good men heretofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had allowance to do it of a presumptuous mind ; or that if, because a child, by the blast of a wind, or for that it stum- bled at a stone, fell down and defiled itself in the mire, therefore he might wilfylly lie down and wallow like a bull therein ! Who could have thought that any one could so far have been blinded by the power of lust? But what is written must be true: "They stumble at the word, being disobedient; whereunto also they were appointed " ( i Peter 2:8). Again, his supposing that such may have the godly man's virtues who addict themselves to his vices, is also a delusion as strong as the other. "To eat up the sin of God's people" (Hos. 4: 8), as a dog licks up filth, is no sign of one that is possessed with their virtues. Nor can I believe that one who is of this opinion can at present have faith or love in him. But I know you have made some strong objections against him ; pr'ythee wiiatcan he say for himself? Hon. Why, he says, to do this by way of opinion seems abun- dantly more honest than to do it and yet hold contrary to it in opinion. Great. A very wicked answer ; for though to let loose the bridle to lusr, while our opinions are against such things, is bad, yet to sin, and plead a toleration to do so, is worse ; the one stumbles beholders accidentally, the other leads them unto the snare. Hon. There are many of this man's mind that have not this man's mouth ; and that makes going on pilgrimage of so little esteem as it is. Great. You have said the truth, and it is to be lamented ; but he that feareth the King of Paradise shall come out of them all. CiiR. There are strange opinions in the world ; I know one that said it was time enough to repent when he came to die. Great. Such are not over-wise ; that man would have been loath, might he have had a week to run twenty miles for his life, to have deferred that journey to the last h'^ur of that week. thief of souls." If we are to be " rooted and grounded " in love, ere we are fit for heaven, we do well to plant the seed early, and allow time for the growth of both root a nd branches. Suffice it to say: there is no time to lose, no time to trifie with. If eternity is the unend- ing period of bliss, surely this brief span of time cannot be too long for all the work we Honest' s Observations. 371 Hon. You say right ; and yet the generality of them that count themselves pilgrims do indeed do thus. I am, as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller in this road many a day ; and I have taken notice of many things. I have seen some that set out as if they would drive all the world before them, who yet have, in a few days, died as they in the wilderness, and so never got sight of the prom- ised land. I have seen some that have promised nothing at first set- ting out to be pilgrims, and that one would have thought could not have lived a day, that have yet proved very good pilgrims. I have seen some who have run hastily foward, that have, after a little time, run just as fast back again. I have seen some who have spoken very well of a pilgrim's life at first, that after awhile have spoken as much against k. I have heard some, when they first set out for Paradise, say positively. There is such a place ; who, when they have been almost there, have come back again, and said. There is none. I have heard some vaunt what they would do in case they should be opposed, that have, even at a false alarm, fled faith, the pilgrim's way, and all. Now as they were thus on their way, there came one running to meet them, and said. Gentlemen, and you of the weaker sort, if you love life, shift for yourselves, for the robbers are before you ! Then said Mr. Great-heart, They be the three that set upon Little-faith heretofore. Well, said he, we are ready for them. So they went on their way. Now they looked at every turning, when they should have met with the villains ; but, whether they heard of Mr. Great-heart, or whether they had some other game, they came not up to the pilgrims. have to do, for all the talents we have to use, for the attainment of the heavenly char- acter, and for that growth in grace, and con- formity to the image of Christ, without which no man shall see the Lord. II ;l» iv M i., 'MMil :'- f \m! >,! CHAPTER VIII. The Guests of Gaius. " How qaickly strife and envy end, How soon all idle griefs depart, When friend takes counsel thus with friend, When soul meets soul, and heart meets heart ; " We hare so many things to say, So many failings to confess. Time flies, alas I so soon away, We cannot half we would express." Here, again, the little group enlarges, by the addition to their number of Mr. Feeble MIND and Mr. Ready-to-halt; and these twain Pilgrims, like Mr. Honest, con- tinue with the company to the end of the journey. The introduction of Mr. Feeble-mind to the group furnishes an illustration of the importance of joining, hand-in-hand, in faith- ful effort to rescue men of failing strength (as they may be rescued) out of the hands of the Destroyer. '. ^^^^HRLSTIANA then wished for an inn to refresh herself and her children, because they were weary. Then said Mr. Honest, There is one a little before us, where a very honorable disciple, one Gaius, dwells (Rom. i6: 23). So they all concluded to turn in thither ; and the rather, because the old gentleman gave him so good a report. When they came to the door, they went in, not knocking ; for folks use not to knock at the door of an inn. Then they called for the master of the house, and he came to them. So they asked if they might lie there that night ? Gai. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men, for my house is for none but pilgrims. Then were Christiana, Mercy and the boys the more glad, for that the inn-keeper was a lover of pilgrims. So they called for rooms, and he showed them one for Christiana and her children, and Mercy, and another for Mr. Great-heart and the old gentleman. Then said Mr. Great-heart, Good Gaius, what hast thou for supper ? for these pilgrims have come far to-day, and are weary. Wished for an inn. — There is an evident difference indicated here between the provi- sion of special means of grace and the more ordinary occasions of Christian instruction and fellowship. The former has been already set forth in the representation of the Palace Beautiful ; and now one of the stated and appointed opportunities of the communion of saints is more particularly alluded to, where we meet, not so directly with the graces of the Spirit in themselves, as with our fellow-Christians, who exemplify those (372) The Pilgrims entertained by Gains. 373 ;press." number of Mr. Ir. Honest, con- Ir. Feeble-mind n-hand, in faith- the hands of the fresh herself . Then said [where a very 3m. i6: 23). d the rather, When they use not to he master of ey might Ue :s house is for the boys the ns. So they iana and her and the old last thou for re weary. if the stated and the communion ilarly alluded to, directly with the !mselves, as with exemplify those It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently go out to seek food ; but such as we have you shall be welcome to, if that will con- tent you. Great. We will be content with what thou hast in the house ; forasmuch as I have proved thee, thou art never destitute of that which is convenient. Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose name was Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready supper for so many pilgrims. This done, he comes up again, saying. Come, my good friends, you are welcome to me, and I am glad that I have a house to entertain you in ; and while supper is making ready, if you please, let us entertain one another with some good discourse. So they all said, Content. Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged matron ? and whose daughter is this young damsel ? Great. The woman is the wife of one Christian, a pilgrim of former times, and these are his four children. The maid is one of her acquaintance ; one that she has persuad'^d to come with her on pilgrimage. The boys take all after their father, and covet to tread in his steps ; yea, if they do but see any place where the old pilgrim fias lain, or any print of his foot, it ministereth joy to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread in the same. Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife, and are these Christian's children ? I knew your husband's father, yea, also his father's father. Many have been good of this stock ; their ancestors first dwelt at Antioch (Acts 11: 26). Christian's progenitors (I suppose you have heard your husband talk of them) were very worthy men. They have, above any that I know, showed themselves men of great virtue and courage for the Lord of the pilgrims, his ways, and them that loved him. I have heard of many of your husband's relations, that have stood all trials for the sake of the truth. Stephen, that was one of graces in their own experience. This is one of the constituted rights and privileges of the Christian man during the course of his pil- grimage — to give and to receive the blessings of brotherly or ministerial intercourse and fellowship. They went in, not knocking. — A sense of freedom and i consciousness of right seem to be associated with this introduction of the Pilgrims to the House of Gaius — a house which (it is to be observed) is represented as an " inn," not as a private residence ; a place into which they could enter by right, and. not by special favor only, and for pay or reward, as will appear at the close of this visit. The only qualification needed for admission is that they be " true Pilgrims." It is possible the double meaning is a correct one — a Christian household, at times enlarged into a congregation, by the admission of those who are true and sincere followers of the same Saviour. Such households were famil- ^v; \hi -■.li^i ^!H Hit UJi rl l<> . ' I 1 < ,'s , )i,?;, I |4r-.J,, ^ ji 1 J ■ '' 1 ^ i III - ' ■ ■ J ,Mi i ■ ■[! L L^''l 374 '>iiiZi''^'l7^' ^^'vmm^ff^ Mm at H 1/; u D < Gaius enumerates some Holy Pilgrims. 375 the first of the family from whence your husband sprang, was knocked on the head with stones (Acts 7: 59, 60). James, another of this generation, was slain with the edge of the sword (Acts 12: 2). To say nothing of Paul and Peter, men anciently of the family from whence your husband came, there was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions ; Romanus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from his bones ; and Polycarp, who played the man in the fire. There was he that was hanged up in a basket in the sun, for the wasps to eat ; and he whom they put into a sack, and cast into the sea to be drowned. It would be impossible utterly to count up all of that family who have suffered injuries and death for the love of a pilgrim's life. Nor can I but be glad to see that thy husband has left behind him four such boys as these. I hope they will bear up their father's name, and tread in their father's steps, and come to their father's end. Great. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads ; they seem to choose heartily their father's ways. Gai. That is what I said ; wherefore Christiana's family is like still to spread abroad upon the face of the ground, and yet to be nu- merous upon the face of the earth. Wherefore let Christiana look out some damsels for her sons, to whom they may be betrothed, that the name of their father and the house of his progenitors may never be forgotten in the world. Hon. It is a pity this family should fall and be extinct. Gai. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may ; but let Christiana take my advice, and thrt's the way to uphold it. iar to Christians in Bunyan's day, ar. they certainly were also in the apostolic age, when "the Church in thy house" was included in the apostolic salutations (see Rom. 16: 5; I Cor. 16: 19; Fhilem. 2). In the one aspect, admission to the house would be a matter of personal favor, and, in the other, a matter of Christian duty. Both phases are here combined ; for we cannot afford to lose either on the one hand the idea of this good man's hospitality, or, on the other, the freedom and right of entrance assumed by the Pilgrim-party. And, consistently with this idea, we find in the person of Gaius both a minister and a friend. He instructs them ; he feeds them, after a spiritual sort, with food suited to the age and experience of each. He feeds the younger children with "milk," the elders with " butter and honey." He gives them the " apples " of the Lord's love, and th°n " nuts," the more hidden and difficult doc- trines of the faith, that must be broken up in order to find the kernel. All this is em- blematic teaching. Gaius also interests himself, as minister and friend, in family arrangements, by his counsel and advice. And again, more after the duty of a congre- gation than of an individual household, the Pilgrims go forth to destroy the Giant Slay- good ; and thereby their little group enlarges in number, and is made to include the weak as well as the strong, so that they that are strong may, by Christian communion and sympathy, " bear the infirmities of the weak." The readiness of Gaius to supply the (spiritual) wants of this company is worthy of observation. Without notice of any sor^ 'It! 376 The Pilgrim's Progress. :ifeii!;i^ \ i^ And, Christiana, said this inn-keeper, I am glad to see thee and thy friend Mercy here to^^ether, a lovely couple. And may I advise, Take Mercy into a nearer re'ntion with thee ; if she will, let her be given to Matthew, thy eldest son ; it is a way to preserve a posterity in the earth. So this match was concluded, and in process of time they were married ; but more of this hereafter. ^ Gaius also proceeded, and said, I will now speak ontehalf of the women, to take away their reproach. For as death and the curse came into the world by a woman, so also do life and health : " God sent forth his Son made of a woman" (Gen. 3 ; Gal. 4:4). Yea, to show how much those that came after did abhor the act of the mother, this sex in the Old Testament coveted children, if happily this or that woman mignt be the mother of the Saviour of the world. I will say again, that when the Saviour was come, women rejoiced in him before either man or angel (Luke 2). I read not that man did give unto Christ as much as one groat ; but the women " followed him and min- istered to him of their substance." It was a woman that washed his feet with tears, and a woman that anointed his body to the burial. They were women who wept whPii he was going to the cross, and women that followed him from Ihe cross, and that sat over against his sepulchre wh^^n he was buried. They were women that were first with him at his resurrection morn, and women that brought tidings first to his disciples that he was risen from the dead. Women, therefore, are highly favored, and show by these things that they are sharers with us in the grace of Hfe (Matt. 27 : 55-61 ; Luke;: 37-50; 8 : 2, 3 ; 23:27; 24 : 22, 23.; John 2 : 3 ; 1 1 • ?). Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was almost ready, and sent one to lay the cloth and the trenchers, and to set the salt and bread in order. even without knocking at the door, the Pil- grims had presented themselves for food and refreshment ; and, lo ! it is ready. How important is this mark of true ministerial worth — this readiness to speak a word in season to them that are weary, and out of the overflow of the heart's abundance to bring forth things new and old, sufficient for the wants of those that need ! On the behalf of women. — Christianity has ennobled and exalted woman. HeatH%dom has degraded her; stricted her rights. and even Judaism re- Wherever the effects of the Fall are unrepaired and unrestored, woman still feels the full share of her own condemnation for the fatal part she played in the dread tragedy of Eden. But if wo- man was " the first in the transgression," she was also made the vehicle of the fulfilment of the promise of the coming Saviour, who was to be " the seed of the woman " And, accordingly, ever since the Second Adam, " born of a woman," restored that which our first mother forfeited, the original dignity and glory of woman have been rendered back again ; and throughout all Christendom, and. ) ^, The Supper of the Pilgrhns. 377 Then said Matthew, The sight of ..is cloth, and of th's forerun- ner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater appetite to my food than 1 I'ad before. Gai. So let all ministering doctrines to thee, in this life, beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the supper of the great King in his kingdom ; for all preaching, books, and ordinances here, are but as the laying of the trenchers, and as setting of salt upon the board, when compared with the feast that our Lord will make us when we come to his house. So supper came up ; and first a heave-shoulder and a wave-hreast were set on the table before them, to show that they must begin the meal with prayer and praise to God (Lev. 7 : 32-34; 10; 14, 15 ; Ps. 25 : I ; H^b. 13 : 15). The heave-shoulder David lifted his heart up to God with ; and with the wave-breast, .where his heart lay, with that he used to lean upon his harp when he played. These two dishes were very fresh and good, and they all ate heartily thereof. The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, as red as blood. So Gaius said to them. Drink freely; this is the true juice of the vine, "that makes glad the heart of God and man" (Deut. 32 : 14; Judg. 9: 13; John 15 :5). So they drank, and were merry. The next was a dish of milk, well crumbled ; but Gaius said, Let the boys have that, " that they may grow thereby" (i Peter 2 : 1,2), Then they brought up in course, a dish of butter and honey. Then said Gaius, Eat freely of this, for this is good to cheer up and strengthen your judgments and understandings. This was our Lord's dish when he during all the ages of the Christian faith, woman has had honor laid upon her, after the example of the holy women who adorned the doctrine of Christ their Saviour, and thereby helped to establish woman's claim to that reverence, honor, love, and admir- ation, which they universally receive in all Christian lands. Yes, the w^omen that have followed Christ have imparted a grace and a glory to the Gospel narrative which had been utterly wanting were men the only actors ia the scenes of the Saviour's life and ministry. How they wept their tears of penitence, and washed his feet in the lowliness of their humility, and wiped them with the fiowir.g tresses of their hair! How diligently Mar- tha served him ; how earnestly Mary heard him ; how devotedly the Magdalene loved him ! When strong men, who had strength to fight, forsook him and fled, the weak women of Galilee, with nothing but their heart-love to sustain them, followed the Master through all, even to the last. They saw him die ; they followed him to his burial ; they prepared sweet spices to embalm the body of their Lord ; and they that lingered the longest to see the dark sunset upon Cal- vary were the first privileged to see the glorious sunrise of the Easter morning ; for it was to the several groups of women, who wtre early at the sepulchre, that Jesus did first manifest himself after his Resurrection. So supper came up. — The thoughts and reflections of the company are suggested by the circumstances of the occasion. The preparation for the feast is not the festival. The cloth and the trenchers and the trap- h i ['•ill ,f '• 'I'" I i!|fcil «3 ibh -Lil 378 T/tg PilgrinCs Pt^op-cts THE PILGRIMS' Sri'PlLK. was a child ; " Butter and honey shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the evil and choose the good' (Isa. 7 : 15). Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they were very good tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, May we eat apples, since it was they by and with which the serpent beguiled our first mother? Then said Gaius : Apples were they with which we were beguiled, Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defiled ; Apples forbid, if eat, corrupt the blood, To eat such, when commanded, does us good ; Drink of his flagons, then thou church, his dove, And eat his apples, who art sick of love. Then said Matthew, I made the scruple because I a while since was sick with the eating of fruit. Gai. Forbidden fruit will make you sick, but not what our Lord has tolerated. While they were thus talking, they were presented with an- »■ ni.'iv know to Holy Conversation. 379 other dish, and it was a dish of nuts (Song of Sol. 6: ii). Then said some at the table, Nuts spoil tender teethi especially the teeth of children. Which when Gaius heard, he said : Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters) Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters : Open then the shells, and you shall have the meat ; They here are brought for you to crack and eat. Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long time, talking of many things. Then said the old gentleman, My good landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, if you please, do you open this riddle : A man there was (though some did count him mad), The more he cast away the more he had. Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good Gaius would say. So he sat still a while, and then thus replied : He who bestows his goods upon the poor, Shall have as much again, and ten times more. Then said Joseph, I dare say, sir, I did not think you could have found it out. Oh, said Gaius, I have been trained up in this way a great while ; nothing teaches like experience. I have learned of my Lord to be kind; and I have found by experience that I have gained thereby. "There is that scattereth and yet increaseth ; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty." "There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing; there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches " (Prov. 1 1 : 24 ; 13 : 7). Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and said, Mother, this is a very good man's house ; let us stay here a good while, and let my brother Matthew be married here to Mercy be- fore we go any farther. pings are not the food that satisfies the hungry soul. There may be the fire and the wood ; but, " where is the lamb ? " — that is the question, which only our " Jehovah- Jireh" can sufficiently answer! Amid all our preparations and preliminaries, let us not forget that Jesus is " the bread of heaven," and from his Spirit alone can proceed " the water of life " to the strengthening and re- freshing of our souls. And after we have been fed, as pilgrims, with heavenly food, we shall enjoy a richer banquet and a nobler feast, when, our pilgrimage ended and our journey done, we shall eat of the corn of the better country, and of the milk and honey of the Promised Land, and sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in our Fathers kingdom. t t :tf 't^ I m 1 v,\ 380 The Pilgrim's Progrei^s. The which Gaius the host overhearing, said, With a very good will, my child. So they stayed here more than a month, and Mercy was given to Matthew to wife. While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was, would be making coats and garments to give to the poor, by which she brought a very good report upon pilgrims. But to return again to our story. After supper, the lads desired a bed, for they were weary with travelling. Then Gaius called, to show them to their chamber ; but said Mercy, . will have them to bed. So she had them to bed, anc^ they slept well ; but the rest sat up all night ; for Gaius and they were such suitable company that they could not tell how to part. After much talk of their Lord, themselves, and their journey, old Mr. Honest (he that put forth the riddle to Gaius) began to nod. Then said Great-heart, What, sir, you begin to be drowsy ! Come, rub up, here is a riddle for you. Then said Mr. Honest, Let us hear it. Then replied Mr. Great-heart: He that will kill must first be overcome ; Who live abroad would, first must die at home. Ha ! said Mr. Honest, it is a hard one ; hard to expound, and harder to practise. But come, landlord, said he, I will, if you please leave my part to you ; do you expound it, and I will hear what you say. No, said Gaius, it was put to you, and it is expected you should answer it. Then said the old gentleman : He first by grace must conquered be, That sin would mortify ; Who that he lives would convince me. Unto himself must die. It is right, said Gaius ; good doctrine and experience teach this. For, until grace displays itself, and overcomes the soul with its glory, Mr. Honest began to nod, — The weak and feeble members of the flock seem to be al- loyed the rest and refreshment of sleep dur- ing the period of Christian intercourse ; but they are under protection and in a safe place while they sleep The strong men, however, are not permitted this indulgence ; and, therefore, when Mr. Honest shows signs of drowsiness, he is kept awake by the conversation of Gaius, It is here, as it was with Christian and Hopeful on the Enchanted Ground — if they would keep themselves awake, it must be by the same " saints' fellowship," and communing on the things of God, Accordingly, Gaius contin- ues the conversation. ^il Holy Conversation. 381 It is altogether without heart to oppose sin. Besides, if sin is Satan's cords by which the soul lies bound, how should it make resistance before it is loosed from that infirmity ? Nor will any one that knows either reason or grace, believe that such a man can be a living monument of grace, that is a slave to his own corruptions. And now it comes into my mind, I will tell you a story worth the hearing. There were two men that went on pilgrimage ; the one began when he was young, the other when he was old. The young man had strong corruptions to grapple with, the old man's were weak with the decays of nature ; the young man trod his steps as even as did the old one, and was every way as light as he ; who now, or which of them, had their graces shining clearest, since both seemed to be alike ? Hon. The youug man's, doubtless. For that which makes head against the greatest opposition gives best demonstration that it is strongest, especially when it also holdeth pace with that which meets not with half so much, as to be sure old age does not. Be- sides, I have observed that old men have blessed themselves vvith this mistake : namely, taking the decays of nature for a gracious conquest over corruptions, and so have been apt to beguile them- selves. Indeed, old men, that are gracious, are best able to give advice to them that are young, because they have seen most of the emptiness of things ; but yet, for an old man and a young to set out both together, the young one has the advantage of the fairest dis- covery of a work of grace within him, though the old man's corrup- tions are naturally the weakest. Thus they sat talking till break of day. Now, when the family were up, Christiana bid her son James to read a chapter ; so he read the fifty-third of Isaiah. When he had done, Mr. Honest asked, Why it was said that the Saviour was to come "out of a dry ground ;" and also that he had " no form or comeliness in him?" Then said Mr. Great-heart : To the first I answer, because the church of the Jews, of which Christ came, had then lost almost all A story worth the hearing. — This is a parable, with a moral attached. The trial of our faith depends very much upon the circumstances of our lot ; and the faith that is most approved before God is that which resists the carnal nature, and fights the good fight, and overcomes at the last. True faith is that vital influence that conquers living temptations, not dead ones ; subduing the legion of warring desires, and destroying the living seeds of sin in the heart If we can do any good. — Here is the fam- ily circle, enlarged to a congregation of be- lievers, addressing itself to useful labor in its own locality — going forth in the strength of its faith to see if it can do any good. ' m K-!' i||.pi«i»iii« 11 n .-i-^'- 382 T/ie Pilgrim's Progress. sap and spirit of religion. To the second, I say, the words are spoken in the person of unbeUevers, who, because they want the eye that can see into our Prince's heart, therefore they judge of him by the meanness of his outside. Just like those who, not knowing that precious stones are covered over with a homely crust, when they have found one, because they know not what they have found, cast it away again, as men do a common stone. Well, said Gains, now you are here, and since, as I know, Mr. Great-heart is good at his weapons, if you please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk into the fields, to see if we can do any good. About a mile from hence there is one Slay-good, a giant, who does much annoy the King's highway in these parts; and I know whereabout his haunt is; he is master of a number of thieves ; it would be weli if we could clear these parts of him. So they consented, and went, Mr. Great-heart with his sword, helmet, and shield, and the rest with spears and staves. When they came to the place where he was, they found him with one Feeble-mind in his hand, whom his servants had brouinfht unto him, having taken him in the way ; now the giant was rifling him, with a purpose, after that, to pick his bones ; for he was of the nature of flesh-eaters. Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends at the mouth of his cave, with their weapons, he demanded what they wanted. Great. We want thee, for we are come to revenge the quarrels of the many pilgrims whom thou hast slain, when thou hast dragged them out of the King's highway ; wherefore come out of thy cave. So he armed himself, and came out; and to battle they went, and fought for above an hour, and then stood stiM to take wind. Then said the giant, Why are you here on my ground? Great. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I told thee before. Christian congregations must not monopo- lize the blessings of the (lospel, but sjiread them abroad to others. Like stars, we are not only to receive light, but also to reflect light. Sometimes o])poitunities are put in our way for doing good, and sometimes for preventing evil. In one pl.ice an " open and effec:tu;U door" may be set liefore us; and in another, some giant impediment — some modern Si.AV-fiOon — may have to be removed ere the Gospel-words' works can enter. There are ample scope and work enough for all. There are some who say that by the "giants" of the PiUiiUM's PrO(;kess, Runyan always means to indicate the persecuting power of the ])eriod in which his lot was cast. This may be so ; but it does not exclude other in- terpretations. For example : this fierce ( ".iant, though slain by Great-heart, lives still in his posterity. Many a Si.ay-(;ooi) still holds in bondage many a Keeule-mind, furnish- i ; U u- i words are :y want the idge of him lot knowing crust, when have found, [ know, Mr. ir we liave " we can do >od, a giant, larts; and I of thieves ; his sword, id him with ought unto ig him, with e nature of ends at the what they he quarrels St dragged f th)' cave. ' went, and J. d? lee before. ope and work ly the "giants" Junyan always eciiting power as cast. This :iude other in- lis fierce ( "liant, T, lives still in ;ooi) still holds MIND, furnish- 383 Itll ! ' h pM' 1' ",i « l.i ) ' J t m ' U 1 I )i ;l •384 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. So they went to it again, and the giant made Mr. Great-heart give back ; but he came up again, and in the greatness of his mind he let ily with such stoutness at the giant's head and sides, that he made him let his weapon fall out of his hand; so he smote him and slew him, and cut off his head, and brought it away to the inn. He also took Feeblc;-mind the pilgrim, and brought him with him to his lodg- ings When they were come home, they showed his head to the family, and set it up, as they had done others before, for a terror to those that should attempt to do as he hereafter. Then they asked Mr. Feeble-mind how he fell into their hands? Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man, as you see, and be- cause death did usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at home ; so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life ; and have travelled hither from the town of Uncertain, ^vhere I and my father were born. I am a* man of no strength at all of body, nor yet of mind, but would, if I could, though I can bu*: crawl, spend my life in the pilgrim's way. When I came at the 'g .s. that is at the head of the way, the Lord of that place did entertain me freely; neither objected he against my weakly looks, nor against my feeble mind, but gave me such things as were necessary for iiiy journey and bid me "hope to the end." When I came to the house of the Interpreter, I received much kindness there ; and be- cause the hill of Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was car- ried up it by one of his servants. Indeed I have found much relief from pilgrims, though none were willing to go softly, as I am forced to do ; yet still, as they come on, they Lid me be of good cheer, and said that it was the will of their Lord that "comfort" should be given to the "feeble-minded" (i Thess. 5: 14); and so went on their own pace. When I was come to Assault-lane, then this giant met ing fields of labor to those that would go forth to seek for work in the great Master's cause. No expedition of this kind, if under- taken and carried out in the proper spirit, can be without some good results ; some feeble-minded soul may be rescued ere the giant has devoured him ; some captive spirit delivered from the snare of the destroyer. Mr. Feebli-mind. — The nature of the Ijiant may, perhaps best be learned by studying the character of his victim. His own account of himself is very touching and beautiful, and withal instructive too. It supplies another phase of spiritual experi- ence, and somewhat resembles the charac- ter of LiTTM -FAITH of the fomicr Part, and that of Mr. Fearing and others in Ihe pres- ent narrative. This man was brought to serious thought about his soul by the frequent reminders he received daily that he was not to live always here. This induced him to undertake the pilgrimage. He was, however, one of those who are the victims of constitutional weak- ness and infirmity of spirit. .Such sickly Pilgrims need many of the comforts and consolations of the Spirit, and, in God's mercy, they receive them. But for the daily inter- k tu Mr. Feeble-mind tells his Adventures. 385 with me, and bid me prepare for an encounter; but, alas! feeble one that I was, I had more need of a cordial ; so he came up and took me. I conceived he would not kill me ; also when he had got me into his den, since I went not with him willingly, I believed I should come out alive again ; for I have heard that not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent hands, if he keeps heart-whole towards his Master, is, by the laws of providence, to die by the hand of the enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed to be sure I am ; bv.t I am, as you see, escaped with life, for the which I thank my King as the author, and you as the means. Other brunts I also It jk for; but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot go. As to the main, I thank Him that loved me, I am fixed; my way is before me, my mind is beyond the river that has no bridge ; though I am, as you see, but of a feeble mind. Then said old Mr. Honest, Have not you some time ago been acquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim ? Fke. Acquainted with him ! yes ; he came from the town of Stupidity, which lieth four degrees northward of the City of De- struction, and as many off of where I was born ; yet we were well acquainted, for indeed he was my uncle, my father's broth r. He and I have been much of a temper; he was a little sHor:er than I, but yet we were much of a complexion. Hon. I perceive you know him ; and I am apt to believe also that you were related one to another, for you have his whitely look, a cast like his with your eye, and your speech is much alike. Fek. Most have said so that have known us both ; and, be- sides, what I have read in him I have for the most part found in myself. Come, sir, said good Gains, be of good cheer; you are wel- come to me and to my house. What thou hast a mind to, call for freely ; and what thou wouldst have my servants do for thee, they will do it with a ready mind. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, This is an unexpected favor, and vention of special providences in their favor, they would utterly fail ; and yet, even with these special helps, they are liable to assault and likely to be overcome. The one thing in this poor man's favor was, that his heart went not before him into temi^tation ; the root of the ^natter was still within him ; it was his weakness, not his will, that caused him to yield to the giant's power ; and, see- ing that his heart was still fixed on heavenly things, God had mercy upon him, and deliv- ered him out of all his afflictions, and now attaches him to a Pilgrim-band with whom he may be more safe, and, in the sympathy of their strength, may yet become more strong. i r ii lr>U (III 'S I'll ''^' Ivy ■iWm^ U)^ b^- 1^ 386 T/ie Pilgrim's Progress. as the sun shining out of a very dark cloud. Did giant Slay-good intend me this favor when he stopped me, and resolved to let me go no farther? Did he intend that, after he had rifled my pockets, I should go to Gaius mine host? Yet so it is. Now, just as Mr. Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in talk, there came one running, and called at the door, and said, that about a mile and a half off there was one Mr. Not-right, a pilgrim, struck dead upon the place where he was with a thunder-bolt. Alas! said Mr. Feeble-mind, is he slain? He overtook me some days before I came so far as hither, and would be my com- pany-keeper. He was also with me when Slay-good the giant took me, but he was nimble of his heels, and escaped ; but it seems he escaped to die, and I was taken to live. What one would think doth seek to slay outright, Ofttimcs delivers from the saddest plight. That very Providence whose face is death, Doth ofttimes to the lowly life bequeath. I taken was, he did escape and flee ; Hands cross'd gave death to him, and lif-^ to me. Now about this time Matthew and Mercy were married ; also Gaius gave his daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's brother, to wife; after which time they stayed about ten days at Gaius's house, spend- ing their time and the seasons like as pilgrims used to do. When they were to depart. Gaius made v.hem a feast, and they did eat and drink, and were merry. Now the hour was come that they must be gone ; wherefore Mr. Great-heart called for the reckoning. But Gaius told him that at liis house it was not the custom of pilgrims to pay for their entertainment. He boarded them by the year, but looked for his pay from the Good Samaritan, who had promised him, at his return, whatsoever charge he was at with them, faithfully to repay him (Luke lo: 34, 35). Then said Mr. Great-heart to him. Beloved, thou doest faithfully, whatsoever thou doest to the brethren, and to strangers ; which have borne witness of thy charity before the church (3 John : 5, 6) ; whom if thou bring forward on their journey after a goodly sort, thou shalt do well. Mr. Not-right struck dead. — This man was wholly wrong, hopelessly lost. Therefore, being bad, he is far from the power of Slav- good, and thus escapes only to fall a victim to a severer stroke of judgment. Of the two, the Giant would rather have P'eeule-mind, for he was on his journey to the King, while Not-right was on the highway to the Giant's master, caught already as his certain prey. Matthew and Mercy married. — A double marriage takes place here — Matthkw is married to Mercy ; and Phebe, the daughter of Gaius, is married to James. These mar- The Pilgrims take leave of Gains. 387 MMtlHSiA ■nt^Vcf&i^i/i^^ t,'<|'ilil>|i i III i^il; m I ! I I ■ • ■ ! ' < i S •: r ■ ■■' If I- tii '7 ' -i' ^ 1 392 mm,u,^ 55 o u -^ 3 Ui X 77/^ Pil^(^rims abide in Vanity Fair. 393 said theit '' to^ lide, Come, what cl' you are welcome to my friend. I also, said Mr, Mnason, do bid you welcome; and whatever you want, do but say, and we will do what we can to f^et it for you, Hon. Our great want, a while since, was harbor and good com- pany, and now I hope we have both. Mnas. For harbor, you see what it is ; but for good company, that will appear in the trial. Well, said Mr. Great-heart, will you have the pilgrims into their lodging ? I will, said Mr. Mnason. So he had them to their respective places, and also showed them a very fair dining-room, where they might be, and sup together, until time should come to go to rest. Now when they were seated in their places, and were a litde re- freshed after their journey, Mr. Honest asked this landlord if there were any store of good people in the town ? MxAS. We have a few ; for indeed they are but a few, when com- pared with them on the other side. Hex. But how shall we do to see some of them ? for the sight of good men, to them that are going on pilgrimage, is like to the ap- pearing of the moon and stars to them that are sailing upon the seas. Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, and his daughter Grace came up ; so he said unto her, Grace, go you, tell my friends, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr, Love-saints, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my house, who have a mind this evening to see them. So Grace went to call them, and they came ; and after salutation made, they sat down together at the table. the Lord ; a partial jury, a prejudiced judge, perjured witnesses, and persecution as the punishment of those that loved the truth. Hut now there is a seed to serve the Lord. God-fearing men and Christ-loving men are permitted to live within its bounds. A con- gregation of faithful men is gathered from among its population, and godly communion and fellowship may be largely and blessedly enjoyed there. Outside of the town. — The little flock must be separate, as Israel in CJoshen, not dwell- ing among the Egyptians. Within the walls some i)ossibly may live, and all may be obliged to conduct their ordinary busi- ness ; but for spiritual purposes they must be apart and away from the crowd and bustle of a place so wholly given to Mammon as the town of Vanity. We must learn to with- draw ouiselves into the peace md quietude of Christian fellowship ; and ihere, apart from the busy haunts of men, and away from the distracting occupations of our own lives, to hold communion with our (lod and Sav- iour, and with the people of his choice. Harbor and good company. — The wants of pilgrims here below may be summed up in these two requirements — a place of safety to abide in, and the company of like-minded men to communicate with, whereby spiritual W: \. ■!i \ ' I 394 The Hlgrims Proi^ress. 111/- ' If'' Then said Mr. Mnason, their landlord : My neij^hbors, I \»Ave. as you see, a company of strangers come to my house ; they are pil- grims ; they come from afar, and are going to Mount Zion. But who, quoth he, do you think this is? pointing his finger at Christiana. It is Christiana, the wife of Christian, that famous pilgrim, who, with Faithful his brother, was so shamefully handled in our town. At that they stood amazed, saying, We litde thought to see Christiana, when Grace came to call us ; wherefore this is a very comfortable surprise. They then asked her of her welfare, and if these young men were her husband's sons. And when she had .told them they were, they said, The King, whom you love and serve, make you as your father, and bring you where he is in peace. Then Mr. Honest, when they were all sat down, asked Mr. Contrite and the rest, in what posture their town was at present? Con. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair time. It is hard keeping our hearts and spirits in good order when we are in a cumbered condition. He that lives in such a place as tins, and has to do with such as we have, has need of an item, to caution him to take heed every moment of the day. Hon. But how are your neighbors now for quietness ? Con. They are much more moderate now than formerly. You know how Christian and Faithful were used at our town ; but of late, I say, they have been far more moderate. I think the blood of Faith- ful lieth as a load upon them till now ; for since they burned him, they have been ashamed to burn any more. In those days we were afraid to walk the streets, but now we can show our heads. Then the name of a professor was odious ; now, especially in some parts of our town (for you know our town is large), religion is counted honorable. supplies are poured into the heart, and the Pilgrim-band is fed and furnished for the perils and necessities of the outward way. More particularly in such a place as Vanity is it pleasant to meet with spiritual fare and friends. The latter, however, are but few, bi.t yjt are as the moon and stars at night. We may not have full sunshine ; but, at least, amid the darkness of this dark world, God reveals the moonlight radiance and the starlight gems — the reflected glories of the Sun of Righteousness. The light in which the Christian walks in this world is as the light of the moon — sometimes waxing, sometimes war' ig. F'ellow-Christians are as welcome to our path as are the bright stars in the firmament to the weary traveller at nightfall. Christian men, like stars, re- ceive light and reflect light; thus shedding their bright but borrowed rays down upon the dark pavements of human society — " Not let the meanest think His lamp too dim; In this dark world The Lord hath need of him." Some notable rubs. — The Pilgrims com- i^ T (r Friends in Vanity Fair. 395 3rs, I i.rtvt. hey are pil- But who, ristiana. It 1, who, with n. At that tiana, when le surprise, in were her ;, they said, father, and asked Mr. )resent? :ime. It is we are in a 13, and has ;ion him to ;? erly. You but of late, )d of Faith- jrnerl him, ^s we were ids. Then lie parts of is counted times waxing, Christians are ire the bright i'eary traveller like stars, re- :hus shedding 'S down upon society — f him." 'ilgrims com- CONTRlfE AND HOxNEST CONVERSL:. Then said Mr. Contrite to them, Pray how fareth it with you in your pilgrimage? How stands the country affected towards you ? Hon. It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring men ; sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul ; sometimes up hill, some- times down hill; we are seldom at a certainty ; the wind is not always on our backs, nor is everyone a friend that we meet with in the way. We have met with some notable rubs already; and what are yet be- hind we know not ; but, for the most part, we find it true that has been talked of old, "A good man must suffer trouble." Con. You talk of rubs ; what rubs have you met with ? pare notes and exchange their experiences of the way. Old Honest and Mr. Great- heart detail some of the salient points of the pilgrimage ; and then the whole party are counselled by the good and timely ad- vice of these good men, who have been gathered out of the giddy multitude of Van- ity into the congregation of Christ's flock. The names of these men are suggestive of the feelings and experiences of those who have been delivered from the sins of Vanity, and yet must dwell in the midst of this naughty world. Contrite is impressed with deep sorrow for sin, past, and. true to his nature, enjoins watchfulness against the lising seeds of in- dwelling sin. Holy-man would have us to be separate from sinners, and, for this pur- J 'i (■^''^KiiM '.JK W^^iZ: ■ iii ' t i,. Mm »■ . ! 396 7>4^ Pilgrim's Progress. Hon. Nay, ask Mr. Great-heart, our guide, for he can give the best account of that. Great. We have been beset three or four times already. First, Christiana and her children were beset with two ruffians, who they feared would take away their lives, "'-^/^e were beset by Giant Bloody- man, Giant Maul, and Giant Slay-good. Indeed, we did rather beset the last, than were beset of him. And thus it was: after we had been some time at the house of "Gaius mine host, and of the whole church," we were minded upon a time to take our weapons with us, and go and see if we could light upon any of those that were enemies to pilgrims ; for we heard that there was a notable one thereabouts. Now Gaius knew his haunt better than I, because he dwelt there- about ; so we looked and looked, till at last we discerned the mouth of his cave ; then we were glad, and plucked up our spirits. So we approached up to his den ; and lo, when we came there, he had dragged, by mere force, into his net this poor man, Mr. Feeble-mind, and was about to bring him to his end. But when he saw us, sup- posing, as we thought, he had another prey, he left the poor man in his den, and came out. So we fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid about him ; but in conclusion he was brought down to the ground, and his head cut off and set up by the way-side, for a terror to such as should after practise such ungodliness. That I tell you the truth, here is the man himself to affirm it, who was as a lamb taken out of the mouth of the lion. Theq said Mr. Feeble-mind, I have found this true, to my cost and comfort ; to my cost, when he threatened to pick my bones every moment; and to my comfort, when I saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends with their weapons, approach so near for my deliverance. Tii>^n said Mr. Holy-man, There are two things that they have need to be possessed of that go on pilgrimage — courage and an tiiispotted lije. If they have not courage, they can never hold on their way ; and if their lives be loose, they will make the very name of A pilgrim stink. pose, to possess the characteristics of godly courage and true hohness — requirements essentially needed in a world of sin and strong temptation. :.ove-saints knows the value of Christian fellowship ; and, seeing how few the little tlock ever are, he loves them each, he loves them all. Though the flock be small, yet it would be very strong if bound and banded together in the spirit of love, which is •' tiie very bond of peace and of all virtues." Dake-not-lie abhors the falsehiods and deceitful ways of the world, and would incorporate into the Christian body the character of truth and truthfulness. Lies and deceptions are the rags and rents of the Pilgrim's garb, the incongruities of Marriage of Christiana s Sotts. 397 Then said Mr. Love-saints, I hope this caution is not needful among you ; but truly there are many that go on the road who rather declare themselves strangers to pilgrims than " strangers and pilgrims on the earth." Then said Mr. Dare-not-lie, It is true they neither have the pil- grim's weed nor the pilgrim's courage ; they go not uprightly, but all awry, with their feet ; one shoe goeth inward, another outward, and their hosen are torn ; there is here a rag, and there a rent, to the disparagement of their Lord. These things, said Mr. Penitent, they ought to be troubled for ; nor are the pilgrims like to have that grace upon them and their pil- grim's progress as they desire, until the way is cleared of such spots and blemishes. Thus they sat talking and spending the time until supper was set upon the table. Unto which they went, and refreshed their weary bodies ; so they retired to rest. . Now they stayed in the fair a great while, at the house of Mr. Mnason, who, in process of time, gave his daughter Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife, and his daugh- ter Martha to Joseph. The time, as I said, that they stayed here was long; for it was not now as in former times. Wherefore the pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the good people of the town, and did them what service they could. Mercy, as she was wont, labored much for the poor ; wherefore their bellies and backs blessed her, and she was there an ornament to her profession. And to say the truth for Grace, Phebe and Martha, they were all of a very good nature, and did much good in their places. They were also all of them very fruitful ; so that Christiana's name, as we said before, was like to live in the world. While they lay here, there came a monster out of the woods, and slew many of the people of the town. It would also carry away their children, and teach them to suck its whelps. Now no man in the town durst so much as face this monster ; but all fled when they heard of the noise of his coming. The monster was like unto no one the Pilgrim's rule and raiment. The Chris- tian wears " the girdle of truth about his loins." Lastly, Penitent has ever the re- membrance of his sin before his face, and grieves that he should have so grievously offende' his Lord, and fears to offend again. Here the group is again augmented by another double marriage. Their host be- stows his two daughters in marriage to Christiana's remaining sons, giving Gkace to Samuel, and Martha to Joseph. These marriages are also " in the Lord," believers equally yoked together, making up a com- pany of Christians, members of one family, large in faith, and abounding in good works ; wielding a Christian influence, and making t ! 4 ( I jjl V t «n ih L: I ^ 1 ni In ,^■4 — ^ X 'Ft 398 T/ic Pilgrim s Progress. beast on the earth ; its body was "like a dragon, and it had seven heads and ten horns" (Rev. 12:3). It made great havoc of children, and yet it was governed by a woman. This monster propounded conditions Lo men ; and such men as loved their lives more than their souls accepted of those conditions. So they came under. Now Mr. Great-heart, together with those who came to visit the pilgrims at Mr. Mnason's house, entered into a covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps they might deliver the people of this town from the paws and mouth of this so devouring a serpent. Then did Mr. Great-heart, Mr Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Dare- not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, with their weapons, ^'O forth to meet him. Now the monster, at first, was very rampant, and looked upon these enemies with great disdain; but they so belabored him, being sturdy men-at-arms, that they made him make a retreat ; so they came home to Mr. Mnason's house again. The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons to come out in, and to make his attempts upon the children of the people of the town. At these seasons did these valiant worthies watch him in, and did continually assault him ; insomuch that in process of time he became not only wounded, but lame ; also he had not made that havoc of the townsmen's children as formerly he had done ; and it is verily believed by some that this beast will certainly die of his wounds. This therefore made Mr. Great-iieartand his fellows of great fame in this town ; so that many of the people, that wanted their taste of things, yet had a reverent esteem and respect for them. Upon this account therefore it was that these pilgrims got not much hurt there. True, there were some of the baser sort, that could see no more than a mole, nor understand any more than a beast ; these had no reverence for these men, nor took they notice of their valor and adventure's. it felt, in their locality and neighborhood. Would that it were so with all the Christian families of the land ! A monster out of the ivoods. — This evi- dently is an historical allusion, and seems to refer particularly to the spread of the power of the Papacy for some time before the period of the Revolution in 1688, whereby many were drawn into the net of su;)ersti- tion, and children were educated in the tenets and doctrines of the Church of Rome. This danger was met by able men of the period — men who loved the truth, and uttered a bold and manly protest against error. Some of the ablest controversial essays against the distinctive doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church were issued during the period, including the " Morning Exer- cises," delivered at Cripplegate, and the series of tracts or essays afterwards com- piled by Or (liljson, liishop of London, and recently reissued in a series of volumes, entitled " Gibson's Preservative against Popery." The writers of these works, no it had seven )C of children, ;r propounded es more than ne under, ne to visit the ant to go and people of this serpent, lan, Mr. Dare- to meet him. ed upon these , being sturdy so they came sons to come the people of watch him in, ess of time he ade that havoc md it is verily f his wounds. great fame in their taste of 1. Upon this ch hurt there. see no more these had no sir valor and ; truth, and uttered St against error itrovtrsial essays doctrines of the /ere issued durinj,' " Morning Exer- )plegate, and the ifterwaids coni- shi)|) of London, scries of vohnnes, lervative against these works, no 1 r I : '■;■ I f ' 1 '''■■ { ES '■ 'U W •i^ m ii ■^^m 400 T/ie IHlgrinCs Progress. Well, the time drew on that the pilgrims must go on their way ; therefore they prepared for their journey. They sent for their friends ; they conferred with them ; they had some time set apart therein to commit each other to the protection of their Prince. There were again that brought them of such things as they had, that were fit for the weak and the strong, for the women and the men, and so laded them with such things as were necessary (Acts 28 : 10). Then they set forward on their way ; and their friends accompany- ing them as far as was convenient, they again committed each other to the protection of their King and parted. They, therefore, that were of the pilgrims' company went on, and Mr. Great-heart went before them. Now the women and chil- dren being weakly, they were forced to go as they could bear. By this means Mr. Ready-to-lialt and Mr. Feeble-mind had more to sympathize with their condition. When they were gone from the townsmen, and when their friends had bid them farewell, they quickly came to the place where Faithful w;as put to death; therefore they made a stand, and thanked Him that had enabled him to bear his cross so well ; a.id the rather, because they now found that they had a benefit by such a man's suf- ferings as his were. They went on, therefore, after this a good way farther, talking of Christian and Faithful, and how Hopeful joined himself to Christian after that Faithful was dead. Now they were come up with the hill Luc. •, where the silver mine was which took Demas off from his pilgrimage, and into which, as some think. By-ends fell and perished ; wherefore they considered that. But when they were come to the old monument that stood over against the ^^ill Lucre, to wit, to the pillar of salt, that stood also within view of Sodom and its stinking lake, they marvelled, as did Christian before, that men of that knowledge and ripeness of wit, as they were, should be so blind as to turn aside here. Only they considered again, that nature is not affected with the harms that others have met with, especially if that thing upon which they look^ has an attracting virtue upon the foolish eye. doubt, were the Great-hearts and Hon HSTS of the day, who went forth to subdue the spirit of the wrathful and destructive monster of the woods. ii«|j 1 their way ; »t for their e set apart jeir Prince, s they had, jd the men, cts 28 : 10). iccompany- each other y went on, :n and chil- 1 bear. By id more to when their 3] ace where nd thaniced the rather, . man's suf- 1 good way •etui joined 3 the silver into which, considered that stood that stood arvelled, as ripeness of ere. Only harms that I they look id destructive CHAPTER X. Th6 Delectable Mountains and the Shepherds. This chapter contains a record of some bold exploits of the Pilgrim-band. Their numbers are many, and their faith is strong ; and therefore they feel disposed to leave their footprints on the way, not way-marks of weakness, but permanent records of their strength and Christian prowess. The experiments of believing faith are always bold ventures, de- signed for the removal of some wrong, or the prevention of some evil, or the establishment of some good thing — to be in after-times a help and assistance to other Pilgrims who may pass that way. Accordingly, the lot of the Pilgrims having just now fallen in pleasan*^ places, they are invigorated for the march ; and, as the result of the large provision and refreshment they have received, they propose a very manly and Christian undertaking — the destruction of Doubting Castle and its great master, Giant Despair. Here there is great play allowed to the diverse characters of the company — the strong men fighting, and the weak ones tarrying among the baggage, shov/ing that there is work for each and for all, not only in the Lord's vineyard, but also in the Lord's battle-field. SAW now that they went on till they came to the river that was on this side of the Delectable Mountains; to the river where the fine trees grow on both sides, and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against surfeits; where the meadows are green all the year long, and where they might lie down safely (Ps. 23). By this river-side, in the meadows, there were cotes and folds for sheep, a house built for the nourishing and bringing up of those lambs, the babes of these women that go on pilgrimage. Also there was here One that was intrusted with them, who could have compassion and that could gather these lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and that could gendy lead those that were with young (Heb. 5:2; Isa. 40: 11). Now to the care of this man Christiana admonished her four daughters to commit their little ones, that by They came to the river. — This is "the river of the water of life," beside whose streams the former Pilgrims had for a season enjoyed such quietude and rest. To the present company also this "river of God " is pleasant and refreshing ; its evergreens cover the Pilgrims with their peaceful shade ; and they can lie down, and sleep, and be in safety. There is further added to the scene, as here described, the tender care bestowed by our good heavenly Father upon the 'ittle ones of his flock. This allusion is suggested by the circumstances of the Pilgrims— chil- dren having been born to those God-fearing (401) I rm^ : It:.,:! ; :- '■!. ^: ,,?,.; ; , 1 ■ l|it i ■ .' iv . -• ' 1 J ,|!!|^ ,;, ' ■ ■ • . ■ wi- i; Vf|-| ! >-■ ^ ''It m m m m h I 1 \ !i 1 ^.*! -'^4 402 77/^ Pilgrim's Progress, these waters they might be housed, harbored, succored, and nour- ished, and that none of them might be lacking in time to come. This man, if any of them go astray, or be lost, he will bring them again ; he will also bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen t'-^m that are sick (Jer. 23: 4; Ezek. 34: 11-16). Here they will never want meat, drink, and clothing ; here they will be kept from thieves and robbers ; for this mar will die before one of those committed to his trust shall be los Besides, here they shall be sure to have good nurture and admonition, and shall be taught to v/alk in right paths ; and that you know is a favor of no small account. Also here, as you see, are delicate waters, pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and such as bear whole- some fruit — fruit not like that which Matthew ate of, that fell over the wall out of Beelzebub's garden; but fruit that procureth health where there is none, and that continueth and increaseth it where it is. So they were content to commit their little ones to him ; and that which was also an encouragement to them so to do was, that all this was to be at the charge of the King, and so was as an he spital for young cliildren and orphans. Now they went on ; and when they were come to By-path Meadow, to the stile over which Christian went with his fellow Hopeful, when they were taken by Giant Despair and put into Doubting Castle, they sat down, and consulted what was best to be done ; to wit, now they were so strong, and had got such a man as Mr. Great-heart for their conductor, whether they had not best to make an attempt upon the giant, demolish his castle, and if there were any pilgrims in it, to set them at liberty, before they went any farther. So one said one thing, and another said the contrary. One questioned if it were lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground ; another said they might, provided their end was good. But Mr. couples who nave, as narrated in the pre- ceding scenes, being married in the Lord. Here, then, are their children cared for and tended by the loving Lord of the hill ; and provision is made both to " feed the sheep " and to " feed the lambs " of the flock. " So," says Bunyan, "they were content to commit their little ones to him." By-path Meadmu to the stile. — How differ- ent are the thoughts of different men at the same point of the Pilgrimage ! We recall t i mind the conversation of Christian and HoPEFUl, when, in the moment of tempta- tion, they sought to avoid the flints of the way by turning aside into the soft meadow- path. But now a very different consultation is being held at this same stile ; the Pilgrims are in high deliberation not only how to avoid f.he danger for themselves, but more especially how to destroy it for the sake of others. The former Pilgrims went by this stile only to fall into the grasp of the Giant's power; these Pilgrims go forth from this stile to lay the Giant in the unyielding grasp of :d, and nour- me to come. 1 bring them en, and will -16). Here tliey will be ; before one es, here they and shall be L favor of no ters, pleasant ; bear whole- t fell over Lhe :ureth health th. it where it to him ; and ) was, that all s an he spital ; to By-path h his fellow and put into 'as best to be Lich a man as 1 not best to and if there ley went any the contrary, ated ground ; d. But Mr. oment of tempta- the flints of the the soft meadow- ;rent consultation itile ; the Pilgrims lot only how to iselves, but more ,t for the sake of ms went by this asp of the Giant's rth from this stile yielding grasp of Doubting Castle. 403 GREAT-HEART AND THE SONS OF CHRISTIANA DESTROY DOUBTING CASTLE. Great-heart said, Though thai, assertion offered last cannot be uni- versally true, yet I have a commandment to resist sin, to overcome evil, to " fight the good fight of faith ; " and, I pray, with whom should I fight this good fight if not with Giant Despar? I will therefore attempt the taking away of his life, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. Then said he. Who will go with me? Then said old Honest, I will. And so will we too, said Christiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel, James and Joseph ; for they were young men and strong (i John 2: 13, 14). Death, and to lay his castle even with the ground. If it were lawful to go. — The propriety of making such bold ventures on the enemy's ground is sometimes questionable. Some men are not strong enough to resist Despair, much less would they be strong enough to destroy him. It is dangerous to trifle with so bold an undertaking. Unless the plain and unmistakable voice of duty calls, it is better to pass on. The physician may walk the hospital ; this is his vocation and call- ing ; but if you desire to escape infection, it will be advisable to keep aloof from danger. With some, yea, with many Christians, it would only be, that instead of overcoming i t I't! \ \ \ \ I V* If If 5*'S' «f« i^ 404 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. So they left the women on the road, and with them Mr. Feeble- mind, and Mr. Ready-to-halt, with his crutches, to be their guard until they came l?ack ; for in that place, though Giant Despair dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, "a litde child might lead them" (Isa. 1 1 : 6) . So Mr. Great-heart, old Honest, and the four young men, went to go up to Doubting Castle, to look for Giant Despair. When they came at the castle gate, they knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. At that the old Giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his wife follows. Then said he, Who and what is he that is so hardy as after this manner to molest the Giant Despair? Mr. Great-heart replied, It is I, Great-heart, one of the King of the Celestial Country's conductors of pilgrims to their place ; and I demand of thee that thou open thy gates for my entrance ; prepare thyself also to fight, for I am come to take away thy head, and to demolish Doubting Castle. Nov; Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought no man could overcome him; and again, thought he, since heretofore I have made a conquest of angels, shall Great-heart make me afraid ? So he harnessed himself and went out ; he had a cap of steel upon his head, a breastplate of fire girded to him, and he came out in iron shoes, with a great club in his hand. Then these six men made up to him, and beset him behind and before ; also when Diffidence, the giantess, came up to help him, old Mr. Honest cut her down at one blow. Then they fought for their lives, and Giant Despair was brought down to the ground, but was very loath to die. He struggled hard, and had, as they say, as many lives as a cat ; but Great-heart was his death, for he left him not till he had severed his head from his shoulders. Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Casde, and that, you know, might with ease be done, since Giant Despair was dead. They Despair, they would themselves be destroyed of the destroyer. But Great-heart has a great commis- sion to fulfil, and has strength of faith com- mensurate with his calling. He can boldly fight this good fight; and whosoever goes forth with him, depending on the same strength, will also overcome. Accordingly, in this party a discrimination is made. Only the strong, the brave, the mighty men of valor may undertake the conflict ; the weak, the feeble minded, the faint-hearted must stay behind, and not adventure themselves into so perilous a strife. So they wenf up. — It is easy to awake the Giant, and easy to provoke him ; but he must be a brave man th.it c.vn go up against him and defy him. And eveo the bravest hero of the army of Christ will do well not to assail him single-handed, but rather in com- pany. Despair is that dark foe that assaults men's consciences, and, thrcugh doubts and fears, brings them into captivity. Whoso, by putting forth a strong hand, destroys Mr. Feeble- their guard espair dwelt lead them" g men, went When they 1 an unusual Hffidence his so hardy as Great-heart al Country's lee that thou o fight, for I Dting Castle. ght no man ofore I have afraid ? So eel upon his out in iton en made up fifidence, the down at one was brought ggled hard, leart was his ad from his nd that, you lead. They iture themselves Lsy to awake the lim ; but he must • up against him he bravest hero do well not to It ."ather in com- foe that assaults ligh doubts and itivity. Whoso, hand, destroys 1 The Pilgrims^ Merriment at the Giant's Death. 405 were seven days in destroying of that ; and in it, of pilgrims, they found one Mr. Despondency, almost starved to death, and one Much-afraid, his daughter; these two they saved alive. But it would have made you wonder to have seen the dead bodies that lay here and there in the castle-yard, and hvow full of dead men's bones the dungeon was. When Mr. Great-heart and his companions had performed this exploit, they tool-: Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid into their protection ; for they were honest people, though they were prisoners in Doubting Castle to that tyrant, Giant Despair. They, therefore, I say, took with them the head of the Giant (for his body they had buried under a heap of stones), and down to the road and to their companions they came, and showed them what they had done. Now, when Feeble-mind and Ready-to-halt saw that it was the head of Giant Despair indeed, they were very jocund and merry. Now Christiana, if need was, could play upon the viol, and her daughter Mercy upon the lute ; so, since they were so merrily disposed, she played them a lesson, and Ready-to-halt would dance. So he took Despondency's daughter, named Much-afraid, by the hand, and to dancing they went in the road. True, he could not dance without one crutch in his hand ; but I promise you he footed it well ; also the girl was to be commended, for she answered the music handsomely. As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not much to him ; he was for feeding rather than dancing ; for that he was almost starved. So Christiana gave him some of her bottle of spirits, for present relief, and then prepared him something to eat ; and in a little time the old gentleman came to himself, and began to be finely revived. Now I saw in my dream, when all these things were finished, Mr. Great-heart took the head of Giant Despair, and set it upon a pole by the highway side, right over against the pillar that Christian erected for a caution to pilgrims ^hdX came after, to take heed of entering into his grounds. Then he writ under it, upon a marble stone, these verses following: This is the head of him, whose name only, In former times, did pilgrims terrify. His castle's down, and Diffidence, his wife, Brave Master Great-heart has bereft of life. . Despondency, his daughter Much-afraid, Great-heart for them also the man has play'd. Despair, performs a deed that is worthy of everlasting remembrance. And in the destruction of this great Giant, souls are sure to be delivered. Many have lain in his dungeons unrelieved by any aid from Christian brethren; but never have P pi 1 '-I H »' I f' li m-i i?.; «ii ill |!r*t^T ii'iii'i. m ;ji^siv^^'\- ' • III' 406 77^^ Pilgrim s Progress. Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast bis eye v Up hither, may his scruples satisfy. This head also, when doubting cripples dance, Doth show from fears they have deliverance. • . Though Doubting Castle be demolished. And Giant Despair, too, has lost his head, Sin can rebuild the castle, make't remain, And make Despair the Giant live again. When these men had thus bravely showed themselves against Doubting Castle, and had slain Giant Despair, they went forward, and went on till they came to the Delectable Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful refreshed themselves with the varieties of the place. They also acquainted themselves with the Shepherds there, who welcomed them, as they had done Christian before, unto the Delectable Mountains. Now the Shepherds seeing so great a train tollow Mr. Great- heart (for with him they were well acquainted), they said unto him. Good sir, you have got a goodly company here ; pray where did you find all these ? Then Mr. Great-heart replied : m First, here is Christiana and her train, ' Her sons, and her sons' wives, who, like the wain, Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer, * From sin to grace, else they had not been here. Next, here's old Honest come on pilgrimage ; Ready-to-halt, too, who, I dare engage, True-hearted is, and so is Feeble-mind, Who was not willing to be left behind. Despondency, good man, is coming after, And so also is Much-afraid, his daughter. May we have entertainments here, or must We farther go ? Let's know whereon to trust. Then said the Shepherds, This is a comfortable company ; you are welcome to us, for we have for the feeble, as well as for the strong Christian men put forth a faithful effort in this direction but they have opened the door to some beleaguered captive. Chris- tian and Hopeful, it is true, were delivered by the Key of Promise from within ; but Dkspondency and Much-afraid were de- livered by the assault of Great-heart from without. " There are diversities of opera- tions." The Delectable Mountains. — All that has been written in the former Allegory respect- ing these mountains and the shepherds that had their flocks there, is fully borne out by the details of this second visit, with this additional characteristic — that they receive and welcome the weak as well as the strong. Like the Great Shepherd, so do these under- shcpherds of the flock : they carry the weak V-s .:; \ h^ The Pilgrims on the Delectable Mountains. 407 Ives against- ;nt forward, ains, where varieties of : Shepherds before, unto Mr. Great- d unto him, ' where did npany; you r the strong — All that has llegory respect- shepherds that y borne out by visit, with this at they receive 11 as the strong, do these under- carry the weak (Matt. 25 : 40); our Prince has an eye to what is done to the least of these ; therefore infirmity must not be a block to our entertain- ment. So they had them to the palace door, and then said unto them, Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind; come in, Mr, Ready-to-halt; come in, Mr. Despondency, and Mrs. Much-afraid, his daughter. These, Mr. Great-heart, said the Shepherds to the guide, we call in by name, for that they are most subject to draw back ; but as for you, and the rest that are strong, we leave you to your wonted lib- erty. Then said Mr. Great-heart, This day I see that grace doth shine in your faces, and that you are my Lord's shepherds indeed; for that you have not pushed these d-seased neither with side nor shoulder, but have rather strewed their way into the palace with flowers, as you should (Ezek. 34: 21). So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Great-heart and the rest did follow. When they were also set down, the Shepherds said to those of the weaker sort. What is it that you would have ? For, ' said they, all things must be managed here for the supporting of the weak, as well as the warning of the unruly. So they made them a feast of things easy of digestion, and that were pleasant to the palate, and nourishing; the which, when they had received, they went to their rest, each one respectively unto his proper place. When morning v. is come, because the mountains were high and the day clear, and because it was the custom of the Shepherds to show the pilgrims, before their departure, some rarities, therefore, after they were ready, and had refreshed themselves, the Shepherds took them out into the fields, and showed them first what they had shown to Christian before. Then they had them to some new places. The first was Mount Marvel, where they looked, and beheld a man at a distance, that tumbled the hills about with words. Then they asked the Shepherds what that should mean ? So they told them, that the man was the son of one Mr. Great-grace (of whom you read in the first part of the- records of the Pilgrim's Progress), and he is set down there to teach ones on their shoulders, and the little ones in their bosom; Their tidings of welcome, their sympathizing words, their soothing in- vitations, are for the tender and sensitive ones, who, but for this kindly dealing, might not have sufficient boldness to come. These shepherds are the pastors of the flock, the ministers of the Word. Mount Marvel. — The man of mighty faith who is seen from hence is said to be the son of Great-grace. Worthy son of such a father ! Great-grace had power to affright the thieves and to disperse the bandits of the way. Were it but the sound of his chariot wheels, or the prancing of his horses' hoofs that is heard upon the road, the way I'^W .1311 '! 1 '^ It m V ?i^'i' 408 T/ie Pilgrim's Progress. pilgrim show to believe, or to tumble out of their ways what difficul- ties they should meet with by faith (Mark 1 1 : 23, 24). Then said Mr. Great-heart, 1 know him ; he is a man above many. Then they had them to another place, called Mount Innocence ; and there they saw a man clothed all in white; and two men. Preju- dice and Ill-will, continually casting dirt upon him. Now, behold, the dirt, whatsoever they cast at him, would in a little time fall off again, and his garment would look as clear as if no dirt had been cast thereat. Then said the Pilgrims, What means this ? The Shepherds answered, This man is named Godly-man, and this garment is to show the in- nocency of his life. Now, those that throw dirt at him are such as hate his well-doing ; but, as you see, the dirt will not stick upon his clothes; so it shall be with him that liveth innocently in the world. Whoever they be that would make such men dirty, they labor all in vain ; for God, by that a little time is spent, will cause that their in- nocence shall break forth as the light, and their righteousness as the noonday. Then they took them, and had them to Mount Charity, where they showed them a man that had a bundle of cloth lying before him, out of which he cut coats and garments for the poor that stood about him ; yet hir. bundle or roll of cloth was never the less. Then said they. What should this be ? This is, said the Shepherds, to show you, that he who has a heart to give of his labor to the poor shall never want wherewithal. "He that watereth shall be watered himself" And the cake that the widow gave to the prophet did not cause that she had the less in her barrel. They had them also to a place where they saw one Fool and one Want-wit washing an Ethiopian, with an intention to make him white; but the more they washed him, the blacker he was. Then they asked the Shepherds what this should mean ? So they told them, saying, Thus it is with the vile person ; all means used to get such a one a is cleared, for Great-grace is at hand. And if the father could disperse robbers, the son can remove mountains. Here the power of living faith is nagnified and made honorable. Mount Innocence. — " To keep himself un- spotted from the world " !S one of the marks of the man who is possessed of true and un- defiled religion (James i : 27). Pure inno cence, unless it contaminate itself, cannot be defiled. The mire of the streets clings not to the robe of innocence. If ever it lose its lustre or defile its purity, it is its own fault, by walking in unclean places and contract- ing guilt. Mount Charity. — True rharity " never faileth." It is that which ever gives, and ever receives and never exhausts its supply. It is a perennial stream, watering others, and itself continually supplied from above. It is as the widow's cruise of oil — its last rem- nant granted to the prophet becomes a what difficul- Then said : Innocence ; men, Preju- , behold, the all off again, cast thereat. Js answered, show the in- are such as ick upon his I the world. y labor all in hat their in- isness as the arity, where ^ before him, stood about Then said :oshow you, • shall never d himself." t cause that ool and one ; him white; they asked lem, saying, uch a one a ever it lose its is its own fault, s and contract- harity " never ver gives, and usts its supply, ring others, and om above. It 1 — its last rem- let becomes a. ^^J^b^ ■« MH M STANDFAST ANP MADAMK m'nitI.E. m ^ p v^ The Looking-glass. 409 good name shall in conclusion tend but to make him more abom- inable. Thus it was with the Pharisees, and so it shall be with all hypocrites. Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana her mother, Mother, I would, if it might be, see the hole iij the hill, or that com- monly called the By-way to Hell. So her mother brake her mind to the Shepherds. Then they went to the door (it was on the side of a hill), and they opened it, and bid Mercy hearken a while. So she hearkened, and heard one saying, Cursed be my father for holding of my feet back from the way of peace and life ! Another said. Oh, that I had been torn injjieces, before I had, to save my "life, lost my soul ! And another said, If I were to live again, how would I deny myself rather than come to this place ! Then there was as if the very earth groaned and quaked under the feet of this young woman for fear. So she looked white, and came trembling away, saying. Blessed be he and she that are delivered from this place ! Now, v/hen the Shepherds had shown them all these things, then they had them back to the palace, and entertained them with what the house would afford. But Mercy, being a young and married woman, longed for something that she saw there, but was ashamed to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked her what she ailed, for she looked as one not well. Then said Mercy, There is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining-room, off which I cannot take my mind ; if, therefore, I have it not, I think I shall miscarry. Then said her mother, I will mention thy wants to the Shepherds, and they will not deny it thee. But she said, I am ashamed that these men should know that I longed. Nay, my daughter, said she, it is no shame, but a virtue, to long for such a thing as that. So Mercy said. Then, mother, if you please, ask the Shepherds if they are willing to sell it. Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present a man. never-failing supply, increased by the pro- phet's Lord. Fool and one Want-wit. — External washings take no effect upon the inward corruption, but to make it more corrupt, add- ing the sin of hypocrisy to other sins. The Pharisees were accounted more sinful than others, because they were more pretentious and boastful (Matt. 5 : 20; Luke 18 : 14). Mercy and the looking-glass. — This is one of the most instructive of the emblems of the present stage. Mercy longs for a certain looking-glass ; her desire is satisfied, and she discovers the peculiar character and power of this mirror. In it a man may first see himself, and afterwards may see the Saviour. This is a very beautiful allusion to two very remarkable passages of Scrip- ture — James i : 23-25, and 2 Cor. 3 : 18. This mirror is the Word of God. The Bible is the Christian's looking-glass, in which he is to see, and read, and observe, and know himself. It is a true mirror, and presents us to ourselves as we really % 1 % \ m'^^'*-^''^\-% III :;:l?^,i3^'^l^f . ■ i ' " ii! i mm • 410 T/ie Pilgrinis Progress. THE SHEPHERDS ADORN THE PILGRIMS. one way, with his own features exactly; and turn it but another way, and it would show one the very face and similitude of the Prince of Pilgrims himself. Yes, I have talked with them that can tell, and they have said that they have seen the very crown of thorns upon his head by looking in that glass ; they have therein also seen the holes in his hands, in his feet, and his side. Yea, such an excellence is there in that glass, that it will show him to one where they have a mind to see him, whether living or dead ; whether in earth or in hea- are. It speaks the truth and flatters not. A blessing is pronounced upon the man that looks therein and "continues" to look (J.imes i : 25). What is this "bless- ing" thus promised to him that contin- ues to behold himself in the mirror of God's Word ? It is this : that he will behold two visions — (i) he sees the sinner in him- self, what he is ; and (2), he sees the sinner in Christ, what he may become. Only " continue " in the study of this true mirror ; for never yet did a man read the Hible long without being rewarded wiih the view of Christ his Saviour. There is more about Qhrist in the Bible than about yourself; and the next thing to the view of the degradation of the sinner is the view of the glory of the Saviour. V, I 'll TAe Looking-glass. 411 '■^t. ven ; whether in a state of humiliation or in his exaltation ; whether coming to suffer or coming to reign (James i: 23-25; i Cor, 13: 12; 2 Cor. 3: 18). Christiana therefore went to the Shepherds apart (now the names of the Shepherds were Knowledge, Experience, ^A/'atchful, and Sincere), and said unto them, There is one of my daughters, a married woman, that, I think, doth long for something that she hath seen in this house, and she thinks she shall miscarry if she should by you be denied. Exr. Call her, call her ; she shall assuredly have what we can help her to. So they called her, and said to her, Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldest have? Then she blushed, and said, The great glass that hangs up in the dining-room. So Sincere ran and fetched it, and with a joyful consent it was given her. Then she bowed her head, and gave thanks, and said, By this I know that I have obtained favor in your eyes. They also gave to the other young women such things as they desired, and to their husbands great commendations, for that they had joined with Mr. Great-heart in the slaying of Giant Despair, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. About Christiana's neck the Shepherds put a bracelet, and so they did about the necks of her four daughters ; also they put earrings in their ears, and jewels on their foreheads. When they were minded to go hence, they let them go in peace, but gave not to them those cautions which before were given to Christian and his companion. The reason was, for that these had Great-heart to be their guide, who was one that was well ac- quainted with things, and so could give them their cautions more seasonably ; to wit, even then when the danger was nigh the ap- proaching. What cautions Christian and his companion had re- This is the spiritual dissolving view which is thus presented in the Christian mirror — " But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord " (2 Cor. 3: 18). We remember Hopeful's earnest prayer : " P'ather, reveal thy Son !'' And in the conversation on the Enchanted Ground, this good man thus remarks : "Christ is so hid in (lod from the natural apprehension of the flesh, that he cannot by any man be savingly known, unless God the Father reveals Him to him." And in the mirror of the Word, " the law of liberty," he is revealed. Thus (i) "the Christian's looking-glass," as a law of bondage, reveals us to ourselves in all our sin, defilement, and corruption ; and then (2) as " the law of liberty," the view of self is " changed " into the likeness of the Saviour. In the next chapter we shall see the con- sequences of sin in the admonitory details iM 1 t^ ^11 412 The Pilgrinis Pro/jress. ceived of the Shepherds, they had also lost by that the time v,-cis come that they had need to put them in practice. Wherefore here was the advantage that this company had over the other. From hence they went on singing, and they said : Behold, how iitly are the stages set For their relief that pilgrims are become ; And how they receive us without one let, That mak^ the other life our mark and home ! What novelties they have, to us they give, That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live ; They do upon us, too, such things bestow. That show we pilgrims are where'er we go. given us respecting the character of " Turn- away." Once his face was Zionward ; but he turned back, and would walk no more in the way. Tired of toiling up the steep as- cent, he suddenly resigned himse'f to the downward path. He now begai. to hate the things he once did love. The sight of the most affecting scenes of the Saviour's love only tended the more to embitter his soul, and to renew his esperate resolution. Ministers of the Word would reason with him, and pray with him, and lay their sym- pathizing hands upon him ; but all in vain. I I I ■\ I ' i; 'i m \ r - the Celestial City. '4 Valiant for-truth. — The hero of this scene of the Progress is now presented to our view in. the person of this bold and steadfast man. This point of the road is dangerous, haunted by robbers and bandits. Here Lirn.K-KAiTH had suffered loss. Rut now a braver and more valiant Pilgrim is encoun- tered, who knows his strength and the source of his strength. He has fought a lengthened conflict, and, his assailants being put to flight, he is found by Great-heart stand- ing in the roadway, sword in hand, with the marks of sore combat — wounds and blood. From tlie names given to these assailants, it would appear that this assault was not of the same character as that of Little-faith. The Pilgrim of the former narrative had en- countered spiritual enemies from within — (413) 'I , : f 1 \k^ \ mwM^B^m* ^1[ 'i 414 TAe Pilgrim! s Progress. Now, as I was in my way, there were three men that did beset me, and propounded unto me these three things: Whether I would be one of them ? or go back from whence I came ? or die upon the place ? To the first 1 answered, I had been a true man a long season, and therefore it could not be expected that I now should cast in my lot with thieves (Prov. i : 10-19). Then they demanded what I would say to the second. So I told them, The place from whence I came, had I not found incommodity there, I had not forsaken it at all ; but, finding it altogether unsuitable to me, I forsook it for this way. Then they asked me what I said to the third? And I told them, My life cost far more dear than that I should lightly give it away. Be- sides, you have nothing to do thus to put things to my choice ; where- fore at your peril be it if you meddle. Then these three, to wit. Wild-head, Inconsiderate and Pragmatic, drew upon me, and I also drew upon them. So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of above three hours. They have left upon me, as you see, some of the marks of their valor, and have also carried away with them some of mine. They are but just now gone ; I suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your horse dash, and so they betook themselves to flight. Great. But here was great odds, three against one. . Val. It is true ; but little or more are nothing to him that has the truth on his side. "Though an host should encamp against me," said one, " my heart shall not fear ; though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident." Besides, said he, I have read in some records, that one man has fought an army ; and how many did Samson slay with the jawbone of an ass ! Then said the guide. Why did you not cry out, that some might have come in for your succor ? Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt ; while this Pilgrim seems to have been assailed by carnal enemies from without, as indicated by their names — Wild-head, Inconsiderate, and Pragmatic. Mr. Scott observes : " The author meant to represent by them certain wild enthusiasts who, not having ever duly considered any religious subject, officiously intrude themselves in the way of professors, to perplex their minds and persuade them that, unless they adopt their reveries or superstitions, they cannot be saved." The conflict, however, was a severe one. It was fought against great odds (humanly speaking), and victory inclined to the side of faith and truth, (i) He fought in the strength of his King, whom he implored to send him aid and succor. (2) He fought with the proper weapon, the true-tempered sword of the Spirit, quick, and sharper than any two-edged sword. (3) And he" wielded this sword with skill and constancy. Hence his undoubted victory. He now joins the Pilgrim-company, and forms another addi- tion to the group — an addition, too, that promises to make the band more strong and did beset me, r I would be die upon the I long season, jld cast in my anded what I -om whence I aken it at all; for this way. old them, My it away. Be- hoice ; where- three, to wit, le, and I also r the space of e, some of the ;hem some of might, as the hemselves to e. him that has I against me," rise against have read in low many did t some might It odds (humanly rlined to the side 4e fought in the m he implored to . (2) He fought he true-tempered and sharper than ) And he' wielded instancy. Hence ^e now joins the ms another addi- ddition, too, that 1 more strong and •^ M a w C/3 415 I lilk^?'"! It '|1 ».i N. ■Illij' >■ I. I i II 416 The Pitgrims Progress. «Val. So I did, to my King, who I knew could hear me, and afford mvisible help ; and that was enough for me. Then said Great-heart to Mr. Valiant-for-truth, Thou hast worthily behaved thyself ; let me see thy sword. So he showed it him. When he had taken it into his hand, and looked thereon a while, he said. Ha ! it is a right Jerusalem blade. Val. It is so. Let a rnnn have one of these blades, with a hand to wield it, and skill to use it, and he may venture upon an angel with it. He need not fear its holding if he can but tell how to lay on. Its edge will never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, and soul and spirit, and all. Great. But you fought a great while ; I wonder you was not weary. Val. I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand; and then they were joined together, as if a sword grew out of my arm ; and when the blood ran through my fingers, then I fought with most courage. Great. Thou hast done well ; thou hast " resisted unto blood, striviiTg against sin ; " thou shalt abide by us ; come in and go out with us, for we are thy companions. Then they took him, and washed his wounds, and gave him of what they had to refresh him ; and so they went together. Now, as they went on, because Mr. Great-heart was delighted in him (for he loved one greatly that he found to be a man of his hands), and be- cause there were in company them that were feeble and weak, there fore he questioned with him about many things ; as, first, what coun- tryman he was ? Val. I am of Dark-land ; for there I was born, and there my father and mother are still. Dark-land ! said the guide ; doth not that lie on the same coast with the City of Destruction ? steadfast to bear the concluding stages of the journey. He qtiestioncd with him. — The narrative of this man, as elicited in course of conver- sation, reveals a remarkable ordeal of Chris- tian consistency in running the race. He had come out of darkness — Dark-land was his native home. Into this dark place the liijht .lad shone in the visit of Tell-true, Here is the message of God, by the hand of one of his servants, pouring a flood of light upon at least one dark heart. The experi- ences of JChristian and his pilgrimage were the means of attracting the man's affections towards the Narrow-way. Thus the spiritual biography of one man may become the prolific seed of many new-born souls. This citizen of Dark-land received the light and believed the tidings ; for both light and tid- ings were revealed by Tell-true. And now, see the ordeal of test and trial through which this newly enlightened con- lear me, and lades, with a you was not ; same coast Valiant-for-truth tells the Cause of his Conversion. 417 Val. Yes, it doth. Now that which caused me to come on pilgrimage, was this : we had one Mr. Tell-true come into our parts, and he told it about what Christian had done, that went from the City of Destruction ; namely, how he had forsaken his wife and children, and had betaken himself to a pilgrim's life. It was also confidently reported, how he did kill a serpent that did come out to resist him in his journey, and how he got through to whither he intended. It was also told what welcome he had at all his Lord's lodgings, espe- cially when he came to the gates of the Celestial City ; for there, said the m.an, he was received with sound of trumpet by a company of shining ones. He told also how all the bells of the city did ring for joy at his reception, and what golden garments he was clothed with, with many other things that now I shall forbear to relate. In a word, that man so told the story of Christian and his travels, that my heart fell into a burning haste to be gone after him ; nor could father or mother stay me. So I got from them and am come thus fa** on my way. Great. You came in at the gate, did you not ? Val. Yes, yes ; for the same man also told us, that all would be nothing, if we did not begin to enter this way at the gate. Look you, said the guide to Christiana, the pilgrimage of your husband, and what he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and near. Val. Why, is this Christian's wife ? . Great. Yes, that it is; and these also are his four sons. Val. What ! and going on pilgrimage too ? Great. Yes, verily, they are following after. Val. It glads me at the heart. Good man, how joyful will he be when he shall see them, that would not go with him, yet to enter after him in at the gates into the Celestial City ! Great. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him ; for, next to the joy of seeing himself there, it will be a joy to meet there his wife and children. Val. Bu-t, now you are upon that, pray let me hear your opinion about it. Some make a question whether we shall know one another when we are there. *•■■*, vert is called to pass. He alone has received the light; all else is dark in Dark-land. Even within his own home he meets, not with sympathy, but with opposition — all the 27 harder to resist, seeing it proceeded from those whom he was bound to obey in all necessary matters of filial duty. Here the conflict begins — with hints and 'I'^l !« 'II \ ^i I' II 1' I'«T1 ■ '^'^ 't!-' ^1 P I' I 418 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. Great. Do they think they shall know themselves then, or that they shall rejoice to see themselves in that bliss? and, it" they think they shall know and do these, why not know others, and rejoice in their welfare also ? Again, since relations are our second self, thoucrh that state will be dissolved there, yet why may it not be rationally concluded that we shall be more glad to see them there, than to see they are wanting? Val. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to this. Have ycu any more things to ask me about ir.y beginning to come on pilgrimage? Great. Yes ; were your father and mother willing that you should become a pilgrim ? Val. Oh, no ! they used all means imaginable to persuade me to stay at home. Great. Why, what could they say against it ? Val. They said it was an idle life ; and, if I myself were not inclined to sloth and laziness, I should never countenance a pilgrim's condition. Great. And what did they say else ? Val. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way; yea, the most dangerous way in the world, said they, is that which the pilgrims go. Great. Did they show you wherein this way is so dangerous ? Val. Yes; and that in many particulars. Great. Nan^e some of them. Val. They told me of the Slough of Despond, where Christian was well-nigh smothered. They told me that there were archers standing rfeady in Beelzebub-castle to shoot them who should knock at the W^cket-gate for entrance. They told me also of the wood and dark mountains, of the hill Difificulty, of the lions ; and also of the three giants, Bloody-man, Maul and Slay-good. They said, more- over, that there was a foul fiend haunted the Valley of Humiliation ; and that Christian was by him almost bereft of life. Besides, said they, you must go over the Valley of the Shadow of Death, where inuendos, with misrepresentations of the path, and exaggerations of its danger, and with all sorts of objections — the result of either ignorance or prejudice or malice — in order, if possible, to deter the young man from undertaking the pilgrimage. The most is made of the difficulties of the way, and str-jss is laid upon the misadventures of false pilgrims. The lions and giants, of course, foim a frightful scene in their picture, and the darkness of the Shadow of Death is spoken of as though the inhabitants of Dark- land had never seen anything but light ! Not content with exaggerating the actual ^es then, or that d, if they think and rejoice in ond sell', thoutrh ot be rationally ere, than to see to this. Have ng to come on billing that you to persuade me nyself were not ance a pilgrim's s way ; yea, the that which the so dangerous ? bvhere Christian e were archers o should knock af the wood and and also of the Key said, more- )f Humiliation ; Besides, said f Death, where isadventures of false id giants, of course, in their picture, and hadow of Death is inhabitants of Dark- inything but light ! gerating the actual Dangers of the Way. 419 VALIANT RESISTS THE ENTREATIES OF HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. the hobgoblins are, where the light is darkness, where the way is full of snares, pits, traps and gins. They told me also of Giant Despair, of Doubting Castle, and of the ruin that the pilgrims had met with there. Further, they said, I must go over the Enchanted Ground, which was dangerous ; and that after all this, I should find a river over which there was no bridge ; and that that river, did lie betwixt me and the Celestial Country. Great. And was this all? Val. No ; they also told me that this way was full of deceivers, and of persons that lay in wait there to turn good men out of the path. dangers, they proceed to falsify the true ex- periences of the way. They overlook Chris- tian's triumphs ; indeed, they report them as sad reverses ; and thus they combined to bring up an evil report of the land. And is this foreign to our own experience of the way of the world and worldly men in their dealing with the cause of religion ? Do they not accuse that way wrongfully, and lay to its charge things that belong not to it ? % % 420 T/ie IHlgrims Progress. Great. But how did they make that out? Val. They told me that Mr. Worldly-wiseman did lie there in * wait to deceive. They said also that there were Formality and Hy- pocrisy continually on the road. They said also that By-ends, Talk- ative, or Demas would go near to gather me up ; that the Flatterer would catch me in his net ; or that, with green-headed Ignorance, I would presume to go on to the gate, from whence he was sent back to the hole that was in the side of the hill, and made to go the by- way to hell. Great. I promise you this was enough to discourage you. But did they make an end there ? Val. No; stay. They told me also of many that had tried that way of old, and that had gone a great way therein, to see if they could find som.ething of the glory there that so many had so much talked of from time to time ; and how they came back again, and befooled themselves for setting a foot out of doors in that path to the satisfaction of all the country. And they named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist, with several more ; who, they said, had some of them gone far to see what they could find ; but not one of them had found so much advantage by going as amounted to the weight of a feather. Great. Said they anything more to discourage you ? Val. Yes ; they told me of one Mr. Fearing, who was a pilgrim ; and how he found his way so solitary that he never had a comfort- able hour therein ; also that Mr. Despondency had like to have been starved therein ; yea, and also (which I had almost forgot) that Chris- tian himself, about whom there had been such a noise, after all his ventures for a celestial crown, was certainly drowned in the black river, and never went a foot further, however it was smothered up. The profession of religion involves trouble and loss ; the profession of religion calls for self-denial and the bearing of many a cross. Well, instantly the way is spoken against, and young believers are discouraged. Or professors fail and turn aside; unworthy pilgrims intrude upon the King's highway, and come to an ill end. All this is laid to 'he account of true religion ; and the world seeks to scandalize the faith for the fault of its professors. Such were the hindrances which obstructed the pilgrimage of Mr. Valiant-for-truth. / believed Tell-true. — This was tlie secret of his confidence and constancy. Men told him of drawbacks and downfalls and pits and snares and lions and giants and dun- geons and dark rivers and death-pains ; but none of these things moved him. He had heard from the lips of Tell-true that Christian forsook all and followed Christ, and, through the trials and crosses of the homeward journey, he reached Home at last. He believed this; his faith impelled him to the pilgrimage, and hitherto had the Lord helped him. Valiant's Belief in Tell-true. 421 age you. But Great, And did none of these things dii.courage you? Val. No ; they seemed but so many nothings to me. Great. How came that about ? Val. Why, I still believed what Mr. Tell-true had said, and that carried me beyond them all. Great. Then, "this was your victory, even your faith?" Val. It was so ; I believed, and therefore came out, got into the way, fought all that set themselves against me, and, by believing, am come to this place. Who would true valor see, Let him come hither ; One here will constant be, Come wind, come weather ; There's no discouragement Shall make him once relent His first avowed intent To be a pilgrim. Who so beset him round With dismal stories. Do but themselves confound, His strength the more is. No lion can him flight ; He'll with a giant fight. But he will have a right To be a pilgrim. Hobgoblin nor foul fiend Can daunt his spirit ; He knows he at the end Shall life inherit. Then fancies fly away. He'll not fear what men say, He'll labor night and day To be a pilgrim. \^,cJp >c./ /--\ ■J^!filH,ii':i 1 ii f ! i m \ m li J CHAPTER XII. The Enchanted Ground. Three important scenes and lessons occur in this chapter, which contains the ac- count of the passage of the Pilgrims through the Enchanted Oround — (i) The danger of the Pilgrim-band, and their earnest struggles to resist the perils that encompass them ; (2) the deadly peril of other Pilgrims, who, contrary to all the safe directions given them, had fallen asleep, and could not be awaked ; and (3) the introduction of one Stand-fast to the group, and the additional profit and instruction contributed to the Allegory by his spirit- ual experience. The character of Stand-fast is beautifully introduced, and is well wrought out, even to the close He is a wrestUng Christian, striving against sin, and doing battle "on his knees " against the carnal temptations of the world and the flesh We have stated in the notes of the former Pilgrimage that the Enchanted Ground is meant to indicate a state of temporal prosperity, in which men are inclined to slumber, and ease, and luxurious indulg- ence of the flesh. And, accordingly, this is the \ery temptation that assails Stand-fast in this perilous place. Madam Burble is the ably-drawn picture of the present evil world, in its manifold and strong temptation of the fleshly natiue and of the carnal sense. And after a man has gained the world and lost his soul, what has he gained ? — a bubble ! what has he lost ? — his life, eternity, and all ! Y this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, where the air naturally tended to make une drowsy; and that place was all grown over with briars and thorns, except- ing here and there, where was an enchanted arbor, upon which if a man sits, or in which if a man slc:eps, it is a question, say some, whether ever he shall rise or wake again in this world. Over this forest therefore they went, bodi one and anoth(!r. Mr. Great-heart went before, for that he was their guide; Mr. Valiant-for-truth came behind, being rear guard ; for fear lest per- adventure some fiend, or dragon, or giant, or thief, should fall upon their rear, and so do mischief. They went on here, each man with T/te Enchanted Ground — The natural tendency of this place is to make one drowsy. The enchantments of the world are danger- ous to the spiritual health, tending to stujiefy the soul, and to bring it into the captivity of spiritual lethargy and unconcern. It repre- sents that state of carnal ease and worldly prosperity that rocks the spiritual man to slumber, bewitching him with the world's smiles and sunshine, and causing him to forget Gori. The stumblings and downfalls of the Pilgrims indicate the dangers of such ■a? m (422) h contains the ac- i) The danger of ompass them ; (2) s given them, had le Stand-fast to ;gory by his spirit- wrought out, even ng battle " on his lave stated in the iidicate a state of I hixurious indulg- isails .Stand-fast present evil world, rnal sense. And — a bubble ! what round, wliere 'sy; and diat lorns, except- l arbor, upon sleeps, it is a aLJ-ain in this and anotlier. jTuide; Mr. fear lest per- )u]d fall upon ch man with Mse and worldly spiritual man to with the world's causing him to gs and downfalls : dangers of such W > 2 C?2 W :H i 423 424 it!'' iitf m \i m;^ "':i m The Enchanted Ground. his sword drawn in his hand, for they knew it was a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another as well as they could. Feeble- mind, Mr. Great-heart commanded, should come up after him, and Mr. Despondency was under the eye of Mr. Valiant. Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and darkness fell upon them all, so that th-^y could scarce, for a great while, one see the other ; wherefore they were forced for some time to feel for one another by words, for they walked not by sight. But any one must think that here was but sorry going for the best of them all ; but how much worse was it for the women and children, who both of feet and heart were but tender. Yet so it was, that, through the encouraging words of him that led in the front, and of him that brought them up behind, they make a pretty good shift to wag along. The way was also here very wearisome, through dirt and slab- biness. Nor was there on all this ground so much as one inn or victualling-house wherein to refresh the feebler sort. Here, there- fore, was grunting, and puffing and sighing ; while one tumbleth over a bush, another sticks fast in the dirt ; and the children, some of them lost their shoes in the mire ; while one cries out, I am down ! and another. Ho, where are you ? and a third. The bushes have got such a fast hold on me, I think I cannot get away from them. Then they came to an arbor, warm and promising, much refresh- ing to the pilgrims ; for it was finely wrought above-head, beautified with ;jreens, furnished with benches and settles. It also had in it a soft couch, where the weary might lean. This, you must think, all things considered, was tempting ; for the pilgrims already began to be foiled with the badness of the way ; but there was not one of them that made so much as a motion to stop there. Yea, for aught I could perceive, they continually gave so good heed to the advice of their guide, and he did so faithfully tell them of dangers, and of the nature of dangers, when they were at them, that usually, when they were nearest to them, they did most pluck up their spirits, and hearten one another to deny the flesh. This arbor was called the Slothful's a state of spiritual night and darkness ; and the arbor, with its soft and tender couch, means the utter relapse of the soul, entirely resigned to the pleasures of life, and spell- bound by its wily enchantments. The. mist and darkness of this stage are consistent with the spirit of the enchanted scene. Worldly pleasure waves her magic wand, and bids a cloud of misty incense to arise, and mysterious darkness to descend ; and under these influences the soul is induced to slumber and to sleep the deep slumber, it may be, the deadly sleep of oblivion and forgetfulness. The soul needs light in such a place, and by that light the Pilgrims do well to read the directions of the way, lest ,:i f '^ gerous place, ild. Feeble- fter him, and darkness fell fhile, one see ) feel for one iny one must all; but how ;h of feet and encouraging ght them up lirt and slab- 3 one inn or Here, there- jmbleth over lome of them 1 down ! and ave got such nuch refresh- d, beautified ) had in it a ist think, all idy began to not one of a, for aught :he advice of and of the J, when they and hearten iie Slothful's misty incense to less to descend ; e soul is induced deep slumber, it of oblivion and >ds light in such he I'ilgrims do of the way, lest MR. GREAT.HEART. 425 426 The PilgrinHs Progress, ,r WM :,i|| \ •\ -::% m.. n.A Friend, and was made on purpose to allure, if it might be, some of the pilgrims there to take up their rest when weary. I saw then in my dream that they went on in this solitary ground, till they came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way. Now, thouorh when it was liijht their guide could well enough tell how to miss those ways that led wrong, ^t in the dark he was put to a stand ; but he had in his pocket a map of all ways leading to or from the Celestial City; where- fore he strikes a light (for he never goes also with- out his tinder-box), and takes a view of his book or map, which bids him be careful in that place to turn to the right hand. And had he not been careful here to look in his map, they had in all prob- ability been smothered in the mud ; for just a little before them, and that at the end of the cleanest way, too, was a pit, none knows how deep, full of nothing but mud, there made on purpose to de- stroy the pilgrims in. Then thought I wath myself. Who that goeth on pilgrimage but would have one of these maps about him, that he may look, when he is at a stand, which is the way he must take. Th\i."i they went on in this Enchanted Ground, till they came to where there was another arbor, and it was built by the highway side. TURN-AWAY WILL NOT LISTEN TO EVANGELIST. t be, some of Heedless and Too-bold. 427 And in that arbor there lay two men, whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These two went thus far on pilgrimage ; but here, being wearied with their journey, sat down to rest themselves, and so fell fast asleep. When the pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and shook their heads ; for they knew that the sleepers were in a pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether to go on and leave them in their sleep, or step <^o them and try to awake them ; so they concluded to go to them and awake them ; that is, if they could ; but with this caution, namely, to take heed that they themselves did not sit down, nor embrace the offered benefit of that arbor. So they went in, and spake to the men, and called each one by his name (^or the guide, it seems, did know them), but there was no voice nor a uwer. Then the guide did shake them, and did what he could to disturb them. Then said one of them, I will pay you when I take my money. At which the guide shook his head. I will fight so long as I can hold my sword in my hand, said the other. At that one of the children lauMied. Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this? The Guide said. They talk in their sleep ; if you strike them, beat them, or whatever else you do to them, they will answer you after this fashion ; or as one of them said in old time, whqn the waves of the sea beat upon him, and he slept as one upon the mast of a ship, " When I awake, I will seek it yet again" (Prov. 23 : 34, 35). You know, when men talk in their sleep, they say anything, but their words are not governed either by faith or reason. There is an inco- i they too should be entangled in " the net of the flatterer," or in some other yoke of bondage. There is also great danger here lest we mistake the true nature of the right way. In days of ease and worldly peace we are liable ••o choose "the cleanest way," and to avoid the narrow- path because it may, for the time, seem to be less pleasant to the tread. Here it is important, yea, essential, that we con- sult a map, seeing that by this only can we tell whither each way leads, and what is the end to which each path conducts. This is the place wherein to walk with wary steps and wakeful eye — "by faith, and not by sight." Heedless and Too-bold. — These men are described as having thus far advanced upon their journey ; but now, at one of the later stages, they are overpowered, not by any direct assault of Satan, but by the soft and indulgent spirit of slumber. Here Satan's power is strong, and all the more insidious because it is unseen. It steals ■softly over the soul, and sheds the soporific dew upon the eyelids of the understanding, making us heavy with sleep and weary of the way. It is Satan's last hour and the power of dark- ness. So near the land of Beulah and yet asleep ! but a single stage removed from the end of the journey — " almost," but not " al- together" saved! (Acts 26; 28, 29) As Bunyan elsewhere speaks of King Agrippa : " He stepped fair, i)ut stepped short. He was hot while he ran, but he was quickly out of breath." This is a timely admonition I " I 3^' ',{ { 'M% \ M ii > 428 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. herency in their words now, as there was before betwixt their going on pilgrimage and sitting down here. This, then, is the mischief of it ; when heedless ones go on pilgrimage, 'tis twenty to one but they are served thus. For this Enchanted Ground is one of the last refuges that the enemy to pilgrims has ; wherefore it is, as you see, placed almost at the end of the way, and so it standeth against us with the more advantage. For when, thinks the enemy, will these fools be so de- sirous to sit down as when they are weary ? and when so like for to be weary, as when almost at their journey's end? Therefore it is, I say, that the En- chanted Ground is placed so nigh to the land Beu- lah, and so near the end of their race. Wherefore let pilgrims look to them- selves, lest it happen to them a^ it has done to these, that, as you see, are fallen asleep and none can awake them. Then the pilgrims de- sired, with trembling, to go forward ; only they prayed their guide to strike a light, that they might go the rest of their way by the help of a lantern. So he struck a light, and they went by the help of that through the rest of this way, though the darkness was very great (2 Peter i : 19). But the children began to be sorely weary ; and they cried out MR. VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH. Mr. Stand-fast. 429 unto him that loveth pilgrims to make their way more comfortable. So, by that they had gone a little farther, a wind arose that drove away the fog ; so the air became more clear. Yet they were not off by much of the Enchanted Ground, but only now they could see one another better, and the way wherein they should walk. Now, when they were almost at the end of this ground, they perceived that a little before them was a solemn noise as of one that was much concerned. So they went on, and looked bef -e them ; and behold they saw, as they thought, a man upon his kn. s, with his hands and eyes lifted up, and speaking, as they thought, ear- nestly to some one that was above. They drew nigh, but could not tell what he said ; so they went softly till he had done. When he had done, he got up, and began to run towards the Celestial City. Then Mr. Great-heart called after him, saying, Soho, friend! let us have your company, if you go, as I suppose you do, to the Celestial City. So the man stopped, and they came up to him; but so soon as Mr. Honest saw him, he said, I know this man. Then said Mr. Valiant- for-truth, Pr'ythee, who is it? It is one, said he, that comes from whereabout I dwelt ; his name is Stand-fast ; he is certainly a right good pilgrim. So they came up one to another ; and presently Stand-fast said to old Honest, Ho ! father Honest, are you there ? Aye, said he, that am I, as sure as you are there. Right glad am I, said Mr. Stand-fast that I have found you on this road. And as glad am I, said the other, that I espied you on your knees. Then Mr. Stand- fast blushed, and said, But why, did you see me ? Yes, that I did, quoth the other, and with my heart was glad at the sight. Why, what did you think? said Stand-fast. Think, said old Honest ; what should I think ? I thought we had an honest man on the road, and therefore should have his company by-and-by. If you thought not to us all, even to those that are farthest travelled on the road, that we be watchful to the end, and so much the more as we see the day approaching. They cried out. — In prayer, as Christian had done in his days of darkness, and as all true Pilgrims must do, if they would walk safely through the dim shadows that obscure the evidence cf the soul. In all time of our wealth, and in all seasons of pleasure and prosperity, we have as much need of the weapon of All-prayer as in the dark days of adversity. Darkness gathers ""ound the soul amid the enchantments of the En- chanted Ground, as well as amid the spirits of the vast deep in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. One that was much concerned. — The in- tensity of the danger, and the extreme necessity of the Pilgrims at this stage, are well described by this scene of the praying Pilgrim, Stand-fast. "Behold, he pray- eth ! " What darkness hath befallen him ; what danger threatened him; what sore r ! " nw ?T 430 The Pii. t'l. HH 1 I • "i Progress. amiss, said Stand-fast, how happ^ .un 1 • \ut, if I be not as I should, it is I alone must bear it. That is true, s. id the other; but your fear doth further confirm me that things are right betwixt the Prince of Pilgrims and your soul ; for he saith, " Blessed is the man that feareth always." Val. Well, but brother, I pray thee tell us, what was it that was the cause of thy being u[)on thy knees even now ? Was it for that some special mercies laid obligations upon thee, or how ? Stand. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted Ground ; and as I was coming along, I was musing with myself of what a dangerous nature the road in this place was; and how many, who had come even thus far on pilgrimage, had here been stopped and been destroyed, I thought also of the manner of death with which this place destroyed men. Those that die here die of no violent dis- temper ; the death which such die is not grievous to them ; for he that goeth away in a sleep begins that journey with desire and pleasure ; yea, such acquiesce in the will of that disease. Then Mr. Honest, interrupting him, said. Did you see the two men asleep in the arbor ? Stand. Aye, aye ; I saw Heedless and Too-bold diere ; and, for aught I know, there they will lie till they rot (Prov. lo: 7) ; but let me go on with my tale. As I was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself to me, and offered me three things : to wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. Now the truth is, I was both weary and sleepy ; I am also as poor as an owlet, and that perhaps the witch knew. Well, I re- pulsed her once and again ; but she put by my repulses and smiled. Then I began to be angry ; but she mattered that nothing at all. Then she made offers again, and said. If I would be ruled by her, she affliction is it that hath thus brought him to his knees? Stanu-fast, no doubt, has borne many a brunt of battle, and in days of open danger has been caparisoned for the fight, and has fought hi^ battles bravely. But he is now walking amid the enchant- ments of earthly scenes; and, io, an en- chantress stands beside him to allure him from the path of safety. In this time of danger the tempted Pilgrim betakes himself to prayer. Madam Bubble. — Here is the world, with its chief enchantments, tempting what re- mains of the carnal sense and of the fleshly mind, so as to wake up its last surviving spark of earthliness, and lull the " new man " into its deadly sleep — " Till the swollen bubble bursts— and all is air I " This phantom worla, this painted parti- colored bubble, that men covet, and chase, and cherish, and for which most men sell their very souls — this earthly element now strives to tempt the Pilgrim. This is the Delilah of the pilgrimage — the enchantress of the Enchanted Ground. If thou wilt but lay thy head upon her lap, and rest thee, while she lulls thee into sleep, all thy days Madam Bubble. 431 : as I should, r ; but your "ct the Prince the man that IS it that was as it for that ted Ground ; If of what a / many, who stopped and 1 with which 3 violent dis- :hem ; for he 1 desire and 1 see the two there ; and, lo: 7) ; but I said, there d herself to purse, and f ; I am also Well, I re- and smiled, thing at all. d by her, she :s last surviving lull the " new —and all is air ! " painted parti- ovet, and chase, most men sell ly element now T». This is the the enchantress If thou wilt but , and rest thee, ;ep, all thy days STAND-FAST RESISTS TEMPTATION. would make me great and happy ; for, said she, I am the mistress of the world, and men are made happy by me. Then I ^sked her name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This set me further from her ; but she still followed me with enticements. Then I betook me, as you saw, to my knee:^, and with hands lifted up, and cries, I prayed to Him that had said he would help. So just as you came up the gentlewoman went her way. Then I continued to give thanks for this great deliverance ; for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my journey. Hon, Without doubt, her designs were bad. But stay, now are henceforth days of weakness, blindness, and captivity. Had the strong Samson knelt in prayer in the day of the Philistines, he had been Stand-fast to the end. But he slept as many sleep, on the Enchanted Ground, and all was lost ! Then I took me to my knees. — This was his safety. In any other strength than this he could but fail. Hence prayer is always needed ; for this temptation ever assails us. So long as we are in the world, the spirit of the world would woo and win us to the loss of our eternal gain. Beware of Madam Bubble, all ye Pilgrims who would be safe. I ''iif 432 T/ie Pilgrim's Progress. you talk of her, methinks I either have seen her, or have read some story of her. Stand. Perhaps you have done both, Hon. Madam Bubble! Is she not a tall, comely dame, some- what of a swarthy complexion ? Stand. Right, you hit it ; she is just such a one. Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give you a smile at the end of a sentence ? Stand. You fall -right upon it again, for these are her very actions. Hon. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side ? and is not her hand often in it fingering her money, as if that was her heart's delight ? Stand. It is just so ; had she stood by all this while, you could not more amply have set her forth before me, nor have better described her features. Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good limner, and he that wrote of her said true. Great. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of her sorcer- ies that' this ground is enchanted. Whoever doth lay his head down in her lap, had as good lay it down upon that block over which the axe doth hang ; and whoever lay their eyes upon her beauty are accounted the enemies of God (i John 2 : 14, 15). This is she that maintaineth in their splendor all those that are the enemies of pil- grims. Yea, this is she that hath brought off many a man from a pilgrim's life. She is a great gossiper ; she is always, both she and her daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or another, now commending and then preferring, the excellences of this life. She is a bold and impudent slut ; she will talk with any man. She always laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn, but highly commends the rich. If there be one cunning to get money in a place, she will speak well of him from house to house ; she loveth banqueting and feasting mainly well ; she is always at one table or another. She has given it out in some places that she is a goddess, and therefore some do worship her. She has her time and open places of cheating; and she will say and avow it, that none can show a good comparable to hers. She promiseth to She follows to the final stages, even to the brink of the river does she tempt you. Then pray all through the pilgrimage. Be nnt fascinated by her wiles, nor yet enchanted by her spells. Betake you to your knees in prayer, that ye may he " able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, tr» stand" (Eph. 6: 13). Great-heart describes the Wantotis Snares. 433 e read some iame, some- nner, and he dwell with children's children, if they will but love her and make much of her. She will cast out of her purse gold like dust, in some places, and to some persons. She loves to be sought after, spoken well of, and to lie in the bosoms of men. She is never weary of com- mending her commodities, and she loves them most that think best ot her. She will promise to some crowns and kingdoms, if they will but take her advice ; yet many hath she brought to the halter, and ten thousand times more to hell. Oh ! said Stand-fast, what a mercy it is that I did resist her ! for whither might she have drawn me ! Great. Whither ! nay, none but God knows. But, in general, to be sure she would have drawn thee into "many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition " (i Tim. 6: 9). It was she that set Absalom against his father, and Jeroboam against his master. It was she that persuaded Judas to sell his Lord, and that prevailed with Demas to forsake the godly pilgrim's life. None can tell of the mischief that she doth. She makes variance betwixt rulers and subjects, betwixt parents and children, betwixt neighbor and neighbor, betwixt a man and his wife, betwixt a man and himself, betwixt the flesh and the spirit. Wherefore, good master Stand-fast, be as your name is, and " when you have done all, stand," At this discourse there was among the pilgrims a mixture of joy and trembling; but at length they broke out and sang : ^ What danger is the pilgrim in ! How many are his foes ! How many ways there are to sin No living mortal knows. Some in the ditch spoil'd are, yea, can Lie tumbling in the mire ; Some, though they shun the frying-pan, Do leap into the fire. The same character of danger that assailed Faithful at the outset of his journey in the carnal temptation of Adam the First, now assails Stand-fast near the end of his pil- grimage. The world, and the spirit of the world, would entangle us in the wilderness, and make a truce with us, and so hinder the progress of our journey home. It is for us 28 to resist her enchantments and reject her overtures, " What peace, so long as her witchcrafts are so many ?" (2 Kings 9 : 22). " I, under fair pretence of friendly ends, And well-placed words of glowing courtesy. Baited witli reasons not unplausiole, Wind me into the easy-hearted man, And hugr him into snares." l;*ll W' '«■■■'■ if CHAPTER XIII. The Pilgrims at Home. We have arrived at the conclusion of the Second Pilgrimage — the last stage, the farewell to the things of earth, the welcome to the world of light and everlasting life. There is a sublimity in the description of these final scenes which excels that of the former Part. The group that has been gradually enlarging is now about to break up ajid to dissolve into the Invisible. In the portraiture of this concluding stage, the Dreamer su' .mons to his aid all his powers of imagery and description. A perspective opens upon *\.e view — a continu- ous series of scenes, as the Pilgrim-band breaks up, piecemeal, one by one. ("/.uhered together in the Land of Beulah, they peacefully await the summons of their Lord. They pass not the fords of the river in company, as Christian and Hopeful did, but singly, and each alone. In the description of these successive departures, there is included all the solemnity of earthly solicitude with all the heavenly bliss and peace characteristic of the death-bed scene of the departing Christian. FTER this I beheld until they were come into the Land of Beulah, where the sun shineth night and day. Here, be- cause they were weary, they betook themselves a while to rest; and because this country was common for pilgrims, and because these orchards and vineyards that were here belonged to the King of the Celestial Country, therefore they were licensed to make bold with any of his things. But a little while soon refreshed them here, for the bells did so ring, and the trumpets continually sounded so melodiously, that they could not sleep ; and yet they received as much refreshing as if they had slept their sleep ever so soundly. Here also all the noise of them that walked in the streets was, More pilgrims are come to town. And another would answer, saying, And so many went over the water, and were let in at the golden gates to-day. They would cry again. There is TAe Land of Beulah. — The border-land of heaven is Beulah — that spiritual state of peace and rest in which God ever comforts his children, and feeds them with heavenly food, and visits them with his grace and love, and departs not from the holy place of the heart within which Jesus is enshrined as the loved and chosen guest. " Thou shalt be called Hephzibah, and thy land Beulah ; for the Lord delighteth in thee ; and thy land shall be married " (Isa. 62 : 4). This is the place of the espousal of the soul to Jesus. "The bride and bridegroom both rejoice In Beulah's marriage scene ; While earth and heaven unite their voice, And Jordan roll* between." ft34) -the last stage, the rlasting life. There ; of the former Part, a^d to dissolve into s>i' .mons to his aid '..e view — a continu- by one. (j.ithered f their Lord. They did, but singly, and is included all the characteristic of the ito the Land of lay. Here, be- slves a while to 3n for pilgrims, that were here fore they were ttle while soon the trumpets lot sleep ; and ept their sleep ;hat walked in And another ater, and were gain, There is d thy land Beulah ; in thee ; and thy [sa. 62 : 4). This is sal of the soul to oom both rejoice :e scene ; ;n unite their voice, tween." n 1 435 Mm- 436 \ The Pilgrims Progress, now a legion of shining ones just come to town, by which we know that there are more pilgrims upon the road ; for here they come to wait for them, and comfort them after their sorrow. Then the pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro ; but how were their eyes now filled with celestial visions ! In this land, they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, tasted nothing that was offensive to thei'' stomach or mind ; only, when they tasted of the water of the river, over which they were to go, they thought that tasted a little bitterish to the palate, but it proved sweet when it was down. In this place there was a record kept of the names of them that had been pilgrims of old, and a history of all the famous acts that they had done. It was here also much discoursed, how the river to some has its flowings, and what ebbings it ha'^ had while others have gone over. It has been in a manner dry for some, while it has overflowed its banks for others. In this place the children of the town would go into the King's garden and gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and bring them to them with affection. Here also grew camphire, spikenard, saffron, calamus, and cinnamon, and all the trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, with all the chief spices. With these the pilgrims' chambers were perfumed while they stayed here; and with these were their bodies anointed to prepare them to go over the river when the time ap' inted was come. Now while they lay here, and waited for the good hour, there was a noise in the town, that there was a post come from the Celes- tial Cit^ , with matters of great importance to one Christiana, the wife of Christian the pilgrim. So inquiry was made for her, and the house was found out where she was ; so the post presented her with a letter : the contents were. Hail, good woman ! I bring thee tidings, that the Master calleth for thee and expecteth that thou shouldst stand in his presence, in the clothes of immortality, within these ten days. . All the Pilgrim-band are resting here, as they alone can rest who abide in Jesus and are stayed upon his love. They are now hard by the waters of Death, and are ripen- ing fast for the reaper's sickle. Amid the pleasures of his grace and the consolations of his love, they await th** message bearing the summons of their Lord. There was a post come. — And now the company is about to break up, and Chris- tiana is the first to go. Death is the mes- sengT of God to man to take him home. It comes on the arrow-point , sharp and pain- ful it may be, but it is an arrow of lovei It breaks the cord of this mortal life, but only to bind it again, in an indissoluble bond, to the heart of Jesus. « Such a one as Christiana has many Christiana's Injunctions. 437 When he had read the letter to her, he gave her therewith a sure token that he was a true messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be gone. The token was an arrow sharpened with love, let easily into her heart, which, by degrees, wrought so effectually with her that at the time appointed she must be gone. When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first of this company that was to go over, she called for Mr. Great-heart, her guide, and told him how matters were. So he told her he was heartily glad of the news, and could have been glad had the post come for him. Then she bid that he should give advice how all things should be prepared for the journey. So he told her, say- ing, Thus and thus it must be ; and we that survive will accompany you to the river-side. Then she called for her children, and gave them their blessing ; and told them that she had read with comfort the mark that was set in their foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there, and that they had kept their garments so white. Lastly she bequeathed to the poor what little she had, and commanded her sons and daughters to be ready against the messenger should come for them. When she had spoken tliese words to her guide and to her children, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-truth, and said unto him, Sir, you have in all places showed yourself tru-^-hearted ; be faithful unto death, and my King will give you a crown of life. I would also entreat you to have an eye to my children ; and if, at any time, you see them faint, speak comfortably to them. For my daughters, my sons' wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of the promise upon them will be their end. But she gave Mr. Stand-fast a ring. Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, " Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile." Then said he, I wish you a fair day when you set out for Mount Zion, and shall be glad to see that you go over the river dry-shod. But she answered. Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone ; for, however the weather is in my journey, I shall have time enough, when I come there, to sit down and rest me and dry me. HRiSTiANA has many things to say, many mcF'-ages to leave, many adieus to present to mose that have borne her company in the way. To each she speaks, according to his want, accord- ing to his strength. She sets her house in order, commits her children and children's children to the good offices of strong and valiant men, comforts all her fellows with the consolation wherewith she also is comforted, and now is ready to depart and be with Christ forever with the Lord. And what a death-bed is that of the full- ripe Christian ! Both shores are filled with the communion of saints, while the river ■■I H| .y,H 438 T/ie Pilgrim s Progress. Then came in that good man, Mr. Ready-to-halt, to see her. So she said to him. Thy travel hitherto has been with difficulty ; but that will make thy rest the sweeter. Watch and be ready ; for at an hour when 3'ou think not the messenger may come. . After him came Mr. Despondency and his daughter, Much- afraid ; to whom she said, You ought with thankfulness for ever to remember your deliverance from the hand of Giant Despair, and out of Doubting Castle. The effect of that mercy is, that you are brought with safety hither. Be ye watchful and cast away fear ; be sober, and hope to the end. Then she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered from the mouth of Giant Slay-good, that thou mightest live in the light of the living for ever, and see thy King with comfort ; only I advise thee to repent of thine aptness to fear and doubt of his goodness, before he sfends for thee ; lest thou shouldst, when he conies, be forced to stand before him for that fault with blushing. Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the road was full of people to see her take her journey. But, behold, all the banks beyond the river were full of horses and chariots, which were come down from above, to accompany her to the city gate. So she came forth and entered the river, with a beckon of farewell to those that followed her. The last words that she was heard to say were, I come, Lord, to be with thee, and bless thee. So her children and friends returned to their place, for those that waited for Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So she went and called, and entered in at the gate, with all the ceremonies of joy that her husband Christian had entered with before her. At her departure the children wept. But Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp for joy. So all departed to their respective places. In process of time there came a post to the town again, and his business was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he inquired him out, and flows between. On earth they throng around her bed-side, and stand as it were along the sloping strand by the river-brink. In heaven a yet more glorious throng awaits her — of chariots and horses, and white-robed priests and kings, to life her from the fast-flowing tide, and upbear her to the golden gates and to the all-glorious throne. And this scene is ended ! Mr. Ready-to-halt. — And now this lame and limping Pilgrim is summoned. He has leaned upon his crutches hitherto ; but now the chariots of the Lord await him. They that trust God's promises, and lean upon his Word, shall have the full enjoyment of them all in the land where there is no more hope or promise, for all is the full fruition of eter- nal glory. We take not the promises with Mr. Feeble-mind crosses the River. 439 said, I am come from Him whom thou hast loved and followed, though upon crutches ; and my message is, to tell thee that he expects thee at his table, to sup with him in his kingdom, the next day after Easter ; wherefore prepare thyself for this journey, Then he also gave him a token that he was a true messenger, saying, "I have broken thy golden bowl, and loosed thy silver cord" (Eccles. 12 : 6). After this, Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow-pilgrims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, and God shall surely visit you also. So he desired Mr. Valiant to make his will ; and because he had nothing to bequeath to them that should survive him but his crutches and his good wishes, therefore thus he said, These crutches I be- queath to my son that shall tread in my steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may prove better than I have been. Then he thanked Mr. Great-heart for his conduct and kindness, and so addressed himself to his journey. When he came to the brink of the river, he said, Now I shall have no more need of these crutches, since yonder are chariots and horses for me to ride on. The last words he was heard to say were. Welcome, life ! So he went his way. After this, Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him that the post sounded his horn at his chamber-door. Then he came in, and told him, saying, I am come to tell thee that thy Master hath need of thee, and that in a very little time thou must behold his face in brightness. And take this as a token of the truth of my message : "Those that look out at the windows shall be darkened." Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his friends, and told them what errand had been brought unto him, and what token he had re- ceived of the truth of the message. Then he said, Since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what purpose should I make a will ? As for my feeble mind, that I will leave behind, for that I shall have no need of in the place whither I go ; nor is it worth bestowing upon the poorest pilgrims ; wherefore, when I am gone, I desire that you, Mr. Valiant, would bury it in a dung-hill. This done, and us into heaven, but leave them behind us for other Pilgrims of the way. Mr. Feebk-mind. — The former victim of Giant Slay-good is now summoned to his rest. In feebleness he has trod the path ; he had gone softly all hio days ; but withal he had been faithful to his King. For this h^ i& rewarded at the last, and, as a sickly, weakly child, is taken to his great Father's bosom. In deep humility he had walked ; in very humiliation he ever loved to live; his death-bed was a lowly cot; and no better burying-place does he desire than "the dung-hill." To this htimble-minded man is now the message sent — ' Friend, come up higher ! " He invokes " faith and patience " im. ^^M^^ ^Mi':,:it m ft 1 1 i 440 TAe Pilgrim's Progress. the day being come in which he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest. His last words were, Hold out, faith and patience ! So he went over to the other oide. When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Despondency was sent for ; for a post was come, and brought this message to him : Trembling man, these are to summon thee to be ready with the King by the next Lord's day, to shout for joy, for thy deliver- ance from all thy doubtings. And, said the messenger, that my message is true, take this for a proof; so he gave him "a grasshop- per to be a burden unto him " (Eccles. 12: 5). Now Mr. Despond- ency's daughter, whose name was Much-afraid, said, when she heard v/hat was done, that slie would go with her father. Then Mr. Despondency said to his friends. Myself and my daughter, you know what we have been, and how troublesomely we have behaved ourselves in every company ; my will and my daughter's is that our desponds and slavish fears be by no man ever received, from the day of our departure, for ever ; for I know that after my death they will offer themselves to others. For, to be plain v iU: you, they are ghosts which we entertained when we firs* began to ^'; pilgrims, and could never shake them off after; and they will walk about and seek entertainment of the pilgrims ; but, for our sakes, shut the doors upon them. When the time was come for them to depart they went up to the brink of the river. The last words of Mr. Despondency were. Farewell, night ! W^elcome, day! His daughter went through the river singing, but* no one could understand what she said. Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a post in the town that inquired for Mr. Honest. So he came to the house to abide wit'. . '-r. l-i the last, ir.d passes to the other side. Despondency and Miich-afraia. — Born of the same blood, -haracterized by the same spirii, bound once m thv.' s^me bondage of Doubting Castle, " in lea'', iheyvn; not divided." And in \^^-i\\<^ -if his mi^rtality and the fleshly raimen; ;i -jy put off also their doubts ant' fears. /! e seeds of doubt had lingered to the 1 -31. '^ !'" iron of > .espair had entered into their sou), >nd ♦he marks of their bondage were nevei .holly effaced until they were clothed upon with immortal- ity. To those doubting ones earth was a night season of gloom and darkness, and in the border-land they saw the dawn of day ; and when the summons comes, they are glad to bid farewell to the night that is past, and to w?lcome with joy and singing the eternal day, whose sunrising shall know no sunset. Jfr. Honest. — Thou brave Pilgrim ! Jor- dan this day has overflowed its banks, and lis fords are deep, and its s'.vellings high. But thou art strong to breast its waves and to cross its floods ! " Good-conscience " is j thy succor, and "Grace reigns" thy battle 1 cry. Pass safely to thy rest ! As a brave, I manly Pilg.im, "old father Honest" has j fought the good fight, has discomfited rn.iny i a foe, and Ijy his true faith and honest w«lk M ■«?»*. .> red the river )atience ! So despondency message to )e ready with ■ tiiy deliver- g'er, that my "a grasshop- Ir. Despond- d, wlien she ■. Then Mr. iLighter, you lave behaved 's is that our ed, from the ly death they ou, they are Dilgrims, and c about and es, shut the went up to dency were, through the i. I post in the ) the house dawn of tlay ; es, they are glad that is past, and ging the eternal now no sunset. Pilgrim ! Jor- its banks, and s'.vellings high, t its waves an^l i-conscience " is fns " thy battle ! As a brave. Honest" has scomfited ni..ny nd honest w«lk f^^ i af El ^SS m. ifl 441 I i¥ '., ! -■|';i: '■;) ; .;*?«*:; m f ■V< Ifi i'" iii 442 TAe Pilgrims Progress. where he was, and delivered to his hands these lines : Thou art commanded to be ready against this day se'nnight, to present thy- self before thy Lord, at his Father's house. And for a token that my message is true, "All the daughters of music shall be brought low" (Eccles. 12: 4). Then Mr. Honest called for his friends, and said unto them, I die, but shall make no will. As for my honesty, it shall go with me ; let him that comes after be told of this. When the day that he was to be gone was come, he addressed himself to go over the river. Now the river at that time overflowed its banks in some places ; but Mr. Honest, in his lifetime, had spoken to one Good-conscience to meet him there ; the which he also did, aiul lent him liis hand, and so helped hun over. The last words of Mr. Honest wen:, Grace reigns ! So he left the world. After this, it was noised about that Mr. Valiant-for-truth was :;eiit for by a summons by the same post as the other, and had this for a token that the summons was true, that "his.pitclier was broken at the fountain "(Eccles. 12: 6). When he understood it, he called for his friends, and told them of it. Then said he, I am going to my Father's, and though with great difficulty I got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am, My sword I give to hi-n that shall succeed me in my pilgrim- age, and my courage anJ skill to him that can get it. My marks aiKu scars I carry with ' ne, to be a witness for me that I have fought his battles who now v ill be wv: rewarder. When the day tliat /:c mus- go hence was come, many accom- panied him to the river-side, 'nto which as he went he said, Death, where is thy sting ? And as he v.-ent down deeper, he said, Grave, where is thy victory? .'^o lie pas;:ed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side. Then there can e forth a ainimons for Mr. Stand-fast. This Mr. Stand-fast was he whom the pilgrims found upon his knees in the •ind cheerful countenanre he b^s tended much to mitigate the sorrows nnd the trials of the Pilgr'm-company. These men of generous heart and large experience arc as strong pillars, upholding the consistency and strength of the spiritual temple. ' Mr. Valiant-for-truth .— Behold, a troop Cometh ; and now, encompassed with a clf)ud of witnesses, a trusty Pilgrim adventures the flood! It is Valiant-for-truth that now steps down, and deeper down, and, as he sinks, his voice is lifted up more bravely and more strong, in token th.it it is X'ictory still. Death and the grave are overcome in that brief passage; and trumpets sounding at the other side announce that the brave war- rior«is at rest ! His sword, that " right Jeru- salem blade," is for all the valiant soldiers ijf the King — even "the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God." Mr. Stand-fast. — Last of all, the message comes for Stanu-fast, and he obeys the 1 ! Mr. Siand-fasf s Partmg Words. 443 es: Thou art o present thy- r a token that ill be brought lis friends, and my honesty, it this. , he addressed me overflowed i Hfetime, had the which he ver. The last the world, t-for-truth was ', and had this u;r was broken od it, he called m going to my , yet now I do arrive where I in my pilgrim- it. My marks I have fought many accom- le said, Death, said, Grave, the trumpets e ast. This Mr. knees in the p more bravely and cit it is \'ictory still. overcome in that npets sDundinp at hat the brave war- ;i, that " right Jeru- the v,-diant soldiers sword of the Spinl, all, the message a.ul he obeys the Enchanted Ground ; and the post brought it him open in his hands. The contents whereof were, that he must prepare for a change of life, for his Master was not willing that he should be so far from him any longer. At this Mr. Stand-fast was put into a muse. Nay, said the messenger, you need not doubt of the truth of my message ; for here is a token of the truth thereof. Thy wheel is broken at the cistern. Then he called to him Mr. Great-heart, who was their guide, and said unto him. Sir, although it was not in my hap to be much in your good company in the days of my pilgrimage, yet, since the time I knew you, you have been profitable to me. When I came from home, I left behind me a wife and five small children ; let me entreat you at your return (for I know that you go and return to your Master's house, in hopes that you may be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims), that you send to my family, and let them be acquainted with all that hath and shall happen unto me. Tell them, moreover, of my present blessed condition, and of my happy arrival at the Celestial City. Tell them also o^ Christian and Christiana his wife, and how she and her children came after her husband. Tell them also what a happy end she made, and whither she is gone. I have little or nothing to send to my family, except it be my prayers and tears for them ; of which it will suffice that you acquaint them, if peradventure they may prevail. When Mr. Stand-fast had thus set things in order, and the time being come for him to haste him away, he also went down to the river. summons. Here all is calm and peace. No waves or buffetings, no agonies or pains of death. Still and gentle, but yet cold and bitter, are the waters of the river. The dying Pilgrim stands in the midst of the flood, and speaks words of counsel and of ghostly strength to those he leaves behind him. He tells of the goodness of the Lord and of the joys of his countenance; and how he re- joiced to walk in the footsteps of his Master. Such is the peaceful departure of the stead- fast Christian. " Let me die the death of the righteous, and lot my last end be like his!" The residue of the company are left upon the earth to pursue their pilgrimage still, to bring forth a people to the Lord, and to await the summons that is yet to call thtm away, to follow chose who have already " through faith and patience inherited the promises." And who next ? and next ? It may be you, or the summons may be for me ! There is something peculiarly solemn, glorious, grand, about this final shadow of the Dreamer's dream, as it thus vanishes from his s;?ht. The finishing touch of the inimit- able pencil of the Allegorist shades oft" the things of earth into the things of heaven, and merges i^nt which is seen and temporal into that which is unseen and eternal. And thus we bid a reluctant farewell to the vis- ions of the "Glorious Dreamer," profited by the blest lessons he hath taught us, and en- couraged to pursue with greater zeal and vigor the path of our own spiritual pilgrim- age to the Better Land. " Thither my weak and weary steps are tending— i^avii ar and Lord! with Thy frail child abide ! Guide rae toward Home, whore, all my wanderings ending, I shall see Thep, and shall be satisfied ! '' i,'J4'i' i| ,.^:: .j« 444 TAe Pilgrin:s Progress. Now there was a great calm at that time in the river ; wherefore Mr. Stand-fast, when he was about halfway in, stood a while and talked to his companions that had waited upon him thither ; and he said, This river has been a terror to many ; yea, the thoughts of it have also often frightened me. Now, methinks I stand easy ; my foot is fixed upon that on which the feet of the priests that bare the ark of the covenant stood, while Israel went over this Jordan (Josh. 3: 17). The waters indeed are to the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold ; yet the thoughts of what I am going to, and of the convoy that wait for me on the other side, lie as a glowing coal at my heart. I see myself now at the end of my journey ; my toilsome days are ended. I am going to see that head which was crowned with thorns, and that face which was spit upon for me. J have formerly lived by hearsay and faith ; but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be with him in whose company 1 delight myself. 1 have loved to hear my T^ord spoken of ; and wherc\er I have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there have I coveted to set my foot too. His name has been to me as a civet-box ; yea, sweeter than all perfumes. His voice to me has been most sweet; and his countenance I have mere desired than they that have most desired the light of the sun. His words I did use to gather for my food, and for antidotes against my faintings. He has held me, and kept me from mine iniquities ; yea, my steps have been strengthened in his way. Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed; his strong man bowed under him ; and, after he had said, Take me, for I come unto thee! he ceased to be seen of them. But glorious it was to see how the upper region was filled with horses and chariots, with trumpters and pipers, with singers and players on stringed instruments, to welcome the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in at the beautiful gate of the ci»^y. As for Christiana's children, the four boys that Christiana brought, with their wives and children, I did not stay where I was till they were gone over. Also since I came away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, and so would Ije for the increase of the church in that place where they were for a time. Should it be my lot to go that way again, I may give those that desire it an account of what lam here silent about. Meantime, I bid my reader Farewell. wherefore Mr. ; and talked to he said, This lave also often is fixed upon f the covenant The waters cold ; yet the at wait for me I see myself ended, I am , and that face y hearsay and ill be with him hear my T^ord )e in the earth, as been to me Dice to me has ired than they Is I did use to ngs. He has "ps have been ince changed ; aid, Take me, k'as filled with I singers and s as they went f the ci»^y. tiana brought, I till they were hat they were 1 in that place ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN OR GRACE ABOUNDING TOWARD THE GREATEST OF SINNERS Written by Himself "This is the most marvellous autobiography ever written." Macauiat. ive those that eantime, I bid %!l ' («:.,;!! ^^«i) ) ^ ■m rir I 5' I :*! itHk-' '!; 11 [•' ! ' J I. . It I If t' ]] I JOHN BUNYAN. I m^e bi^e o^ ^oKn S^un^an. CHAPTER I. I N this my relation of the merciful working of God upon my soul, it will not be amiss if, in the first place, I do, in a few words, give you a hint of my pedigree, and manner of bringing up ; that thereby the goodness and bounty of God towards me may be the more advanced and magni- fied before the sons of men. For my descent then, it was, as is well known by many, of a low and inconsiderable generation ; my father's house being of that rank that is meanest and most despised of all the families in the land. Wherefore, I have not here, as others, to boast of noble blood, or of any high-born state, according to the flesh, though, all things con- sidered, I magnify the heavenly Majesty, for that by this door he brought me into this world, to partake of the grace and life that is in Christ by the gospel. But yet, notwithstanding the meanness and inconsiderableness of my parents, it pleased God to put it into their hearts to put me to school, to learn me both to read and write ; the which I also attained according to the rate of other men's children ; though, to my shame I confess, I did soon lose that little I learnt, even almost utterly, and that long before the Lord did work his gra- cious work of conversation upon my soul. As for my own natural life, for the time that I was without God in the world, it was, indeed, "according to the course of this world," and "the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience " (Eph. 2 : 2, 3). It was my delight to be taken captive by the devil, "at his will" (2 Tim. 2: 26), being filled with all unrighteousness; the which did also strongly work, and put forth itself, both in my heart and life, and that from a child, that I had but few equals (espe- cially considering my years, which were tender, being few), both for cursing, swearing, lying, and blaspheming the holy name of God. Yea, so settled and rooted was I in these things, that they became as (447) IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I ^1^ III ui m 1 2.2 1.25 II 1.8 U 11.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation f\ V ■^ o % '^\ ^ > '!?.'■ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTFR.N.Y. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 liill u^ 'fS M in** 1 •». <• ,-<>i.TCPi !y M\S {III , I ? 448 Zz)^ ^ Bunyan. a second nature to me ; the which, as I have also with soberness con- sidered since, did so offend the Lord, that even in my childhood he did scare and affrighten me with fearful dreams, and did terrify me with fearful visions. For often, after I had spent this and the other day in sin, I have in my bed been greatly afflicted, while asleep, with the apprehensions of devils and wicked spirits, who still, as I then thought, labored to draw me away with them, of which I could never be rid. Also, I should at these years be greatly afiflicted and troubled with the thoughts of the fearful torments of hell-fire; still fearing that it would be my lot to be found at last among those devils and hellish fiends who are there bound down with the chains and bonds of dark- ness, unto the judgment of the great day. These things, I say, when I was but a child, but nine or ten years old, did so distress my soul, that then, in the midst of my many sports and childish vanities, amidst my vain companions, I was often much cast down and afflicted in my mind therewith, yet could I not let go my sins ; yea, I was also then so overcome with despair of life and heaven, that I would often wish, either that the.re had been no hell, or that I had been a devil; sup- posing they were only tormentors ; that if it must needs be that I went thither, I might be rather a tormentor than be tormented " myself. Awhile after those terrible dreams did leave me, which also I soon forgot ; for my pleasures did quickly cut off the remembrance of them, as if they had never been ; wherefore, with more greediness, accord- ing to the strength of nature, I did still let loose the reins of my lust, and delighted in all transgressions against the law of God ; so that until I came to the state of marriage, I was the very ringleader of all the youth that kept me company, in all manner of vice and ungodliness. Yea, such prevalency had the lusts and fruits of the flesh on this poor soul of mine, that, had not a miracle of pre- cious grace prevented, I had not only perished by the stroke of eternal justice, but had also laid myself open, even to the stroke of those laws which bring some to disgrace and open shame before the face of the world. In those days, the thoughts of religion were very grievous to me ; I could neither endure it myself, nor that any other should ; so that when I have seen some read in those books that concerned Christian piety, it would be as it were a poison to me. Then I said unto God, Depart from me, for I desire not the knowledge of thy ( soberness con- y childhood he 1 did terrify me is and the other lile asleep, with ) still, as I then :h I could never d and troubled still fearing that :vils and hellish I bonds of dark- igs, I say, when istress my soul, vanities, amidst 1 afflicted in my I was also then ould often wish, n a devil; sup- needs be that 1 be tormented ' hich also I soon brance of them, jdiness, accord- he reins of my iw of God ; so i^ery ringleader er of vice and id fruits of the niracle of pre- the stroke of o the stroke of ame before the ry grievous to ler should ; so hat concerned . Then I said wledge of thy Life of Bunyan. 449 BUNYAN'S BIRTHPLACE ways (Job 2i : 14, 15). I was now void of all good consideration ; heaven and hell were both out of sight and mind ; and as for saving and damning, they were least in my thoughts. " O Lord, thou knowest my life, and my ways were not hid from thee." But this I well remember, that though I could myself sin with the greatest delight and ease, and also take pleasure in the vileness of my com- panions; yet, even then, if I had at any time seen wicked things by those who professed goodness, it would make my spirit tremble. As, once above all the rest, when I was in the height of vanity, yet hearing one to swear that was reckoned for a religious man, it had so great a stroke upon my spirit that it had made my heart ache. But God did not utterly leave me, but followed me still, not with convictions, but judgments ; but such as were mixed with mercy. For once I fell into a creek of the sea, and hardly escaped drowning. Another time I fell out of a boat into Bedford river, but mercy yet preserved me alive ; besides another time, being in the field with one of my companions, it chanced -that an adder passed over the highway ; so I, having a stick in my hand, struck her over the back, 29 : \r 450 Li/e of Bunyan, and, having stunned her, I forced open her mouth with my stick, and plucked her sting out with my fingers ; by which act, had not God been merciful unto me, I might, by my desperateness, have brought myself to an end. This also I have taken notice of, with thanksgiving : When I was a soldier, I, with others, was drawn out to go to such a place to besiege it ; but when I was just ready to go, one of the company desired to go in my room ; to which, when I had consented, he took my place; and, coming -to the siege, as he stood sentinel, he was shot in the head with a musket bullet, and died. Here, as I said, were judgments and mercy, but neither of them did awaken my soul to righteousness ; wherefore I sinned still, and grew more and more rebellious against God and careless of my own salvation. U\Jk ii ■ \ I ! \ CHAPTER II. |RESENTLY after this, I changed my condition into a married state, and my mercy was to light upon a wife whose father was counted godly. This woman and I, though we came together as poor as poor might be (not having so much household stuff as a dish or spoon betwixt us both), yet this she had for her part, "The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven," and "The Practice of Piety," which her father had left her when he died. In these two books I would some- times read with her, wherein I also found some things that were somewhat pleasing to me (but all this while I met with no convic- tion). She also would be often telling of me what a godly man her father was, and how he v/ould reprove and correct vice, both in his house and among his neighbors ; what a strict and holy life he lived in his days, both in words and deeds. Wherefore these books, with the relation, though they did not reach my heart, to awaken it about my sad and sinful state, yet they did beget within me some desires to reform my vicious life, and fall in very eagerly with the religion of the times ; to wit, to go to church twice a day, and that, too, with the foremost ; and there would very devoutly both say and sing, as others did, yet retaining my wicked life; but withal, I was so overrun with the spirit of superstition, that I adored, and that with great devotion, even all things (both the high-place, priest, clerk, vestment, service, and what else) belonging to the church ; counting all things holy that were therein contained, and especially the priest and clerk most happy, and without doubt greatly blessed, because they were the servants, as I then thought, of God, and were principal in the holy temple to do his work therein. This conceit grew so strong in a litUe time upon my spirit, that had I but seen a priest, though never so sordid and debauched in his life, I should find my spirit fall under him, reverence him, and knit unto him ; yea, I thought, for the love I did bear unto them (supposing they were the ministers of God), I could have laid down at their feet, and have been trampled upon by them ; their name» their garb, and work did so intoxicate and bewitch me. (461) ■.mms' ' .._ . j<%liiliaH| i^im ^■!^'i4i- '$¥! 452 Zj>'& of Bunyan. After I had been thus for some considerable time, another thought came in my mind ; and that was, whether we were of the Israelites or no ? For, finding in the Scriptures that they were once the peculiar people of God, thought I, if I were one of this race, my soul must needs be happy. Now again I found within me a great longing to be resolved about this question, but could not tell how I should ; at last I asked my father of it, who told me no, we were not. Wherefore then I fell in my spirit, as to the hopes of that, and so remained. But all this while I was not sensible of the danger and evil of sin ; I was kept from considering that sin would damn me, what religion soever I followed, unless I was found in Christ. Nay, I never thought of him, nor whether there was such a one or no. Thus man, while blind, doth wander, but wearieth himself with vanity, for he knoweth not the way to the city of God (Eccles. lo: 15). But one day, among all the sermons our parson made, his sub- ject was to treat of the Sabbath-day, and of tlie evil of breaking that, either with labor, sports, or otherwise (now I was, notwithstanding my religion, one that took much delight in all manner of vice, and especially that was the way that I did solace myself therewith) ; wherefore I fell in my conscience under this sermon, thinking and believing that he made that sermon on purpose to show me my evil doing. And, at that time, I felt what guilt was, though never before that I can remember; but then I was, for the present, greatly loaded therewith, and so went home when the sermon was ended with a great burden upon my spirit. This, for that instant, did benumb the sinews of my best delights, and did embitter my former pleasures to me ; but behold, it lasted not ; for before I had well dined the trouble began to go off my mind, and my heart returned to its old course. But, oh! how glad was I that this trouble was gone from me ; and that the fire was put out, that I might sin again without control ! Wherefore, when I had satisfied nature with my food, I shook the sermon out of my mind, and to my old custom of sports and gaming I returned with great delight. But, the same day, as I was in the midst of a game of cat, and having struck it one blow from the hole, just as I was about to strike it the second time, a voice did suddenly dart from heaven into my soul, which said. Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell ? At this I was put to an exceeding maze ; wherefore, leaving my bat upon the ground, I looked up to heaven, and was as if I had, with the eyes of my understanding, seen • 'V r- .. Life of Bunyan. 453 the Lord Jesus looking down upon me, as being very hotly displeased with me, and as if he did severely threaten me with some grievous punishment for these and other ungodly practices. I had no sooner thus conceived in my mind, but suddenly this conclusion was fastened on my spirit (for the former hint did set my sins again before my face), that I had been a great and grievous sinner, and that it was now too late for me to look after heaven, for Christ would not forgive me, nor pardon my transgressions. Then I fell to musing on this also ; and while I was thinking of it, and fearing lest it should be so, I felt my heart sink in despair, concluding it was too late; and therefore I resolved in my mind to go on in sin ; for, thought I, if the case be thus, my state is surely miserable ; miserable if I leave my sins, and but miserable if I follow them ; I cpn but be damned ; and, if it must be so, I had as good be damned for many sins as be damned for few. Thus I stood in the midst of my play before all that then were present ; but yet I told them nothing ; but I say, having made this conclusion, I returned desperately to my sport again ; and I well remember, that presendy this kind of despair did so possess my soul, that I was persuaded I could never attain to other comforts than what I should get in sin ; for heaven was gone already, so that on that I must not think; wherefore I found within me great desire to take my fill of sin, still studying what sin was yet to be committed, that I might taste the sweetness of it ; and I made as much haste as I could to fill my belly with its delicacies, lest I should die before I had my desires; for that I feared greatly. In th^se things I protest, before God, I lie not, neither do I frame this sort of speech ; these were really, strongly, and with all my heart, my desires; the good Lord, whose mercy is unsearchable, forgive my transgressions ! And I am very confident that this temptation of the devil is more usual among poor creatures than many are aware of,, even to overrun the spirits with a scurvy and seared frame of heart, and benumbing of conscience, which frame he stilly and slyly supplieth with such despair, that though not much guilt attendeth souls, yet they continually have a secret conclusion within them that there is no hope for them ; for they have loved sins, therefore after them they will go (Jer. 2 : 25 ; 18 : 12). Now, thereforr, I went on in sin with great greediness of mind, still grudging that I could not be satisfied with it as I would. This did continue with me about a month or more ; but one day, as I was standing at a neighbor's shop-window, and there cursing and swear- i! I i II Hi 454 Life of Bunyan, ing, and playing the madman, after my wonted manner, there sat, within, the woman of the house, and heard me ; who, though she was a very loose and ungodly wretch, yet protested that I swore and cursed at that most fearful rate, that she was made to tremble to hear me ; and told me further, that I was the ungodliest fellow for swearing that she ever heard in all her life ; and that I, by thus doing, was able to spoil all the youth in the whole town if they came but in my company. At this reproof I was silent and put to secret shame ; and that, too, as I thought, before the God of heaven ; wherefore, while I stood there, and hanging down my head, I wished with all my heart that I might be a little child again, that my father might learn me to speak without this wicked way of swearing ; for, thought I, I am so accustomed to it, that it is in vain for me to think of reformation, ^or I thought that could never be. But ho^ r it came to pass I know not, I did from this time for- ward so leav.^ my swearing, that it was a great wonder to myself to observe it ; and whereas before I knew not how to speak unless I put an oath before and another behind, to make my words have author- ity, now I could, without it, speak better, and with more pleasantness than ever I could before. All this while 1 knew not Jesuf Christ, neither did I leave my sports and plays. But quickly after this I fell into company with one pqor man that made profession of religi in, who, as I then thought, did talk pleasantly of the Scriptures, and of the matter of religion ; wherefore, falling into some love and liking to what he said, I betook me to my Bible, and began to take great pleasure in reading, but especially with the historical part thereof; for, as for Paul's Epistles and such like scriptures, I could not iiway with them, being as yet ignorant either of the corruption of my nature or of the want and worth of Jesus Christ to ^ave us. Wherefore I fell to some outward reformation, both in my words and life, and did set the commandments before me for my way to heaven ; which commandments I also did strive to keep, and, as I thought, did keep them pretty well sometimes, and then I should have comfort ; yet now and then should break one, and so afflict my conscience ; but then I would repent, and say I was sorry for it, and promise God to do better next time, and there got help again ; for then I thought I pleased God as well as any man in England. Thus I continued about a year ; all which time our neighbors did take me to be a very godly man, a new and religious man, and did marvel much to see such great and famous alteration in my life and Life of Bunyan. 455 manners ; and indeed so it was, though I knew not Christ, nor grace, nor faith, nor hope ; for, as I have well since seen, had I then died, my state had been most fearful. But I say my neighbors were amazed at this my great conversion from prodigious profaneness to something like a moral life; and, truly, so they well might; for this my conversion was as great as for Tom of Bedlam to become a sober man. Now^ therefore, they beg? ■' to praise, to commend, and to speak well of me, both to my face and behind my back. Now I was, as they said, become godly ; now I was become a right honest man. But, oh ! when I understood those were their words and opinions of me, it pleased me mighty well ; for though as yet I was nothing but poor painted hypocrite, yet I liked to be talked of as (?he that was truly godly. I was proud of my godliness ; and, indeed, I did all I did either to be seen of, or to be well spoken of, by men ; and thus J continued for about a twelvemonth or more. I' m f f Pi ' CHAPTER III. |0W, you must know, that before this I had taken much de- light in ringing, but my conscience beginning to be tender, I thought such practice was but vain, and theref re forced myself to leave it ; yet my mind hankered ; wherefore I would go to the steeple-house and look on, though I durst not ring ; but I thought this did not become religion neither ; yet I forced myself and would look on still ; but quickly after I began to think, how if one of the bells should fall ? Then I chose to stand under a main beam that lay over-thwart the steeple, from side to side, thinking here I might stand sure ; but then I thought again, should the bell fall with a swing, it might first hit the wall and then, rebound- ing upon me, might kill me for all this beam. This made me stand in the steeple-door ; and now, thought I, I am safe enough ; for if the bell should then fall, I can slip out behind these thick walls, and so be preserved notwithstanding. So, after this, I would yet go to see them ring, but would not go any further than the steeple-door; but then it came into my head, how if the steeple itself should fall ? And this thought (it may be, lor aught I know, when I stood and looked on) did continually so shake my mind, that I durst not stand at the steeple-door any longer, but was forced to flee; for fear the steeple should fall upon my head. Another thing was my dancing. I was full a year before I could qnite leave that. But all this while, when I thought I kept this or that command, or did, by word or deed, any thing I thought was good, I had great peace in conscience, and v/ould think with myself, God cannot chose but be now pleased with me ; yea, to relate it in my own way, I thought no man in England could please God better than I. But, poor wretch as I was, I was all this while ignorant of Jesus Christ, and going about to establish my own righteousness, and had perished therein, had not God, in mercy, showed me more of my state by nature. But upon a day the good providence of God called me to Bedford, to work at my calling; and in one of the streets of that town, I came where there were three or four poor women sitting at a door, in the sun, talking about the things of God ; and being now willing to hear their discourse, I drew near to hear (456) Life of Banyan. mt what they said, for I was now a brisk talker of myself in the matters of religion; but I may say I heard, but understood not, for they were far above out of my reach. Their talk was about a new birth, the work of God in their hearts, as also of how they were convinced of their miserable state by nature ; tht;y talked how God had visited their souls with his love in the Lord Jesus Christ, and with what words and promises they had been refreshed, comforted and supported against the temptations of the devil ; moreover, they reasoned of the suggestions and temptatiorts of Satan in particular ; and told to each other by what means they had been afflicted, and how they were borne up under his assaults. They also discoursed of their own wretchedness of heart and of their un- belief, and did con- demn, slight and ab- hor their own right- eousness as filthy, \ and insufficient to do them any good. And methought they spake as if joy did make them speak ; they spake with such pleasantness of bunyan listening to the v^omen of Bedford, Scripture language, and with such an appearance of grace in all they said, that they were to me as if they had found a new world ; as if they were people that dwelt alone, and were- not to be reckoned among their neighbors (Numb. 33: 9). At this I felt my own heart began to shake, and mistrust my condition to be naught ; for I saw that in all my thoughts about religion and salvation, the new birth did never !i Ij 11 II „.*» 458 Li/e of Bunyan. f.nter my mind ; neither knew I the comfort of the word and promise, nor the deceitfulness and treachery of my own wicked heart. As for the secret thoughts, I took no notice of them ; neither did I understand what Satan's temptations were, nor how they were to be withstood and resisted, etc. Thus, therefore, when I had heard and considered what they said, I left them and went about my employment again, but their talk and discourse went with me; also my heart would tarry with them, for I was greatly affected with their words, both because by them I was convinced I wanted the true tokens of a godly man, and also because of them I was convinced of the happy and blessed condition of him that was such a one. Therefore I would often make it my business to be going again and again into the company of these good people ; for I could not stay away ; and the more I went among them the more I did question my condition ; and as I still do remember, presently I found two things within me, at which I did sometimes marvel (especially con- sidering what a blind, ignorant, sordid, and ungodly wretch but just before I was). The one was a very great softness and tenderness of heart, which caused me to fall under the conviction of what by Scripture they asserted ; and the other was a great bending in my mind, to a continual meditating on it, and on all other good things which at any time I heard or read of. By these things my mind was now so turned, that it lay like a horse-leech at the vein, still crying out. Give, give (Prov. 30: 15); which was so fixed on eternity, and on the things about the kingdom of heaven (that is, so far as I knew, though as yet, God knows, I knew but little), that neither pleasures, nor profits, nor persuasions, nor threats could loose it, or make it let go its hold ; and though I may speak it with shame, yet it is in very deed a certain truth, it would then have been as dif- ficult for me to have taken my mind from heaven to earth, as I have found it often since to get it again from earth to heaven. One thing I may not omit : there was a young man in our town to whom my heart was knit more than any other ; but, he being a most wicked creature for cursing and swearing and unclean- ness, I now shook him off and forsook his company ; but about a quarter of a year after I had left him, I met him in a certain lane, and asked him how he did. He, after his old swearing and mad way, answered he was well. " But Harry," said I, "why do you curse and swear thus? What will become of you if you die in this condition?" Life of Bunyan. 459 He answered me in great chafe, "What would the devil do for com- pany, if it were not for such as I am ?" About this time I met with some Ranters' books, that were put forth by some of our countrymen, which books were also highly in esteem by several old professors. Some of these I read, but was not able to make any judgment about them ; wherefore, as I read in them and thought upon them, seeing myself unable to judge, I would be- take myself to a hearty prayer in this manner : " O Lord, I am a fool, and not able to know the truth from error ! Lord, leave me not to my own blindness, either to approve of or condemn that doctrine ; if it be of God, let me not despise it; if it be of the devil, let me not embrace it ! Lord, I lay my soul in this matter only at thy foot ; let me not be deceived, I humbly beseech thee!" I had one religious companion all this while, and that was the poor man I spoke of before ; but about this time he also turned a most devilish Ranter, and gave himself up to all manner of filthiness, especially uncleanness ; he would also deny that there was a God, angel, or spirit, and would laugh at all exhortations to sobriety. When I labored to rebuke his wickedness, he would laugh the more, and pretend he had gone through all religions, and could never hit upon the right till now. He told me also that in litde time I should see all professors turn to the ways of the Ranters, Wherefore, abominating those cursed principles, I left his com- pany forthwith, and became to him as great a stranger as I had been before a familiar. Neither was this man only a temptation to me ; but my calling lying in the country, I happened to come into several people's company, who, though strict »r. religion formerly, yet were also drawn away by these Ranters. Hi <;e would also talk with me of their ways, and condemn me as legai and dark, pretending that they only had attained to perfection ; that they could do what they would, and not sin. Oh ! these temptations were suitable to my flesh, I being but a young man, and my nature in its prime ; but God, who had, as I hoped, designed me for better things, kept me in the fear of his name, and did not suffer me to accept such cursed principles. And, blessed be God, who put it into my heart to cry to him to be kept and directed, still distrusting my own wisdom ; for I have since seen even the effect of that prayer, in his preserving me, not only from Ranting errors, but from those also that have sprung up since. The Bible was precious to me in those days. Aiid now, methoughti I began to look into the Bible with new ■■■' 'w--^'^^^'^'^^ * ^1| 'j !V ^' f^ 1 1. ^kleS.*' "fl 'iB.S ^S^T Rn^^iil ST^^B^ \ I" it' ^^^\m fii ' 1 I 1 ^A.t i; 1 j^mI i^nd 460 Z^ 1?,^ Bunyan. I ii! ' 'i eyes, and read as I nevet did before, and especially the Episdes of the Apostle St. Paul were sweet and pleasant to me ; and, indeed, then I was never out of the Bible, either by reading or meditation ; still crying out to God, that I might know the truth and way to heaven and glory. And, as I went on and read, I hit upon that passage, " To one is given by the Spirit the word of wisdom ; to another the word of knowledge by the same Spirit; to another, faith" (i Cor. 12: 8, 9). And though, as I have since seen, that by this Scripture the Holy Ghost intends in special, things extraordinary, yet on me it did then fasten with conviction, that I did want things ordinary, even that understanding and wisdom that other Christians had. On this word I mused, and could not tell what to do, especially this word (Faith) put me to it; for I could not help it, but sometimes must question, whether I had any faith or no ; but I was loath to conclude I had no faith ; for if I do so, thought I, then I shall count myself a very castaway indeed. No, said 1, with myself, though I am con- vinced that I am an ignorant sot, and that I want those blessed gifts of knowledge and understanding that other people have ; yet, at a venture, I will conclude, I am not altogether faithless, though I know ^ not what faith is ; for it was shown me, and that too (as I have seen since) by Satan, that those who conclude themselves in a faithless state, have neither rest nor quiet in their souls ; and I was loath to fall quite into despair. Wherefore by this suggestion I was for a while made to see my want of faith; but God would not suffer me thus to undo and de- stroy my soul, but did continually against this my sad and blind con- clusion create still within me such suppositions, insomuch that I could not rest content until I did now come to some certain knowledge whether I had faith or no, this always running in iny mind. But how if you want faith indeed ? But how can you tell you have faith ? And,, besides, I saw for certain, if I had not, I was sure to perish for ever. So that though I endeavored at the first to look over the busi- ness of faith, yet in a little time, I better considering the matter, was willing to put myself upon a trial whether 1 had faith or no. But, alas ! poor wretch, so ignorant and brutish was I, that I know not to this day no more how to do it, than I know how to begin and accomplish that rare and curious piece of art which I never yet saw or considered. Wherefore, while I was thus considering, and being put to a plunge about it (for you must know, that as yet I had not in this Life of Bunyan. 461 matter broken my mind to any one, only did hear and consider), the tempter came in with this delusion, That there was no way for me to know I had faith but by trying to work some miracles ; urging those scriptures that seem to look that way, for the enforcing and strength- ening his temptation. Nay, one day, as I was between Elstow and Bedford, the temptation was hot upon me to try if I had faith by doing some miracle, which miracle at this time was this : I must say to the puddles that were in the horse-ponds. Be dry ; and to the dry places, Be ye puddles. And truly one time I was going to say so indeed ; but just as I was about to speak, this thought came into my mind. But go, under yonder hedge, and pray first, that God would make you able. But when I had concluded to pray, this came hot upon me, that if I prayed, and came again, and tried to do it, and yet did nothing notwithstanding, then to be sure I had no faith, but was a castaway, and lost ; nay, thought I, if it be so, I will not try yet, but will stay a little longer. So I continued at a great loss ; for I thought if they only had faith which could do so wonderful things, then I con- cluded, that for the present I neither had it, nor yet for the time to come was ever likely to have it. Thus I was tossed betwixt the devil and my own ignorance, and so perplexed, especially at some time, that I could not tell what to do. a CHAPTER IV. jBOUT this time, the state and happiness of these poor people at Bedford was thus, in a kind of a vision, pre- sented to me : I saw as if they were on the sunny side of some high mountain, there refreshing themselves with the pleasant beams of the sun, while I was shivering and shrinking in the cold, afflicted with frost, snow, and dark clouds. Methought, also, betwixt me and them I saw a wall that my soul did greatly desire to pass, concluding, that if I could, I would even go into the very midst of them, and therefore also comfort myself with the heat of their sun. About this wall I bethought myself to go again and again, still praying as I went, to see if I could find some way or passage by which I might enter therein ; but none could I find for some time. At the last I saw, as it were, a narrow gap, like a little doorway, in the wall, through which I attempted to pass. Now, the passage being very straight and narrow, I made many efforts to get in, but all in vain, even until I was well nigh quite beat out, by striving to get in ; at last, with great striving, methought I at first did get in my head, and after that, by a sideling striving, my shoulders, and my whole body ; then I was exceeding glad, and went and sat down in the midst of them, and so was comforted with the light and heat of their sun. Now, this mountain and wall, etc., were thus made out to me. The mountain signified the church of the living God ; the sun that shone thereon, the comfortable shining of His merciful face on them that were therein. The wall I thought was the world, and did make separation between the Christians and the world ; and the gap which was in the wall, I thought was Jesus Christ, who is the way to God the Father (John 14: 6; Matt. 7: 14). Bui, forasmuch as the passage was wonderful narrow, even so narrow that I could not but with great difficulty enter in thereat, it showed me that none could enter into life but those that were in downright earnest, and unless also they left that wicked world behind them, for there was room for body and soul, but not for body, and soul, and This resemblance abode upon my spirit many days ; all which I saw myself in a forlorn and sad condition, but yet was only sin. time provoked to a vehement hunger and (462) desire to be one of that Life of Bunyan, 463 number that did sit in the sunshine. Now also would I pray wherever I was, whether at home or abroad, in house or field ; and would also often, with lifting up of heart, sing that of the fifiy-first Psalm, " O- Lord, consider my distress ; " for as yet I knew not where I was. Neither as yet could I attain to any comfortable persuasion that I had faith in Christ ; but instead of having satisfaction here, I began to find my soul to be assaulted with fresh doubts about my future happiness ; especially with such as these, whether I \Yas elected ? But how if the day of grace should be past and gone } By these two temptations, I was very much afflicted and disquited; sometimes by one, and sometimes by the other of them. And first, to speak of that about my questioning my election, I found at this time, that though I was in a flame to find the way to heaven and glory, and though nothing could beat me off from this, yet this ques- tion did so offend and discourage me, that I was, especially some- times, as if the very strength of my body also had been taken away^ by the force and power thereof. This scripture did also seem to me to trample upon all my desires : " It is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth ; but, of God that showeth mercy" (Rom. 9: 16). With this scripture I could not tell what to do ; for I evidently saw, unless that the great God, of his infinite grace and bounty, had voluntarily chosen me to be a vessel of mercy, though I should desire, and long, and labor until my heart did break, no good could come of it. Therefore this would stick with me : How can you tell you are elected ? And what if you should not? How then? O Lord, thought I, what if I should not indeed? It may be that you are not, said the tempter. It may be so indeed, thought I. Why then, said Satan, you had as good leave off, and strive no further; for if, indeed, you should not be elected and chosen of God, there is no hope of your being saved: "It is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth ; but of God that showeth mercy." By these things I was driven to my wits' end, not knowing what to say, or how to answer these temptations. Indeed, I little thought that Satan had thus assaulted me, but that rather it was my own prudence thus to .' t the question ; for that the elect only obtained eternal life, that I without scruple did heartily close withal; but that myself was one of them, there lay the question. Thus, therefore, for several days I was greatly assaulted and perplexed, and was often, when I had been walking, ready to sink N Li,, •' a 1 ■ • ( ■(0 li: nI;. I tit' > ^tioi. .jiinfl ■ I t^-r* ■vs': I 464 Zji^ of Bunyan. where I went, with faintness in my mind; but one day, after I had been so many weeks oppressed and cast down therewith, as I was now quite giving up the ghost of all my hopes of ever attaining life, that sentence fell with weight upon my spirit : Look at the genera- tions of old, and see ; did ever any trust in God and were con- founded? At which I was greatly enlightened and encouraged in my soul ; for thus, at that very instant, it was expounded to me : Begin at the beginning of Genesis, and read to the end of Revela- tion, and see if you can find that there was ever any that trusted in the Lord and was confounded. At which I was greatly enlight- ened, and encouraged in my soul ; for thus, at that very instant, it was expounded to me : Begin at the beginning of Genesis, and read to the end of Revelation, and see if you can find that there was ever any that trusted in the Lord, and Was confounded. So, coming home, I presently went to my Bible, to see if I could find that saying, not doubting but to find it presently ; for it was so fresh, and with such strength and comfort on my spirit, that it was as if it talked with me. Well, I looked, but found it not ; only it abode upon me. Then did I ask first this good man, and then another, if they knew where it was, but they knew no such place. At this I wondered, th .t such a sentence should so suddenly, and with such comfort and strength, seize and abide upon my heart, and yet that none could find it (for I doubted not but that it was in the Holy Scriptures). Thus I continued above a year, and could not find the place ; but at last, casting my eye upon the Apocryphal books, I found it in Ecclesiasticus (2 : 16). This, at the first, did somewhat daunt me ; but because by this time I had got more experience of the love and kindness of God, it troubled me the less, especially when I con- sidered that though it was not in those texts that we call holy and canonical ; yet, forasmuch as this sentence was the sum and sub- stance of many of the promises, it was my duty to take the com- fort of it ; and I bless God for that word, for it was of good to me ; ihat word doth still ofttimes shine before my face. After this, that other doubt did come with strength upon me : But how if the day of grace should be past and gone ? How if you have overstood the time of mercy ? Now I remember that one day, as I was walking in the country, I was much in the thoughts of! this: But how if the day of grace is past! And, to aggravate my trouble, the tempter presented to my mind the good people of Bed- ford, and suggested thus unto me : that these, being converted li < fy after I had ath, as I was attaining life, t the genera- d were con- icouraged in nded to me : id of Revela- that trusted eatiy enUght- sry instant, it ;sis, and read lere was ever ;oming home, ,t saying, not ind with such Iked with me. 1 me. Then ' knew where -ed, th .t such and strength, I find it (for I id the place ; ks, I found it at daunt me ; of the love when I con- all holy and im and sub- the com- Tood to me ; h upon me : How if you )er that one thoughts of| gravate my ople of Bed- g converted Life of Bunyan. 465 already, they were all that God would save in those parts ; and that 1 came too late, for these had got the blessing before I came. Now was I in great distress, thinking in very deed that this might well be so ; wherefore I went up and down, bemoaning my sad condition ; counting myself far worse off than a thousand fools, for standing off thus long, and spending so many years in sin as I had done ; still crying out, Oh! that I had turned sooner! Oh! that I had turned seven years ago ! It made .me also angry with myself, to think that I should have no more wit, but to triHe away my time, till my soul and heaven were lost. But when I had been long vexed with this fear, and was scarce able to take one step more, just about the same place where I received my other encouragement, these words broke in upon my mind, " Compel them to come in, that my house may be filled; and yet there is room" (Luke 14: 22, 23). These words, but especially those, "and yet there is room," were sweet words to me; for truly I thought that by them I saw there was place enough in heaven for me ; and, moreover, that when the Lord Jesus did speak these words, he then did think of me ; and that he then, knowinr that the time would corne that I should be afflicted with fear, that there was no place left for me in his bosom, did before speak this word, and leave it upon record, that I might find help thereby against this vile temptation. This I then v .ily believed. In the light and encour- agement of this word I went a pretty while ; and the comfort was the more, when I thought that the Lord Jesus should think on me so long ago, and that he should speak those words on purpose for my sake ; for I did think verily, that he did on purpose speak them to encourage me withal. But I was not without my temptations to go back again ; temp- tations, I say, both from Satan, mine own heart, and carnal acquaint- ance ; but, I thank God, these were outweighed by that sound sense of death, and of the day of judgment, which abode, as it were, con- tinually in my view; I would often also think on Nebuchadnezzar, of whom it was said, he had given him all the kingdoms of the earth (Dan. 5: 18, 19). Yet, thought I, if this great man had all his por- tion in this world, one hour in hell-fire would make him forget all ; which consideration was a great help to me. I was almost made, about this time, to see something concerning the beasts that Moses counted clean and unclean. I thought those beasts were types of men ; the clean, types of them that were people of God ; but the 80 I * > ■ 466 Lt/e of Bunyan. unclean, types of such as were the children of the wicked one.. Now I read that the clean beast chewed the cud ; that is, thought I, they show us we must feed upon the word of Qod ; they also parted the hoof; I thought that signified we must part, if we would be saved, with the ways of ungodly men. And also, in further reading about them, found, that though we did chew the cud, as the hare, yet if we walked with claws like a dog ; or, if we did part the hoof, like the swine, yet if we did not chew the cud, as the sheep, we are still, for all that, but unclean ; for I thought the hare to be a type of those that talk of the word, yet walk in the ways of sin ; and that the swine was like him that parted wjth his outward pollution, but still wanted the word of faith, without which there would be no way of salvation, let a man be ever so devout (Deut. 14). After this I found, by reading the word, that those that must be glorified with Christ in another world, must be called by him here ; called to the partaking of a share in his word and righteousness, and to the comforts and first-fruits of his Spirit ; and to a peculiar interest in all those heavenly things which do indeed prepare the soul for that rest and house of glory which is in heaven above. Het-e again I was at a very great stand, not knowing what to do, fearing I was not called; for, thought I, if I be not called, what then can do me good ? None but those who are effectually called, in- herit the kingdom of heaven. But oh ! how I now loved those words that spake of a Christian's calling ! as when the Lord said to one. Follow me ; and to another. Come after me ; and oh ! thought I, that he would say so to me too ; how gladlv wouldi I run after him ! I cannot now express with what longings and breathings in my soul I cried to Christ to call me. Thus I continued for a time, all on a flame to be converted to Jesus Christ; and did also see at that day such glory in a converted state that I could not be contented without a share therein. Gold, could it have been gotten for gold, what would I have given for it ! Had I a whole world, it had all gone ten thousand times over for this, that my soul might have been in a converted state. How lovely now was every one in my eyes that I thought to be converted men and women ! They shone, they walked like a people that carried the broad seal of heaven about them. Oh ! I saw the lot was fallen to them in pleasant places, and they had a goodly heritage (Psalm 16 : 6). But that which made me sick, was that of Christ in St. Mark; "He went up into a mountain, and called to him whom he would, and Life of Bunyan. 467 they came unto him" (Mark 3 : 13). This scripture made me faint and fear, yet it kindled fire in my soul. That which made me fear was this, lest Christ should have no liking to me, for he called whom he would. But oh ! the glory that I saw in that condition did still so en- gage my heart, that I could seldom read of any that Christ did call, but I presently wished, would I had been in their clothes ! would I had been born Peter ! would I had been born John ! or, would I had been by and heard him when he called them, how would I have cried, O Lord, call me also ! But, oh ! I feared he would not call me. And truly the Lord let me go thus many months together, and showed me nothing; either that I was already, or should be called hereafter; but at last, after much time spent and many groans to God, that I might be made partaker of the holy and heavenly calling, that word came in upon me : " I will cleanse their blood that I have not cleansed, for the Lord dwelleth in' Zion " (Joel 3: 21). These words I thought were sent to encourage me to wait still upon God ; and signified unto me, that if I were not already, yet the time might come, I might be in truth converted unto Christ. About this time I began to break my mind to those poor people in Bedford and to tell them my condition ; which, when they had heard, they told Mr. Gifford of me, who himself also took occasion to talk with me, and was willing to be well persuaded of me, though, I think , from little grounds. But he invited me to his house, where I should hear him confer with others about the dealings of God with their souls ; from all which I still received more conviction, and from that time began to see something of the vanity and inward wretched- ness of my wicked heart ; for as yet I knew no great matter therein ; but now it began to be discovered unto me, and also t work at that rate as it never did before. Now I evidently found that lust and cor- rtiptions put forth themselves within me, in wicked thoughts and de- sires, which I did not regard before. My desires also for heaven and life began to fail. I found also, that whereas before my soul was full of longing after God, now it began to hanker after every foolish vanity ; yea, my heart woul4 not be moved to mind that which was good ; it began to be careless both of my soul and heaven ; it would now continually hang back, both co and in every duty ; and was as a clog upon the leg of a bird, to hinder him from flying. Nay, thought I, now I grow worse and woic^e ; now I am further from conversion than ever I was before ; wherefore I began to sink gready in my soul, and began to entertain such discouragement in my i . 468 Life of Bunyan. iillil ■mil heart as laid me as low as hell. If now I should have I .rned at the stake, I could not believe that Christ had a love for me. Alas ! I could neither hear him, nor see him, nor fe^l him, nor savor any of his things. I was driven as with a tempest; my heart would be unclean, and the Canaanites would dwell in the land. Sometimes I would tell my condition to the people of God ; which, when they heard, they would pity me and would tell me of the promises ; but they had as good have told me, that I must reach the sun with my finger, as have bidden me receive or rely upon the promises ; and as soon I should have done it. All my sense and feeling were against me ; and I saw I had a heart that would sin and that lay under a law that would condemn. These things have often made me think of the child which the father brought to Christ, who, while he was yet a coming to him, was thrown down by the devil, and also so rent and torn by him that he lay and wallowed foaming (Luke 9 : 42 ; Mark 9 : 20). Further, in these days, I would find my heart to shut itself up against the Lord and against his holy word ; I have found my unbe- lief to set, as it were, the shoulder to the door to keep him out ; and that too even then when I have, with many a bitter sigh.'cried, Good Lord, break it open ; Lord, break these gates of brass, and cut these bars of iron asunder (Psalm 107 : 16). Yet that word would sometime create in my heart apeaceble pause, "I girded thee, though thou hast not known me" (Isa. 14: 5). But all this while, as to the acts of my sinning, I was never more tender than now ; my hinder parts were inward ; I durst not take a pin or stick, though but so big as a straw ; for my conscience now was sore, and would smart at every touch. I could not tell how to speak my words, for fear I should mis- place them. Oh, how cautiously did I then go, in all I dic^ or said ! I found myself as in a miry bog that shook if I did but stir, and was as there left both of God and Christ, and the Spirit, and all good things. But, I observed, though 1 was such a great sinner before con- version, God never much charged the guilt of the sins of my ignor- ance upon me ; only he showed me I was lost if I had not Christ, because I had been a sinner ; I saw that I wanted a perfect righteous- ness to present me without fault before God, and this righteousness was no'vhere to be found but in the person of Jesus Christ. But my original and inward pollution ; that, that was my plague and affliction ; that I saw at a dreadful rate always putting forth itself within me ; that I had the guilt of to amazement ; by reason of that I was more ! 1 Life of Bunyan. 469 I .rned at the Alas! I could ^or any of his lid be unclean, :times I would ley heard, they t they had as my finger, as and as soon I e against me ; ider a law that ink of the child 5 yet a coming It and torn by lark 9 : 20). shut itself up und my unbe- him out ; and er sigh,'cried, " brass, and cut at word would A thee, though /hile, as to the w; my hinder fh but so big as smart at every r I should mis- I dic^ or said ! but stir, and t, and all good ;r before con- of my ignor- ad not Christ, feet righteous- righteousness irist. But my and affliction ; elf within me ; at I was more loathsome in mine own eyes than a toad, and I thought I was so in God's eyes too; sin and corruption, I said, would as naturally bubble out of my heart as water would bubble out of a fountain. I thought now, that every one had a better heart than I had ; I could have changed heart with any body ; I thought none but the devil himself could equal me for inward wickedness and pollution of mind. 1 fell, therefore, at the sight of my own vileness deeply into despair ; for I concluded that this condition that I was in could not stand with a state of grace. Sure, thought I, I am forsaken of God ; sure I am given up to the devil and to a reprobate mind. And thus I continued for a long while, even for some years together. While I was thus afflicted with the fears of my own damnation, there were two things would make me wonder; the one was, when I saw old people hunting after the things of this life, as if they should live here always. The other was, when I found professors much distressed and cast down when they met with outward losses, as of husband, wife, child, etc. Lord, thought I, what ado is here ,about such little, things as these ! What seeking after carnal things by some, and what grief in others for the loss of them ! If they so much labor after, and shed so many tears for, the things of this present life, how am I to be bemoaned, and pitied and prayed for ; my soul is dying, my soul is damning. Were my soul but in a good condition, and were I but sure of it, ah ! how rich should I esteem myself, though blessed but with bread and water ! I should count those but small afflictions, and should bear them as little burdens. A wounded spirit who can bear ? And though I was much troubled and tossed and afflicted with the sight and sense of my own wickedness, yet I was afraid to let this sight and sense go quite off my mind. For I found, that unless guilt of conscience was taken off the right way, that is, by the blood of Christ, a man grew rather worse for the loss of his trouble of mind than before. Wherefore, if my guilt lay hard upon me, then should I cry that the blood of Christ might take it off; and if it was going off without it (for the sense of sin would be sometimes as if it would die and go quite away), then I would also strive to fetch it upon my heart again, by bringing the punishmeut of hell-fire upon my spirits ; and would cry, Lord, let it not go off my heart but the right way, by the blood of Christ and the application of thy mercy, through him, to my soul ; for that scripture did lay much upon me, "without shedding of blood there is no remission" (Heb. 9:22) And that which made me the i ll|^;'.h^#J r t a ^ 470 Life of Bunyan. more afraid of this was, because I had seen some who, though, when they were under the wounds of conscience, would cry and pray ; yet feeling rather present ease for their trouble than pardon for their sins, cared not how they lost their guilt, so they got it out of their minds. Now, having it got off the wrong way, it is not sanctified unto them ; but they grew harder and blinder and more wicked after their trou- ble. This made me afraid, and made me cry to God the more, that it might not be so with me. And now I am sorry that God had made me man, for I feared I was a reprobate; I counted man, as unconver- ted, the most doleful of all creatures. Thus being afflicted and tossed about my sad condition, I counted myself alone, and, above the most of men, unblessed. Yea, I thought it impossible that ever I should attain to much godliness of heart as to thank God that he had made me a man. Man, indeed, is the most noble by creation of all creat- ures in the visible world ; but by sin he had made himself the most ignoble. The beasts, birds, fishes, etc., I have blessed their condition ; for they had not a sinful nature ; they were not obnoxious to the wrath of God ; they were not to go to hell-fire after death ; I could therefore have rejoiced, had my condition been as any of theirs. l: It In^^f ' CHAPTER V. N this condition I went a great while ; but when the com- forting time was come, I heard one preach a sermon on these words in the song : ' ' Behold, thou art fair, my love ; behold, thou art fair" (Song 4:1). But at that time he made these two words, "My Love," his chief subject- matter, from which, after he had a litde opened the text, he observed these several conclusions: (i) That the Church, and so every saved soul, is Christ's love, when loveless. (2) Christ's love without a cause. (3) Christ's love, which hath been hated of the world. (4) Christ's love when under temptation and under destruction. (5) Christ's love from first to last. But I got nothing by what he said at present ; only when he came to the application of the fourth particular, this was the word he said : " If it be so that the saved soul is Christ's love when under temptation and destruction, then, poor tempted soul, when thou art assaulted, and afflicted with temptations, and the hidings of face, yet think on these two words, ' My love,' still." So, as I was coming home, these words came again into my thoughts ; and I well remember, as they came in, I said thus in my heart, What shall I get by thinking on these two words? This thought no sooner passed through my heart but these words began thus to kindle in my spirit, "Thou art my love, thou art my love," twenty times together ; and still as they ran in my mind they waxed stronger and warmer, and began to make me look up ; but being as yet between hope and fear, I still replied in my heart, But is it true? but is it true? At which that sentence fell upon me, " He wist not that it was true which was done unto him of the angel " (Acts 12: 9). Then I began to give place to the word which, with power, did over and over make this joyful sound within my soul : " Thou art my love, thou art my love," and nothing shall separate thee from my love. And with that my heart was filled full of comfort and hope, and now I could believe that my sins would be forgiven me ; yea, I was now so taken with the love and mercy of God, that I remember that I could not tell how to contain till I got home. I thought I could have spoken of his love, and have told of his mercy to me, even to the very crows that sat upon the ploughed lands before me, had they been (471) m^ '1' 472 Lt/e of Bunyan. capable to have understood me ; wherefore I said in my soul witlr much gladness, Well, would I had a pen and ink here, I would write this down before I go any further; for surely I shall not forget this forty years hence ; but, alas ! within less than forty days I began to question all again, which made me begin to question all still. Yet, still, at times, I was helped to believe that it was a true mani- festation of grace unto my soul, though I had lost much of the life and savor of it. Now, about a week or a fortnight after this, I was much followed by the Scripture, "Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath desired to have you " (Luke 22 : 31); and sometimes it would sound so loud within me, yea, and as it were, called so strongly after me, that once, above all the rest, I turned my head over my shoulder, thinking verily that some man had, behind me, called me ; being at a great distance, methought he called so loud ; it came, as I have thought since, to have stirred me up to prayer and watchfulness. It came to acquaint me that a cloud and a storm were coming down upon me, but I understood it not. Also, as I remember, that time that it called to me aloud was the last time it sounded in mine ears ; but methinks I hear still with what a loud voice these words, Simon, Simon, sounded in mine ears. I thought verily, as I have told you, that somebody had called after me, that was half a mile behind me; and, although that was not my name, yet it made me suddenly look behind me, believing that he that called so loud meant me. But so foolish was I, and so ignorant, that I knew not the reason of this sound (which, as! did both see and feel soon after, was sent from heaven as an alarm to waken me to provide for what was coming); only I would muse and wonder in my mind, to think what should be the reason of this Scripture, and that at this rate so often and so loud it should still be sounding and rattling in mine ears ; but, as I said before, I soon after perceived the end of God therein. For, about the space of a month after, a very great storm came down upon me, which handled me twenty times worse than all I had met with before; it came stealing upon me, now by one piece and then by another. First, all my comfort was taken from me ; then darkness seized upon me; after which, whole floods of blasphemies, both against God,. Christ and the Scriptures, were poured upon my spirit, to my great confusion and astonishment. These blasphemous thoughts were such as stirred up questions in me against the very being of God, and of his only-beloved Son; as, whether there were in truth a God or Christ ; and whether the Holy Scriptures were not rather a fable and cunning story, than the holy and pure word of God. Life of Bunyan. 47.*?. The tempter would also much assault me with this : How can you tell but that the Turks had as good Scriptures tc prove their Mahomet the Saviour as we have to prove our Jesus? and could 1 think that so many ten thousands, in so many countries and king- doms, should be without the knowledge of the right way to heaven, (if there were indeed a heaven) ; and that we only, who live in a corner of the earth, should rightest, both Jews and Moors and Pagans ; and how, if all our faith, alone be blessed therewith? Every one doth think his own religion and Christ, and Scriptures, should be but a think so, too? Sometimes I have endeavored to argue against these sug- gestions, and to set some of the sentences of bless(;d Paul against them ; but, alas ! I quickly felt, when I thus did, such arguings as these would return again upon me: Though we made so great a matter of Paul and of his words, yet how could I tell, but that, in very deed, he being a subde and cunning man, might give himself up to deceive with strong delusions, and also take the pains and travail to undo and destroy his fellows ? These suggestions, with many others (which at this time I may not and dare not utter, neither by word nor pen), did make such a seizure upon my spirits, and did so overweigh my heart, both with their number, continuance, and fiery force, that I felt as if there were nothing else but these from morning to night within me ; and as though, indeed, there could be room for nothing else ; and also concluded that God had in very wrath to my soul given me up to them, to be carried away with them < as with a mighty whirlwind. Only, by the distaste that they gave unto my spirit, I felt there was something in me that refused to em- brace them. But this consideration I then only had, when God gave me leave to swallow my spiitle; otherwise the noise and strength and force of these temptations would drown and overflow, and, as it were, bury all such thoughts, or the remembrance of any such thing. While I was in this temptation I often found my mind suddenly put upon to curse and swear, or to speak some grievous things against God, or Christ, his Son, and of the Scriptures. Now, I thought, surely I am possessed of the devil ; at other times, again, I thought I should be bereft of my wits ; for, instead of lauding and magnifying God the Lord, with others, if I have but heard him spoken of, presently some most horrible blasphemous thought or other would bolt out of my heart against him ; so that whether I did think that God was, or again did think there was no such thing,. 'i I'" i'i \ ^'' 'tr i ■• I.H itJl ? ''i ' ( •'■^. It li^ X l!i 1 t I \! i . f I i 474 Zj^ ^ Bunyan. no love, nor peace, nor gracious disposition could I feel within me. These things did sink me into-very deep despair; for I concluded that such things could not possibly be found among them that loved God. I often, when these temptations had been with force upon me, did compare myself to the case of such a child, whom some gipsy hath by force took up in her arms, and is carrying from friend and country. Kick sometimes I did, and also shriek and cry ; but yet I was bound in the wings of the temptation, and the wind would carry me away. I thought also of Saul, and of the evil spirit that did pos- sess him, and did greatly fear that my condition was the same with that of his. In these days, when I have heard others talk of what was the sin against the Holy Ghost, then would the tempter so provoke me to desire to sin that sin, that I was as if I could not, must not, neither should be quiet until I had committed it ; now no sin would serve but that. If it were to be committed by speaking of such a word, then I have been as if my mouth would have spoken that word, whether I would or no ; and, in so strong a measure was this temptation upon me, that often I have been ready to clap my hands under my chin, to hold my mouth from opening ; and to that end also I have had thoughts at other times to leap with my head downward into some muck-hill, hole, or other, to keep my mouth from speaking. Now, again, I beheld the condition of the dog and toad, and counted the estate of every thing that God had made far better than this dreadful state of mine, and such as my companions' was. Yea. gladly would I have been in the condition of a dog or horse; for I knew they had no souls to perish under the everlasting weight of hell, or sin, as mine was like to do. Nay, and though I saw this, felt this, and was broken to pieces with it, yet that which added to my sorrow was, that I could not find that, with all my soul, I did desire deliverance. That Scripture did also tear and rend my soul in the midst of these distractions : " The wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest^ whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked" (Isa. 57 : 20, 21). And now my heart was, at times, exceeding hard ; if I would have given a thousand pounds for a tear, I could not have shed one ; no, norj sometimes scarce desire to shed one. I was much dejected to think that this should be my lot. I saw some could mourn and lament their sin ; and others, again, could rejoice and bless God for Christ ; and others, again, could quiedy talk of, and with gladness remember, eel within me. ►r I concluded lem that loved Dree upon me, im some gipsy om friend and cry ; but yet I d would carry t that did pos- the same with ' what was the provoke me ist not, neither ould serve but 1 a word, then word, whether mptation upon inder my chin, Iso I have had ard into some aking. Now, id counted the this dreadful . dog or horse ; lasting weight igh I saw this, lich added to ny soul, I did rend mv soul e the troubled 1 dirt. There o, 2i). And Id have given one ; no, nor| ected to think n and lament 3d for Christ ; iss remember, Life of Bunyan, 475 the Word of God, while I only was in the storm or tempest. This much sunk me. I thought my condition was alone ; I should, there- fore, much bewail my hard hap ; but get out of, or 'gi d of these things, I could not. While this temptation lasted, whu was about a year, I could attend upon none of the ordinances of God, but with sore and great afifliction ; yea, then I was most distressed with blas- phemies; if I had been hearing the Word, then uncleannesr, blas- phemies, and despair, would hold me a captive there ; if I had been reading, then, sometimes, I had sudden thoughts to question all I read ; sometimes, again, my mind would be so strangely snatched away, and possessed with other things, that I have neither known, nor remembered so much *as the sentence that but now I have read. In prayer, also, I have been greatly troubled at this time ; some- times I have thought I have felt Satan behind me pull my clothes ; he would be also continually at me in time of prayer, to have done, break off; make haste, you have prayed enough, and stay no longer ; still drawing my mind away. Sometimes, also", he would cast in such wicked thoughts as these : that I must pray to him, or for him. I have thought sometimes of that "Fall down," or, "If thou wilt fall down and worship me" (Matt. 4: 9). Also, when, because I have had wandering thoughts in the time of this duty, I have labored to compose my mind and fix it upon God ; then, with great force, hath the tempter labored to distract me and confound me, and to turn away my mind, by presenting to my heart and f?..cy the form of a bush, a bull, a besom, or the like, as if l should pray to these ; to these he would also (at some times especially) so hold my mind, that I was as if I could think of nothing else, or pray to nothing else but to these, or such as they. Yet, at times, I should have some strong and heart-affecting apprehensions of God and the reality of the truth of his Gospel ; but, oh ! how would my heart — how would my heart, at such times, put forth itself with inexpressible groanings. My whole soul was then in every word; I should cry with pangs after God, that he would be merciful unto me ; but then I should be daunted again with such conceits as these, I should think that God did mock at these my prayers, saying, and that in the audience of the holy angels: This poor simple wretch doth hanker after me, as if I had nothing to do with mercy but to bestow it on such as him. Alas, poor soul ! how art thou deceived ! It is not for such as thee to have favor with the Highest. iiiijii m^ ■ 476 Life of Bunyan. -M Then hath the tempter come upon me, also, with such discoui- agements as these : You are very hot for mercy, but I will cool you , this frame shall not last always ; many have been as hot as you for a sprie, but I have quenched their zeal (and with this, such and such who were fallen off, would be set before mine eyes). Then I would be afraid that I should do so too ; but, thought I, I am glad this comes into my mind; well, I will watch, and take what care I can. Though you do (said Satan), I should be too hard for you ; I will cool you insensibly, by degrees, by little and little. What care I (saith he) though I be seven years in chilling thy heart, if I can do it at last? Continually rocking will lull a crying child asleep ; I will ply it close, but I will have my end accomplished. Though you be burning hot at present, I can pull you from this fire ; I shall have you cold before it be long. These things brought me into great straits, for, as I, at present, could not find myself fit for present death, so I thought to live long would make me yet more unfit ; for time would make me forget all, and wear even the remembrance of the evil of sin, the worth of heaven, and the need I had of the blood of Christ to wash me, both out of my mind and thought ; but I thank Christ Jesus these things did not, at present, make me slack my crying, but rather did put me more upon it like her who met with the adulterer (Deut. 22 : 27), in which days that was a good word to me, after I had suffered these things a while ; I am per- suaded that neither height, nor depth, nor life, etc., shall separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8 : 39). And now I hoped long life would not destroy me, nor make me miss of heaven. Yet I had some supports in this temptation, though they were then all questioned by me ; that in Jer. 3, at the first, was something to me ; and so was the consideration of verse five of that chapter ; that though we have spoken and done as evil things as we could, yet we shall cry unto God, "My Father, thou art the guide of my youth," and shall return unto him. I had also once a sweet glance from that in 2 Cor. 5:21, "For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteous- ness of God in him." I remember, that one day, as I was sitting in a neighbor's house, and there very sad at the consideration of many blasphemies; and as I was saying in my mind, What ground have I to say that I, who have been so vile and abominable, should ever inherit eternal life? that word came suddenly upon me, "What shall we say to these things ? If God be for us, who can be against us ? " th such discoui- I will cool yon , LS hot as you for s, such and such Then I would , I am glad diis what care I can. I for you ; I will i. What care I eart, if I can do Id asleep ; I will Though you be re ; I shall have It me into great fit for present more unfit ; for e remembrance ied I had of the id thought ; but , make me slack e her who met lat was a good lile ; I am per- hall separate us «: 39). e, nor make me riptation, though . 3, at the first, of verse five of e as evil things er, thou art the had also once a made him to be the righteous- I was sitting in oration of many ground have I »le, should ever le, "What shall >e against us ? " Life of Bunyan. ^11 (Rom. 8 : 13.) That also was a help to me, " Because I live, you shall live also " (John 14: 19). But these words were but hints, touches, and short visits, though very sweet when present; only they lasted not, but, like to Peter's sheet, of a sudden were caught up from me to heaven again (Acts 10 : 16). But afterwards the Lord did more fully and graciously discover himself unto me, and, indeed, did quite, not only deliver me from the guilt that by these things was laid upon my conscience, but also from the very filth thereof; for the temptation was removed, and I was put into my right mind again, as other Christians were. I remember that one day, as I was travelling into the country, and musing on the wick^ Iness and blasphemy of my heart, and consider- ing the enmity tha was in me to God, that Scripture came into my mind, He hath "made peace by the blood of his cross" (Col. i: 20). By which I was made to see, both again and again, that God and my soul were friends by his blood ; yea, I saw that the justice of God and my soul could embrace and kiss each other, through his blood. This was a good day to me ; I hope I shall never forget it. At another time, as I sat by my fire in my house, and musing on my wretchedness, the Lord made that also a precious word unto me, " Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same, that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is. the devil ; and deliver them who through the fear of death were all their life- time subject to bondage" (Heb. 2: 14, 15). I thought that the glory of these words was then so weighty on me, that I was both once and twice ready to swoon as I sat ; yet not with grief and trouble, but with solid joy and peace. mm 'Ala CHAPTER VI. it s F ii ;^l T this time also I sat under the ministry of holy Mr. Gif- ford, whose doctrine, by God's grace, was much for my stability. This man made it much his business to deliver the people of God from all those hard and un- sound tests that by nature we are prone to. He would bid us take special heed that we took not up any truth upon trust, as from this or that, or ony other man or men ; but cry mightily to God, that he would convince us of the reality thereof, and set us down therein, by his own Spirit in the holy word ; For, said he, if you do otherwise, when temptation comes, if strongly upon you, you not having received them with evidence from heaven, will find you want that help and strength now to resist, that once you thought you had. This was as seasonable to my soul as the former and latter rains in their season ; for I had found, and that by sad experience, the truth of these his words (for I had felt no man can say, especially when tempted by the devil, that Jesus Christ is Lord, but by the Holy Ghost). Wherefore I found my soul, through grace, very apt to drink in this doctrine, and to incline to pray to God that, in noth- ing that pertai-^ed to God's glory and my own eternal happiness, he would suffer me to be without the confirmation thereof from heaven ; for no\v I saw clearly, that there was an exceeding difference betwixt the notion of the flesh and blood, and the revelation of God in heaven ; also a great difference betwixt that faith that- n feigned, and according to man's wisdom, and of that which comes by a man's being born thereto of God (Matt. 16:17; i John 5 : i). But, oh ! how was my soul led from truth to truth by God ! Even from the birth and cradle of the Son of God, to liis ascension and second coming from heaven to judge the world. Truly I then found, upon this account, die great God was very good unto me ; for to my remembrance, there was not anything that I then cried unto God to make known and reveal unto me, but he was pleased to do it for me ; I mean not one part of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus, but I was orderly let into it ; methought I saw with great evidence, from the four Evangelists, the wonderful works of God, in (478) _ ;^i..#*- ). holy Mr. Gif- much for my 5 business to hard and un- He would th upon trust, ry mightily to 3f, and set us or, said he. if jpon you, you will find you you thought id latter rains tperience, the ay, especially d, but by the -ace, very apt that, in noth- happiness, he from heaven ; *ence betwixt 1 of God in i feigned, and by a man's ). But, oh! ven from the and second rod was very nything that -, but he was ospel of the w with great s of God, in Life of Bunyan, 479' giving Jesus Christ to save us, from his conception and birth, even to his second coming to judgment ; meth >ught I was as if I had seen him born, as if I had seen him grow up ; as if I had seen him walk through this world, from the cradle to the cross ; to which also, when he came, I saw how gently he gave himself to be crucifi^:', and nailed on it for my sins and wicked doings. Also, as I was musing on this his progress, that dropped on my spirit, He was ordained for the slaughter (i Pft. i: 20). When I have considered, also, the truth of his resur' cdon, and have remembered that word. "Touch me not, Mary," etc., I have seen as if he had leaped out of the grave's mouth for joy that he was risen again, and had got the con- quest over our dreadful foes (John 20: 17). I have also, in the spirit, seen him a man, on the right hand of God the Father for me; and have seen the manner of his coming from heaven to judge the world with glory, and have been confirmed in these things by these Scriptures : Acts 1:9; 7 : 56 ; 10: 42 ; Heb. 7 : 24 ; Rev. i : 18 ; i Thess. 4: 17, 18. Once I was troubled to know whether the Lord Jesus was man as well as God, and God as well as man ; and truly in those days, let men say what they would, unless I had it with evidence fiom heaven, all was nothing to me ; I counted myself not set down as to truth of God. Well, I was much troubled about this point, and could not tell how to be resolved ; at last, that in Rev. 5: 6, came into my mind: " And I beheld, and lo ! in the midst of the throne, and of the four beasts, and in the midst of the elders, stood a lamb." In the midst of the throne, thought I, there is the Godhead ; in the midst of the elders, there is his manhood ; but, oh ! methought i^iis did glister ! It was a goodly touch, and gave me sweet satisfaction. That other Scripture, also, did help me much in this : " To us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government shall be upon his shoulders, and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Might> God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace, " etc. (Isa 9:6). Also, be- sides these teachings of God in his Word, the Lord made use of two things to confirm me in this truth ; the one was the errors of the Quakers, and the other was the guilt of sin ; for as the Quakers did oppose the truth, so God did the more confirm me in it by leading me into die Scripture that d'd wonderfully maintain it. The errors that this people then maintained were: (i) That the Holy Scriptures were not the work of God. (2) Thax every man in the world had the spirit of Christ, grace, faith, otc. # lit, hi ■m HHMHtt ,M> ^& ^ . K,|:-^ ||^ n^ Bj %. 480 Z^ ^ Bunyan. (3) That Christ J^us, as crucified and dying sixteen hundred years ago, did not satisfy divine justice for the sins of the people. (4) That Christ's flesh and blood were within the saints. (5) That the bodies of the good and bad that are buried in the churchyard shall not rise again. (6) That the resurrection is passed with good men already. (7) That that man Jesus, that was crucified between the two thieves, on Mount Calvary, in the land of Canaan, by Judea, was not ascended above the starry heaven. (8) That he should not, even the same Jesus that died by the hands of the Jews, come again at the last day ; and, as man, judge all nations, etc. 'Many more evil and abominable things were in those days fomented by them, by which I was driven to a more narrow search of the Scriptures and was, through their light and testimony, not only enlightened, but gready confirmed and comforted in the truth ; and, as I said, the guilt of sin did help me much, for still as that would come upon me, the blood of Christ did take it off again and again ; and that too sweetly according to the Scriptures. O friends ! cry to God to reveal Jesus Christ unto you ; there is none teacheth like him. It would be too long here to stay to tell you in particular how God did set me down in all the things of Christ, and how he did, that he might do so, lead me into his words ; yea, and also how he did open them unto me, and make them shine before me, and cause them to dwell with me, talk with me, and comfort me over and over, both of his own being, and the being of his Son, and his Spirit, and Word, and Gospel. Only this, as I said before, I will say unto you again, that in general he was pleased to take this course with me; first to suffer me to be afflicted with temptations concerning them, and then revealed them unto me. As sometimes I should lie under great guilt for sin, even crushed to the ground therewith ; and then the Lord would show me the death of Christ ; so besprinkled my conscience with his blood, that I should find, and that before I was aware, that in that conscience where but just now did reign and rage the law, even, there would rest^and abide the peace and love of God, through Christ. Now I had an evidence, as I thought, of my salvation from heaven, with many golden seals thereon, all hanging in my sight ; now could, I remember this manifestation, and the other discovery of grace with comfort, and would often long and desire that the last day were come, that I might be for ever inflamed with the sight and joy and ,^ ^ 1»,-|! Life of Btmyan. 481 communion with him, whose head was crowned with thorns, whose face was spit upon, and body broken, and soul made an offering for my sins ; for whereas before I lay continually trembling at the mouth of hell, now methought I was got so far therefrom, that I could not, when I looked back, scarce discern it ; and, oh ! thought I, that I were four-score years old now, that I might die quickly, thet my soul might be gone to rest ! But before I had got thus far out of these tempta- tions, I did gready long to see some ancient godly man's experience, who had written some hundreds of years before I was born ; for those who had written in our days, I thought (but I desire them now to par- don me) that they had written only that which others felt ; or else had, through the strength of their wits and parts, studied to answer such objections as they per- ceived others were per- plexed with, without go- ing down themselves in- to the deep. Well, after much longings in my mind, the God in whose hands are all our days and ways, did cast into my hand (one day) a book of Martin Luther's; it was his Comment on the Galatians ! it also was so old, that it was ready to fall piece from piece if I did but turn it over. Now I was pleased much that such an old book had fallen into my hands, the which when I had but a litde way perused, I found my condition in his experience so largely and profoundly handled, as if this book had been written out of my heart. This made me marvel ; for thus, thought I, this man could not know anything of 31 BUNYAN STUDYING THE WRITINGS OF LUTHER. ,iH;ii"i h ' ,4 \ lift "ii-* ««? fJ 482 Z^ ^ Bunyan. the state of Christians now, but must needs write and speak the ex- perience of former days. Besides, he doth most gravely, also in that book, debate of the rise of these temptations ; namely, blasphemy, desperation, and the like ; showing that the law of Moses, as well as the devil, death, and hell, had a very great hand therein ; the which at first was very strange to me ; but, considering and watching, I found it so indeed. But of particulars here I intend nothing ; only this methinks I must let fall before all men : I do prefer this book of Martin Luther upon the Galatians (excepting the Holy Bible) before all the books that ever I have seen, as most fit for a wounded conscience. And now I found, as I thought, that I loved Christ dearly. Oh ! methought my soul cleaved unto him ; my affection cleaved unto him; I felt my love to him as hot as fire ! and now, as Job said, I thought I should die in my nest ; but I did quickly find that my great love was but too little, and that I, who had, as I thought, such a burn- ing love to Jesus Christ, could let him go again for a trifle. God can tell how to abase us, and can hide pride from man. Quickly after this my love was tried to purpose. F"or after the Lord had in this manner thus graciously delivered me from this great and sore tempta tation, and set me down so sweetly in the faith of his holy Gospel, and had given me such strong consolation and l)less<'d evidence from heaven, touching my interest in his love through Christ, tlie tempter came upon me again, and that with a more grievous and dreadful temptation than before. And this was, to sell and part with this most blessed Christ, to exchange him for the things of this life — for anything. The temp- tation lay upon me for the space of a year, and did follow me so continually, that I was not rid of it one day in a month ; no, not, sometimes, one hour in many days together, unless when I was asleep. And though in my judgment I was persuaded, that those wlio were once effectually in Christ, as I hoped through his grace I had seen myself, 1 could never lose him forever: " For the land shall not be sold for ever, for the land is mine, saith Go 1" (Lev. 25 : 23), yet it was a continual vexation to me, to think that I should have so mui h as one such thought within me against a Christ, a Jesus, who had (lone for me as he had done ; and yet then I had almost none otliersbut such blasphemous ones. But it was neithermy dislike of the thought, noryct any desire and ende or to resist it, that in the least did shake or a'i>ate the contin- Life of Bunyan. 483 speak the ex- ly, also in that yr, blasphemy, ^oses, as well Mil ; the which J watching, I lothing ; only ifer this book t Holy Bible) or a wounded : dearly. Oh ! cleaved unto as Job said, I that my great t, such a burn- ifle. God can Quickly after -d had in this d sore tempta- ^ holy Gospel. evidence from t, the tempter and dreadful ssed Christ, to The temp- follow me so lonth ; no, not, when I was that those who IS Of race I had land shall not ^. 25: 23). yet ould have so , a Jesus, who 1 had almost any desire and ite the contin- uation, or force the strength thereof; for it did always, in almost whatever I thought, intermix itself therewith in such sOrt that I could neither eat my food, stoop for a pin, chop a stick, or cast my eyes to look on this or that, and still the temptation would come : Sell Christ for thi::,, or sell Christ for that ; sell him, sell him. Sometimes it would run in my thoughts not so litde as a hundred dmes together: Sell him, sell him ; against which I may say, for whole hours to- gether, I have been forced to stand as condnually leaning and forcing my spirit against it, lest haply before I were aware some wicked thought might arise in my heart that might consent thereto ; and sometimes the tempter would make me believe I had consented to it ; but then I should be as tortured upon a rack for whole days together. This temptation did put me to such scares, lest I should at some- times, I say, consent thereto, and be overcome therewith, that by the very force of my mind, laboring to gainsay and resist this wicked- ness, my very body would be put in action or motion, by the way of pushing or thrusting with my hands or elbows; still answering as fast as the destroyer said, Sell him, I will not, I will not, I will not ; no not for thousands, thousands, thousands of worlds ; thus reckoning, lest I should in the midst of these assaults set too low a value on him, even until I scarce well knew where I was, or how to be composed again. At these seasons he would not let me eat my food at quiet ; but, forsooth, when I was set at the table at any meat, I must go hence to pray ; I must leave my food now, and just now, so counter- feit holy would this devil be. When I was thus tempted I would say in myself. Now I am at meat, let me make an end. No, said he, you must do it now, or you will displease God and despise Christ. Wherefore I was much afflicted with these things ; and because of the sinfulness of my nature (imagining these were impulses from God), I should deny to do it, as if I denied God ; and then should I not be as guilty, because I did obey a temptation of the devil, as if I had broken the law of God indeed ? But to be brief ; one morning, as I did lie in my bed, I was, as at other times, most fiercely assaulted with this temptation — to sell and part with Christ ; the wicked suggestion still running in my mind, Sell him, sell him, sell him, sell him, as fast as a man could speak ; against which also in my mind, as at other times, I answered. No, no; not for thousands, thousands, thousands, at least twenty times together ; but at -ast, after much striving, even until I was almost out of breath, I felt this thought pass through my heart : Let him go 'n\\ H f ,»fiitf I HtN. 1»< 484 IJ/i of Bunyatu if he will ; and I thought also that I felt my heart freely consent thereto. Oh,»the diligence of Satan ! Oh, the desperateness of man's heart ! Now was the battle won, and down fell I, as a bird that is shot from the top of a tree, into great guilt and fearful despair. Thus getting out vif my bed, I went moping into the fields ; but, God knows, with as heavy a heart as mortal man I think could bear ; where, for the space of two hours, I was like a man bereft of life ; and, as now, past all recovery, and bound over to eternal punishment. And withal, that Scripture did seize upon my soul : " Or profane person as Esau, who for one morsel of meat sold his birthright. For ye know- how that afterwards, when he would have inherited the bless- ing, he was rejected ; for he found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears" (Heb. 12 : 16, 17). Now was I as one bound; I felt myself shut up into the judgment to come. Nothing now, for two years together, would abide with me but damnation, and an expectation of damnation ; I say nothing now would abide with me but this, save some few moments for relief, as in the sequel you will see. These words were to my soul like fetters of brass to my legs, in the continual sound of which I went for several months together. But about ten or eleven o'clock on that day, as I was walking under a hedge (full of sorrow and guilt, God knows), and bemoaning myself for this hard hap, that such a thought should arise within me, suddenly this sentence rushed in upon me : The blood of Christ remits all guilt. At this I made a stand in my spirit. With that, this word took hold upon me : "The blood of Jesus Christ, his own Son, cleanse us from all sin" (i John 1:7). Now I began to conceive peace in my soul ; and methought I saw as if the tempter did leer and steal away from me, as being ashamed of what he had done. At the same time also I had my sin ; and the blood of Christ thus represented to me that my sin, when compared to the blood of Christ, was no more to it than this little clod or stone before me is to this vast and wide field that here I see. This gave me good encouragement for the space of two or three hours ; in which time also methought I saw, by faith, the Son of God as suffering for my sins ; but because it tarried not, I therefore sunk in my spirit under exceeding great guilt again. But chiefly by the afore-mentioned Scripture concerning Esau's selling of his birthright ; for that Scripture would lie all day long in my mind, and hold me down, so that I could by no means lift up myself ; for when I would freely consent :nessof man's rd that is shot espair. Thus It, God knows, ar ; where, for and, as now, hment. And >rofane person •ight. For ye ited the bless- nce, though he 3 thejudgment abide with me ly nothing now ts for relief, as lOul like fetters rent for several 1 that day, as I :, God knows), :hought should me : The blood y spirit. With sus Christ, his id methought I me, as being ) I had my sin ; my sin, when than this little hat here I see. f two or three he Son of God therefore sunk chiefly by the his birthright ; , and hold me when I would Life of Bunyan. 485 strive to turn to this Scripture or that for relief, still that sentence would be sounding in me : " For ye know how that afterwards, when he would have inherited the blessing, he found no place of repent- ance, though he sought it carefully with tears." Sometimes, indeed, I should have a touch from that in Luke 22 : 32 : "I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not ;" but it would not abide upon me ; neither could I, indeed, when I considered my state, find ground to conceive in the least, that there should be the root of that grace in me, having sinned as I had done. Now was I torn and rent in a heavy case for many days together. Then began I with sad and careful heart to consider of the nature and largeness of my sin, and to search into the Word of God, if I could in any place espy a word of promise, or any encouraging sen- tence, by which I might take relief. Wherefore I began to consider that of Mark 3 : 28 : "All manner of sins and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto the sons of men, wherewith soever they shall blaspheme." Which place, methought, at a blush, did contain a large and glorious promise for the pardon of high offences ; but, considering the place more fully, I thought it was rather to be understood as relating more chiefly to those who had, while in a natural state, committed such things as there are mentioned, but not to me, who had not only received light and mercy, but that had been born after, and also con- trary to that, so slighted Christ as I had done. I feared, therefore, that this wicked sin of mine might be that sin unpardonable of which he there thus speaketh : "But he that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost, hath never forgiveness, but is in danger of eternal dam- nation " (Mark 3: 29). And I did the rather give credit to this, because of that sentence in the Hebrews : "For you know how that afterwards, when he would have inherited the blessing, he was re- jected ; for he Tound no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears." And this stuck always with me. And now was I both a burden and a terror to myself; nor did I ever so know, as now, what it was to be weary of my life, and yet afraid to die. Oh ! how gladly now would I have been anybody but myself! anything but a man, and in any condition but my own ! for there was nothing did pass more frequently over my mind, than that it was im- possible for me to be forgiven my trangression and be saved from the wrath to come. And now I began to labor to call again time that was past ; wishing, a thousand times twice told, that the day was yet to come f hi; I II I Bi. . \ ' If' '!?,< 4^ I 486 Z^ ^ Bunyan. 'n!"Uii ^ HSi M when I should be tempted to such a sin ; concluding, with great indignation, both against my heart and all assaults, how I would rather have been torn in pieces than be found a consenter thereto. But, alas ! these thoughts and wishes and rcsolvings were now too late to help me ; this thought had passed my heart : God hath let me go, and I am fallen. Oh ! (thought I) that it was with me as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me (Job 29 : 2) ! Then again, btiing loath and unwilling to perish, I began to compare my sin with others, to s{!e if I could find that any of those that v/ere saved had done as I had done. So I considered David's adultery and murder, and found them most heinous crimes; and those, too, committed after light and grace received. But yet, by considering that his transgressions were only such as were against the law of Moses, from which the Lord Christ could, with the consent of his word, deliver him ; but mine was against the Gospel ; yea, against the Mediator thereof. 1 had sold my Saviour. Now, again, should I be as if racked upon the wheel, when I considered that besides the guilt that possessed me, 1 should be so void of grace, so bewitched ! What, thought I, must it be no sin but this? Must it need be the great transgression ? (Psalm 19: 13.) Must that wicked one touch my soul? (i John 5: 18.) Oh, what sting did I find in all these sentences ! What, thought I, is there but one sin that is unpardonable ! but one sin that layeth the soul without the reach of God's mercy; and must I be guilty of that? Must it needs be that ? Is there but one sin among so many millions of sins, for which there is no forgiveness, and must I com- mit this? Oh, unhappy sin! Oh, unhappy man ! These things would so break and confound my spirit, that I could not tell what to do. I thought at times they would have broken my wits ; and sdll, to aggravate my misery, that would run in my mind. You know how, that afterwards, when he would have inherited the blessing, he was rejected. Oh! no one knows the terrors of those days but myself. with great ow I would Iter thereto, ere now too jod hath let ith me as in Job 29 : 2) ! to compare >e that wen; I's adultery :1 those, too, considering : the law of isent of his yea, against eel, when I hould be so t be no sin aim 19: 13.) I Oh, what : I, is there eth the soul ilty of that? ig so many must I com- hese things tell what to s ; and sdll, You know blessing, he ;e days but CHAPTER VII. [FTER this I began to consider of Peter's sin which he committed in denying his Master. And, indeed, this came nighest to mine of any that I could find, for he had denied his Saviour, as I, after light and mercy received ; yea, and that, *-oo, after warning given him. 1 also considered that he tlid it once and twice ; and that, after time to consider betwixt. But, though I put all these circumstances together, that, if possible, I might find help, yet I considered again that his was but a denial of his Master, but mine was a selling of my Saviour. Wherefore, I thought with myself, that I came nearer to Judas than either to David or Peter. Here again my torment would Haine out and aftlict me ! yea, it would grind me, as it were, to powder, to consider the preservation of God towards others, while I fell into the snare ; for, in my thus considering of oUier men's sins, and comparing of them with mine own, I could evidently see God preserved them, notwithstanding their wickedness, and would not let them, as he had let me, become a son of perdidon. But, oh ! how did my soul at this time prize the preservation that God did set about his people ! Ah, how safely did I see them walk whom God had hedged in ! They were within his care, protection, and special providence, though they were full as bad as I by nature ; yet, because he loved them, he would not suffer them to fall without the range of mercy ; but as for me, I was gone, I had done it. He would not preserve me, nor keep me ; but suffered me, because I was a reprobate, to fall as I had done. Now did those blessed places that speak of God's keeping his people, shine like the sun Ijefore me, though not to comfort me, yet to show me the blessed state and heritage of those whom the Lord had blessed. Now I saw that, as God had his hand in all the providences and dispensations that overtook his elect, so he had his hand in all the temptations and troubles for them, and also to leave them for a time, to such things only that might not destroy, but humble them ; as might not put them beyond, but lay them in the way of his renewing his mercy. But, oh ! what love, what care, what kindness and mercy did I now see, mixing itself with the most severe and dread- (487) 'II, 488 Life of Bunyan. ~: could have no entertainment. But methinks I see by this, that Sat . will use any means to keep the soul from Christ ; he loveth not an awakened frame of spirit; security, blindness, darkness, and error, are the very kingdom and habitation of the wicked one. I found it a hard work not to pray to God, because despair was swallowing me up ; I thought I was as with a tempest, driven away from God; for always, when I cried to God for mercy, this would come in: It is too late ! I am lost ! God hath let me fall, not to my correction, but my condemnation ; my sin is unpardonable ; and I know concerning Esau how that, after he had sold his birthright, he would have received the blessing, but was rejected. About this time I did light on that dreadful story of that miser- able moital, Francis Spira, a book that was to my troubled spirit as salt when rubbed into a fresh wound ; every sentence in that book, every groan of that man, with all the rest of his actions in his dolors, as his tears, his prayers, his gnashing of teeth, his bringing of hands, his twisting, and languishing, and pining away under that mighty hand of God that was upon him, were as knives and daggers in my soul ; especially that sentence of his was frightful to me : " Man knows the beginning of sin ; but who bounds the issues thereof?" Then would the former sentence, as the conclusion of all, fall like a hot thunderbolt again upon my conscience: " For you know how that afterwards, when he would have inherited the blessing, he was re- jected ; for he found no place of repentance, though he sought it care- fully with tears." Then would I be struck into a very great tremb- ling, insomuch that at some times I could, for whole days together, feel my very body, as well as my mind, to shake and totter under the sense of this dreadful judgment of God that would f^ill on those that have sinned that most ifearful and unpardonable sin. I felt also suci) a clogging and heat at my stomach, by reason of this my terror, that I was, especially at some times, as if my breast-bone would split asunder ; then I thought concerning that of Judas, who, by his " falling headlong, burst asunder, and all his bowels gushed out" (Acts i: i8).. il tt;«f.; -n II ■Mn i 490 Li/e of Bunyan. I feared also that this was the mark that God did set on Cain, even continual fear and trembling, under the heavy load of guilt that \\v. had charg^ed on him for the blood of his brother Abel. 1 hus did I whine, and twine, and shrink under the burthen that was upon me ; which burthen did so oppress me. that I could neither stand nor go, nor lie either at rest or quiet. Yet that saying would sometimes come into my mind, " He hath received gifts for the rebellious "(Psalm 68). The rebellious, thought I ; why, surely they are such as once were under subjection to their prince ; even those who, after they have once sworn subjection to his government, have taken up arms against him ; and this, thought I, is my very condition : 1 once loved him, feared him, served him ; but now I am a rebel. I lia\e sold him. I have said, Let him go, if he will ; but yet he has gifts for rebels, and then why not for me; ? This sometimes 1 thought on, and would labor hard to take thereof, tiiat some, though small, refreshment might liave been conceived by me ; but in this also I missed of my desire ; I was driven with force beyond it. I was like a man going to execution, even by that place where he would fain creep in and hide himself, but may not. Again, after 1 had thus considered tlie sins of the saints in particular, and found mine went beyond them, then I began to think with myself: Set the case as I should, put all theirs togedier, and mine alone acrainst them, mitjht I not then find encouravith great shame and astonishment, that I had horribly abused the holy Son of God, where I felt my soul greatly to love and pity him, and my bowels to yearn towards him ; for I saw he was still my friend, and did reward me good for evil; yea, the love and affection that then did burn within me to my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, did work at this time such a strong and hot desire of revengement upon myself, for the abuse I had done unto him, that, to speak as I then thought, had I a thousand gallons of blood within my veins, I could freely then have spilled it all at the command and feet of this my Lord and Saviour. And, as I was thus musing in my studies, considering how to love tlie Lord, and to express my love to him, that saying came in upon nie : " If thou. Lord, shouldst mark iniquities, O Lord, who should stand ? But there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared" (Psalm 130: 3, 4). These were good words to me, es- pecially the latter part thereof, to wit, that there is forgiveness with the Lord.ihat he might be feared ; that is, as I tlien understood it, that h2 might be loved, and had in reverence; for it was thus made out to me: That the great God did set so high an esteem upon the love of his poor creatures, that rather than he would go without their love he would pardon their transgressions. And now was that word ful- filled to me, and I was refresh d by it: "Then shalt thou remember and be confounded, and never open th/ mouth any more, because of thy shame, when I am pacified towards thee for all that thou hast done, saith the Lord God " (Ezek. 16: 63). Thus was my soul at this time, and, as I then did think, forever set at liberty from my former guilt and amazement. But before rrany weeks were gone, I began to despond again, fearing lest, notwithstanding all that I had enjoyed, that, I might be deserted and destroyed at the last; for this consideration came strong into my mind : That whatever comfort and peace I thought I might have from the word of the promise of life, yet, unless there could be found in my refreshment a concurrence and agreement in the Scriptures, let me think what 1 will thereof, and hold it ever so fast, I should find no such thing at the end ; for the Scriptures cannot be broken (John 10 : 35). h ;.» M :- hdi 500 Life of Bunyan. ,.^.. Now began my heart to ache, and fear I might meet with dis- appointment at last. Wherefore I began with all seriousness to exam- ine my former comfort, and to consider whether one that had sinned as I had done might with confidence trust upon the faithfulness of God, laid down in these words by which I had been comforted, and on which I had leaned myself, but now were brought to my mind, "For it is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they shall fall away, to renew them again unto re- pentance " (Heb. 6 : 4, 6). " For if we sin wilfully after we have re- ceived the knowledge of the truth, there remains no more sacrifice for sin ; but a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery imhg- nation, which shall devour the adversaries" (Heb. lo: 27), even as Esau, who for one morsel of meat sold his birthright. "For ye know how that afterwards, when he would have inhcited the bless- ing, he was rejected; for he found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears" (Heb. 12:17). Now was the word of the Gospel forced from my soul, so iha«- no promise or encouragement was to be found in tlie Bible for me, and now would that saying work upon my mind to aft^lict me, " Rejoice not, O Israel, for joy, as other people" (Hos. 9:1). For I saw, in- deed, there was cause of rejoicing for those that held to Jesus; but forme, I had cut myself off by my transgressions, and left myself neither foothold nor hand-hold among all the stays and props of the precious word of life. And truly I did now feel myself to sink into a gulf, as a house whose foundation is destroyed. I did liken myself in this condition unto the case of a child that was fallen into a mill- pit, who thought it could make some shift to scramble and sprawl in the water ; yea, because it could neither hold hand nor foot, therefore at last it must die in that condition. So soon as this fresh assault had fastened on my soul, that Scripture came into my heart, "This for many days ;" and, indeed, I found it was so ; for I could not be deliv- ered nor brought to peace again until well-nigh two years and a half were completely finished. Wherefore these words, though in themselves they tended to no discouragement, yet to me, who feared this condition would be eternal, they were at some times as a help and a refreshment to me. For, thought I, many days are not forever ; many days will have an end ; therefore, seeing I was to be afflicted not a few, but many Life of Bunyan, 501 days, yet I was glad it was but for many days. Thus, I say, I could recall myself sometimes and give myself a help ; for as soon as ever the word came into niy mind, at first I knew my trouble would be long ; yet this would be but sometimes, for I could not always think on this, nor even be helped by it, though I did. Now, while the Scriptures lay before me, and laid sin anew at my door, that say- ing in Luke 18 : i, with others, did encourage me to prayer. Then the tempter again laid at me very sore, suggesting that neither the mercy of God nor yet the blood of Christ did at all concern me, nor could they help me for my sin ; therefore it was but in vain to pray. Yet, thought I, I will pray. But, said the tempter, your sin is unpardonable. Well, said I, I will pray. It is to no boot, said he. Yet, said 1, I will pray. So I went to praytr vj God; and while I was at prayer, I uttered words to this effect : Lord, Satan tells me that neither thy mercy nor Christ's blood is sufficient to save my soul. Lord, shall I honor thee most by believing thou wilt, and canst? or him, by believing thou wilt not, nor canst? Lord, I would fain honor thee by believing thou wilt and canst. And, as I was thus before the Lord, that Scripture fastened on my heart: "O man great is thy faith" (Matt. 6 : 38), even as if one had clapped me on the back as I was on my knees before God ; yet I was not able to believe this, that this was a prayer of faith, till almost six months after ; for I could not think that I had faith, or that there should be a word for me to act faith on ; therefore I should still be as sticking in the jaws of desperation, and went mourning up and down in a sad condition. There was nothing now that I longed for more than to be put out of doubt as to this thing in question ; and as I was vehemently desiring to know if there was, indeed, hope for me, these words came rolling into my mind : " Will the Lord cast off forever ? and will he be favorable no more ? Is his mercy clean gone forever ? Doth his promise fail forevermore ? Hath God forgotten to be gracious ? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies ? " (Psalm 77 ' 7-9-) And all the while they run in my mind, methought I had still this as the answer : It is a question whether he hath or no ; it may be he hath not. Yea, the interrogatory seemed to me to carry in it a sure affirmation, that indeed he hath not, nor would so cast off, but would be favorable ; that his promise doth not fail, and that he hath not forgotten to be gracious, nor would in anger shut up his tender mercy. Something also there was upon my heart at I III I III i > »a 602 Life of Bunyan. ' i al .1 * -e. Blessed be God for unsearchable grace. Then I considered that in the tenth chapter of the Hebrews, and found that the wilful sin there mentioned is not every wilful sin, but that which doth throw off Christ, and then his commandments too. Secondly, that must be done also openly, before two or three wit- nesses, to answer that of the law (Heb. 10: 20). Thirdly, this sin cannot be committed but with great despite done to the Spirit of grace ; despising both the dissuasions from that sin and the persua- sions to the contrary. But the Lord knows though this my sin was devilish, yet it did not amount to these. And as touching that in the twelfth chapter of the Hebrews, about Esau's selling of his birth- right, though this was that which killed me, and stood like a spear against me, yet now I did consider, First, that his was not a hasty thought against the continual labor of his mind, but a thought con- sented to, and put in practice likewise, and that after some deliber- ation (Gen. 25: 34). Secondly, it was a public and open action, vm 1 1 608 Life of Bunyan. 111: \:ik even before his brother, if not before many more ; this made his sin of a far more heinous nature than otherwise it would have been. Thirdly, he continued to slight his birthright ; yea, twenty years after, he was found to despise it still : "And Esau said, I have enough, my brother; keep that thou hast unto thyself" (Gen, 33: 9). Now, as touching this, that Esau sough;, a place of repentance. Thus I thought : First, this was not for the birthright, but the bless- ing ; this is clear from the apostle, and is distinguished by Esau him- self ; he hath taken away my birthright (that is, formerly), and now he hath taken away my blessing also (Gen. 27: 36). Secondly, now this being thus considered, I came again to the apostle, to see what might be the mind of God, in a New Testament style and sense, concerning Esau's sin ; and, so far as I could conceive, this was the mind of God: that the birthright signified regeneration, and the blessing the eternal inheritance ; for so the apostle seems to hint : " Lest there be any profane person, as iEsau, who, for a morsel of meat, sold his birthright ; " as if he should say, that shall cast off all those blessed beginnings of God that at present are upon him, in order to a new birth ; lest they become as Esau, even be rejected afterwards, when they should inherit the blessing. For many there are, who in the day of grace and mercy desp?se those things which are indeed the birthright to heaven ; who yet, when the declining day appears, will cry as loud as Esau, "Led, Lord, open to us;" but then as Isaac would not repent, no more will God the Father, but will say, "I have blessed these, yea, and they shall, be blessed" (Gen. 27: 33) ; but as for you, "Depart, you are the workers of iniquity" (Luke 13: 25-37). When I had thus considered these Scriptures, and found that thus to understand them was not against, but according to other Scriptures, this still added further to my encouragement and com- fort, and also gave a great blow to that objection, to wit, that the Scriptures could not agree in the salvation of my soul. And now remained only the hinder part of the tempest, for the thunder was gone beyond me, only some drops did still remain, but now and then would fall upon me ; but, because my former frights and anguish were very sore and deep, therefore it oft befell me still, as it befalleth those that have been scared with fire. I thought every voice was, Fire ! fire ! every little touch would hurt my tender conscience. But one day, as I was passing into the field, and that too with some dashes on my conscience, fearing lest yet all was not right, suddenly this Life of Bunyan. 509 sentence fell upon my soul: "Thy righteousness is in heaven." And methought withal, I saw, with the eyes of my soul, Jesus Christ at God's right hand ; there, 1 say, was my righteousness ; so that where- ever I was, or whatever I was doing, God could not say of me, he wants my righteousness ; for that was just before him. I also saw, moreover, that it was not my good frame of heart that made my righteousness better, nor yet my bad frame that made my righteous- ness worse ; for my righteousness was Jesus Christ himself, " the same yesterday, to-day, and forever" (Heb. 13 : 8.) Now did my chains fall off my legs indeed ; I was loosed from my afflictions and irons; my temptations also fled away; so that from that time, those dreadful Scriptures of God left off to trouble me. Now went ! also home rejoicing, for the grace and the love of God; so when I came home, I looked to see if I could find that sentence, " Thy righteousness is in heaven," but could find no such a saying; wherefore my heart began to sink again, only that was brought to my remembrance (i Cor. i: 30), "He is made unto us of God, wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption;" by this word I saw the other sentence true. For by this Scripture I saw that the man Christ Jesus, as he is distinct from us as touching his bodily presence, so he is our righteousness and sanctification be- fore God. Here, therefore, I lived for some time, very sweetly at peace with God, through Christ. Oh ! methought, Christ ! Christ ! there was nothing but Christ that was before my eyes ; I was not now (only) for looking upon this and the other benefit of Christ apart, as of his blood, burial, or resurrection ; but considering him as a whole Christ ; as he in whom all these and all other virtues, re- lations, offices, and operations, met together, and that he sat on the right hand of God in heaven. It was glorious to me to see his exaltation, and the worth and prevalency of all his benefits, and that ucccii.r.c now I could look from myself to him, and would reckon that all those graces of God that now were green on me, were yet but like those cracked groats and four-pence-halfpennies, that rich men carry in their purses when their gold is in their trunks at home. Oh ! I saw my gold was in my trunk at home ! in Christ, my Lord and Saviour. Now Christ was all ; all my righteousness, all my sanctification, and all my re- demption. Further, the Lord did also lead me into the mystery of union with the Son of God; that I was joined to him, that I was flesh of Jiis flesh, and bone of his bone ; and now was that a sweet word to me I'i t 11 1 1 M 11 iii; i' i ''■ •)i:f.!'i [it*: ■:• l%iX-l* 510 Atfe of Bunyan. in Ephes. 5: 30. By this also was my faith in him, as my righteous- ness, the more confirmed in me ; for if he and I were one, then his righteousness was mine, his merits mine, his victory also mine. Now could I see myself in heaven and earth at once ; in heaven by my Christ, by my head, by my righteousness and life, though on earth by my body or person. Now I saw Christ Jesus was looked upon of God, and should also be looked upon by us as that com- mon or public person, in whom all the whole body of his elect are always to be considered and reckoned ; that we fulfilled the law by him, rose from the dead by him, got the victory over sin, death, the devil, and hell by him ; when he died, we died ; and so of his resur- rection, " Thy dead men shall live ; together with my dead body shall they rise" (Isaiah 26), saith he. And again, "After two days he will revive us ; and the third day we shall live in his sight" (Hosea 6: 2). Which is now fulfilled, by the sitting down of the Son of man on the right hand of the Majesty in the heavens, according to that to the Ephesians, he "hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus" (Ephes. 2: 6). Ah! these bless»^d considerations and Scriptures, with many others of like nature, were in those days made to spangle in mine eye ; so that I have cause to say, " Praise ye the Lord God in his sanctuary ; praise him in the firmament of his power ; praise him for his mighty acts ; praise him according to his excellent greatness " (Psalm IOC- I, 2). l-M CHAPTER IX. I AVING thus, in few words, given you a taste of the sor- row and affliction that my soul went under, by the guilt and terror that thesfe my wicked thoughts did lay me under, and having given you also a touch of my deliv- erance therefrom, and of the sweet and blessed comfort that I met with afterwards, which comfort dwelt about a twelve- month with my heart, to my unspeakable admiration, I will now (God willing), before I proceed any farther, give you, in a word or two, what I conceive was the cause of this temptation ; and also after that, what advantage at the last it became linto my soul. For the causes, I conceived they were principally two ; of which two also I was deeply convinced all the time this trouble lay upon me. The first was, for that I did not, when I was delivered from the tempta- tion that went before, still pray to God to keep me from the tempta- tions that were to come ; for though, as I can say in truth, my soul was. much in prayer before this trial seized me, yet then I prayed only, or at the most principally, for the removal of present troubles, and for fresh discoveries of his love in Christ, which I saw afterwards was not enough to do ; I also should have prayed that the great God would keep me from the evil that was to come. Of this I was made deeply sensible by the prayer of holy David, who, when he was under present mercy, yet prayed that God would hold him back from sin and temptation to come: "For then (saith he) shall I be upright, and I shall be innocent from the great transgression " (Psalm 19: 13). By this very word was I galled and condemned quite, through this long temptation. This was also another word that did much condemn my folly, in the neglect of this duty (Heb. 4: 16): "Let us, therefore, come boldly unto the throne of grace that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." This I had not done, and therefore was thus suffered to sin and fall, according to what is written : " Pray that ye enter not into temp- tation." And truly this very thing is to this day of such a weight and awe, that I dare not, when I come before the Lord, go off my knees, until I entreat him for help and mercy against the temptations that (611) i •■ i < 512 Life of Bunyan, are to come. I do beseech thee, reader, that thou learn to beware of my negligence, by the afflictions that for this thing I did for days, and months, and years, with sorrow undergo. Another cause of this temptation was, that 1 had tempted God ; and on this manner did I do it. Upon a time my wife was great with child, and before her full time was come, her pangs, as of a women in travail, were fierce and strong upon her, even as she would have immediately fallen into labor and been delivered of an untimely birth. Now at this time it was that I had been so strongly tempted to question the being of God; wherefore, as my wife lay crying by me, I said, but with all secrecy imaginable, even thinking in my heart, " Lord, if now thou wilt remove this sad affliction from my wife, and cause that she be troubled no more therewith this night (and now were her pangs just upon her), then shall I know tlic>t thou canst discern the most sacred thoughts of the heart." I had no sooner said it in my heart, but her pangs v.ere taken from her, and she was cast into a deep sleep, and so continued till morning. At this I greatly marvelled, not knowing what to think ; but after I had been awake a good while, and heard her cry no more, I fell asleep also. So when lawaked in the morning, it came to me again, even what I had said in my heart last night, and how the Lord had showed me that he knew my secret thoughts, which was a great astonishment unto me for several weeks after. Well about a year and a half afterwards, that wicked sinful thought of which I have spoken before, went through my wicked heart, Let Christ go, if he will. So when I was fallen under guilt for this, the remembrance of my other thought, and of the effect thereof, would also come upon me with this retort, which also carried rebuke along with it, Now you may see that God doth know the most secret thoughts of the heart. And with this, that of the passages that were betwixt the Lord and his servant Gideon, fell upon my spirit ; how because that Gideon tempted God with his fleece, both wet and drv, when he should have believed and ventured upon his words ; therefore the Lord did afterwards so try him as to send him against an innumer- able company of enemies, and that too, as to outward appearance, without any strength or help (Judges 7 : 7). Thus he served me, and that justly ; for I should have believed his word, and not have put an if upon the all-seeingness of God. And now to show you something of the advantages that I also gained by <-his temptation. And first, by this I was made continually Life of Bunyan, 513 to possess in my soul a very wonderful sense both of the blessing and glory of God, and of his beloved Son ; in the temptation that went before, my soul was perplexed with unbelief, blaspliemy, hardness of heart, question about the being of God, Christ, the truth of the word, and certainty of the world to come. I say, then I was greatly assaulted and tormented with atheism ; but now the case was other- wise ; now was God and Christ continually before my face, though not in a wuy of comfort, but in a way of exceeding dread and ter- ror. The glory of the holiness of God did at this time break me to pieces ; the bowels and compassion of Christ did break me on the wheel ; for I could not consider him but as a lost and rejected Christ, the remembrance of which was as the continual breaking of my bones. The Scriptures also were wonderful things unto me ; I saw that the truth and verity of them were the keys of the kingdom of heaven ; those that the Scriptures favor, they must inherit bliss ; but those that they oppose and condemn, must perish forevermort. Oh ! this word. For the Scriptures cannot be broken, would rend the caul of my heart ; and so would that other. Whose sins ye remit, they are remitted ; but those sins ye retain, they are retained. Now I saw the apostles to be the elders of the city of refuge (Joshua 20 : 4). Those that they were to receive in, were received to life ; but those that they shut out, were to be slain by the avenger of blood. Oh ! one sentence of the Scripture did more afflict and terrify my mind; I mean those sentences that stood against me (and sometimes I thought they every one did) ; more, I say, than an army of forty thousand men that might come 'against me. Woe be to him against whom the Scriptures bend themselves ! By this temptation I was made to see more into the nature of the promises than ever I had before ; for I now lay trembling under the mighty hand of God, con- tinually torn and rent by the thundering of his justice. This made me, with careful heart and watchful eye, with great fearfulness, to turn over every leaf, and with much diligence, mixed with trembhng, to consider every sentence, together with its natural force and latitude. By this temptation, also, I was greatly holden off from my former foolish practice of putting by the word of promise when it came into my mind ; for now, though I could not suck that comfort and sweet- ness from the promise, as I had done at other times, yet, like to g man a sinking, I would catch at all I saw. Formerly I thought I might not meddle with the promise unless I felt its comfort ; but now it 33 I ;| IliSfi I Wn '■ > 1^1 614 Li/e of Bunyan. was no time thus to do; the avenger of blood too hardly did pur- sue me. Now, therefore, was I glad to catch at the word, which yet I feared I had no ground or right to own, and even to leap into the bosom of that promise that yet I feared did shut his heart against me. Now, also, I would labor to take the word as God hath laid it down, without restraining the natural force thereof. Oh! what did I see in the blessed sixth chapter of St. John : " And him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out" (John 6: 37). Now I began to consider with myself that God had a bigger mouth to speak with than I had a heart to conceive with ; I thought also, with myself, that he spake not his words in haste, or in an unadvised heat, but with infinite wisdom and judgment, and in very truth and faithfulness (2 Sam. 3: 28). I would, in tliesedays, often in my greatest agonies, even flounce towards the j^romise (as the horses do towards some ground, and yet stick in the mire), concluding (though as one almost bereft of his wits through fear), on this will I rest and stay, and leave the ful- filling of it to the God of heaven that made it. Oh ! many a pull hath my heart had with Satan for that blessed sixth chapter of St. John. I did not now, as at other times, look principally for comfort (though, oh! how welcome would it have been unto me!), but now a word, a word to lean a weary soul upon, that it might not sink for- ever ! it was that I hunted for. Yea, often when I have been making to the promise, I have seen as if the Lord would refuse my soul for- ever ; I was often as if I had run upon the pikes, and as if the Lord had thrust at me to keep me from him, as with a flaming sword. Then would I think of Esther, who went to petition the king, contrary to the law (Esther 4: 16). I thought also of Benhadad's servants, who went with ropes upon their heads to their enemies for mercy (i Kings 20: 31). The woman of Canaan also, that would not be daunted, though called dog by Christ (Matt. 15: 22), and the man that went to borrow bread at midnight (Luke i: 5-8), were also great encouragements unto me. I never saw those heights and depths in grace and love and mercy as I saw after this temptation ; great sins to draw out great grace; and where guilt is most terrible and fierce, there the mercy of God in Christ, when showed to the soul, appears most high and mighty. When Job had passed through his captivity, he had twice as much as he had before (Job 42: 10). Blessed be God for Jesus Christ I did pur- >ich yet I » into the t against th laid it khat did 1 It cometh began to peak with yself, that , but with ifulness (2 en flounce round, and it bereft of ive the ful- any a puU jter of St, or comfort , but now a )t sink for- ;en making ny soul for- if the Lord ing sword, ig", contrary servants, |s for mercy juld not be |nd the man also great Id love and out great J the mercy 1st high and |had twice as lesus Christ Lt/e of Bunyan. 515 our Lord. Many other things I might here make observation of, but I would be brief, and therefore shall at this time omit them, and pray to God that my harms may make others fear to offend, lest they also be made to bear the iron yoke as I did, I had two or three times, at or about my deliverance from this temptation, such strange appre- hension of the grace of God that I could hardly bear up under it; it was so out of measure amazing when I thought it could reach me, that I do think if that sense had abode long upon me, it would have made me incapable for business. Now I shall go forward to give you a relation of other of the Lord's dealings with me at sundry other seasons, and of the temp- tations I then did meet withal. I shall begin with what I met with when first I did join in fellowship with the people of God in Bed- ford. After I had propounded to the Church that my desire was to walk in the order and ordinances of Christ with them, and was also admitted by them ; while I thought of that blessed ordinance of Christ, which was his last supper v^ith his disciples before his death, that Scripture, "Do this in remembrance of me" (Luke 22: 19), was made a very precious word unto me ; for by it the Lord did come down upon my conscience with tiie discovery of his death for my sins, and, as I then felt, did as if he plunged me in the virtue of the same. But behold, I had not been long a partaker of that, ordinance, but such fierce and sad temptation did attend me at all times therein, both to blaspheme the ordinance and to wish some deadly thing to those that then did eat thereof, that, lest I should at any time be guilty of consenting to these wicked and fearful thoughts, I was forced to bend myself all the while to pray to God to keep me from such blasphemies ; and also to cry to God to bless the cup and bread to them, as it were, from mouth to mouth. The reason of this temp- tation, I have thought since, was because I did not, with that rever- ence that became me, at first approach to partake thereof. Thus I continued for three-quarters of a year, and could never have rest noi* ease ; but at the last the Lord came in upon my soul with that same Scripture by which my soul was visited before ; and after that I have been unusually very well and comfortable in the partaking of that blessed ordinance, and have, I trust, therein discerned the Lord's body as broken for my sins, and that his precious blood hath been shed for my transgressions. Upon a time I was something inclining to a consumption, where- W i! m HI' w\ K' MM 516 Ltye of Bunyati. with about the spring I was suddenly and violently seized with much weakness in my outward man, insomuch that I thought I could not live. Now began I afresh to give myself up to a serious examina- tion after my state and condition for the future, and of my evidences for that blessed world to come ; for it hath, I bless the name of God, been my usual course, as always so especially in the day of affliction, to endeavor to keep my interests in the life to come clear before mine eyes. But I had no sooner began to call to mind my former experience of the goodness of God to my soul, but there came flocking into my mind an innumerable company of my sins and transgressions ; among which these were, at this time, most to my affliction, namely, my deadness, dulness, and coldness in my holy duties ; my wanderings of heart, of my wearisomeness in all good things, my want of love to God, his ways and people, with this at the end of all, Are these the fruits of Christianity? Are these tokens of a blessed man? At the apprehensions of these things my sickness was doubled upon me, for now I was sick in my inward man, my soul was clogged with guilt; now also was my former experience of God's goodness to me quite taken out of my mind, and hid, as if they had never been or seen ; now was my soul greatly pitched between these two considera- tions. Live I must not ; Die I dare not. Now I sunk and fell in my spirit and was giving all up for lost ; but as I was walking up and down the house, as a man in a most woful state, that word of God took hold of my heart: " Ye are justi- fied freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus " (Rom. 3 : 24). But oh ! what a turn it made upon me. Now was I as one awakened out of some troublesome sleep and dream ; and listening to this heavenly sentence, I was as if I had heard it thus spoken to me: "Sinner, thou thinkest that because of thy sins and infirmities I cannot save thy soul ; but behold, my Son is by me, and upon him I look, and not on thee, and shall deal with thee ac- cording as I am pleased with him." At this I was greatly enlightened in my mind, and made to understand that God could justify a sinner at anytime; it was but his looking upon Christ and imputing of his benefits to us, and the work was forthwith done. And as I was thus in a muse, that Scripture came with great power upon my spirit: " Not by works of righteousness that we have done, but according to his mercy he hath saved us," etc. (2 Tim. 1:9; Tit. 3: 5). Now was I got on high ; I saw myself within the arms of grace and mercy ; and m Life of Btinyan. 517 though I was before afraid to think of a dying hour, yet now I cried, Let me die. Now death was lovely and beautiful in my sight, for I saw that we shall never live indeed^ill we be gone to the other world. Oh ! methought this life was but a slumber, in comparison with that above. At this time, also, I saw more in these words, "heirs of God" (Rom, 8: 17), than ever I shall be able to express while I Hve in this world. Heirs of God! God himself is the portion of the saints. This I saw and wondered at, but cannot tell you what I saw. Again, as I was at another time very ill and weak, all that time, also, the tempter did beset me strongly (fori find he is much for assaulting the soul, when it begins to approach towards the grave, then is his op- portunity), laboring to hide from me my former experience of God's goodness; also setting before me the terrors of death and the judg- ment of God, insomuch that at this time, through my fear of mis- carrying forever (should I now die), I was as one dead before death came, and was as if I felt myself descending into tiie pit. Methought I said. There is no way, but to hell I must ; but, behold, just as I was in the midst of those fears, these words of the angels carrying Laza- rus into Abraham's bosom darted in upon me, as who should say, So shall it be with thee when thou shalt leave this world. This did sweetly revive my spirits and help me to hope in God; which when I had with comfort mused on awhile, that word fell with great weight upon my mind " O death, where is thy sting! O grave, where is thy victory!" (i Cor. 15 : 55.) At this time I became both well in body and mind at once, for my sickness did presently vanish, and I walked comfortably in my work for God again. At another time, though just before I was pretty well and savory in my spirit, yet suddenly there fell upon me a great cloud of c arkness, which did so hide me from the things of God and Christ, that I was as if I had never seen or known them in my life. I was also so over- run in my soul with a senseless, heardess frame of spirit, that I could not feel my soul to move and stir after grace and life by Christ ; I was as if my loins were broken, or as if my hands and feet had been tied or bound with chains. At this time, also, I felt some weakness to seize upon my outward man, which made still the other afflicdon the more heavy and uncomfortable to me. After I had been in this condition some three or four days, as I was sitting by the fire, I suddenly felt this word to sound in my heart: I must go to Jesus. At this my former darkness and atheism fled X('t \ I 618 Life of Btmyan. mn^ away, and the blessed things of heaven were set in my view. While I was on this sudden thus overtaken with surprise, Wife, said I. is there ever such a Scripture, I must go to Jesus? She said she could not tell ; therefore I stood musing still to see if I could remember such a place. I had not sat above two or three minutes, but that came bolting in upon me. And to an innumerable company of angels ; and withal, the twelfth chapter of Hebrews, about the Mount Zion, was set before mine eyes (Heb. 12 : 22-24). Then with joy I told my wife. Oh ! now I know, I know ! But that night was a good night to me. I never had but few better. I longed for the com- pany of some of God's people, that I might have imparted unto them what God had showed me. Christ was a precious Christ to my soul that night; I could scarcely lie in my bed for joy and peace and triumph through Christ. This great glory did not continue upon me until morning, yet the twelfth chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews (Heb. 12: 22-23) was a blessed Scripture to me for many days together after this. The words are these: "Ye are come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, to the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels ; to the general assembly and Church of the first- born, which are written in heaven; to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect; and to Jesus, the mediator of die New Testament, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel." Through this sentence the Lord led me over and over, first to this word and then to that, and showed me wonderful glory in every one of them. These words, also, have oft since that time been great refreshment to my spirit. Blessed be God for having mercy on me ! CHAPTER X. |ND now I am speaking of my experience, I will in this place ♦•hrust in a word or two concerning my preaching the Word, and of God's dealing with me in that particu- lar also. After I had been about five or six years awak- ened, and helped myself to see both the want and worth of Jesus Christ our Lord, and also enabled to venture my soul upon him, some of the most able among the saints with us, I say, the most able for judgment and holiness of life, as they conceived, did per- ceive that God had counted me worthy Lo understand something of his will in his holy and blessed Word, and had given me utterance, in some measure, to express what I saw to others, for edification ; therefore they desired me, and that with much earnestness, that I would be willing, at sometimes, to take in hand, in one of the .neet- ings, to speak a word of exhortation unto them. The which, though at tlie first it did much dash and abash my spirit, yet, being still by them desired and entreated, I consented to their requests, and did twice at two several assemblies (but in private), though with much weakness and infirmity, discover my gifts among them ; at which they not only seemed to be, but did frequendy protest, as in the sight of the great God, they were both affected and comforted, and irave thanks to the Father of mercies for tie Q-race bestowed on me. After this, sometimes, when some of them did go into the country to teach, they would also that I would go with them ; where, though as yet I did not, and durst not, make use of my gifts in an op^n way, yet more privately still, as I came among the good pe^ople in those places, I did sometimes speak a word of admonition to them also; the which they, as the other, received with rejoicing at the mercy of God, to me-ward, professing their souls were edified thereby. Wherefore, to be brief, at last, being still desired by the Church, after some solemn prayer to the Lord, with fasting, I was more par- ticularly called forth and appointed to a more ordinary and public preaching of the Word, not only to and among them that believed, but also to offer the Gospel to those who had not yet received the faith thereof; about which time I did evidendy find in my mind a secret pricking forward thereto ; though I bless God, not for a desire . (619) I ' f 1 1 1 i i ' :. m \m ;f III 1 1 'J'i"'^ •* P Sl 1 \ 520 I , Life of Bimyan, 521 of vain-glory, for at that time I was most sorely afflicted with the fiery darts of the devil concerning my eternal state. But yet I could not be content unless I was found in the exercise of my gift, unto which also I was gready animated, not only by the continual desires of the godly, but also by that saying of Paul to the Corindiians : " I beseech you, brethren (ye know the household of Stephanas, that it is the first fruit of Achaia, and that they have addicted themselves to the ministry of the saints), that ye 3uL»"nit yourselves unto such, and to every one that helpeth with us, and laboreth " (i Cor. i6: 15,16). By this text I was made to see that the Holy Ghost never intended that men who have gifts and abilties should bury them in the earth ; but rather did command and stir up such to the exercise of their gift, and also did commend those that are apt and ready so to do. " They have addicted themselves to the ministry of the saints. " This .Scripture, in these days, did continually run in my mind, to en- courage me and strengthen me in this my work for God. I had also been encouraged from several other Scriptures and examples of the godly, both specified in the Word and other ancient histories : Acts 8 : 4, and 18 : 24, 24; i Pet. 4: 10 ; Rom. 12 : 6 ; ard Fox's Acts and Monuments. Wherefore, though of myself of all the saints the most unwor- thy, yet I, but wath great fear and trembling at the sight of my own weakness, did set upon the work, and did, according to my gifts, and the proportion of my faith, preach that blessed Gospel that God has showed me in the holy Word of truth; which, when the country under- stood, they came in to hear the Word by hundreds, and that from all parts, though upon divers and sundry accounts. And I thank God, he gave unto me some measure of bowels and pity for the souls, which also did put me foward to labor with great diligence and earnestness, to find out such a word as might, if God would bless it, lay hold of, and awaken the conscience. In which also the good Lord had respect to the desire of his servant ; fori had not preached long, before some began to be touched and be grepHy affect^d in their minds at the apprehension of the greatness of their s'" and of their need of Jesus Christ. I first could not believe that God should speak by me to the heart of any man, still counting myself unworthy ; yet those who were thus touched would love me and have a particular respect for me ; and though I did put it from me, that they should be awakened by me, still they would confess it and affirm it before the saints of Q Pi O p PQ Z{/^ r ■*%.-'tf^. o X u < u- DTsl Z^ <2/" Bunyan. 535 So that sometimes, when I have been in favor of them, I have been able to laugh at destruction and to fear neiti:°r the horse nor his rider. I have had sweet sights of the forgivenes.. of my sins in this place, and of my being with Jesus in another world. Oh ! the Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and God the Judge of all, and the spirits of just men made perfect, and Jesus, have been sweet unto me in this place. I have seen diat here, that I am persuaded I shall never, while in this world, be able to express. I have seen a truth in this Scripture : "Whom having not seen, ye love ; in whom, though now ye see him not. yet believ- ing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory" (i Pet. i : 8j. I never knew what it was for God to stand by me at all times, and at every offer of Satan to jfiflict me, etc., as I have found hin. since I came in hither ; for look h<.»w fears have presented themselves, so have supports and encouragements; yea, when I have started, even as it were at nod: '\<>y else but my shadow, yet God, as beino v eiy tender of me, hath i-'-t suit'ered me to be molested, but would, w'th one Scripture or proJierj strengthen me against nil ; insomuch that I have often said, ^-re it lawful, I could pray for greater trouble, foi the greater comfort'; sak<- (Eccl. " : 14; 2 Cor. i : 5). Before I came tc> pr'son I saw what was coj-Mng, and hadespecialiy two considerations warn, upon my heart ; the first was, how to be able to encounter death, should that be here my portion. For the first of these, that Scripture, Col. i : i i.was great information tome, namely, to pray to God "to be strengthened with all might, according to h'.s glorious power, unto all patience and long-suilering with joyfulness." I could seldom go to prayer before I was imprisoned, but foi- not so litde as a year togedier, this sentence or sweet petition would, as it were, thrust itself into my mind and persuade me, tdat it ever 1 would go through long-suffering, I must have patience, especially if I would endure it joyfully. As to the second consideration, that saying was of great use to me : " But we iiad the sentence of death hi our- selves, that we might not trust in ourselves, but in God that raiseth t.v: dead " {2 Cor. i : 9). By this Scgptniv, I was xnade to see that if ever I would suffer rightly. I must first pass a sentence of death upon everything that ran be properly called a thing of thislife, even to reckon myself, my wife, my children, my heakh, my enjoyment, and all, as dead to me, and myself as dead to them. The second was to live upon God that i= invisible, as Paul said in another place ; the way not to faint is, " to look not on the things that are seen, but at the things II m b 1 ''^ii:i:.M'^: 536 Life of Bwiyan. i^in that are not seen ; for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal," And thus I reasoned with myself, If I provide only for a prison, then the whip comes at unawares, and so doth also the pillory. Again, if I only provide for these, then I am not fit for banishment ; further, if 1 conclude that banishment is the worst, then if death comes, I am surprised ; so that I see the best way to go through sufferings is to trust in God through Christ, as touching the world to come; and as touching this world, "To count the grave my house, to make my bed in darkness ; to say to corrup- tion. Thou art my father, and to the worm, Thou art my mother and sister;" that is, to familiarize these things to me. But notwithstanding these helps, 1 found myself a man encom- passed with infirmities ; the parting with my wife and poor children hath often been to me, in this place, as the pulling the fiesh from the bones, and that not only because I am somewhat too fond of these great mercies, but also because I should have often brought to my mind the many hardships, miseries and wants that my poor family were like to meet with, should I be taken from them, especially my poor blind child, who lay nearer to my heart than all beside. Oh ! the thoughts of the hardship I thought my poor blind one might go under, would break my heart to pieces. Poor child ! thought I, what sorrow art thou like to have for thy portion in this world! Thou mus" be beaten, must beg, suffer hunger, cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, though I cannot now endure the wind should blow upon thee. But yet, recalling myself, thought I, I must venture you all with God, though it goeth to the quick to leave you ! Oh ! I saw in this condition I was as a man who was pulling his house upon the head of his wife and children ; yet, thought I, I must do it, I must do it. And now I thought of those two milch kine that were to carry the ark of God into another country, and to leave their calves behind them (i Sam. 6 : :o). But that which helped me in this temptation was divers considerations, of which, three in special here I will name. The first was the consideration of these two scriptures: "Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me (Jer. 49: 11); and again, " The Li^rd said, Verily it shall go well with thy remnant ; verily, I will cause the enemy to entreat thee well in the time of evil," etc. (Jer, 15: ii). I had also this consideration, that if I should ven- ture all for God, I engaged God to take care of my concernments ; but if I forsook him in his ways, for fear of any trouble that should Life of Bunyan. 537 come to me or mine, then I should not only falsify my profession, but should count also that my concernments were not so sure, if left at God's feet, whilst I stpod to and for his name, as they would be if they were under my own care, though with the denial of the way of God. This was a smarting consideration and as spurs into my Haw. That scripture also greatly helped it to fasten t.': i i;iore on me, where Christ prays against Judas, that God would disappoint him in his selhsh thoughts which moved him to sell his Master. Pray read it soberly: Psalm 109: 6-8, etc. I had also another considera- tion, and that was, the dread of the torments of hell, which I was sure they must partake of, that, for fear of the cross, do shrink from their profession of Christ, his words and laws, before the sons of men. I thought, also, of the glory that he had prepared for those that in faith, and love, and patience, stood to his ways before them. These things, I say, have helped me, when the thoughts of the misery that both myself and mine might, for the sake of my profes- sion, be exposed to, have lain pinching on my mind. When I have, indeed, conceited that I might be banished for my profession, then I have thought of that scripture : " They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain witli the sword ; they wandered about in sheep-skins and goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented, of whom the world was not worthy " (Heb. 1 1 : 37), for they all thought they were too bad to dwell and abide among them. I have also thought of that saying: "The Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city, that bonds and afflictions abide on me." I have verily thought that my soul and it have sometimes reasoned about the sore and sad estate of a banished and exiled condition, how they were exposed to hunger, to cold, to perils, to nakedness, to enemies, and a thousand calamities ; and at last, it may be, to die in a ditch, like a poor and desolate sheep. But I thank God, hitherto I have not been moved by these most delicate reasonings, but have rather, bv them, more approved my heart to God. I will tell you a pretty business. I was once, above all the rest, in a very sad and low condition for many weeks ; at which time also, being but a young prisoner, and not acquainted with the laws, I had this lying upon my spirits, that my imprisonment might end at the gallows, for aught that I could tell. Now, therefore, Satan laid hard at me, to beat me out of heart, by suggesting thus unto me : But now if, when you come indeed to die, you should be in this condition ; •i-a 1^1 r 1 i, I ^1 ^ 538 Life of Bunyan. fv-mfi ! It-- la! 3 that is, as not to savor the things of God, nor to have an evidence upon your soul for a better state hereafter? (For indeed, at this time, all the things of God were hid from my soul.) Wherefore, when I at first began to think of this, it was a great trouble to me : for I thought with myself, that in the condidon I now was in, I was not fit to die ; neither did I think I could if I should be called to it ; besides, I thought with myself, if 1 should make a scrambling shift to clamber up the ladder, yet I should, either w.ith quaking or other symptoms of fainting, give occasion to the enemy to reproach the way of God, and his people for their timorousness. This, therefore, lay with great trouble upon me, for methcught I was ashamed to die with a pale face, and tottering knees, in such a case as this. Wherefore, 1 prayed to God that he would comfort me, and give me strength to do and suffer what he should call me to ; yet no comfort appeared, but all continued hid. I was also, at this time, so really possessed with the thought of death, that oft I was as if I was on the ladder with a rope about my neck ; only this was some encouragement to me, I thought I might now have an opportunity to speak my last words unto a multitude, which I thought would come to see me die ; and, thought I, if it must be so, if God will but convert one soul by my last words, I shall not gount my life thrown away nor lost. But yet, all the things of God were kept out of my sight, and still the tempter followed me with. But whither must you' go wlu:n you die? what will become of you ? where will you be found in another world ? what evidence have you for heaven and glory, and an in- heritance among them that are sanctified? Thus was I tossed for many weeks, and knew not what to do ; at last, this consideration fell with weight upon me, That it was for the word and way to God that 1 was in this condition ; wherefore, I was engaged not to flinch a hair's breadth from it. I thought, also, that God might choose whether he would give rfte comfort now, or at the hour of death ; but I might not, therefore, choose whether 1 would hold my profes- sion or no. I was bound, but he was free ; yea, it was my duty to stand to his word, whether he would ever look upon me or save me at the last; wherefore, thought I, save the point being thus I am for 'going on, and venturing my eternal state with Christ, whether I have comfort here or no; if God doth not come in, thought 1, I will leap off the ladder, even blindfold into eternity, sink or swim, come heaven, come hell. Lord Jesus, if thou wilt catch me, do ; if not 1 will venture for thy name. a\ Life of Bimyan. 539 I was no longer fixed with this resolution, but this word dropped upon me, " Doth Job serve God for naught ?" As if the accuser had said, Lord, Job is no upright man ; he serves thee for by-respects ; " Hast thou not made a hedge about him ?" etc. " But put forth now thine hand, and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face." How now! thought I, is this the sign of an upright soul, to desire to serve God when all is taken from him ? Is he a godly man that will serve God for nothing, rather than give out ? Blessed be God ; then I hope I have an upright heart, for I am resolved (God giving me the strength) never to deny my profession, thoug:i I had nothing at all for my pains ; and as I was thus considering, that Scrip- ture was set before me, Psalm 44: 12, etc. Now was my heart full of comfort, for I hoped it was sincere, I would not have been without this trial for much ; I am comforted every time I think of it, and I hope I shall bless God forever for the teaching I have had by it. Many more of the dealings of God towards me I might relate ; but these, out of the spoils won in battle, have I dedicated to maintain the house ot the Lord (i Chron. 26: 27). JOHN BUNYAN. ©J^e (^onePui^^Ion. '\-^ y u 1. Of all the temptations that ever I met with in my life, to question tlie being of God and the truth of his Gospel is the worst, and the worst to be borne. When this temptation comes, it takes away my girdle from me andremoveth the foundation from under me. Oh ! I have often thought of that word : " Have your loins girt about you with truth;" and of that, "When the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do ?" 2. Sometimes, when, after sin committed, I have loooked for sore chastisement from the hand of God, the very next that I have had from him hath been the discovery of his grace. Sometimes, when I have been comforted, I have called myself a fool for my so sinking under trouble. And then, again, when I have been cast down, I w\ 540 Life of Dunyan. P« % kl \. thought I was not wise to give such way to comfort; with such strenc^th and weight hath both these been upon me, 3. I have wondered much at this one thing, that though God doth visit my soul with never so blessed a discovery of himself, yet I have found again, that such hours have attended me afterwards, that I have been in my spirit so filled with darkness, that I could not so much as once conceive what that God and that comfort was, with which I have been refreshed, 4. 1 have sometimes seen more in a line of the Bible than I could well tell how to stand under; and yet at another time the whole Bible hath been to me as a dry stick ; or rather, my heart hath been so dead and dry unto it, that I could not conceive the least dram of refresh- ment, though 1 have looked it all over, 5. Of all fears they are best that are made by the blood of Christ; and of all joy, that is the sweetest that is mixed with the mourning over Christ. Oh ! it is a goodly thing to be on our knees, with Christ in our arms, before God; I hope I know something of these things. 6. I find to this day seven abominations in my heart, i. Inclin- ing to unbelief. 2. Suddenly to forget the love and mercy that Christ manifesteth. 3. A leaning to the works of the law. 4. Wanderings and coldness in prayer. 5. To forget to watch for what I pray for. 6. Apt to murmur because I have no more, and yet ready to abuse what I have. 7. I can do none of those things which God commands me, but corruptions will thrust in themselves. "When I would do good, evil is present with me." 7. These things I continually see and feel, and am afflicted and oppressed with; yet the wisdom of God doth order them for my good. I. They make me abhor myself. 2. They keep me from trusting my heart. 3. They convince me of the insufficiency of all inherent righteousness. 4. They show me the necessity of flying to Jesus. 5. They press me to pray unto God. 6. They show me the need I have to watch and be sober. 7. And provoke me to pray unto God, through Christ, to help me and carry me through this Vorld. f POSTSCRIPT. Bunyan's liberation from prison was obtained from Charles II by Whitehead, the Quaker. This discovery was not made wiien I published his Life in 1839. On his release, he soon became one of the most popular preachers of the day, and was, if not the chaplain, "the Teacher" of Sir John Shorter, the Mayor of London. — Soutltey s Life. But, although free and popular, Bunyan evidently dreaded every new crisis in public affairs. He had reason to do so. Venner's conspiracy had increased the severity of his first six years' imprison- ment. On the occasion of the fire in London, he was thrown into prison again. And soon after James II came to the throne in 1685, Bunyan conveyed the whole of his property to his wife, by a singu- lar deed, which can only be accounted for by his suspicions of James and Jeffries, and by his horror at the revocation of the Edict of Nantz. The asylum which the refugees found in England did not prove fo him that he was safe. No wonder. " Kirke and his lambs" were abroad, and the Bedford justices still in power. It was under these suspicious circumstances that he divested himself of all his property, in order to save his family from want, should he again be made a victim. These coincidences give peculiar interest to the deed of conveyance. The history of its transmis- sion I am unable to give. There is, however, not the shadow of a doubt rests upon its authenticity. Bunyan''^ own signature is un- questionable. I have been able also to verify that by the instru- ment in which Ruffhead conveyed to Bunyan the ground on which his chapel was built. The original is now indorsed on the back thus : " This Will is left by indenture hereunto subscribed, to the Rev. Samuel Hillyard, Minister of Bunyan's Meedng, to be pre- sented to the Trustees of the said Meeting, to be held by them in continuance. Dated this 26Lh day of October, 1832. Bedford. Witness, A. Brandram, Secretary of the Bridsh and Foreign Bible Society ; G. P. Livius ; J. S. Grimshaw, Vicar of Biddenham." " According to the above statement, this wridng of John Bunyan's was put into my hand at the death of Mrs. Livius, and it is my wish that it should be attached to the Church Book. Samuel Hill- yard." Witness, Robert Philip, Author of the Life and Times of (.-,41) '*u ^^. Vt>Tv% IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) k A {/ ^ i^ ^ A /a 1.0 I.I III 2.2 IM 1.8 1.25 u II A ^ _ 6" ► V] <^ /J / c*? ;\ V '^^ r O •^0 f/ .^ :\ \ \;^o ;\ <^ u 542 Life of Bunyan. Bunyan ; William White, Bookseller. Bedford, October 30th, 1 838." Mrs. Livius, if not a descendant, was, I think, in some way related to the Bunyan family. It will be seen that the Deed would not have secured the entire property to Mrs. Bunyan. It shows, however, Bunyan's solicitude for her comfort and h"s confidence in her prudence. And his Eliza- beth well deserved both ! BUNYAN ON HIS LAST ERRAND OF MERCY. Whatever Bunyan may have feared whcm he thus disposed of all the little property he had, nothing befel him under James II. He published " The Pharisee and Publican " in 1685; the year of the king's accession ; and in 1698, Charles Doe says, "he published six Books (being the time of King James II's Liberty of Conscience "). This appears from Doe's List. It throws also much light upon Bun- yan's death. Such labor could not fail to sap his strength, even if Life of Bunyan. 543 he did nothing but carry the six books through the press ; for none of them are small, except the last! The usual account of Bunyan's death is, that he caught cold, whilst returning from Reading to Lon- don on horseback. Violent fever ensued, and after an illness of ten days, he resigned his spirit. Now all this is as true as it is brief; but it is not all the truth. " He was seized with a sweating distemper, " says Doe, " after he published six books ; which, after some weeks going about, proved his death. ''—Doe's Circular. This fact was not BUNYAN'S TOMB IN BUNHILL FIELDS CEMETERY. known even to his first biographer. The sketch in the British Museum states, that taking a tedious journey in a slabby rainy day, and returning late to London, he was entertained by one Mr. Strudwick, a grocer on Snow Hill, with all the kind endearments of a loving friend, but soon found himself indisposed with a \i\\\6.o{ shak- ing, as it were an ague, which increasing to a kind of f^ver, he took to his bed, where, growing worse, he found he had not long to last in this world, and therefore prepared himself for another, towards t 544 Life of Bunyan. which he had been journeying as a Pilgrim and Stranger upon earth, the prime of his days. " — P. 35. The occasion of his journey to Reading, which has always been called " a labor of love and charity, " will now be more interesting than it hitherto has been. It was not undertaken by a man in health; but by an overwrought author, sinking under "a sweating distemper." Mr. Ivimey's account of Bunyan's errand being the best, 1 quote it : " The last act of his life was a labor of love and charity. A younggentleman, a neighbor of Mr. Bunyan, falling under his father's displeasure, and being much troubled in mind on that account, and aho from hearing it was his father's design to disinherit him, or other- wise deprive him of what he had to leave, he pitched upon Mr. Bun- yan as a fit man to make way for his submission, and prepare his mind to receive him ; which he, being willing to undertake any good office, readily engaged in, and went to Reading, in Berkshire, for that purpose. There he so successfully accomplished his design, by using such pressing arguments and reason against anger and passion, and also for love and reconciliation, that the father's heart was softened, and his bowels yearned over his son. "After Mr. Bunyan had disposed everything in the best manner to promote an accommodation, as he returned to London on horse- back, he was overtaken with excessive rains, and comin£jto his lodef- ings extremely wet, he fell sick of a violent fever, which he bore with much constancy and patience, and expressed himself as if he wished 'nothing more than to depart and to be with Christ, considering it as a gain, and life only a tedious delay of expected felicity. Finding his strength decay, he settled his worldly affairs as well as the shortness of the time and the violence of the disorder would permit ; and after an illness of ten days, with unshaken confidence he resigned his soul on the 3 1 St of August, 1688, being sixty years of age, into the hand« of his most merciful Redeemer, following his Pilgrim from the City of Destruction to the New Jerusalem, his better part having been all along there in holy contemplations, pantings, and breathings after the hidden manna and the water of life. " His tomb is in Bunhill Fields. His cottage at Elstow, although somewhat modernized, is substan- tially as he left it. His chair, jug, Book of Martyrs, Church Book, and some other relics, are carefully preserved at his chapel in Bed- ford ; and, best of all, his catholic spirit also is preserved there. ROBERT PHILIP. 1 earth, /s been ^resting health ; 2mper." ote it : •ity. A father's jnt, and \x other- Ir. Bun- pare his ny good , for that by using iion, and softened, : manner )n horse- his lodg- )ore with e wished -ing it as ding his hortness nd after his soul |he hand« the City been all after the 11 Fields, substan- ch Book, 1 in Bed- ire. [ILIP. Hfie biffPe piPgrim. ^MMMMAAAAA^«^^«^a^^WV In a large old house, with two kind aunts, The little Marian dwelt ; And a happy child she was, I ween, For though at times she felt That playmates would be better far Than either birds or flowers, Yet her kind old aunts, and story books, Soothed many lonely hours. Her favorite haunt, in the summer-time. Was a large old apple-tree ; And ofl amid the boughs she sat. With her pet book on her knee. The " Pilgrim's Progress " was its name. And Marian loved it much ; It is, indeed, a glorious book. There are not many such ! She read it in her little bed, Beside the winter fire, And in summer-time m the apple-tree. As though she would never tire. But, unexplained, 'tis just the book To puzzle the young brain ; And the poor child had no kind friend Its meaning to explain. For though her aunts were very kind. They were not overwise. And only said, " Don't read so, child, I'm sure you'll spoil your eyes." But Marian still went reading on. And visions strange and wild Began to fill the little head Of the lonely, dreaming child ; For she thought that Christian and his wife. And all their children too. Had left behind their pleasant home. And done what she must do. " I'll take my Bible," said the child, " And seek the road to heaven ; I'll try to find the Wicket-gate, And hope to be forgiven. I wish my aunts would go with me, But 'tis in vain to ask ; They are so deaf and rather lame. They'd think it quite a task. No ! I must go alone, I see. So I'll not let them know ; Or, like poor Christian's friends, they'll say, • My dear, you must not go.' But I must wait till some grand scheme Can all their thoughts engage ; And then I'll leave my pleasant home. And go on pilgrimage." She had not waited long, before, One fine autumnal day. She saw the large old coach arrive. To take her aunts away. " We are going out to spend the day," The two old ladies said ; " We mean to visit Mrs. Blair — Poor soul ! — she's ill in bed. " But, Marian, you must stay at home, For the lady's ill, you see ; You can have your dinner, if you like, In the large old apple-tree, And play in the garden all the day. Quite happy and content." A few more parting words were said. And off the ladies went. 36 The servants, too, were all engaged ; "The day is come at last," Said Marian, " but oh, I wish. My pilgrimage was past." She icnelt beside the apple-tree. And for God's assistarfce prayed ; Then, with her basket in her hand, Forth tripped the little maid. (646) 546 The Pilgnm's Progress. Behind the house where Marian dwelt, Far off in the distance, lay A high steep hill, which the sun at morn Tinged with its earliest ray. " Difficulty " was its rightful name, The child ha* often thought ; Towards this hill she turned her steps, With hopeful visions fraught. The flowers seemed to welcome her, ' Twas a lovely autumn morn. The little lark sang merrily, Above the waving corn. " Ah, little lark, you sing," said she, " On your early pilgrimage ; I, too, will sing, for pleasant thoughts Should now my mind engage." In clear, sweet strains she sang a hymn, And tripped lightly on her way ; Until a pool of soft thick mud Across her pathway lay. " This is the Slough of Despond," she cried. But she bravely ventured through ; And safely reached the other side. But she lost one little shoe. On an old gray stone she sat her down. To eat some fruit and bread ; Then took her little Bible out, And a cheering psalm she read. Ti.en with fresh hope she journeyed on, For many miles away ; And she reached the bottom of the hill, Before the close of day. She clambered up the steep ascent, Though fjint and weary too ; But firmly did our Marian keep Her purpose still in view. •• I'm glad, at least, the arbor's past," Said the little tired soul ; "I'm sure I should have sat me down, And lost my little roll !" On the high hill-top she stands at last, And our weary Pilgrim sees A porter's lodge, of ample size. Half hid by slieltering trees. She clapped her hands with joy, and cried, '• Oh, there's the Wicket-gate, And I must seek admittance there. Before it is too late." Gently she knocks — 'tis answered soon. And at the open door Stands a tall, stout man — poor Marian felt As she had never felt before. With tearful eyes, and trfembling hand, Flushed cheek, and anxious brow. She said, " I hope you're Watchful, Sir, I want Discretion now." " Oh yes, I'm watchful," said the man, " As a porter ought to be ; I s'pose you've lost your way, young Mis6» You've lost your shoe, I see. "Missus," he cried to his wife within, " Here's a child here, at the door. You'll never see such a one again. If you live to be fourscore. She wants discretion, so she says, Indeed I think ' tis true ; But 1 know some who want it more. Who will not own they do. " Go to the Hall," his wife replies, " And take the child with you, The ladies there are all so wise. They'll soon know what to do." The man complied, and led the child Through many a flowery glade ; " Is that the Palace Beautiful ?" The little Piigrim said — " There, to the left, among the trees ? Why, Miss, 'tis mighty grand ; Call it a palace, if you please, 'Tis the finest in the land. Now we be come to the fine old porch. And this is the Marble Hall ; Here, little lady, you must stay, While I the servants call."' Tired and sad he left the child, But he quickly re-appeared. And with him the lady of the house — Poor Marian's heart was cheered. " Sweet little girl," the lady said, In accents soft and kind, " I'm sure you sadly want some rest. And rest you soon shaP find. ' The Little Pilgrim. 547 ', and cried, ire, !d soon, Marian felt g hand, brow, iful, Sir, le man, young Miss, /ithin, door, ain, ys, nore, lies, e child de; trees ? d; d porch. house — eered. .id, ne rest; To a room where three young ladies sat The child was quickly led ; " Piety, Prudence and Chanty," To herself she softly said. "What is your name, my little dear?" Said the eldest of the three, Whom Marian, in her secret thought. Had christened Piety. " We'll send a servant tb your friends. How uneasy they must be ! " Admiringly she watched the child. Who, indeed, was fair to see ; Around her bright and lovely face Fell waves of auburn hair. As modestly she told her name. With whom she lived and where. *• How did you lose your way, my love ? " She gently raised her head, " I do not think I've lost my way," The little Pilgrim said. " This is the Palace Beautiful, May I stay here to-night?" They smiled and said, " We're glad our house Finds favor in your sight : " Yes, gladly will we keep you here, For many nights to come." " Thank you," said Marian, " but I soon Must seek my heavenly home. The Valley of the Shadow of Death Is near this house, I know " — She stopped, for she saw, with great surprise, Their tears began to flow. She little thought the mourning dress. Which all the ladies wore, Was for one whom they had dearly loved, And should see on earth no more. Their brother had been called away. Their brightest and their best ; No wonder, then, that Marian's words Roused grief in every breast. Sobs only for a while were heard ; At length the ladies said, " My love, you have reminded us Of our loved and early dead ; But this you could not know, my dear, And it indeed is true ; We are all near to Death's dark door, Even little girls like you," " Yes," said the timid, trembling child, • " 1 know it must be so ; But, ma'am, I hope that Piety May be with me when I go. And will you show me your armory. When you have time to spare ? I hope you have some small enough For a little girl to wear." No more she said, for Piety, ' As Marian called her, cast Her arms around the Pilgrim's neck. The secret's out at last. "You puzzled all," said Piety; " But now, I see, you've read A giorious book, which, unexplained, Has turned your little head. " Oh, dearly, when I was a child, I loved that Pilgrim Tale ; But then mamma explained it well — And if we can prevail On your kind aunts to let you stay Some time with us, my dear, You shall read that book with my maiJima, And she will make it clear. " Now we'll return to Marian's home. And see what's passing there. The servants all had company. And a merry group they were. They had not missed our Pilgrim long. For they knew she oft would play In that old garden, with a bool^ The whole of the livelong day. " Betty," at last, said the housekeeper, " Where can Miss Marian be ? Her dinner was in the basket packed. But, sure, she'll come into tea ! " They sought her here, they sought her there, But they could not find the cnild ; And her poor old aunts, when they came home, ,' With grief were almost wild. The coachman and th'' footman, too. In different ways w .ic sent ; But none thought of the narrow way In which the Pilgrim went. " Perhaps she followed us to town, " Poor Aunt Rebecca said, " I wish we had not left our horn- • I fear the child is dead. " 1^. 548 The Pilgrim's Progress. And to the town the coachman went, For they knew not what to do ; And night drew on, when a country boy Brought Marian's httle shoe. With the shoe in her hand, the house- keeper Into the parlor ran, " Oh, Mistress, here is all that's left Of poor Miss Marian. It was found sticking in the mud. Just above Harlem Chase ; I fear the poor child's perished there. For 'tis a frightful place. " IT"' I 'ouder grew the ladies' grief; >!. j: ioon their hearts were cheered, Wh^-^a a footman grand, with a note in his hand; From the distant Hall appeared. Aunt Ruth now read the note, and cried, " O sister, all is well ! The child is safe at Brookland Hall, With Lady Arundel, Who wants to keep her for a month ; Why, yes ; I think she may — Such friends as Lady Arundel Are not met with every day. " Our compliments and thanks to her. When you return, young man ; We'll call to-morrow at the Hall, , And see Miss Marian." Then came a burst of grateful joy, That could not be suppressed. And, with thankful hearts and many tears. The ladies went to rest. We'll take a peep at our Marian now. There in her bed lies she ; How blissful were her dreams that night. In the arms of Piety. Oh, that happy month at Brookland Hall, How soon it passed away ! Cheerful and good were Marian's friends. And who so kind as they 7 And, more than all, while there she stayed, They did their best to bring The little lamb to that blest fold Where reigns the Shepherd King. For many a lesson ne'er forgot, The little Marian learned ; And :> thoughtful and a happier child She to her home reti ned. Years rolled away, the scene has changed ; A wife and mother now, Marian has found the Wicket-gate— She and her children too. And oh ! how sweet it is to see This little Pilgrim band. As on towards their heavenly home. They travel hand in hand. When cloudy days fall to their lot. They see a light afar. The light chat shone on Bethlehem's plain, The Pilgrim's guiding star. And now, dear children, whosoe'er Or wheresoe'er you be, Who ponder o'er this strange, true tale Of Mi;ri?n's history, — If to the flowers of your young hearts. Instruction's dews are given. Oh ! be earnest as our Marian was. To find the road to Heaven. lot, lem's plain, e'er rue tale hearts, ras, AGENTS WANTED FOR THE MOST VALUABLE ANDJALABLE BOOKS The sale of popular books, by canvassers, gives pleasant and profitable employment to a large number of persons, and if the books are of a merito- rious character, the business is a most useful and honorable one. Book-canvassing is a business that requires but small capital, and is one that involves very little risk. 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