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CHRISTIAN IN VIEW OF THE CROSS. 
 
EWJC.- 
 
 PSYCH. 
 UBMfiY 
 
 SUPERFINE EDITION. 
 
 THE 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 
 
 FROM 
 
 THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO GOME. 
 
 BY 
 
 John Bunyan. 
 
 WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES BY 
 
 THE REV. ROBERT MAGUIRE, D.D. 
 
 TOGETHER WITH A 
 
 COMPLETE ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN; OR, GOD'S 
 ABOUNDING GRACE TOWARD THE GREATEST OF SINNERS. 
 
 Written 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 PISTES. 
 
Gonfertf/^. 
 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Introductory Notice of the Author . 
 
 The Author's Apology for his Book . 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Den and the Dreamer .... 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Slough of Despond .... 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Worldly-wiseman ..... 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Wicket-gate 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Interpreter's House .... 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Cross and the Contrast 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 The Hill Difficulty 
 
 CHAPTER VIII, 
 The Palace Beautiful ..... 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Apollyon . 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Valley of the Shadow of Death . 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Christian and Faithful .... 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Talkative ....... 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 Vanity Fair ...... 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 Christian and Hopeful .... 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Doubting Castle and Giant Despair . 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 The Delectable Mountains .... 
 
 (5) 
 
 EDUC- 
 PSYCH. 
 LIBRARY 
 
 12 
 25 
 
 33 
 42 
 
 49 
 62 
 
 ^7 
 81 
 
 87 
 
 93 
 III 
 
 118 
 125 
 
 137 
 
 151 
 167 
 
 133 
 
 196 
 
 649 
 
6 
 
 Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The 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. 
 Mr. Valiant-for-truth 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 The Enchanted Ground ..... 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 The Pilgrims at Home ..... 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Life of John Bunyan, Written by Himself . 
 
 Page 
 202 
 
 229 
 
 242 
 
 257 
 265 
 279 
 
 295 
 308 
 322 
 
 344 
 356 
 372 
 391 
 401 
 
 413 
 422 
 
 434 
 
 * 
 
 447 
 
l9i/i)f of Jffu^fraiiorti^. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Paab 
 
 Steel Plate Portrait of the Author 
 
 Behold ! Three Shining Ones come to Him 32 
 
 Christian 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 ............ 6l 
 
 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 Wall . 73 
 
 Christian in View of the Cross ........ "^y 
 
 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 . lOl 
 
 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 128 
 
 Faithful's Struggle with Adam the First 1 33 
 
8 
 
 List of Illustrations. 
 
 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-love'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 Beulah 
 Christian and Hopeful cross the River 
 The Gates are opened 
 
 Page 
 
 139 
 144 
 
 148 
 
 152 
 
 156 
 
 160 
 
 164 
 
 166 
 
 168 
 
 172 
 
 176 
 
 180 
 
 184 
 
 188 
 
 193 
 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- gate . 
 The Boys eat of the Fruit . 
 
 267 
 271 
 
 275 
 280 
 284 
 288 
 
List of illustrations. 
 
 Christiana and Mercy are delivered from the two Ill-favored 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 
 
 Gains 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 
 
 d 
 
 Page 
 292 
 299 
 306 
 
 316 
 
 320 
 324 
 
 333 
 337 
 341 
 
 345 
 
 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 
 Banyan's Birthplace 
 
 446 
 449 
 
10 
 
 List of hmstrationS. 
 
 Bukyan Listening to the Women of Bedford 
 Bunyan Studying the Writings of Luther 
 Bunyan Preaching in the Open Air . 
 
 Bedford Jail 
 
 Bunyan in Prison .... 
 Bunyan's Family visiting him in Prison 
 Bunyan Arrested while Preaching 
 Bunyan on his Last Errand of Mercy 
 Bunyan's Tomb in Bunhill Field's Cemetery 
 
 pAGfe 
 
 457 
 481 
 
 520 
 
 522 
 
 524 
 
 527 
 
 534 
 542 
 
 543 
 
 iJufP-page (^oforeil Gngra^^ing^. 
 
 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. 
 
 ^ 
 
^ntroc:|uGtorv Rofiee o^ tfie ©Kuifior. 
 
 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 few 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 tinker, 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, quaHfied 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 his 
 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 and 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 philosophy 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. i3 
 
 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 
 oeing 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 
 
14 hitroductoi-y Notice of the Author. 
 
 special licence from the king, you must stretch by the neck for it, I 
 tell you plainly. Jailer, take him away." 
 
 Bunyan's reply was as worthy of his Christian character as the 
 judge's manner was unworthy of his exalted office. All that he 
 had to say in answer to such brutal browbeating was, " If I was out 
 of prison to-day, I would preach again to-morrow, by the help of 
 God ! " Such a man was evidently not to be frightened either by 
 frowns or by threats ; so they had him back to prison, of which he 
 had already tasted the sweets. But not all the horrors of prison, 
 not the pain of separation from his wife and four children, 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 pieces." 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 with God's comfort in my poor 
 soul!" 
 
 His case seems to have given some trouble to the justices. 
 He was had up before them 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 
 
Introductory Notice of the Author. 15 
 
 efforts were in vain. The one condition on which his release could 
 be granted was the condition with which the prisoner would not 
 comply. "Will your husband leave preaching? " said Judge 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 nature was keenest — when free exercise 
 would have proved the greatest luxury to a stalwart frame like his 
 — when he would have entered with the greatest zest into home 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 little 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, shc^ 
 was unable to recog-nize. 
 
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-flower blooming at 
 his feet with its bewitching beauty hath for him a quiet but charm- 
 ing tale 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 lieht. 
 
 t> 
 
 " 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 
 
 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-gfate — his 
 visit to the Interpreter's house — his rapture when, standing at the 
 foot of the Cross and gazing on the Crucified, his burden fell from 
 his shoulders, and he was free. Again he is entertained at the 
 Palace Beautiful, finds there refreshment and repose, and at break 
 of day wakes up singing in the chamber whose name is Peace, Or 
 he wanders among the Delectable Mountains with the shepherds for 
 his companions, and from the hilJ 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, ripening 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 rather glides upward ; for the shining ones have clasped 
 his hands, and the burden of mortality left in the river no more 
 clogs the movements of the ascending soul. The gates open at his 
 approach — the trumpets sound in honor of his coming. The bells 
 of the city " ring again for joy." " Angels meet him with harp and 
 crown, and give him the harp to praise withal and the crown in token 
 of honor." And the hosts of the glorified standing round welcome 
 him with acclamations to their exalted fellowship, saying, "Enter 
 thou into the joy of thy Lord." 
 
 All these are real to him — more real than the prison walls that 
 surround him, or his prison garb, or prison fare. These are but the 
 illusions which shall vanish ; those the realities which shall endure. 
 And, being so vividly presented to his mind, he is constrained to 
 imprint them on his page. Rousing himself from his reverie, but 
 with beaming eye and radiant countenance, for " he writes as 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 Providence which controls 
 the wrath of man, and makes it contribute to its own purposes, so 
 overruled the malice of his persecutors as to make it serve the 
 
J Introductory Notice of the Author. 19 
 
 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 
 some of the circumstances which facilitated his work. Cruelties 
 such as were perpetrated in other prisons would probably have 
 shortened his days, or at least have rendered writing and study 
 impossible ; but in the 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 litde 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, 
 lino-erino-for a while on the river's brink, before the messeng-er 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 beholds 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 shou -1. have 
 written a book of such universal and enduring popularity. More 
 
uniroductory Notice of the Author. 2l 
 
 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 b\ 
 his own experience. The long and painful journey which Christian 
 makes with his burden befoie 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 have been at the wicket-gate, and not at the further side 
 of the Interpreter's house ; for there is really no true progress 
 heavenward until the cross is seen. As an allegory, moreover, it 
 presents, as it could scarcely fail, some obvious inconsistencies. 
 The wicket-gate is the proper entrance to the 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 personag^es 
 
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 falls on them, 
 is perfectly charming, and all the more noticeable as contrasted with 
 the lurid grandeur of others. What a sweet picture is that Palact 
 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." t 
 
 Not less lovely, when Christiana passes through, is the Valley 
 of Humiliation, green and fertile and "beautified with 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 
 
Introductory Notice of the Author. 23 
 
 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 bells 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 
 beaudes of the book. The more we study it, the more do we feel 
 how much 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. 
 
fte oKutfior'/^ oKpofogLj for 
 (Ki^ Si)oo^C. 
 
 HEN at the first I took my pen in hand, 
 Thus for to write, I did r>ot understand 
 That I at all should make a little book 
 In such a mode : nay, I had undertook 
 To make another ; which, when al^ncst dcn^ 
 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 i7ifinitum, 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^ The Author s Apology. 
 
 Neither did J 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 pull'd, it came ; and sol 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 not see 
 Which was the best thing to be done by me : 
 At last I thought. Since you are thus divided, 
 I print it will ; and so the case decided. 
 For, thought I, some I see would have it done. 
 Though others in that channel do not run : 
 To prove, then, who advised for the best, 
 Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. 
 
 I further thought, if now I did deny 
 Those that would have it thus to gradfy, 
 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 : 
 
The Author s Apology. 2? 
 
 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 brinor waters when the bright brinof 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. 
 
28 The Author s Apology. 
 
 Well, yet I am 7iot fully satisfied. 
 That this your book ivill stand when soMidly tried. 
 
 Why, what's the matter? It is dark I What thought 
 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. 
 
 SoHdity, indeed, becomes the pen 
 Of him that writeth things divine to men : 
 But must I needs want soHdness, 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 blood of lambs, 
 God speaketh to him ; and happy is he 
 That finds the light and grace that in them be. 
 
 Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude 
 That I want solidness, that I am rude : 
 All things solid in show not solid be : 
 All things in parable despise not we, 
 Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, 
 And things that good are, of our souls bereavec 
 My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold 
 j The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold. 
 
 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 Authors Apology. 29 
 
 Am I atraid 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 swaddling-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, and 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 
 
"BEHOLD! THREE SHINING ONES CAME TO HIM/ 
 
 (32) 
 
THE THREE -SliiMxNX. UXES. 
 
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 woe 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 
 (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 
 
 The wilderness of this world. — 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 pilgrim. 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 dreajned. — Bunyan, 
 though bereft of liberty in a damp and 
 dreary dungeon, threw his allegory into the 
 likeness of a perfect dream. 
 
 And behol''. I saw a man, etc. — Mark the 
 features of '::s vision. This man is the 
 personification of the sinner awakened to 
 consciousness of his sins. He is " clothed 
 with rags " — the rags of his own rigbteous* 
 
 3 
 
 (33) 
 
34 
 
 The Pilgrun s Progress. 
 
 fire from heaven ; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with 
 thee my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to 
 
 ruin ; except (the which 
 yet I see not) some way 
 of escape 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 
 might settle his brain, with 
 haste they got him to bed. 
 But the night was as trou- 
 blesome to him as the day ; 
 wherefore, instead of sleep- 
 ing, he spent it in sighs and 
 tears. So, when the morn- 
 ing was come, they v/ould 
 know how he did ; and 
 he told them worse and 
 worse. He also set to 
 talking to them again, but 
 they began to be harden- 
 ed ; they also thought to 
 drive away his distemper 
 by harsh and surly carri- 
 ages to him ; sometimes 
 they \vould deride, some- 
 times they would chide, 
 and sometimes they would 
 quite neglect him. Wherefore he began tG /cdre himself to his cham- 
 ber, to pray for and pity them, and also to cowduic' his own misery. He 
 
 CHRISTIAN READING HIS BOOK. 
 
 ness ; " standing 
 
 -still in doubt, not yet 
 
 set forward ; " his face from his ov 
 
 -^ V - 
 
 'se 
 
 — lookiti/ ili'j right 
 hand "- » ft. £5',bic; 
 
 '^ ir • " 
 
 way 
 knd 
 
 a book in his 
 a great burden 
 
Christian breaks his Mi^id to his Family^ 
 
 EVANGELIST DIRECTS CHRISTIAN TO THE WICKET-GATE. 
 
 would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading and some 
 times praying; aad 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 
 run ; yet he stood still, because (as I perceived) he could not tell 
 which way to go. I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist 
 
 on his back " — the weary burden of his sin ; 
 "he we] t and trembled," as every man 
 must dn 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 sa7'r(i?" The convicted sinner's first 
 thought is of his danger, as if it would 
 crush him ; the next is of the possibihty of 
 escape — salvation. 
 
 He brake /u's mijid to his wife. — Thi? 
 paragraph minutely depicts the agony of an 
 awakened sinner — disclosing some threat- 
 ening evil to those he loves best, and would 
 rescue if be can ; those clays 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 
 
christian sets out from the City of Destruction. 
 
 m 
 
 coming (Job -i)})'- 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 1 
 find that I am not wiUing to do the first, nor able to do the second 
 (Heb. 9 : 27; Job 16 : 21, 22 ; Ezek. 22 : 14), 
 
 Then said Evangehst, Why not wilHng 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 : 33). And, 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 
 from the wrath to come " (Matt. 3: 7). The man therefore read it, 
 and, looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said, Whither must I 
 flee? Then said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very 
 wide field. Do you see yonder wicket-gate? (Matt. 7: 13, 14; Ps. 
 119, 105 ; 2 Pet. I : 19.) The man said. No. 
 
 Then said the other, Do you see yonder shining light? He 
 said, I 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. Gifford, under whose 
 instruction and ministry Bunyan so greatly 
 profited. Mr. Gifford had been a major in 
 the king's army, and a persecutor of those 
 who, like Bunyan, overstepped the narrow 
 bounds of that unhappy period. He, how- 
 ever, afterward became a converted man, 
 and was the founder of a church 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 ? — What a vol- 
 ume might be written in answer to this 
 question ! Everything conspires 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 hii? solitary walks ; the 
 dread realization of s.'n and fear of death, 
 and conscious unpreparedness for judgment 
 — all these circumsta ices conspire to open 
 the fountain of his tei rs. 
 
 Prison — -judgment— -execution. — This pro- 
 gression of wrath and condemnation, 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, mto 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 
 is the 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 
 
 The 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 behind him, but tied toward the middle of the plain. 
 
 The neighbors also came out to see him run ; and as he ran 
 some mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to re- 
 turn ; and among those that did so, there 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 little 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 body and 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 dwell 
 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. 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends and our comforts 
 behind us ! 
 
 Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), because that all \< 
 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 faro 
 as I myself; for there where I go is enough and to spare : come 
 away, and prove my words (Luke 15 : 17). 
 
 Obst, 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 family 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, ahke 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 terms adds much to the 
 interest of "The Pilgrim's Progress," and 
 lends a great charm to the character intro- 
 duced. These two are named from their 
 nature, which soon manifests itself in their 
 conduct. 
 
 Obstinate is evidently a mocker, who 
 scoffs at the possessors of religion. He 
 cannot understand why the Pilgrim should 
 leave his worldly associations, or believe the 
 book that bids him to forsake all 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 
 
40 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress, 
 
 OBSTINATE GOES BACK TO THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION. 
 
 says is true, the things he looks after are better than ours : my heart 
 indines 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 you ? Go back, 
 go back, and be wise. 
 
 Chr. 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 way. He is caught by prom- 
 ises, and is beckoned on by hopes, but 
 counts not the cost of the journey. He is 
 phable for good, or he is phable for evil ; 
 and is ready for either way, according to 
 circumstances. 
 
 Meanwhile the Pilgrim, who is now for 
 
 the first 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 him to leave friends 
 and comforts behind him, which Obstinate 
 will not do. His hope points to the glory 
 beyond — the incorruptible inheritance. His 
 Book teaches him all this ; the testimony of 
 that Book is confirmed by the blood of Him 
 that gave it ; and thus, with the faith that 
 forsakes house and family and friends for 
 Christ, and, with the hope that beckons on 
 
Obstinate and Pliable. 
 
 41 
 
 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. 
 
 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 a? 
 a friend. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Slough of Despond. 
 
 Obstinate in his self-will has returned to the City of 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 way prove 
 hazardous, he that has turned his face forward will as easily turn backward, and forsake 
 the pilgrimage. 
 
 OW I saw in my dream that, when Obstinate was gone 
 back, Christian and Phable went talking over the plain ; 
 and thus they began their discourse. 
 
 Chr. Come, neighbor Pliable, 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 what 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 veracity 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 destroyed, what 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, realizes 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 ? — Still with an insatiable 
 
 (42) 
 
Christian a7iswers Pliable s Questions. 
 
 43 
 
 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, Well 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; r 
 Thess. 4 : 16, 17). There, also, you shall meet with thousands and ten 
 thousands that have gone before us to tl.&t 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 
 more and more quickened. It is 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. 
 
44 
 
 The Pilg^dnis Progress. 
 
 Chr. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded 
 Ihatm this book, the substance of which is, if we be truly wiUing to 
 have it, he will bestow it upon us freely (Isa. 55: 1-3; John 6: 37 ; 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 
 diat is on my back. 
 
 Now, 1 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 
 Chrisdan, 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 hearer. Not- 
 withstanding your hvely 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 mend 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 Destruction, yet now slackens his pace ; 
 he can run no longer. Pliable feels no 
 weight. He has undertaken, 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 
 
HELP DRAWS CHRISTIAN OUT OF THF '•^^"-^^ OF DESPOND. 45 
 
46 
 
 The Pilgrints Progress. 
 
 At that Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his 
 fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of? If 
 "we have such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect 
 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 struggle or two, and got out of the mire on 
 that side of the slough which was next to his own house. So away 
 he went, and Christian saw him no more. 
 
 Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of 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 yonder gate, that I might escape the 
 wrath to come ; and as I was going thither I 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 
 dazzling 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, an 1 sinking in the miry clay, he 
 feels his danger and his desolate condition. 
 How dreary and how dreadful is this place ! — 
 
 I " Where hardly a human foot could pass, 
 
 I Or a human heart would dare, 
 
 On the auaking 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 of G"d in 
 
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 10 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 
 these 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 slvation." 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 ; aiid 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 g ings. 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: 13). 
 
 Then I stepped to him. — Here the dreamer 
 takes part in his own vision ; that such a 
 Cwamp as this should be permitted to exist 
 
 is to him a marvel, and he seeks the inter- 
 pretation thereof. This, 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 in- 
 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- 
 
48 
 
 The Pilgrim s 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, certain good and 
 substantial steps placed even through the very midst of this slough ; 
 but, at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth 
 against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen ; or if they be, 
 men, through the dizziness of their heads, step 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 sat sneakingr amontj them. But at last he o-ot more confi 
 dence, and then they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor 
 Christian behind his back. And thus much concerninof 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 
 Christendom 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, 
 and ye shall find." 
 
 Thus tnuch concernmg Pliable. — Such is 
 the career of the unstable professor — 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 trouble arises and diffi- 
 culties meet him, he 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. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 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 Self- 
 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. 
 
 ^jS 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 be put in a way to be rid of my heavy burden. 
 
 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 with a fellow-Christian, he would 
 probably escape the temptation. The 
 tempter ofttimes selects our lonely moments 
 for his fiercest 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 
 
 Pilgrim — an opportunity for the assault of 
 the evil one. 
 
 Mr. Worldly-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 
 
 (49) 
 
50 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 
 CHRISTIAN AND WORLDLY-WISEMAN. 
 
 WoR. 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 the 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 foohshness. 
 They that are " wise after the flesh *' are not 
 "wise unto God." 
 
 Having some guess of him. — There were 
 certain marks 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 groans " come at sea- 
 sons, these troubles rise not from the depths 
 of conscience, but only play upon the outei 
 surface of external circumstances. He can- 
 not, therefore, understand what it is to be 
 deeply burdened with iniquity ; nor has he 
 
Worldly-wiseman qtiestiofts Christian. 
 
 5i 
 
 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 bo rid of thy burden ? 
 
 CiiR. 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 heartfeh penitence, he now dis- 
 cerns in our Pilgrim the man who had set 
 forth from the City of Destruction. 
 
 Hast thou a wife and childreti? — This 
 question is one of those inquiries suggested 
 by worldly wisdom and carnal policy : 
 earthly things first, and then (if ever) heav- 
 enly things. Farm, merchandise, wife and 
 children — for one or more of these things 
 " I 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 off your attention from re- 
 ligion,' The veneralale prelate thus replied, 
 
 in a single text of Scripture : " And Enoch 
 walked with God, and begat sons and 
 daughters." 
 
 Worldly-wiseman's question, then, has 
 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 go this way? — Worldi.v- 
 WISEMAN by his questions evidently seeks to 
 perplex 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 Pilgrinij 
 or with the utter hopelessness of h's condi 
 tion, so far as human aid is concern-pd. An- 
 other way, ^e urges, must be tried ; and 
 
52 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 WoR. How earnest thou by thy burden at first? . 
 
 Chr. By reading this book in my hand. , 
 
 WoR. 1 thought so : and it has happened unto thee as to other 
 weak men, who, meddhng 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 shoulders ; 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. 
 
 How earnest thou by thy burden ? — This is 
 drawing to closer quarters. The tempter 
 already sees 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 consciousness 
 of the burden And, first of all, he attempts 
 to overthrow the authority of the Book 
 which has disclosed to the Pilgrim the exist- 
 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, Worldly-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. — WORLDLY-WISE- 
 man has gained the Pilgrim's ear, and now 
 he delves deeper, and gains the Pilgrim's 
 heart. Christian is now hstening to the 
 counsel of the ungodly. We fear for the 
 result. 
 
 Morality, Legality, Civility. — These are 
 the new saviours suggested by Worldly- 
 wiseman ; 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 
 
Christian beneath mount sinai. 
 
 53 
 
54 
 
 T)ie Pilgrim s P7' ogress. 
 
 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 somew^hat 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 —"I thank thee that 1 am not 
 as other men are." This religion sets up 
 claims, personal claims, and expects heaven 
 by right of labor done and service rendered. 
 It hides the great truth of the Christian 
 revelation, which establishes the fact that 
 man is nothing, and that Christ is every- 
 thing '; that 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 hfe 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 hfe, but by seeing and know- 
 ing the worst of our state, and then fleeing 
 for refuge to lay hold upon the hope - the 
 jnly hope — that is set before us. 
 
 The Christian practises morality and de- 
 lights in good works, not that he may be for- 
 given, but because he is forgiven. Morality 
 may attend to the claims of one man upon 
 
 another, and yet neglect the claims made by 
 God ; bu' 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 rushes 
 into court, challenging justice, and confront- 
 ing the very judge h mself. 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. Vou 
 have courted the law, and you shall have it 
 But remember the terms 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 
 Foul that sinneth, it shall 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 wider Moiird Sinai. 
 
 55 
 
 house for help. But, behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, 
 it seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next the 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 
 that he had taken Mr. Worldly-wiseman's counsel. And with that 
 he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom 
 he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and 
 nearer; and coming up to him, he looked upon him with a severe 
 and dreadful countenance, and thus began to reason with Christian. 
 - What doest thou here? said he. At which words Christian 
 knew not what to answer : wherefore at present ne 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, suggests self- 
 justification instead of self-condemnation ; 
 forgetfulness of sin, instead of earnest search 
 for forgiveness of sin ; the opiate of uncon- 
 cern to lull the awakened soul to sleep ; the 
 flattering unction that will speak tenderly of 
 the wrongdoings of the man, and whisper 
 peace, when there is no peace. And this 
 he calls " 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- 
 eth 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 
 learn 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 chff ; instead of " friendship," there 
 is the dismal lonehness 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 I am ! Who shall deliver me ? ' 
 
 A fid did quake frr fear. — The law gen- 
 dereth to bondag'- ; and the spirit of bond- 
 age is the spirit of fear. 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." Christi.\n now finds 
 how true it is that " the way of transgressors 
 is hard." 
 
 He saw Evangelist coming. — This 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 
 
66 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 Chr. Yes, dear Sir, I am the man. 
 
 Evan. Did I not direct thee the way to the httle wicket-gate? 
 
 Yes, dear Sir, said Christian. 
 
 Evan. How is it then that thou art so quickly turned aside? 
 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, and 
 got me at last to yield; so I came hither; but when I beheld this hill, 
 and how it hangs over the way, I suddenly made a stand, lest it 
 should fall on my head. 
 
 Evan. What said that gentleman to you ? 
 
 Chr. Why, he asked me whither I 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 to the place of 
 deliverance. So he said that he would show me a better way, and 
 shorter, not so attended with difficulties as the way, Sir, that you set 
 me in ; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house 
 
 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 EvangeHsts, 
 who minister to us in holy things ! 
 
 What doe<it 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 takes 
 refuge beneath this overhanging wrath, will 
 find how the law can convince of sin and 
 punish sin, but cannot take it away ; it can 
 increase the burden, but cannot lighten it. 
 The law is a schoolmaster, and its teaching 
 rightly understood leads to Christ ; but it is 
 Christ alone, and not the law, that taketh 
 away sin. 
 
Evangelist instructs Christian. 
 
 67 
 
 CHRISTIAN AT THE WICKET-GATE. 
 
 that hath skill to take all these burdens. So I believed hipii, 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 litde, that I may show thee 
 the words of God. So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, 
 " See that ye refuse not him that speaketh. For if they escaped not 
 who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we 
 escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven." He 
 said, moreover, " Now the just shall live by faith : but if any man 
 draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him." (Heb. 12 : 25 ; 
 10: 38). He also did thus apply them : Thou art the man that art 
 running into this misery. Thou hast begun to reject the counsel of 
 
5.< 
 
 The Pilgrinis Progress. 
 
 th*: 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 undcjrie. At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by 
 the right hand, saying, " All manner of sin and blasphemy sb.all 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 Joh!\ 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 the cross odious to thee ; and his setting thy feet in 
 that way that 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 
 EgA'pt; 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 
 
GOODWILL SHOWS CHRISTIAN THE WAY. 
 
 59 . 
 
60 
 
 The Pi/o-rints Procress. 
 
 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 must abhor. 
 
 Thirdly, thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that 
 leadeth to the ministration of death. And for this thou must 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 v/as 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. V/orldly-wiseman is 
 an alien, and Mr. Legality a cheat; and asfor 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 things which are writ- 
 ten in the book of the law to do them" (Gal. 3 : 10). 
 
 New 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 works of the law, are under the 
 curse" (Gal. 3 : 10). 
 
Christian under Mou7it Sinai. 
 
 61 
 
 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? lam 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 litde" (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 hope ? — Yes, there is hope. 1 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 \^lket-ffate, and \ every onward step of the Pilgrim. 
 
 HYPOCRISY. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Wicket-gate. 
 
 The Wicket-gate constitutes one of the main features of the great Dreamer's A» !*gory. 
 It is an end, and it is a beginning. It concludes the Pilgrim's search for the better patb, and 
 inaugurates his entrance upon the King's highway — the way of holiness. It c1oK;s upon 
 the weary wilderness of doubt and ignorance in which he wandered, wept, and t'-Embled, 
 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 soo «.er, 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 
 vouchsafe him an answer. He went hke one thcit 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 counsel ; so 
 in process of time Christian got up to the gate. Now over the gate 
 there was written, "Knock, and it shall be opened unto you" 
 (Matt. 7:7)- He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, 
 saying, 
 
 " May I now enter here ? will he within 
 Open to sorry me, though I have been 
 An undeserving rebel ? then shall I 
 Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high." 
 
 At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Goodwill, 
 who asked, who was there ? and whence he came ? and what he 
 would have ? 
 
 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 faii.h knocks again, and still con- 
 tinues to knock, until it is opened to him by 
 
 (62) 
 
 Goodwill, the porter of the gate — for to 
 such "the porter openeth " (John 10: 3). 
 
 Good-will. — 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 wilHng to let 
 me in. 
 
 I am wilHng with all my heart, said he ; and with that he 
 opened the gate. 
 
 So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. 
 Then said Christian, What means that? The other told him, A 
 little distance from this gate there is erected a strong castle, of which 
 Beelzebub is the .:aptain ; from thence both he and they that a-e 
 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 
 
 Now I begin to reap the benefit of my hazards. 
 
 But how is it that you came alone ? 
 Because none of my neighbors saw their danger as 1 
 
 shut it." 
 
 Chr. 
 
 Good 
 
 Chr, 
 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, both Obstinate and Pliable ; but when they saw that 
 they could not prevail. Obstinate went railing back ; but Pliable 
 came with me a little way. 
 
 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. 
 
 Gav 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 ! 
 
64 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 was my neighbor Pliable discouraged, and would net adventure 
 further. Wherefore, getting out again on that side next to his own 
 house, he told me, I should possess the brave country alone for him. 
 So he went his way, and I came mine ; he after Obstinate, and I to 
 this gate. 
 
 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 and 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 had 
 you have sought for ease at the 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 more ; 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 was musing in the 
 midst of my dumps; but it was God's mercy that he came to me 
 again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am come, such 
 a one as I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than thus 
 to stand talking with my Lord. But, oh ! what a favor 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 : 2)1^\ "^^^ 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 arrows of 
 the Wicked One, just as you were about to 
 commit yourselves to the way of righteous- 
 ness. When you stood, and argued, and 
 reasoned, and sought to makeup 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 dans, so, now that you 
 are defenceless, Goodwill plucks yc u from 
 the danger, and pulls you in. 
 
Christimt and Goodwill. 
 
 65 
 
 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, 
 fid 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 
 Hack by patriarchs, prophets, and apostles, 
 fhe turnings and twistings belong not to the 
 road, but to the devious paths that lead out 
 
 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." 
 
66 
 
 The Pitgrim'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. 
 
 FORMALIST. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Interpreter's House. 
 
 A BRILLIANT scenc here opens before us : the " Glorious Dreamer " passes 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, said 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 hght, and 
 knowledge, and instruction, from the source 
 of all Christian 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 light, and the pouring 0/ 
 Divine love, and the communication of" 
 Divine knowledge, into our hearts. God 
 was once revealed to man in the person o^ 
 his Son ; he is now revealed to our hearti- 
 in the power of his Spirit. 
 
 He knocked over and over. — To this tl/ 
 command apphes, "Ask, a.id 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" 
 
 (ff7) 
 
68 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 Then, said the Interpreter, Come in ; I will show thee that 
 which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light 
 the candle, and bid Christian follow him ; so he had him into a 
 private room, and bid his man open a door, the v/hich when he 
 had done. Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hang up 
 against the wall, and this was the fashion of it : It had eyes lifted up 
 \.o heaven, the best of books in his hand, the law of truth was written 
 upon its lips, the 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: 19 ; 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 Dwelling-place of the Spirit, 
 is the House of Call for all nations ; and all 
 that come are welcome. " Here is a t.a el- 
 ler " — such was the brief statement of the 
 Pilgrim's qualification, by which 1 e 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 asks there for spiritual 
 drink. The weary and fainting soul ad- 
 mitted there, is fanned by the breeze of the 
 Spirit, and revives The toil-worn and 
 weather-beaten traveller there finds rest, re- 
 freshment and repose ; ^nd, renewed in 
 strength, he goes on his way rejoicing. Bless 
 the L.ord, O my soul, tor 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 ! 
 
 "God's Interpreter art Thou, 
 To the waiting ones bf low ; 
 'Twi.xt them and its Hght 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 God said. 
 Let there be light!" Happy is the man 
 who can say as with the Psalmist, " 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, eveiy 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, 
 
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70 
 
 The PiCgrinis 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 dust, 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 
 sprmkle the room; which when she had done, it was swept' and 
 cleansed with pleasure. 
 
 where the Spirit now holds intercourse with 
 man ; but first the door must be opened, and 
 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 tlie burdened Pilgrim is as to the 
 true charac'er 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 tiu h. 
 
 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 co be : " Eyes lifted up to 
 heaven '"—heavenly-minded, looking toward 
 that place whither he would lead the flock. 
 From earth to heaven his office tends, and 
 he, with purpose fixed, earnest and intent 
 on yonder home-- 
 
 "Allures to brigliter 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 hps 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, 
 
Passio7t and Patience. 
 
 71 
 
 Then said Christian, What means this? 
 
 The Interpreter answered: This parlor Is the heart of a mr.n 
 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 consequendy 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 se "med 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 willinor to wait. 
 
 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 
 iin 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 taktth 
 away the sin of the world " (John i : 29). 
 
72 
 
 The Pilgrims 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. But 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 ol 
 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, until the next 
 world, for their portion of good. That proverb, " A bird in the hand 
 is worth two in the bush," is of more authority with them than are 
 all the divine testimonies of the good of the world to come. But 2^ 
 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 yzrj-zf must needs have a time to spend it ; but he that hath 
 his portion last must have it lastingly. Therefore It is said of Dives, 
 "In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus 
 evil things, but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented " (Luke 
 16: 19-31). 
 
 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, 
 
 INTERPRETER SHOWS CHRISTIAN THE FIRE AGAINST THE WALL. 
 
 Chr. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are now, 
 but to wait for things to come. 
 
 Inter. You say truth: "for the things that are seen are 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 annty, and that 
 distance is so continued between the second. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter t 'i^k 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 puis it, " He that hath his portion 
 last, must have it lastingly." 
 
 A Fire burning against the Wall. — 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. 
 
74 
 
 The 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 a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also contin- 
 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). And in that thou 
 sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire ; this 
 is to teach thee that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work 
 of grace is 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 gready 
 delighted ; he saw also upon the top thereof certain persons walking 
 who were clothed all in gold. 
 
 Then said Christian, May we go in thither? 
 
 Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up toward the door 
 of the palace ; and, behold, at the door stood a great company of men, 
 as desirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a little 
 distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and his 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 lives. 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 " higher 
 and hotter." 
 
 In this is set forth the antagonism of Sa- 
 tan to man's soul ; as also the overcoming 
 power of sustaining 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 fo) 
 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. 
 The Inkhorn and the Book. — This is 
 
The Man of Despair. 
 
 75 
 
 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 tb.at 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 discourai^ed, 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 and 
 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 and 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. Yes, 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 Cag-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 tha' 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 portion of 'he Allegory. 
 
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. 
 
 Chk. What wast thou once ? 
 
 The man sa.'d, I was once a fair and flourishing- [jrofessor, bot.^ 
 in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others ; I was once, a? 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 thou now? 
 
 Man. lam now a man of despair, and am shut up in it as in 
 this iron cage. I cannot get out ; O now I cannot ! 
 
 Chr. But how earnest thou in this condition ? 
 
 Man. I left off to watch and be sober ; I laid the reins upon 
 the neck of my lusts ; I sinned against the light of the word, and the 
 goodness of God ; I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone ; I 
 tempted the devil, and he 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 11 : 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 all men see the 
 visitation of God's hand and the power oi 
 his Word. 
 
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 CHRISTIAN IN VIEW OF THE CROSS. 
 
 77 
 
78 
 
 The Pilgritns 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 devour me 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 me to watch and 
 be sober, and to pray that I may shun the causes of this man's mis- 
 ery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now ? 
 
 Inter. Tarry till I show thee one thing more, and then thou 
 shalt go on thy way. 
 
 So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a 
 chamber where there was one rising out of bed ; and as he put on his 
 raimant, he shook and trembled. 
 
 Then said Christian, Why does this man thus tremble ? 
 
 The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his 
 so doing. So he began and said, This night as I was in my sleep I 
 dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceeding black ; also it 
 thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into 
 an agony. So I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at 
 an unusual rate ; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, 
 and saw a man sit upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of 
 
 The Dream of Judgment. — This is the 
 closing scene of the Interpreter's House, as 
 its great subject — the Judgment — will be the 
 closing scene of the world's great history. 
 In that dream, the dreamer has seen and 
 heard all the terrible accompaniments and 
 associations of the final Judgment. The eye 
 of the Judge 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 the 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 ; 
 it is but the transcript of the waking thoughts 
 and fears and consciences of the ungodly. 
 
The Vision of Judgmerit. 
 
 79 
 
 heaven ; they were all in flaming fire ; also the heavens were on a 
 ourning 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: 1 1-15 ; Ps. 50: 1-3, 22 ; Isa. 26: 20, 
 21; Islicah 7: 16, 17). 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 : 17); 
 and with that I saw many catched up and carried away in the clouds 
 (i Thess. 4: 13-18), but I was left behind. I also sought 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, afllicted 
 me ; and, as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, show- 
 ing indignation in his countenance. 
 
 I hen said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered all 
 these things ? 
 
 But tlie Judgment has no such terrors to 
 them that are in Jesus. That great day 
 shall be a day of joy and blessedness to all 
 them that wait for the promised advent of 
 the Lord, "looking for that blessed hope 
 and the glorious appearing of the great God 
 and our Saviour Jesus Christ" (Titus 2 : 13). 
 
 Hast thou considered all these things ? — 
 This is not mere idle sight-seeing ; these 
 scenes are the deep experiences of men — 
 what they feel, what they fear, what they 
 hope, and what they do. " Hast thou con- 
 sidered them?" Christian has seen and 
 pondered them. He is undergoing a pro- 
 
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 thee in the way that leads to the 
 city. So Christian went on his way; saying : 
 
 " Here I have seen things rare and profitable ; 
 Things pleasant, 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 privileges of the way on which he has 
 entered. So far 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, beyond 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, 
 Great Interpreter 1 " 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Cross and the Contrast. 
 
 Here Pilgrim comes in full view of the Cross, and near the Cross, in the hollow, isti> 
 Sepulchre. In sight of the Cross he receives the long-wished-for, the long-prayed-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 
 Ihe Sepulchre. All is now rest and peace, life, light, and liberty, mingled with wonder and 
 astonishment, and tempered with the tears of joy. 
 
 |OW 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 although 
 the direct application of these texts is to the 
 final blessedness of the saints, yet the allu- 
 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 somewhat ascending. — The Cross 
 is erected on the height of an upward slope, 
 
 6 C81) 
 
 even higher than the upward path. This is 
 to indicate the ascent of Calvary, the Mount 
 of Sacrifice ; and also to suggest, not so 
 much the 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 
 blessed still. 
 
 view ! and yet, more 
 
 " The Man that there was put to shame for me I " 
 
 The Cross here means the Crucified One. It 
 is the emblem of all that scorn and igno- 
 
82 
 
 The Pilgrims 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 Pilgrim'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 ; aud in the Crucified One the scheme 
 
 It is 
 
 of redemption is accomplished- 
 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, nailitig it to his cross " (Col. 
 2: 14). 
 
 //is burden loosed, and fell. — Sin is de- 
 scribed not only as a burden, but as a bur- 
 den bound upon the conscience of the Pil- 
 grim — adhering, clinging, to the sinner, who 
 is "tied and bound with the chain of sin." 
 
Simple^ Sloth and Presumption. 
 
 83 
 
 stripped him of his rags, and clodied 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 that he should give it in at the celestial gate ; so 
 they went their way. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and 
 went on singing : 
 
 " Thus far did I come loaden 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 Christian glad. — The Wicket- 
 gate. There was the threshold of his jour- 
 ney, but here is the threshold of his joy. 
 There he became 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 Shining Ones. — This is one 
 of the most picturesque of the touches of 
 Bunyan's pencil. These are the evidences 
 of the deliverance from the burden 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 Pilgri.Ti with one com- 
 mon salutation — ■'' Peace be to thee." Here 
 Jhe 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 our 
 filthy rags, but the gift of Christ's righteous- 
 ness instead of our filthy rags. 
 
 The Third " seta 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 God" (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, admoni- 
 tion and instruction and to present it by- 
 and by at the gate of the Celestia^ City. 
 
84 
 
 The Pilgrims Progress. 
 
 Christian then, seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if 
 peradventure hemightawake 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 alitde 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 their 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. Gendemen, whence came you, and whither do you go? 
 
 Form, and Hyp. We were born in the landof Vair-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, \h& Justification, and the Sanctifica- 
 tiott 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 responsibihty 
 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 10 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 of 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 have 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 that it is written, that " he that 
 cometh not in by the door, but dimbeth 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 
 fliad done. 
 
 Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord oi 
 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. 
 
 profifered counsel, on the ground of his own 
 merit, and is ready to hold himself respon- 
 sible for the consequences. 
 
 Ttimblimg over the ■waii. — 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, 
 bhnds his own eyes to his own inward 
 state, and ofttimes takes for granted that 
 where the 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 pretence and falsehood, 
 and thus bhnds 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 
 
86 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 To this they made him but Httle 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, moreover, 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 chmb 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 evening fast descending ; and how, 
 
 amid the alarms and terrors of the way, " he felt in his bosom for his roll ... he felt, and 
 
 ^ound it not." 
 
 " 'Tis gone ! 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 perceive 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 the end is woe. 
 
 The hill Difficulty.— VJho 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. 
 
 The other two also came to the foot of the hill ; but when they 
 saw that the hill was steep and hi(rh, 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 running 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," that promised \o 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, c/ambering. — 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 
 
 energetic supplication he still climbs the 
 steep ascent of Difficulty — "running, going, 
 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. But 
 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, and again starts upon his journey. 
 
CHRISTIAN MEETS MISTRUST AND TIMOROUS. 
 
90 
 
 The Pilo)'i))is Pro ogress. 
 
 o o 
 
 and of the other Mistrust ; to whom Christian said, Sirs, what is the 
 matter? you run the wrong- way. Timorous answered that they 
 were going to the City of Zion, and had got up that difficult place ; 
 but, said he, the 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 wdiither 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 Hons and other dangers, represent 
 the nghtings 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 not 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. 
 
 I 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. To go 
 back is certain death ; to go forward is only 
 fear of death. To return to Destruction is 
 to perish ; to march on 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 has 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 parchment. 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 thus recall the 
 memory of the false step, and recognize the 
 beginning of error, and address itself to the 
 restoration of the loss sustained thereby. 
 
 Christian, now retracing his steps, seeks 
 to recov-r the lost credential. This is al- 
 
Christian discovers his Roll. 91 
 
 and knew not what to do. At last lie bethoug-ht himsell' char he had 
 slept in the arbor that is on the side of the hill ; and, falling^ down 
 upon 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, somedmes he wept, and oftentimes he chid 
 liimself 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 might 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 : '],'^\ 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 ; 
 
 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 and 
 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. 
 
 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- 
 
 In the " Life of Hedley Vicars," we are told 1 fidence in God. Christian has now re- 
 
^^ 
 
 The Pilgrim s Pi- ogre si. 
 
 the which he with trembling and haste catched up and put into nis 
 bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was when he had got- 
 ten his roll ao-ain ? 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 the path of my feet, and I must 
 hear the noise of doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep ! — Now 
 also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him 
 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 for a time the evil conse- 
 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 
 
 night season. The stor)' 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. 
 The Palace Beautiful. 
 
 Im the Palace Beautiful our Pilgrim finds comfort, refreshment, and renewed strci., .< 
 after the loneliness and desolation of that memorable day and that eventful eventide. An 
 his loss of peace, and loss 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. 
 
 |0 I saw in my dream that he made haste and went for- 
 ward, that if possible he might get lodging diere. 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 
 
 //e espied two lions. — These were proba- 
 bly the Uons that Mistrust and Timorous 
 saw, and by the sight of which they were 
 turned back again. These lions were placed 
 in a narrow path, so that there appeared but 
 little way of escape for those that would 
 pass 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 
 knows 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 chained, 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 Hons 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 
 heard 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) 
 
c/2 
 
 Z 
 O 
 
 X 
 < 
 
 < 
 P 
 
 u 
 
Chidstian arrives at the Palace Beautiful. 
 
 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 tlie 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 it 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. Then he clapped his hands, and went on 
 till he came and stood before the gate where the Porter was. 'i'hen 
 said Christian to the Porter, Sir, what house is this ? and may I lodge 
 here to-night? The Porter answered, This house was built by the 
 Lord of the hill, and he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims. 
 The Porter also asked whence he was? and whither he was going? 
 
 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. 
 
 For. 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. 
 
 the Pilgrim's Progress, that it is written 
 lor 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 fiame 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 name." And before this was given 
 him, he was called Graceless This was 
 the name by which he was c lied in tht 
 City of Destruction, until God opened his 
 eves 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 Pilgrim s 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 my 
 evidence, and came without it to the brow of the hill ; and then, 
 feeling; for it and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow of heart to 
 go back to the place where I slept my sleep ; where I found it, and 
 now I am come. 
 
 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 eemeth 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 ; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge here 
 to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord 
 of the hill for the relief and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, but 
 the water stood in her eyes ; and after a litde pause she said, I will 
 
 Graceless; but now he is ivith 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." 
 
 Weary and benighted. — It is very plain 
 that this palace was designed as a refuge for 
 the wp.ffarer, 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 days of weariness, and nights 
 clouded with gloom, how reassuring is the 
 pressure of a friendly hand, the encourage- 
 ment of a famihar 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 DiscufniMN, Pru 
 DENCE, Piety, and Chakjtv. By thes9 
 
Christian enters the Palace, 
 
 dT 
 
 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 litde more 
 discourse with him, had him into the family ; and many of them 
 meedng 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 
 an i stage of the Pilgrim's experience; " How 
 
 ' beautiful ' must that Church be wher» 
 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 1" 
 
 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 — «ihence he has come, and whither he 
 
98 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 them into the house. So when he was come in and set down they 
 ^ave 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 led 
 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 
 j. 'I ward 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, 
 and 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 Piety reproduce the narrative of the 
 preceding scenes of the pilgrimage, includ- 
 ing the Wicket-gate, the illustrations of the 
 Interpreter's House, the sight of One who 
 did hang bleeding upon a tree, the tokens 
 and credentials given him at the Cross, and 
 
The Maidens question Christian. 
 
 99 
 
 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 sltep 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 took me and had me where he showed me a 
 stately palace, and how the people were clad in gold that were in it, 
 and how there came a venturous man, and cut his way through the 
 armed men that stood in the door to keep him out; and how he was 
 bid to come in and win eternal glory. Methought those things did 
 ravish my heart. 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 1 saw One, as 1 
 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 feehngs 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 
 life 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 within us, and 
 
 whether that strife is crowned with vict'^ry, 
 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 hft 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 s(jme 
 other matters I saw ; as namely, I saw three men, Simple, Sloiii. 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 
 F'jrmalist and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they 
 pr*^ tended, to Zion ; but they were quickly lost; even as I myself did 
 tell them, biit they did not believe. But, above all, I found it hard 
 work to get v.p 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 by the love we bear to Jesus, who 
 Irith first loved us, and hath redeemed us 
 'lom sin and death. 
 
 Charity continues the communion and 
 •ollowship of heart with heart. She inquires 
 ibout his home and family, and how it is 
 '.Iiey 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 workiliness liind 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. 
 
 Pk. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances 
 at times as if they were vanquished? 
 
 CiiR. Yes ; when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; 
 and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also when I 
 look into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when 
 my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it. 
 
 Pk. 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 there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this 
 day are in me an annoyance 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. 
 1 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 of 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 them? 
 
 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 dehv- 
 ered thy soul from their blood !" 
 
 This allusion to the number of his chil- 
 dren answers to the number of Bunyan's 
 family, at the time of his writing the Prog- 
 ress. He had a wife, two sons, and two 
 daughters. 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 and 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 Maidefis question Christian. lO^j^ 
 
 Char. But did you tell them your own sorrow, and fear o' 
 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 
 words 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 
 say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly 
 action, to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this 
 very thing they would tell me I was too precise, and that I denied 
 myself of things (for their sakes) in which they saw no evil. Nay, 
 I think I may say that, if what they saw in me did hinder them, it 
 was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any 
 wrong to my neighbor. 
 
 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 tny 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 
 
 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 
 
 Christian fellowship, or the more spiritual j 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 said I perceived that he had been a great 
 warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had the power of 
 death; but not without great danger to himself; which made me 
 love him the more (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 country. 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 for protection, they betook 
 
 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 elicit 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 Jesus, as manifested in 
 all that he hath done and suffered for sinners. 
 His character as the Great 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-abasement ; 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 son*' 'p e:lorv, lifting up the 
 
The Chamber of Peace. 
 
 105 
 
 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 
 chamber was Peace ; where he slept till break of day, and then he 
 awoke and sang — 
 
 Where am I now ? Is this the love and care 
 Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are 
 Thus to provide ! That I should be forgiven, 
 And dwell already the next door to heaven,' 
 
 So in the morning they all got up ; and, after some more discourse, 
 
 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 a,« this ! 
 * These have been,' let others sayj 
 ' At the gates of heaven to-day.' ' 
 
 >;) 
 
 The Christian, while sojourning at thi< 
 blissful portion of his journey heavenward, 
 discovers, by searching his own heart, by 
 converse with godly companions, and by 
 a frequent inspection of the Roll whick 
 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, 
 
 they tcld him that he should not depart till they had showed him the 
 rarities of that place. And first they had him into the Study, where 
 they showed him records of the greatest antiquity; in which, as 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 
 the acts that he had done, and the names of many hundreds that he 
 had taken into his service, and how he had placed them in such 
 habitations that could neither by length of days nor decays of nature 
 be dissolved. 
 
 Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his 
 servants had done; as how they had "subdued kingdoms, wrought 
 righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, 
 quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of 
 weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to 
 flight the armies of the aliens" (Heb. ii : -x^T), 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 many other famous things, of all which Christian had a 
 view, as of things both ancient and modern, together with prophecies 
 and predictions of things that have their certain 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 to receive 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 trt<th 
 against all the unfruitful works of dark- 
 ness. 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. Here is perfect 
 peace, in the household of faith — 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 
 
Christiaji sees the Delectable Mountains. 
 
 107 
 
 The next day they took him and 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 enoueh of 
 this to harness out as many men, for the service of their Lord, as 
 there be stars in the heaven for multitude. 
 
 They also showed him some of the engines with which some of 
 his servants had done wonderful things. They showed him Moses' 
 rod ; the hammer and nail with which Jael slew Sisera ; the pitchers, 
 trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight the armies 
 of Midian. Then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith 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 of 
 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 
 
108 
 
 The Pilgri7ns Progress. 
 
 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. 2,2i • ^6, 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 ma\est see to the 
 gate of the Celestial City, as the shepherds that live there will make 
 appear. 
 
 Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were 
 willing he should. But first, said they, let us go again into the 
 armory. So they did ; and when he came there, they harnessed him 
 from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps he shoulc 
 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 neai 
 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 was Christian him- 
 self armed and equipped ere he departed 
 from the Palace on his homeward way. 
 
 This armory, moreover, served as a mu- 
 seum, 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 lived and 
 died in faith. 
 
 ItnmanucV 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 Mouti- 
 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 
 
 " I-eads from goal to g-oal, 
 And opens still, and (.pens on tne 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 
 
CHRISTIAN ARMED BY PRUDENCE, DISCRETION, PIETY AND CHARITY. 
 
 109 
 
no 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress, 
 
 PoR. He has got by 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 they 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 Prudence, 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 
 Has 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, there 
 are given to him the shield of faith, the hel- 
 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 sojou-n 
 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 before him. This man has 
 not enjoyed the Christian intercourse of the 
 Palace, 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 forward. — 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 cUmb 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 
 Humihation. 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 accompHshed, 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 emolems of the love they bore ; 
 And then— Farewell!" 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 Apollyon. 
 
 Forth 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 ot 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 lilies;" 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 doivii at the other side — down to the 
 valley, the \'alley 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, lias 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-like 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. 
 
 Afoulfioid — Apollyon — •' And they had 
 a king over them, which is the angel of the 
 bottomless pit. whose name in the Plebrew 
 tongue is Abaddon, but in the Greek tongue 
 hath his name Apollyon" (Rev. 9: 11). 
 Here, then, the Allegory means to depict a 
 
 (111) 
 
112 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now \\\<c 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 now 
 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 characteris- 
 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 hke 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 hon, seeking whom he may 
 devour. 
 
 No armor for Jiis 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 Christian 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 present 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 conflict — 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. 
 
 Bei^an 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 
 
 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 ivorse; 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 
 8 
 
n4 
 
 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 my ways. How many of them have 
 been put to shameful deaths ? And besides, thou countesthis 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 faithfully served me, from 
 him and his, though taken by them; and so I will deliver thee. 
 
 Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to 
 try their love, whether they will cleave to him to the end ; and as for 
 the ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their 
 account; for, 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 settino- 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 Apollyon'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 ol 
 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, I am 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 an.xiety 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 weakness. 
 Accordingly, it is while he is thus prostrate, 
 
£16 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 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 almost quite spent; for you must know that Christian, 
 by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker. 
 
 Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up 
 close to Christian, and, wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall ; 
 and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said 
 Apollyon, I am sure of thee now ; and with that he almost pressed 
 him to death; so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as 
 God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby 
 to make a full end of this good man. Christian nimbly reached out 
 \iis 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 
 '.vith 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); and 
 with that Apollyon 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 Apollyon made all 
 the time of the fight; he "spake like a dragon ;" and, on the other 
 side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I never 
 saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he per- 
 ceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then 
 indeed he did smile and look upward ! but it was the dreadfullest 
 sight that ever I saw. 
 
 So when the battle was over. Christian said, I will here give 
 thanks to him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion, 
 to him that did help me against Apollyon. And so he did, saying, 
 
 Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, 
 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 him 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 is 
 brought home to him in all its dread reality ; 
 and the victim looks to the Invincible for 
 
 strength, nor looks in vain ; for Divinf 
 strength is made perfect in his weakness, 
 and he grasps his sword again, and instantly 
 the battle changes — Apollyon is wounded 
 
Combat betwee7i Christia^i and Apollyoft. 
 
 117 
 
 Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the 
 ^'tree of Hfe " (Rev. 22 : 2); the which Christian took, and appHed 10 
 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 may 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. 
 
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- 
 
 " Still do thou lead me on, with faithful care, j 
 
 The narrow path to heaven, where I would go ; 
 
 And train me for the life that waits me there, 
 AUke through love and loss, through weal and woe ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 OW 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 
 
 The Shadow of Death, — This must be 
 understood as a season of rising doubts, and 
 returning convictions, and dark surmisings 
 as to one's spiritual stare. It may be called 
 " Satan's hour and the power of darkness." 
 Apc«.lyon, foiled in his direct personal 
 
 assault upon the Pilgrim, now summons vo 
 his aid his legion of evil spirits. 
 
 / saw in fuy 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) 
 
The Valley of the Shadow of Death. 
 
 119 
 
 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 dancver 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 leit 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 gloom. 
 
 Lead thou me on ! 
 The night is dark, and I am far from home ; ^ 
 
 Lead thou ir>e on! 
 Keep thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
 The distant way ; cnc stem's eaough for me." 
 
 The ntoJtth of heli — He here speaks, per- 
 haps, of that season of bodily and spiritual 
 
120 
 
 The Pilginms Progress. 
 
 did fall, and had no doubt therein been smothered, had not he that 
 is able plucked him out. 
 
 The pathway was here also exceeding 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 was ready to tip over 
 into the mire on the other ; also, when he sought to 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, that 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 that cared not for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), 
 that he was forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to 
 another weapon, called All-prayer (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 of 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, I 
 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 7>nles together. — By these 
 measures of the Pilgrimage he means days 
 and years of his actual experience, during 
 which the Evil Spirit troubled him and did 
 abide with him. Two such seasons in pat- 
 
Christian and the Fiends. 
 
 121 
 
 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 walk 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 
 
122 
 
 l%e Pit gr if) IS Progress. 
 
 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 condidon 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-and-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 
 A^hich 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 discovereth deep things out of darkness, 
 and bringeth out to the light the shadow of death " (Job 12 : 22). 
 
 ticular fell to his lot ; and one of these con- 
 tinued as long as two years and a 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 hght abroad; 
 
 Shine on us from tliy 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 
 
Pope and Pagan. 
 
 123 
 
 Now was Cliristian much affected with his deliverance from all 
 iang"ers of his solitary way ; which dangers, though he feared them 
 .iiore 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 
 miUit 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 
 iwo 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 
 fiery 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, 
 
1^4 
 
 The Pilgrhns Progress. 
 
 But by this place Christian went without much danger, whereat 1 
 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 also 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. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Christian and Faithful. 
 
 New views of the Pilgrimage, new foes of the Pilgrims, new phases of temptation, 
 anO 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 Chh istiam has been a deeply exei- 
 cised man, severely tried, and so oft despairing, the career of Faithful has pursued tlie 
 more even tenor of its way, and is more equable than that of his fellow-pilgrim. It is 
 therefoi e, perhaps, more assimilated to the ordinary experience of Christians. Let us, tlien, 
 give earnest heed to Faithful's counsel, admonition, and encouragement. 
 
 OW as Christian went on his way he came to a little 
 ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might 
 see before them. Up there, therefore, Christian 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 with Faithful, and did also overrun him ; 
 
 A little ascent. — There are at times 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 onetime 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 Refuge, 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 Pilgrini 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 tf 
 escape the danger? 
 
 scope for faith, there must be no yielding to 
 presumption. 
 
 Suddenly sttcinblcd 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." That 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 discojirse. — 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" (Mai. 
 3: 16). The discourse of these men tvirn^ 
 
 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 that " Destruction " 
 was not only destroying many souls, but was 
 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 effect upon those 
 that are left behind. Such influences are 
 felt, and often tend to bring forth bles§ed 
 results. 
 
Christian a?id Faithful. 
 
 127 
 
 Fai. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet 
 1 do not think they did firmly believe it. For, in the heat of the dis- 
 course, I heard some of them deridingly speak of you, and of your 
 desperate journey ; for so they called this your pilgrimage. But I did 
 believe, and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and 
 brimstone from above; and therefore I have made mine escape. 
 
 Chk. 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 h'- 
 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 sorts 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 never 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 : i8, 19). 
 
 Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came out? 
 
 Fai. 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 he had never set out a^ all. 
 
 Things that concern ourselves. — 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 
 
128 
 
 The Pilgj'im s Progress, 
 
 FAITHFUL COMES TO THE HELP OF CHRISTIAN. 
 
 what you have met with in the way as you came; for I know you have 
 met with some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder. 
 
 Fat. I escaped the Slough that I perceive you fell into, and got 
 up to the gate without that danger ; only I met with one whose name 
 was Wanton, that had like to have done me a mischief. 
 
 Chr. 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: 1 1-13). But what did she do to you ? 
 
 Fai. You cannot tliink, 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. 
 
 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-wisf.man's ill advice; 
 and yet not altogether without danger, for 
 one whose name was Want'W crossed his 
 
FAITHFUL HELPS -CHRISTIAN 
 
THE PORTER CALLS DLSCKEnoN TO THE DOOR OF THE PALACE. 
 
Christian and Faithful. 
 
 129 
 
 Chr. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good con- 
 science. 
 
 Fai. You know what I mean — all carnal and fleshly content. 
 
 Chr. 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 hell" (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 )ou meet with no other assault 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 Cit}^ 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 see'ri 
 for the " steps " in Despond, and stoutly re- 
 sist the plea of self-righteousness, who yet, 
 through the weakness of their nature, would 
 yield themselves 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 ?ray hairs would, at first sight, seem 
 to clami respect for his advice and counsel. 
 This was Adam the Fihst — the old Adam, 
 
 9 
 
 " of the earth, earthy " — whose sjrvice and 
 work and wages are all carnal and corrupt- 
 ible. 
 
 Faithful was enabled to resist the over- 
 tures 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. 
 
130 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 long time he would have me to live with him ? And he told me, as 
 lonor as he lived himself. 
 
 Chr. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to 
 at last ? 
 
 Fai. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go 
 with the man, for I thought he spake very fair ; but looking in his 
 forehead as I talked with him, I saw there written, "Put off the old 
 man with his deeds." 
 
 Chr. And how then ? 
 
 Fai. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, 
 and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house he 
 would sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would 
 not come near the door 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 hold of my flesh, and 
 give me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part 
 of me after himself. This made me cry, " O wretched 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, eood 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 litde 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 lost 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 blow! 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 picture 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 
 
 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 oi 
 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 would have showed you so many 
 rarities that you would scarce have forgot them to the day of your 
 death. But pray tell me, did you meet nobody in the valley of 
 Humility? 
 
 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 
 preient 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 
 
H 
 H 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 D 
 
 r-" 
 
 C/2 
 
 D 
 
 H 
 
Shame s Discourse with Faithful. 
 
 133 
 
 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 rightly (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, I met with Shame ; but of all the men that I met with 
 in my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong name. The other 
 would be said nay, after a little argumentation and somewhat else ; 
 but this bold-faced Shame would never have done. 
 
 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 maa 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 to 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 th» 
 objections of worldly minds. Disconten'' 
 meets many of us day by day. And as thi*> 
 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 
 
134 
 
 The Pilgrinis 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 restitution where I had 
 taken from any. He said also, that religion made a man grow strange 
 to the great, because of a few vices (which he called by finer names), 
 and made him own and respect the base, because of the same religious 
 fraternity ; and is not this, said he, a shame ? 
 
 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 Shame fetched 
 it up, and had also beat me quite off. But 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 I 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, z> 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 in 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 reliorion ; 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 Ukes what they dislike; they 
 hate what he loves. 
 
 / imt 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 cannon'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- 
 
136 
 
 The Pilgrim* 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 
 tJie 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 Apollyon ; yea, I 
 thought verily he would have killed me, especially when he got me 
 down and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed me 
 to pieces ; for as he threw me, my sword flew out of my hand. 
 Nay, he told me he was sure of me; 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 led 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 
 **is 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 betweea." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Talkative. 
 
 In the following scene, a man whose nanme 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 hoUowness 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." 
 
 jOREOVER, 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 enough lor 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. 
 
 Fai. That is well ; then I hope we may have your good 
 company ? 
 
 Talk. With a very good will will I be your companion. 
 Fal 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 T.^lkative 
 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. — This is the 
 sum and substance of Talkative's idea of 
 
 (137) 
 
138 
 
 The Pilgrirn 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 Hke 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 w^hat it is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suft'er, 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. 
 
 Fai. 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. 
 
 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 
 
c 
 
 O 
 P 
 
 o 
 
 w 
 > 
 
 H 
 
 < 
 
140 
 
 The Pilgrim s 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 you a hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this. 
 
 Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one thing that we shall at 
 tliis 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 sofdy, 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. 
 
 Fai. Do you know him then? 
 
 Chr. Know him ! yes, better than he knows himself. 
 
 Fal. Pray what is he? 
 
 Chr. His name is Talkative ; he dwelleth in our town. I wonder 
 that you should be a stranger to him ; only I consider that our town 
 is laroe. 
 
 Fai. 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 ! 
 
 Christim 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 Faithful, 
 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 'he words, 
 "prayer," "repentance," "faith," "new 
 birth " and such hke. The words are found 
 in his vocabulary ; their sound is upon his 
 hps ; but there is not a particle of their inner 
 spirit or power residing in his heart ; " he 
 knows but only to ialk of them." 
 
Christian s Esti?naie of i cufzative. 
 
 141 
 
 and l:e is known of all that are acquainted with him by the name of 
 Talkative in Prating-row ; and, notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is 
 but 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 ugly 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 I 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 of prayer, of 
 repentance, of faith, and of the new birth; but he knows but only to 
 talk of ihem. I have been in his family, and have observed him both 
 at homea 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 ^^<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 that 
 know him ; it can hardly have a good word in all that end of the 
 town where he dwells, through him. Thus say the 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 words, 
 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 him 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." 
 
142 
 
 The Pilgriins Progress. 
 
 sonable with his servants, that they neither know how to do for or 
 speak to him. Men that have any deahng with him say, it is better 
 to deal with a Turk than with him, for fairer deaHng 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. 
 
 Fat. Well, my brother, 1 am bound to believe you ; not only 
 because you say you know him^ but also because like a Christian ycu 
 make your reports of men. For I cannot think that you speak these 
 things of ill-will, but because it 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 more as bad, of my own knowledge, I can prove 
 him guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed of him ; they can 
 neither call him brother nor friend; the very naming of him among 
 them makes them blush if they know him. 
 
 Fai. Well, I see that saying and doing are 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 Hp-service to utter words on 
 which eternity depends, conscience must be 
 seared, and lost to all sense of the deep and 
 eternal meaning of the words uttered. 
 
 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 : 14). The Apostle here addresses 
 those who talk of faith, but have notlung 
 whereby to manifest it. And this is the 
 great object of the present scene of the Al- 
 
Christian s Advice about Talkative. 
 
 143 
 
 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; he thinks ihdit 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, 
 Werf^ )OU 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 
 th i 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, 11; 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- 
 bals ;" that is. as he expounds them in another place, "things without 
 life-giving sound" (i Cor. 13: 1-3; 14: 7). "Things witJTout 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 introduced 
 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 
 alkgory has fully established the important 
 distinction between a dead and a liviftg 
 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 Chmstian'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 povjer of religion." 
 
144 
 
 The Pilgi'ims Progreii 
 
 FAITHFUL CONVERSES WITH TALKATIVE. 
 
 q^jntly 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 vc'ce of an angel. 
 
 Fat, Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but am 
 as skk of it now. What shall we do to be rid of him ? 
 
 Ckr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find 
 that he will soon be sirk of your company too, except God shall 
 touch his heart and turn it. 
 
 Fai. 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 ignoranctj of 
 the principles of vital relij^ion, and then lays 
 himsel/open to a series cf personal inquiries 
 as to tiie possession of religion in his owii 
 heart; whereupon, being sore pressed b/ 
 the faiihful questions of the Pilgrim, Talk- 
 ative loses temper, and ultimately separate^ 
 
 himself from company so uncongenial to his 
 own spirit and nature. 
 
 The 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 
 u.Ai. ?" Talkative is somewhat puzzled, 
 
-» I^ALKATIVE. " 
 
ATHEIST, 
 
Faithfid reasotis with Talkative. 
 
 145 
 
 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 Talkative, 
 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 poiver 
 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 
 °ts 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 andpathy 
 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 kissino- 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 
 first of the marks of saving grace, as alleged 
 by Talkative. The sequel of the conver- 
 sation 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 shovrs 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 ansivcred. — Talkative 
 has given unsatisfactory and insufficient an- 
 
146 The Pilgri77is Progress. 
 
 Fai, 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 yet be 
 nothing, and so consequently be no child of God. When Christ 
 said, "Do you know all these things?" and the disciples had 
 answered. Yes; he added, "Blessed are ye if ye do them." He doth 
 not lay the blessing in the knoiuing 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 knmu 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 Christian 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 aofree. 
 
 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 
 the soul. He has offered a "firstly" and a 
 
 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 
 
 "secondly," and neither of these is correct I must be manifested to others. 
 
 He is now challenged still further to define j The discovery of the gift of grace to one's 
 
 the marks and tokens of this indwelling i own conscience is essential to a Christian 
 
 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- 
 
 man's peace and comfort. It is worthy of 
 note, that the process of this dis^'overy, as 
 here described, follows the track of the pil- 
 grimage, as already traversed by our Pil- 
 
 takes to reply to his own inquiry, | grim. Here, Faithful is made to give ex- 
 
Faithficl reasons with Talkative. 
 
 147 
 
 Fai. a work of grace in the soul discovereth itself, either to 
 him that hatli 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 hunaerinofs and thirstinas 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 
 bis 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). 
 
X4a 
 
Talkative leaves the Pilgrims. 
 
 149 
 
 And now, Sir, as to this brief description of the work of grace, and 
 also the discovery of it, if you have aught to object, object ; if not. 
 then give me leave to 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 religion "in word or in tongue," and not 
 "in deed and truth?" Pray, if you incline to answer me in this, say 
 no more than you know the God above will say Amen to; and also 
 nothing but what your conscience can justify you in ; "for not he that 
 commendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth." 
 Besides, to say I am thus, when my conversation and all my 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 1 disposed to give an 
 answer to such questions ; because I count not myself bound 
 thereto, unless you take upon you to be a catccJiiser ; and, though 
 you should do so, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But I 
 pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions ? 
 
 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 f 
 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. 
 
 Talkative 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 able to endure the scathing speech of 
 Faithful, and, accordingly, he bids him 
 aHieu. 
 
 Rebuked, reproved, but not reformed, this 
 loquacious professor has departed on his 
 
IbO The PilgrifHS Progress. 
 
 danger of being destroyed thereby; your religion and an alehouse, 
 and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and 
 vain company-keeping, etc., will stand together. The proverb is 
 true of you which is said of a whore, to wit, that "she is a shame 
 to all women :" so you are a shame to all professors. 
 
 Talk. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge so 
 rashly as you do, I cannot but conclude you are some peevish or 
 melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed with ; and so, adieu ! 
 
 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 aposde 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 ; there is 
 but little of this faithful dealing with men nowadays, and that makes 
 religion to sdnk in the nostrils of many as it doth ; for they are these 
 talkative fools, whose religion is only in 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 to 
 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 ! But so soon 
 As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon 
 That's past the full, into the wane he goes ; 
 And so will all but he 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. 
 
 .vay. 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 the 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) 
 
152 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL ENTER THE TOWN OF VANITY. 
 
 Then Christian and 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 
 ti.e 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 ? — 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 been well filled up 
 with progress in knowledge and experience. 
 So it was with Christian and Faithful. 
 Their retrospect was one of thankfulness 
 
Evangelist^ s Parting Counsel. 
 
 153 
 
 I have sowed and you have reaped ; and the day is coming when 
 " bodi he diat sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together" 
 (John 4 : 36) ; that is, if you hold out ; " for in due time ye shall reap 
 if ye faint not" (Gal. 6:9). The crown is before you, and it is an 
 incorrupdble 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 steadfasdy 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 tesdmonies 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 that God who had led them all 
 the way, and filled 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, 
 but " the day shall declare it." 
 
 There is something touching, something 
 thrilling, something of a melancholy inter- 
 est, in this conversation between Evange- 
 list and the Pilgrims. It reads very much 
 Uke a parting address, in which the faithful 
 minister commits his children to the future, 
 and commends them to the care of the 
 faithful Creator. A presentiment is awak- 
 ened in our minds — aforeaugury of "bonds 
 
154 
 
 The Pilorlm 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 ; and 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 of his journey. But when you are come to the town 
 and shall find fulfilled what I have here related, then remember 
 your friend, and quit yourselves like men; and "commit the 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, 
 1412: 11,17; 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, Apollyon and Legion, with their 
 companions, perceiving, by the path that the pilgrims made, that 
 their way to the city lay through this town of Vanity, they contrived 
 here to set up a fair; a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity, 
 and that it should last all the year long ; therefore at this fair are all 
 
 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." 
 
 Se-'ieral 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 whores, bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters, 
 servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver,gold, pearls, precious stones, 
 and what not. And, moreover, at this fair there are at all times to be 
 seen jugglings, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves and rogues, 
 and that of every kind. Here are to be seen too, and that for 
 nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false-swearers, and that of a 
 blood-red color. 
 
 And as in other fairs of less moment there are several rows and 
 streets under their proper names, where such and such wares are 
 vended, so here likewise you have the proper places, rows, streets 
 (viz., countries and kingdom.s), 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, \vould 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 
 \i 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- 
 vner 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 AUegorv was written 
 
 The way to the Celestial City.—KW 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-'empt- 
 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- 
 
156 
 
TIij Pilgrims in Vanity Fair. 
 
 157 
 
 he was such a person of honor, Beelzebub had him from street to 
 street, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, 
 that he might, if possible, allure that Blessed One to cheapen and buy 
 some of his vanities. But he had no mind to the merchandise, and 
 therefore left the town without laying out as much as one farthing 
 upon these vanities (Matt. 4: 8, 9 ; Luke 4: ^-']\. This fair, there- 
 fore, is, an ancient thing, of long standing, and a very great fair. 
 
 Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair 
 Well, so they did; but, behold, even as they entered into the fair, all 
 the people in the fair were moved, and the town itself, as it were, in a 
 hubbub about them; and that for several reasons: for, first, the 
 pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was diverse from 
 the raiment of any that traded in that fair. The people therefore of 
 llie 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 die 
 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: ■^']) and look upwards, signifying that 
 their trade 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 by and-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 Pet. 
 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 promotei , Satan. 
 
 Noiv these Pilgrims. — Christian and 
 Faithful in Vanity Fair are intended to 
 represent Christian men in the world — in it, 
 but not 0/ 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 
 ?.nd spirit of the Pilgrims. 
 
 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 ; n^r is any pre-^ 
 
158 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 One chanced, mockingly, beholding 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 taken to despise the men the more, some mocking, 
 some taunting them. At last things came to a hubbub and great 
 stir in the fair, insomuch that all order was confounded. Now was 
 word presently brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly 
 came down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take 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 
 first 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 holiness so unlike the 
 
 speech of carnal men. It is the spirit that 
 speaks, and not the lips only. " O Lord, 
 open thou 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 of 
 Christian forbearance, meekness and gen- 
 tleness at all times exercises a powerful in- 
 fluence upon those that are without. There 
 
1 fte Filgyims put in the Cage. 
 
 159 
 
 than the rest, began to check and blame tlie baser sort for their con- 
 tinual abuses done by them to the men. They therefore in ano-ry 
 manner let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the men in the 
 cage, and telling them that they seemed confederates, and should be 
 made j'ariakers of their misfortune. The other replied that, for 
 aught tiiey could see, the men were quiet and sober, and intended no 
 body any harm ; and that there were many that traded in their fair, that 
 were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too. than 
 were th(; 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 themselve?. unto them. But Christian and 
 Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and receive d 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 their feet 
 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. Notwithstanding 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 
 of these 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 
 soul. It is in that "cage" or prison of 
 Vanity Fair that Bunyan now writes his 
 narrative ; and as he looks around spon His 
 
160 
 
 The Pilg7'im's Progress. 
 
 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 was 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 ruledi all things, widi much content they 
 abode in the condition in which they were, until they should be other- 
 wise dispo'jed of. 
 
 The',\ ^. convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth 
 to their ^nal 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 ov n experi- 
 ence, and in that o^ many of the tried and 
 suffering members o^ Christ, this and the 
 following scenes of tr-e " Progress." 
 
 How descr.ptivj u the •vhr/e picture ren- 
 dered by the c\^.cckc^ o'. <■-»',' j'^spective parties 
 
 who rise in opposition to Christian and 
 Faithful. Each man's name speaks its 
 own tale, and is the very personification of 
 some spiritual or earthly form of the antag- 
 onism of the world to the Church and peo- 
 ple of God. 
 
 The circumstances of Bunyan's days, that 
 
The Trial of Chnstian and Faithful. 161 
 
 judge'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 once 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- Mammon, scoffs at "the principles of faith 
 
 gory, are now past and gone ; but the real- 
 
 and holiness," and, moreover, would blend 
 
 ity remains. into one element the realities of religion and 
 
 Eniiy. — This witness still continues to 
 
 accuse the men of God. Envy is that spirit 
 
 of the evil mind which calls rehgion a mere 
 
 plausible fiction, and, through loyalty to 
 
 11 
 
 the vanities of \'anity Fair. The true Chris- 
 tian cannot accede to this unholy combina- 
 tion. 
 
 Superstition. — This is also an element of 
 
162 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 tedious to the court. Yet if need be, when the other gentlemen have 
 given in their evidence, rather than anything shall be wanting that 
 will 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 talking 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 time, 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-vainglor)^ 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 Hve 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 what 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 thatis 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 gendeman named, are 
 more fit for a being in hell than in this town and country ; and so thf 
 Lord have mercy upon me. 
 
 Then the Judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by to 
 hear and observe): Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about 
 whom so great an uproar hath been made in this town ; you have also 
 heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against him; also 
 you have heard his reply and confession. It lieth now in your 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 great, ser- 
 vant to our prince, that, lest those of a contrary religion should mul- 
 tiply and grow too strong for him, their males should be thrown into 
 the river (Exod. i: 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 
 wic"ked 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. Runyan ably illus- 
 trates the continued enmity of the world 
 against Divine faith. The spirit of intoler- 
 
164 
 
The Death of FaithfuL 
 
 .65 
 
 should be cast into the hons' den (Dan. Z'- ^^- Now the siiLiSiaiiice 
 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. Cruelty, 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, 
 Mio^ht I have all the world oiven 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 
 against the servants of God. The names of 
 the twelve men are suggestive of all the 
 elements of the carnal mind that go to make 
 up the "enmity against God." Each of 
 these, for some secret and personal reason, 
 hates 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 me, O mine 
 enemy?" (i Kings 21 : 20), or as he feared 
 Micaiah, the son of Imlah— "But I hate 
 him ; for he doth not prophesy good con- 
 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 Heath." 
 
166 
 
 The Pilgrim s 
 
 Progress. 
 
 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 and 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 withdrawn from the pilgrimage, and is " at rest." 
 But, as it were out of the ashes of the mar.yr, 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 Christian and Faithful, in their 
 
 words and behavior in their sufferings at the fair), who 
 
 joined himself unto him, and, entering into a brotherly 
 covenant, told him that he would be his companion. Thus one died 
 to bear testimony to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to 
 be a companion with Christian. This Hopeful also told Christian, 
 that there were many more of the men in the fair that would take 
 their time and follow after. 
 
 So I saw that, quickly after they were got out of the fair, they 
 overtook one that was going before them, whose name was By-ends ; 
 so they said to him, What 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 of the same, 
 had won over to their side a certain number 
 of the citizens. Of these some have ulti- 
 mately ripened 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 may 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 natne 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 
 changing scenes of their checkered course. 
 
 A brotherly covenant, — Much is meant to 
 
 (167) 
 
168 
 
 The Pilgrim! s Progress. 
 
 HOPEFUL JOINS COMPANY WITH CHRISTIAN 
 
 From Fair-Speech ! said Christian ; is there any good that lives 
 there? (Prov. 26: 25). 
 
 Yes, said By-ends, I hope. 
 
 Chr. Pray, sir, what may I call you ? 
 
 By. I am a stranger to you and you to me : if you be going 
 this way, I shall be glad of your company ; if not, I must be 
 content. 
 
 Chr. This town of Fair-speech I have heard of it, and, as I 
 remember, they say it is a wealthy place. 
 
 be included in this expression. He has for- 
 saken all for Christ ; and in the strong con- 
 fidence of beheving faith he has attached 
 himself to the Pilgrim of Zion — "Whither 
 thou goest, I will go ; and where thou lodg- 
 est, I will lodge : thy people shall be my 
 people, and thy God my God." 
 
 One, whose name was Bv-ends. — The 
 
 narrative of Hopeful has scarce begun, 
 when it is interrupted by the intervention of 
 other pilgrims. We are introduced to new 
 characters on the road, and to new experi- 
 ences of the ways of men. Bunyan fre- 
 quently groups his characters, and summons 
 them before us in a way suggested by the 
 different stages of the journey. Thus, while 
 
christian talks with By-ends. 
 
 169 
 
 By. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have very many rich 
 kindred there, 
 
 Chr. 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 gendeman of good quality ; yet my great- 
 grandfather was but a waterman, looking one way and rowing another, 
 and I got most of my estate by the same occupation. 
 Chr. Are you a married man ? 
 
 By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of 
 a virtuous woman ; she was my Lady Feigning's daughter ; therefore 
 she came of a very honorable family, and is arrived to such a pitch 
 of breeding, that she knows how to carry it to all, even to prince and 
 peasant. It is true we somewhat differ in religion from those of the 
 stricter sort, yet but in two small points : first, we never strive 
 against wind and tide ; secondly, we are always more zealous when 
 Religion goes in his silver slippers. We love much to walk with him 
 in the street, if the sun shines, and the people applaud him. 
 
 Then Chrisdan stepped a litde aside to his fellow. Hopeful, saying, 
 It runs in my mind that this is one By-ends, of Fair-speech ; and if it 
 be he, we have as very a knave in our company as dwelleth in all 
 these parts. Then, said Hopeful, Ask him ; methinks he should not 
 be ashamed of his name. So Christian came up with him again 
 and said. Sir, you talk as if you knew something more than all the 
 world doth, and, if I take not my mark amiss, 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- 
 minded men, who linger about its suburbs. 
 These characters are introduced in order to 
 exhibit, in this context, how the love of the 
 world hinders men from running the Chris- 
 tian race. 
 
 First among this group is By-ends. The 
 character of this style of man is most strik- 
 ingly delineated in his name, his origin, and 
 his acquaintances. The town of Fair-speech, 
 its great wealth and luxury, the character- 
 
 istic names of its nobility and gentr}% con- 
 stitue a well-wrought picture of Bunyan's 
 own times. The spiritual indifference and 
 apathy of Mr. Smooth-man, the double- 
 mindedness of Mr. Facing-both-ways, and 
 the neutrality of Mr. Anything, form a 
 comprehensive picture of a generation utter'y 
 devoted to worldliness. 
 
 Mr. Two-tongues, " the parson of the 
 parish," is another touch of the pencil, con- 
 veying by a single stroke the character of 
 many of the clergy of that period. 
 
170 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress, 
 
 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 me therefore with reproach. 
 
 Chr. I thought indeed that you were the man that I heard of; 
 and, to tell you what I think, I fear that 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 company-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 too when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh 
 the streets with applause. 
 
 By. You must not impose nor lord it over my faith; leave me 
 to my liberty, and let me go with you. 
 
 Chr. Not a step further, unless you will do in what I propound 
 as we. 
 
 Then, said By-ends, I shall never desert my old principles, since 
 they are harmless and profitable. If I may not go with you, I must 
 do as I did before you overtook me, even go by myself, until some 
 overtake me that will be glad of my company. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that Christian and Hopeful forsook 
 him, and kept their distance before him ; but one of them looking 
 back saw three men following Mr. By-ends, and behold as they came 
 up with him he made them a very low congee ; and they also gavt 
 
 The rules adopted in the family of By- 
 ends are consistent with all other character- 
 istics of the race. These worldly-wise pro- 
 fessors always contrive to go with the stream, 
 not against it. The 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. By-ends. — A 
 group of men of fleshly mind is now formed, 
 by the accession of three persons, each and 
 
The Hypocrites. 
 
 171 
 
 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 I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. 
 Money-love said to Mr. By-ends, Who are they upon the road before 
 MS? for Christian aad 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 taking 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 with 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 stretcli 
 away into Eternity ; and, therefore, whether 
 it be contempt or applause, his mind is still 
 set on heavenly things ; and, with the Apos- 
 tle, he is ready to say : "I reckon that the 
 sufferings of this present time are not worthy 
 to be compared with the glory which shall 
 be revealed" (Rom. 8 : 18). 
 
 Here, then, is a company of carnal men. 
 
The Hypocrites, 
 
 173 
 
 imes 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' 
 jlippers, 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 unM^se as to lose it. Let us be " wise as 
 serpents ;" it is best "to make hay when the sun shines; " you set 
 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 
 mdeed; 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, etc., should have an 
 advantage lie before him to get the good blessings of this life, yet 
 so as that he can by no means come by them except, in appearance 
 at least, he becomes 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 sor*.* i^/>y ways and by-ends, 
 contrive to hold the w^r^d, and. love their 
 money, and save all they «:^rv. Tbeir calcu- 
 lations exhibit the grr,veM>nij earftihness of 
 •heir minds. The worldJy-wisdMv the plaus- 
 ible speech, and the ^ci£r,\\n<f n- isperity of 
 these men's counsel neeu ii'iU )' interpreted 
 in the light of God's W f*.. • o weighed in 
 
 the balances with eternal things, to expose 
 their vanity, their folly, their worse than 
 madness. 
 
 Then 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 
 
174 The Pilgrims 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 mi^iister himself. 
 Suppose a minister, a worthy man, possessed but of a very small 
 benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat and plump by far ; he 
 h id also now an opportunity of getting it ; yet so as by being more 
 studious, by preaching more frequently and zealously, and, because 
 the temperof 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 berefice is lawful ; this cannot be cor 
 tradicted, since it is set before hi.n by Providence. So then he ma) 
 get it if he can, " making no question for conscience' sake." 
 
 2. Besides.his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, 
 a more zealous 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 teniper, of a sweet and winning deportment, and 
 so more fit for the ministerial function. 
 
 4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small {or 2l 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 
 tradesmaji 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 whv? 
 
 1. To become religious is a virtue, bv what means soever a 
 man becomes so. 
 
 2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to my 
 shop. 
 
 I 3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religous gets that 
 
 career of good men, and blesses them with [ thing for a man to make rehgion a " stalk- 
 increase, and fills them with all manner of ' ing-horse to get and enjoy the world." 
 store and plenty ; but it is quite another { Christian, in his answer, well describes 
 
Christians Answer, 175 
 
 which is good, of them tliat 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 the whole that it was most wholesome and advantageous. 
 And because, as thev thougrht, 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 ihey 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 otlier 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 all hard-going with the Pilgrims of Zion. 
 
 policy of the heathen against Israel, which I There are times of refreshing, and in the 
 
 God permitted to be signally outwitted and 1 midst of toil there are intervals of ease, 
 
 overruled. These are generally timed according to the 
 
 A delicate plain, called Ease. — It is not j need of the wayfarers of the road. And so 
 
176 
 
 The Pilgri?ns Progress. 
 
 DEMAS TEMPTS CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL. 
 
 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 from 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 delicate glade called Ease. 
 This oasis in the desert was narrow, and 
 extended but a very brief space. Ease is 
 
The Silver Mine. 
 
 177 
 
 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 v/ill be according to your 
 works. I 
 
 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 again. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that a little off the road, over against 
 the silver mine, stood Demas, gentleman-like, to call to passengers 
 to come and see ; who said to Christian and his fellow, Ho ! turn 
 aside hither, and I will show you a thing. 
 
 CiiR. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way 
 to see it ? 
 
 Dem. Here is a silver mine, and some dieeinof 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, 
 and endure hardness as good marching sol- 
 diers of the heavenly King. It is not well 
 for piKnims to sit too long " at ease in 
 1:2 
 
 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 quicl^ly 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. 
 
 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^ 
 iion ? (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. 
 
 Demas cried again that he also was one of their fraternity, and 
 that if they would tarry a little he also himself would walk with 
 them. 
 
 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 Pillar of Salt. 
 
 179 
 
 Dem, Yes, my name is Demas ; I am tlie son of Abraham. 
 
 Chr. I know you; Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas 
 your father, and you have trod in their steps (2 Kings 5 : 20—27) ; 
 it is but a devihsh 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 a^ee ; 
 One calls, the other runs, that he may be 
 A sharer in his lucre ; so these 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 botli concerned, because of the 
 strangeness of the form thereof, for it seemed to them as if it ha.' 
 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 writter 
 above upon the head thereof a writing in an unusual hand ; but he, 
 being no scholar, called to Chrisdan (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 tre.ichery of Iscariot. Thus Demas is 
 rebuked, Hopeful is instructed, and our 
 good Christian is again triumphant. 
 
 The anticipations of Hopeful respecting 
 Bv-hNDS and his fellows are fully realized, 
 rhey saw the bait, and caught at it, and 
 vvere drawn into the snare. The curtain 
 here falls upon an unfinished scene - what 
 bfc^me of these men ■- not told, but. sXiffice 
 
 it to say, " they never were seen again in 
 the way." 
 
 Where stood an old viomiuunt. — 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 standing 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 lonk" became her 
 ruin. Th'* '^hole story of this monument is 
 
180 
 
 'HE PILLAR OF SALT. 
 
The Pilgriijis 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 w^en she was 
 going 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 I am not now as Lot's wife ; for wherein was the difference 
 betwixt her sin and mine ? She only looked back, and I had a 
 desire to eo see. Let erace 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. 
 
 Hope. 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 fift\^ 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- 
 ti^n's recent advice to Hopeful respecting 
 the Silver 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 Dkmas stands; and thus it is, 
 that against lij^ht and against knowledge, in 
 spite of caution and example, men arc 
 drawn aside by worldly lust, and turn away 
 from the path of righteousness, and never 
 enter into rest ! 
 
182 
 
 The Pilgrim s Pj- ogress. 
 
 Chk. 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 
 notwithstanding the kindnesses that he had showed them ; for the 
 land of Sodom was now like the garden of Eden heretofore (Gen. 
 13: 10-13). This therefore provoked him the more to jealousy, 
 and made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of heaven 
 could make it. And it is most rationally to be concluded that such, 
 even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight, yea. and that too 
 in despite of such examples that are set continually before them to 
 caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest 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 this exam- 
 ple ! This ministereth occasion to us to thank God, to fear before 
 him, and always to remember Lot's wife. 
 
 Thus are we enabled to see the dififerent 
 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 v/ho, having set out, vill still 
 linger and look back ; and, though half 
 way towa.a i.0M, 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 after Egypt, and " their carcasses fell 
 in the wilderness." 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Doubting Castle and Giant Despair. 
 
 The path of the Christian Pilgrims is laid through a varied country — through ups 
 and downs, through hills and hollows, through night and day, through twihght and shadow, 
 through sunrise 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. 
 
 5^^^^f 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 the bank of 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 
 Pilgrims 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 grow 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 He 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) 
 
184 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress, 
 
 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 pilgrims by the highway-side. 
 
 The meadows green, besides 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 enl 
 and drink, for in the strength of that food 
 they must go yet many days. 
 
By-path Meadow. 
 
 185 
 
 Now I beheld in my dream, diat they had not journeyed fai, 
 but the river and the way for a time parted ; at which they were not 
 a litde sorry, yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the way 
 from the river was rough, and their feet tender by reason ot their 
 travels ; so the souls of the pilgrims were much " discouraged 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 
 over into it. Then he went to the stile to see, and behold a path lay 
 along by the way on the other side of the fence. It is according to 
 my wish, said Christian ; here is the easiest going ; come, good 
 Hopeful, and let us go over. 
 
 Hope. 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 the 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, 
 
 The river and the way parted. — The path 
 does not continue 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, buf 
 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 sorrows. 
 
 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 Demas to go and oee the Silver Mine ; but 
 
180 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 and it grew very dark ; so that they that were behind lost the sight 
 of him that went before. 
 
 He therefore that went before (Vain-Confidence by name), not 
 seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on purpose 
 there made by the prince of those grounds to catch 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, Where are we now? Then was 
 his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out of the 
 way ; and now it began to rain, and thunder, and lighten in a 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 
 gone 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- 
 to the snare, and misleads his brother also. 
 Vain- Confidence. — This indicates the spirit 
 that prompted the Pilgrims to so wilful 
 a departure from the right way. "When 
 Vain-Confidence assumes the leadership, 
 and is followed, there is certain danger, and 
 an inevitable downfall must ensue. Vain- 
 Confidence persuades men coutrary to their 
 
 better teaching. They wish to escape the 
 toil and travail of the road. Their practice 
 then takes the direction of their wishes ; 
 their prejudice perverts their judgment; 
 they lean to their own understanding, and 
 ere long they reap the consequences. 
 
 Where are we no%v ? — Hopeful had 
 gently cautioned Christian as to the pos- 
 sible danger of this departure from the way. 
 He has had his misgivings all along, and is 
 now the first to break the ominous silence 
 
Doubling Castle. 
 
 18? 
 
 No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first; for your mind being 
 tiroubled may lead you out of the way again. Then, for their en« 
 couragement, they heard the voice of one saying, "Let thine heart 
 be toward the highway; even the way that thou wentest turn again" 
 (Jer 31 : 21). But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by 
 reason of which the way of i^oing back was very dangerous. Then 
 I thought that it is easier going out of the way, when we are in, than 
 going in when we are out. Yet they adventured to go back; but 
 it was so dark, and the flood was so high, that in their going back 
 they had like to have been drowned nine or ten times. 
 
 Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the 
 stile that night. Wherefore, at last lighting under a little shelter, 
 they sat down there till day-break; but being weary they fell asleep. 
 Now there was not far from the place where they lay a castle, called 
 Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair ; and it was 
 on his grounds they now were sleeping. Wherefore he, getting up 
 in the morning early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught 
 Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and 
 surly voice he bid them awake, and asked them whence they were, 
 and what they did in his grounds. They told him they were pil- 
 grims, and that they had lost their way. Then said the Giant, You 
 have this night trespassed on me, by trampling in, and lying on, my 
 ground, and therefore you must go along with me. So they were 
 forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They also had but 
 little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The Giant there- 
 
 of the scene — "Where are we?" Yes; it 
 was dark, and danger lay ahead, and into 
 that danger their false leader has already 
 fallen, beyond their vision, but within their 
 hearing. Here Chkistian is the more guilty 
 of the twain, and he sorely feels his folly and 
 his sin, and feels it all the more acutely, 
 because, through his ill advice, another is 
 involved in peril. And yet it is from Hope- 
 ful he receives the consolation of me mo- 
 ment ; for, true to his name, he is enaoled, 
 in the hopefulness of his heart, to see through 
 the danger, and even ventures to believe 
 •' that this shall be for good." 
 
 They fell asleep. — It seems strange that 
 they should thus have slept in the midst of 
 such deadly peril. This is the reaction of 
 the soul, wearied by its transgression, and 
 worn out by the subsequent conflict with 
 
 the storms, and tempests, and buffetings of 
 conscience that pursue the transgressor to 
 the very precincts of doubt and desperation. 
 There is such a thing as settling down at 
 ease in the midst of danger; the lulling of 
 the conscience into peace when there is no 
 peace ; the encouragement of the spirit of 
 slumber on the very borders of despair. 
 Who shall awake the sleepers ? 
 
 Doubting Castle — Giant Despair. — What 
 a progression of disaster ! From the easy 
 stile and tempting meadow land, through 
 the by-path of an unbidden departure from 
 the road, the Pilgrims go on from bad to 
 worse, until they find themselves in the 
 strong captivity of Doubt, and under the 
 grinding tyranny of Despair. Christian 
 had seen a representation of this spiritual 
 woe in she Iron Cage in the Interpreter's 
 
CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL IN THE CASTLE UF GIANT DESPAIR. 
 
 188 
 
Advice of Diffidence, 
 
 189 
 
 fore drove them before him, and put them into his castle, in a very 
 dark dung-eon, nasty and stinking- to the spirits of these two men. 
 Mere then they lay, from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, 
 without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask 
 how they did ; they were, therefore, nere in evil case, and were far 
 from friends and acquaintance (Ps. 88 : 8). Now in this place Chris- 
 tian had double sorrow, because it was through his unadvised counsel 
 that they were brought into this distress. 
 
 Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence ; so 
 when he was gone to bed he told his wife what he had done ; to wit, 
 that he had taken a couple of prisoners, and cast them into his dun- 
 geon for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also what 
 he had best do further to them. So she asked wdiat they were, 
 whence they came, and whither they were bound ; and he told her. 
 Then she counselled him that when he arose in the morning he should 
 beat thcn\ without mercy. So when he arose he getteth him a 
 grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon to them, 
 and there first falls to rating of them as if they were dogs, although 
 they never gave him a word of distaste ; then he falls upon them and 
 beats them fearfully, in such sort that they were not able to help 
 themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws 
 and leaves them there to condole their misery, and to mourn under 
 their distress; so all that day they spent the time in nothing but sighs 
 and bitter lamentations. The next night, she talking with her husband 
 further about them, and understanding that they were yet alive, did 
 advise him to counsel them to make away with themselves. So when 
 morning was come he goes to them in a surly manner as before, and 
 
 house ; he had experienced much of its 
 gloom and misery in his own person in the 
 Vale of Death ; and now he is appointed to 
 pass through another season of horror and 
 great darkness in the dungeons of Despair, 
 aggravated by the thought that he and his 
 comrade had but themselves to blame for 
 the transgression which had brought them 
 there. 
 
 This is a phase of spiritual experience 
 that Bunyan had felt in his own person ; 
 and one that is also felt by many who are 
 brought by wilful sin and disobedience into 
 :;hese low depressions of conscience. This 
 s a season of spiritual hunger, without any 
 spiritual food : of spiritual thirst, without 
 
 any of the waters of life ; of spiritual dark- 
 ness, without a single ray of heaven's own 
 light ; of spiritual loneliness and bondage, 
 without company or communion of Christian 
 men Marvellous contrasts to the peace 
 and blessedness of the morning of that day, 
 by the waters of comfort and the fruits and 
 flowers of the meadow-land ! 
 
 "Yet clouds will intervene. 
 And all my prospect flies ; 
 Like Noah's dove, I flit between 
 Rough seas and stormy skies." 
 
 Diffidence. — This was the Giant's wife: 
 too gentle a name, perhaps, for one who' 
 proves herself to be as harsh, as cruel, and 
 as unrelenting in her wrath as Giant Ds- 
 
190 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had given 
 them the day before, he told them that, since they were never like to 
 come out of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make 
 an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison ; for why, 
 said he, should you choose 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 life" (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 is dreadful, and death 
 would be far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide ; but 
 yet let us consider, the Lord of the country to which we are going 
 hath said, "Thou shalt do no murder;" no, not to another man's 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 forofotten the hell whither for certain the murderers gfo ? 
 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- 
 serves that " Mrs. Diffidence ought rather to 
 have been called Dame Desperation, or 
 Desperate Resolution ; for she seems, if 
 anything, the more stubborn genius of the 
 two." 
 
 The night season is that selected for the 
 counsels of Diffidence 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 vigorous grasp of 
 the troubled conscience; just as, on the 
 glher 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- 
 lowed, in the interval, for the friendly coun- 
 sels of Christian and Hopeful. 
 
 Brother, what sha 'I wc do .^—Gloomy and 
 dark thoughts fill the mind of Christian. 
 He seems harder put to it here than ever 
 before. He broods over the suggestions (») 
 Despaik, 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 wouki 
 
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 time or other he may forget to lock us in ; or that he may in a 
 short time have another of his fits before us, and may lose the use of 
 his limbs ? and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part I 
 am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost 
 to get from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it 
 before ; but, however, my brother, let us be patient and endure 
 a while ; the time may come that may give us a happy release; but 
 let us not be our own murderers. With these words fiopeful 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 alive ; 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 gready, 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 followeth. 
 
 My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast 
 been 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, continues ; the 
 darkness is as yet unrelieved by the dawn 
 of light. Christian 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 
 
 The Pilgrim 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, 
 a id art thou now nothing but fears ? Thou seest that I am in the 
 d.mgeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art ; also 
 tlus 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 lightly 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 despairing 
 comrade — Thou strong man and brave 
 warrior of the Cross, behold 7nt\ 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 nday soon betide, 
 Or liow my wants shall be supplied: 
 But Jesus Knows, and will provide! ' 
 
 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 Giant, 
 
Doubting Castle. 
 
 193 
 
 
 *MIUM\ 
 
 CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ESCAPE FROM DOUBTING CASTLE. 
 
 get you down to your den again. And 
 the way thither. They lay therefore 
 lamentable case, as before. Now, when 
 Mrs. Diffidence and her husband the G 
 began to renew their discourse of their 
 Giant wondered that he could neither by 
 them to an end. And with that his wi 
 
 with that he beat them all 
 all day on Saturday in a 
 
 nioht was come, and when 
 iant were got to bed, they 
 
 prisoners ; and, withal, the 
 his blows nor counsel bring 
 fe replied, I fear, said she, 
 
 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. 
 18 
 
 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 wresthng of Jacob ; it continued all 
 night, even to the break of day ; and that 
 
194 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 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 almost 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 to 
 make their escape with speed. But that gate as it opened made 
 such a creaking that it waked Giant Despair, who, hastily rising to 
 pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took him again, 
 so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, 
 and came to the King's highway again, and so were safe, because 
 they were out of his jurisdiction. 
 
 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 darkness. 
 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 sunrise 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- 
 
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 falhng into the hand.^ 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, who despiseth the 
 King of the Celestial country, and seeks to destroy his holy pil- 
 grims." Many therefore that followed after read what w^as 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. 
 
 .tructive portions of his writings. He had 
 oeen 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 
 «xperience. 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 were (i) the election 
 doubters ; (2) the vocation doubters ; ana 
 (3) the grace doubters. He further develops 
 this great topic in the scene now before us. 
 
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 tiiC 
 Palace Beautiful, and of which the fair sisterhood of the palace had informed him, saying, 
 "When thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see the gate of the Celestial City." 
 Arrived at this point, Christian and his comrade are introduced to the Shepherds who fed 
 their Master's sheep, and with pastoral care tended the flocks committed to their charge. 
 These are the Delectable Mountains ; and the country is called Im.manuel'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 
 which 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? 
 
 The 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 orchards and vineyards and 
 flowing fountains and refreshing fruits — in- 
 dicative of the high privileges and season- 
 able comlorts that refresh the souls 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 
 20 : 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, that publish- 
 eth salvation ; that saithunto Zion, Thy God 
 reigneth " (Isa. 52: 7). 
 
 By the highivay-side. — These Shepherds 
 watch for souls ; and therefore do they stand 
 in the thoroughfare, where prilgrims 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 an. 
 within sight of his city ; and the sheep also are his, and he laid dowi; 
 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, tG 
 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 of the body 
 of Christ " (Eph. 4: 12). This is the secret 
 of an experimental ministry. He that draws 
 water for himself from the wells of salvation 
 will be able most plentifully to supply the 
 spiritual wants of others. 
 
 Watchful — Knowledge may sleep, and 
 experience may nod to slumber ; but watch- 
 fulness tends to keep both awake, and to 
 sustain both in action. The true minister is 
 
198 The Pilgrims Progress. 
 
 with the good of these Delectable Mountains. They told them that 
 they were content to stay ; and so they went to their rest that night, 
 because it was very late. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the Shepherds 
 called upon Christian and Hopeful to walk with them upon the 
 mountains ; so they went forth with them, and walked a w^hile, 
 having a pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the Shejjherds 
 one to another, Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders? So, 
 when they had concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of 
 a hill, called Error, which was very steep on the farthest side, and 
 bid them look down to the bottom. So Christian and Hopeful 
 looked down, and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to 
 pieces by a fall that they had from the top. Then said Christian, 
 What meaneth this? The Shepherds answered, Have you not 
 heard of them that were made to err, by hearkening to Hymeneus 
 and Philetus, as concerning the faith of the resurrection of the body ? 
 (2 Tim. 2: 17, 18). They answered. Yes. Then said the Shepherds, 
 Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at the bottom of this moun- 
 tain are they ; and they have continued to this day unburied, as you 
 see, for an example to others to take heed how they clamber too high, 
 or how they come too near the brink of this mountain. 
 
 Then I saw that they- had them to the top of another mountain, 
 and the name of that is Caution, and bid them look afar off; which 
 when they did they perceived, as they thought, several men walking 
 up and down among the tombs that were there ; and they perceived 
 that the men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon 
 the tombs, and because they could not get out from among them. 
 Then said Christian, What means this ? 
 
 a Watchman, a wakeful sentinel — " all eye, 
 all ear, all expectation of the coming foe." 
 It is for him to keep the sheep, to guard the 
 fold. Therefore says the Apostle: "They 
 watch for your souls, as they that must give 
 account." 
 
 Sincere. — Not gifts only, but graces also 
 — graces to use well the gifts. Sinxere in- 
 volves all that is included within the mean- 
 
 Some wonders. — The Pilgrims sleep, and 
 are refreshed. They awake for spiritual 
 communion with the Shepherds ; and as 
 they walk and talk together, they see "a 
 pleasant prospect on every side." These 
 are some of the blessed privileges of Im- 
 manuel's Land. But there are other views 
 which must be pointed out ere they depart. 
 
 In the midst of privileges there are mani- 
 
 ing of a true man, whose heart believes ! fold dangers. Here, on the Delectable 
 what his lips declare, whose breast is filled ' Mountains, is the Mount of Error. Over its 
 
 with the love of Christ and the love of souls. 
 Sincere is no hireling shepherd ; in a sin- 
 cere heart and fervently he loves the sheep, 
 and guides them safely to the fold- 
 
 lowering crest they look down its precipitous 
 sides to its deep base underneath, and there 
 they see the victims of Error in religion. 
 Take heed, ye sheep, that ye wander not 
 
The Doom of Hypocrites. 
 
 199 
 
 The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a Httle below 
 these mountains a stile that leads into a meadow on the left hand o) 
 this way? They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, From 
 that stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, 
 which is kept by Giant Despair ; and these men (pointing to them 
 among the tombs) came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even 
 till they came to that same stile. And because the right way was 
 rough in that place, they choose to go out of it into that meadow\ 
 and there were taken by Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting- 
 Castle ; where, after they had been kept in the dungeon, he at last 
 did put out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, where he 
 has left them to wander to this very day, that the saying of the wise 
 man might be fulfilled, " He that wandereth out of the way of under- 
 standing, shall remain in the congregation of the dead (Prov. 21: 16). 
 Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another, with tears 
 gushing out, but yet said nothing to the Shepherds. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them to 
 another place, in a bottom, where was a door in the side of a hill ; 
 and they opened the door and bid them look in. They looked in, 
 therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and smoky; they also 
 thought that they heard a rumbling noise, as of fire, and a cry of 
 some tormented, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone. Then 
 said Christian, What means this ? The Shepherds told them, This 
 is a byway to hell, a way that hypocrites go in at : namely, such as 
 sell their birthright, with Esau ; such as sell their Master, with Judas ; 
 such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alexander ; and that lie and dis- 
 semble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife. 
 
 to this dangerous height ! Take double 
 heed, ye Shepherds — for yourselves and for 
 the flock — lest ye be responsible for the 
 downfall of some ! 
 
 Another height is called Mount Caution. 
 This is a point, not of danger, but of admon- 
 itory observation. The view hence is full 
 of deep meaning, especially to our Pilgrims. 
 A bold and masterly reminiscence is this, 
 showing how far they had themselves al- 
 ready wandered ; aye, and a little farther ! 
 There was the well remembered "stile," 
 and there its deceptive path through the 
 meadow-land, and there its destination — 
 Doubting Castle. All this the Pilgrims 
 knew by sad, sad experience. But Divine 
 
 mercy, and their realization of the promises, 
 had delivered them ; and now they are per- 
 mitted to see what that deliverance involves^ 
 Here, on the Mountains Delectable, are the 
 delivered captives looking down upon the 
 captives that have never been set free — the 
 blind victims of Despair, dwelling among 
 the tombs of dead men, blindly and vainly 
 groping, where no light or joy or liberty will 
 ever dawn again, and all is doubt and dark- 
 ness and despair. Oh, how their view did 
 magnify the greatness of that love that did 
 deliver them from such a deep and dark 
 captivity ! 
 
 A byway to hcII. — How dreadful to con- 
 template, that in the fairest places of Chris- 
 
200 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 THE HILL ERROR. 
 
 Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that these had 
 on them, even every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have now, had 
 they not ? 
 
 Shep. Yes, and held it a long time, too. 
 
 Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage;, in their days, 
 since they, notwithstanding, were thus miserably cast away? 
 
 Shep. Some further, and some not so far as these mountains. 
 
 Then said the Pilgrims one to the other. We have need to cry to 
 the Strong for strength ! 
 
 tian privilege are found the greatest penalties 
 of disobedience! Yes, this is the place 
 where the " many stripes " are earned. 
 There are some who go straight to hell, by 
 the open and avowed path of imgodliness. 
 There are others who walk in profession of 
 
 religion, clad in the King's hvery, using the 
 Master's name, and who yet, through some 
 byway, shall be cast into outer darkness 
 from the brilliantly-lighted festive hall. " If 
 therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, 
 how great is that darkness ! " 
 
The Shepherds^ Advice, 
 
 201 
 
 Shep. Aye, and you will have need to use it when you have 
 it, too. 
 
 By this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go forwards, and the 
 Shepherds a desire they should; so they walked together towards the 
 end of the mountains. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Let 
 us here show the Pilgrims the gates of the Celestial City, if they have 
 skill to look through our perspective glass. The Pilgrims then lov- 
 ingly accepted the motion ; so they had them to the top of a high hill, 
 called Clear, and gave them the glass to look. 
 
 Then they tried to look, but the remembrance of that last thing 
 that the Shepherds had shown them made their hands shake ; by 
 means of which impediment they could not look steadily throuo-hthe 
 glass ; yet they thought they saw something like the gate, and also 
 some of the glory of the place. 
 
 When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds gave them 
 a 7iote of the way ; another of them bid them beware of the flatter ei^ ; 
 the third bid them take heed that they slept not upon the enchanted, 
 ground ; and the fourth bid them God-speed. So I awoke from my 
 dream. 
 
 IGNORANCE. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 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 level 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 " Li'Me-faiih," 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 ? 
 
 Ignor. 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. 
 
 TAg 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 I 
 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 j 
 
 (20 
 
 — 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 ly the "crooked lane," has this 
 
 ■I) 
 
The Pilgrims encounter Ignorance. 
 
 203 
 
 As other good people do, said he. 
 
 Chr. But what have you to show at that gate, that the gate 
 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 camest not in at the Wicket-gfate that is at the 
 head of this way ; thou camest in hither through that same crooked 
 lane; and therefore I fear, however thou mayest think of thyself, 
 when the reckoning-day shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy charge 
 that thou art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance 
 into the city. 
 
 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 " (Eccles. 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 do 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. 
 
 new Pilgri«n 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 sub^o"«atly 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 with joy," we do well to 
 take warning by the example of Ignorance. 
 
X 
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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 the 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 be one Turnaway, that dwelt in the 
 town of Apostacy. But he did not perfectly see his face, for he did 
 hang his head like a thief that is found. But being gone past, 
 Hopeful looked after him, and 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 Deadman'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 happen'^d at that time to come down the lane from Broadway- 
 
 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 
 other 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 
 P'aith, how nearly it may be overborne, and 
 may at last be left, as it were, half-dead. 
 
 Litilc-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 of 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, 
 
20G 
 
 The Pilgrim s 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 afilicted 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 
 httle 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 
 I many of the marks and tokens of his ac- 
 I 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 2l faint heart in the pilgrimage, 
 will soon mis trust the. comforts and promises 
 of God, and ere long this will amount to 
 g7nlt of soul and conscience — and all 
 through littleness of Faith ! 
 
 Most 0/ his spending- money. — This was the 
 amount of Little-faith's loss. The 
 " pearl of great price" was his main 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 his 
 
Discussion regaydi^ig Little-faith. 
 
 207 
 
 also he had a Httle odd money left, but scarce enoiigh to 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 h(i 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 admission at the Celestial Gate ? 
 
 Chr. It is a wonder ; but they got not that, though they missec 
 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 because 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. Would it not have been so to 
 any of us, had we been used as he, to be robbed and wounded too, 
 and that in a strange place, as he was ? It is a wonder he did not 
 
 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 suspici'r'ns of mis- 
 trust, it forfeits confidenre, sufifers 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 do 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 httle of the joys and consolations of the 
 way. These "jewels" are the essentials of 
 the man of God — living faith, holy love ; 
 the certificate of acceptance — " the witness 
 of the Spirit," which is the credential of the 
 
 pilgrimage. Little-faith still 
 
 possesses 
 ' hid with 
 
 these ; they are in safe custody 
 Christ in God." His gold, and his greater 
 and more costly treasures, are intrusted, not 
 to his own frail custody, but to a faithful 
 Creator, to whom he has committed the 
 keeping of his soul (i Peter 4: 19). Thus 
 does Bunyan further illustrate his meaning, 
 when, in his " Grace Abounding," he says: 
 
208 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ARE LEU ASTRAY BY THE FLATTERER. 
 
 die with grief, poor heart ! I was told that he scattered almost all the 
 rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints ; telling 
 also to all that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way as he 
 went, where he was robbed, and how ; who they were that did it, and 
 what he had lost ; how he was wounded, and that he hardly escaped 
 with life. 
 
 Hope. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not put him 
 upon selling 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. 
 
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 bee a 
 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 
 Litde-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, as Esau did his 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 
 
 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 chat 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 g^roan ? 
 The most of me to heaven has fled. 
 My joys and hopes are all packed up and gone ; 
 The rest must 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 
 
210 The Pilgrim'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 angr)'. 
 
 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 ? 
 WHiy 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 j out of the fulness of his own experience, as 
 strength. Hopeful's observ-ations evidently a disciplined soldier of the Cross, who has 
 prove that he has never experienced the | suffered adversity, and met with sharp re- 
 strife, and knows not what the character of I verses, and through fields of blood fought 
 the warfare is ; whereas, Christian speaks | on to victory. 
 
Hopeful acknowledges his Error. 
 
 211 
 
 their aid himself, and his voice is as the roaring of a Hon (i Peter 
 5:8). I myself 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 faith, some have little ; 
 Ms 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 Kind'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 designed to help the weak. And yet, 
 even Great-grace has need to be watchful. 
 The scars on his face prove how real is the 
 
212 The 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 whistle ; 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 with 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, and is not affrighted ; neither turneth he back from 
 the sword ; the quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and 
 the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage ; 
 neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith 
 among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle afar off, the 
 thunder of the captains, and the shouting" (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 \ from experience. How ill-prepared had he 
 
 grace that is supplied to God's children, the been for the assault of Apollvon had he 
 
 best and bravest of them may be brought not been armed in the Palace Beautiful I 
 
 under J^he power of fear.faint-heartedness and Even w/M his armor, he found the battle to 
 
 guilt. be sore and long, and for a time uncertain. 
 
 Tiiio things become us to do. — Seeing that (2) That we desire of the King a convoy, 
 
 such are the perils of the way, it behooves us Alone, we cannot safely walk; alone, we 
 
 that we take all due precaution ere we commit cannot fight and be victorious. We must 
 
 ourselves to the journey, and that we give seek the presence and providence of God to 
 
 ■^U diligence, when, having begun, we pro- 1 attend us in all the stages of our pilgrimage 
 
 ceed upon the pilgrimage. — " If thy presence go not with me, carry us 
 
 (i) The first counsel is, that we be har- \ not up hence!" In times of war, the pre- 
 
 nessed for the way. Here Christian speaks ; cious craft and cargo are convoyed across 
 
^/^■7>T4<;^ jl,jy ^rt,fl.^AfjiA&ANA^Irtrt sw rf»tfM4^ -Mrf«4aM^^ <, M,t « rt , h^^i^rt *.i^iaaaAfc iiim tiBiiiWi 
 
 \AMy^ttAASi\ i\A^lHMMi^Md^^r\ 
 
 CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL DELIVERED FROM THE NET. 213 
 
214 
 
 The 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 
 ncssed, 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 w^e be afraid of 
 ten thousands that shall set themselves against us? but without him 
 the proud helpers " fall under the slain" (Exod. ■^i: 15 ; Ps. 3 : 5-8 ; 
 27 : 1-3 ; Isa. 10 : 4). 
 
 I, for my part, have been in the fray before now ; and though, 
 through the goodness of Him that is best, I am, as you see, alive, yet 
 I cannot boast of my manhood. Glad shall I be if I meet with no 
 more such brunts; though I fear we are not got beyond all danger. 
 However, since the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured me, I 
 hope God will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised Philistine 
 (i Sam. 17: Tj"]^. Then sang ChrisUan : 
 
 Poor Little-faith ! hast been among the thieves ? 
 Wast robbed ? Remember this, whoso beheves. 
 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 w.iy. — 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 " le.in 
 to their own understanding ;" for, instead uf 
 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 
 
 A.nd 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 
 Hesh, 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 saw 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." 
 HereDavidwas wiserthanwe; 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 little, and beware 1 " 
 
 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 difficulty, nor for 
 any apparent superiority of one road above 
 the other, but simply through the Pilgrim's 
 
 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." 
 
 forgetfulness of the counsel of the Shepherds. Thus they had committed two evils — in re- 
 They were in doubt, and needed some one | jecting the counsel of God, and in accepting 
 to advise them. The " note of the way " i the counsel of Satan. 
 
216 
 
 The Pilgrims Progress. 
 
 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 apostle, 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 shepherds 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 Flatterer? 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 catched 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 Fatherhood of 
 God, dealing with his erring children. 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" (Heb. 12: 10). 
 
 His name was Atheist. — This second dan- 
 ger was also foreseen by the Shepherds, and 
 a timely caution given to beware. How dif- 
 ferent are the temptations of the way ! One 
 
The Pilgnms vieet zvilh Atheist. 
 
 21? 
 
 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. 
 
 So 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 j^(?« 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 
 iees 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 ]\ fountains 
 the gate of the City ?" Yes, with the quick- 
 
218 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. 
 
 Chk. 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 a 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 than I did 
 the first day I set out (Eccl. lo: 15; Jer. 17: 15). 
 
 Chr. We have both heard and believe that there is such 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 that causeth 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 of man the things which God hath 
 prepared;" therefore Atheist cannot see 
 the end of the journey. " But God hath 
 revealed them unio 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 him " (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- 
 
Leaviiig Atkeisi. 
 
 219 
 
 I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us " beheve to the sav- 
 ing of the soul " (Heb. lo : 39). 
 
 Chk. 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" (i 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, for 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 Pilgrim s 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 begin ? 
 
 Where God began with us ; but do you begir., i' you 
 
 Hope 
 please. 
 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. 
 Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumbering eyes. 
 Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 
 Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell. 
 
 How 
 
 Then Christian began, and said, I will ask you a question 
 came you to think at first of doing as you do now? 
 
 Hope. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after the good 
 of my soul ? 
 
 Chr. 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, had 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 
 
 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 men 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 forgetfulness 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 of light 
 in the Lord. 
 
 Hopeful 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 began, 
 
Hopeful tells his Experience. 
 
 221 
 
 cleanness, Sabbath-breaking, and what not, that tended to destroy 
 the soul. But I found, at last, by hearing and considering of things 
 that are Divine, which indeed I heard of you, as also of beloved 
 Faithful that was put to death for his faith and good living in Vanity 
 Fair, "that the end of these things is death;" and that "for these 
 things' sake the wrath of God cometh upon the children of disobe- 
 dience " (Rom. 6: 21-23; Eph. 5: 6). 
 
 Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of this 
 conviction ? 
 
 Hope. No, I was 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 at 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 bhnd 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) His ignorance of God's mode of opera- 
 tion. He had never trod this path before, 
 and his carnal heart would not admit that 
 this was 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 revealing 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 sins, these idols of the 
 heart — how they gather 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- 
 tinues in the bond of iniquity. Such are the 
 stern demands of righteousness, that sin 
 
222 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 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 ; or if I were told that some of my neighbors were sick; 
 or if I heard the bell toll for some that were dead ; or if I thought of 
 dying myself; or if I heard that sudden death happened to others ; 
 but especially when I thought of myself, that I must quickly come to 
 judgment. 
 
 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 rigliteousnesses 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 
 
 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- 
 
 of them, as one would be rid of unquiet science ; at one time rampant, at another 
 hours, and days of anguish and sore afflic- ! time restrained ; rising to convulsive throes 
 tion. Ah, what a coward is the conscience I as circumstances provoked its sensitiveness. 
 
Hopeftirs 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 former 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 ? 
 
 Hope. 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? 
 
 What a creature of circumstances is an awak- 
 ened conscience ! As Madarrie 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." Ty<*'''vght of a good man, the testimony ' sinner, 
 
 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 
 
224 
 
 The Pilgriius Progress. 
 
 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, thus pursued by an unquiet 
 conscience, sought 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- 
 
Hopeful's Experience. 
 
 225 
 
 Chr. And what did you do then ? 
 
 Hope. I made my objections against my beheving, 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, ii : 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 ; Jer. 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. n^ : 22 ; Lev. 16: 2 ; Heb. 4: 16). I told him that I 
 knew not w'xat to say when I came. And he bid me say to this 
 effect: "God be merciful to me a sinner," and "make me to know 
 and believe in Jesus Christ; for I see that if his righteousness had 
 not been, or I have not faith in that righteousness, I am utterly cast 
 away. Lord, 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 over. 
 
 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- 
 nerience 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 very godly man, and did marvel much to 
 see such a great and famous alteration in my 
 life and manners ; and, indeed, so it was, 
 thf)Ugh yet I knew not Christ, nor grace, nor 
 faith, nor hope." 
 
 Thus far had Hopeful attained ; and yet 
 
226 
 
 TJie Pilgrivi 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 1 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. 2 : 3). So I continued praying, until the 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 
 sadness 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, sudr*enly, as I thought, I saw the Lord 
 Jesus looking down from heaven i\jon me, and saying, " Believe on 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou Mialt be saved" (Acts 16: 30, 31). 
 
 But I replied, Lord, I am a ^reat, 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 huf^io-er ; 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 
 after salvation 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 : ■}^']). Then I said, But how. Lord, must I consider 
 of thee in my coming to thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon 
 thee ? Then he said, " Christ Jesus came into the world to save 
 
 he was not satisfied witl: his spiritual pro- 
 gress. Sin was not uprooted; sin entered 
 into, and intermingled with, all his deeds. 
 .\ 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 ii^ 
 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 t( 
 seek for this righteousness ; so that of hin 
 it may now be said, " Behold, he prayeth !' 
 
Hopeful'' s 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 loved 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 ot 
 joy, mine eyes full of tears, and mine affections running over with 
 love to the name, people, and v/ays 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, and pardon and peace — all in one. 
 This was the secret of that " brotherly cove- 
 nant," into which Hopeful had entered 
 with Christian, when proceeding forth 
 from Vanity Fair as his companion to the 
 Celestial City. 
 
CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTS IGNORANCE 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Ignorance. 
 
 The Pilgrims are still passing through the Enchanted Ground. They have thut fai 
 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 from the Delec- 
 table Mountains. On their first meeting whh him, as he entered by the " little 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, w^hy 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 not for our company? But, however, come up, and let us 
 talk away the time in this solitary place. Then directing his speech 
 
 Saw Igno7-ance 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 conversation 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 unhke do not easily inter- 
 mingle. When Jesus came as the Light into 
 this dark world, it is said: "The light r^un' 
 
 (229 
 
230 The Pilgi'ivis 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 are 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, 
 " Everj'one that doeth evil hateth the hght, 
 neither cometh to the Hght lest his deeds 
 should be reproved " (John 3 : 20). 
 
 Let us talk uivay the time. — Still to resist 
 the spirit of jlumber, is the duty of the Pil- 
 grims, at ^east until they have got quite over 
 the Enchanted Ground. Another oppor- 
 tunj*y is thus created in the Allegory for the 
 Introduction of doctrinal truth in contrast to 
 <he misapprehensions of spiritual ignorance. 
 
 So they begin to question with Igno- 
 KANCE, 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 rehgion ; and to " de- 
 sire" the possession of God and heaven, he 
 esteems as a distinguishing characteristic of 
 his spiritual state. Poor Ignorance knows 
 not that the very devils " think " much of 
 God, and that even the worst of sinners do 
 " desire " the things of hea\ en. 
 
 His own " heart " is 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. 
 
 23i 
 
 Except the word of God beareth witness in this matter, other testi- 
 aiony is of no vakie. 
 
 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 hfe 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 
 inof 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 
 heart of man is only evil, and that continually." And again : "The 
 imagination 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 
 
 ness of the Word, to tell the true testimony 
 respecting our hearts, and to say " how it 
 stands between God and our souls." 
 
 Good thoughts r specting 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-humihation," 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 tinder-cstimation 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) ivom. 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, 
 
232 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress, 
 
 IGNORANCE STEPS BEHIND. 
 
 which the Word giVeth of both, then both are good, because agree- 
 inor 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 v/ith 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 o-ood thoughts concerninof God. 
 
 and thus to dispel self-ignorance (James 
 i: 25). 
 
 Good tJioughts conce7'mng God. — All men 
 think some thoughts respecting God ; and 
 
 their thoughts 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 ente''- 
 
ChHstian insinicts Ignorance. 
 
 233 
 
 Chr. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, when our 
 thoughts of God do agree with what the Word saith of him ; and that 
 is, when we think of his being and attributes as the Word hath 
 taught; of which I cannot now discourse at large. But to speak of 
 him with reference to us ; then have we right thoughts of God when 
 we think that he knows us better than we know ourselves, and can 
 see sin in us when and where we can see none in ourselves ; when 
 we think he knows our inmost thoughts, and that our heart, with 
 all its depths, is always open unto his eyes ; also when we think 
 that all our righteousness stinks in his nostrils, and that therefore he 
 cannot abide to see us stand before him in any confidence even in all 
 our best performances. 
 
 Ignor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think that God 
 can see no further than I ? or that I would come to God in the best 
 of my performances ? 
 
 Chr. Why, how dost thou think in this matter? 
 
 Ignor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in Christ for 
 justification. 
 
 Chr. How ! Think thou must believe in Christ, when thou 
 seest not thy need of him ! Thou neither seest thy original nor 
 actual infirmities, but hast such an opinion of thyself, and of what 
 thou doest, as plainly renders thee to be one that did never see a 
 necessity of Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee befox'C 
 God. How then dost thou say, I believe in Christ? 
 
 Ignor. I believe well enough for all that. 
 
 Chr. How dost thou believe ? 
 
 Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners ; and that I shall 
 
 tain good thoughts of God, theologically, as 
 to his attributes — his love and power and 
 such like. But these thoughts do not neces- 
 sarily make us to be good, much less do they 
 constitute a state of salvation. What we 
 need is, to realize our thoughts of God, and 
 to apply them experimentally to ourselves. 
 There are many who think of God as the 
 Omniscient One, and yet, so little do they 
 reah/.e this thought, that they sin openly 
 before his face and in his all-searching sight, 
 as though he saw them not. Our good 
 thoughts concerning God, to be of any use, 
 must lead to those practical duties which we 
 owe to God and to ourselves. 
 
 " / believe in Christ." — It is easy to say 
 
 this, as in a creed or confession of faith. But 
 this is not " believing in Christ." Ignorance 
 could say this creed, and did say it, and, 
 possibly, believed it too ; and yet he was 
 far from the possession and enjoyment o\ 
 saving faith in Jesus. He believed with 
 historical faith — that Christ was born, and 
 lived, and died. He believed with theoloei- 
 ra/ faith — that in Christ is the justification of 
 the sinner. And yet this man had no due 
 appreciation of Christ's real character and 
 work, or of its bearing upon his own salva- 
 tion. Hence, the faith of Ignorance is 
 proved to be a fantastical, false, presumptu- 
 ous, and deceptive faith, 
 
 It \s fantastical faith, being the mer^erea^ 
 
234 
 
 The Pilgrim^ s Progress. 
 
 be justified before God from the curse, through his gracious accept- 
 ance of my obedience to his law. Or thus : Christ makes my duties, 
 that are relij^ious, acceptable to his Father by virtue of his merits, 
 and so shall 1 be justified. 
 
 Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith : 
 (i) Thou believest with a fantastical faith; for this faith is no- 
 where described in the Word. 
 
 (2) Thou believest with a false faith ; because it takes justifica- 
 tion fro7}i the personal righteousness of Christ, and applies it to 
 thy own. 
 
 (3) This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of tliy person, but of 
 thy actions ; and of thy person for thy actions' sake ; which is false. 
 
 (4) Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave thee 
 under wrath in the day of God Almighty ; for true justifying faith puts 
 the soul, as sensible of its lost condition by the law, upon flying for 
 refuge unto Christ's righteousness (which righteousness of his is not 
 an act of grace by which he maketh, for justification, thy obedience 
 accepted with God, but his personal obedience to the law, in doing 
 and suffering for us what that required at our hands) ; this righteous- 
 ness, I say, true faith accepteth ; under the skirt of which the soul 
 being shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before God, it is ac- 
 cepted, and acquitted from condemnation. 
 
 Ignor. What ! would you have us trust to what Christ in his own 
 person hath done without us ? This conceit will loosen the reins of 
 our lusts, and tolerate us to live as we list ; for what matter how we 
 live, if we may be justified by Christ's personal righteousness from 
 all, when we believe it ? 
 
 Chr. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is so art thou ; 
 
 tion of his own fancy, a misapprehension of 
 the true nature of faith, and in no respect 
 warranted by any authority of God's Word. 
 It is false faith. Justification is not the lay- 
 ing of Christ's righteousness over our filthy 
 rags, to hide, or even to repair our own right- 
 eousness ; but the exchange of our filthy rags 
 for the robe of the Saviour's righteousness. 
 He "took otir sins," and now invites us — 
 " Take my yoke upon you." 
 
 It is presumptuotis faith, seeing that in 
 the long run it tendeth to justify men's works, 
 and their persons for their works' sake. It 
 is not that our deeds are made holy through 
 Christ, but that Christ's perfect work is im- 
 
 puted to us, for Christ's own sake. He had 
 no sin in him, but our sin was laid upon him ; 
 and therefore Jesus died for us. We have no 
 righteousness in us, but his righteousness is 
 laid upott us ; and therefore we live in him. , 
 
 It is deceptive faith. Having falsely con- 
 ceived the nature of true faith, Ignoranci 1 
 has trusted, as it were, in the staff of a broken 
 reed, whereon if a man lean, it will go into 
 his hand and pierce it. Such trust, partly 
 resting upon our own deeds, and partly upon 
 the work of Christ, is dishonoring to Christ, 
 to whom the whole work of salvation be- 
 longeth, from first to last ; for Jesus is both 
 " the author and the finisher of our faitht" 
 
The Falseness of Ignorance s Faith. 
 
 235 
 
 <«ven this thy answer demonstrateth what I say. Ig-norant thou art of 
 what justifying righteousness is, and as ignorant how to secure thy 
 soul, ihrough the faith of it, from the heavy wrath of God. Yea, thou 
 also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith in this righteouness 
 of Chi'ist, 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. 
 
 Igngr. What! you are a man for revelations ! 1 do believe that 
 what both you and all the rest of you say about that matter is but the 
 fruit of distracted brains. 
 
 Hgpe. 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. 
 
 Ignok. 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 mighty power (Matt, ii: 27; i Cor. 12: 3; Eph. i: 17- 
 19); the working of which faith, I perceive, poor Ignorance, thou art 
 ignorant of. 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 ? — This 
 question of Hopeful takes the direction of 
 his own experience. In the preceding con- 
 versation between the Pilgrims, we 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. 1:15, 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 fai 
 beyond the power of Ignoraxck 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 
 adv.inced Pilgrims, yea, very far behind, 
 must such carnally-minded men as Igno 
 range walk. 
 
236 
 
 The Pilj^riiu^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 shalt know, 
 Ere long, the evil of thy doing so. 
 ! Remember, man, in time; stoop, do not fear, 
 
 Good counsel taken well saves; therefore hear; 
 But, if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
 The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee. 
 
 Then Christian addressed himself thus to his fellow : 
 
 Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that thou and I must 
 walk 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. Christian 
 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. Here, 
 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 
 
 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. 111: 10; Prov. i: 7; 9: 10). 
 
 Hope. How will you describe right fear ? 
 
 Chr. T^'ue 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 
 viow almost got past the Enchanted Ground ? 
 
 Cur. 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 if^norant 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 ouL 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 element of 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 /d'^rn'i/ " (Ps. 130: 4). God's for- 
 giveness leads to fear ; and why ? An elo- 
 quent writer asks: "What is that strange 
 and potent element in Divine forgiveness 
 which makes the forgiven fear — making me, 
 more afraid to sin beside the Cross of Cal- 
 vary, with its quiet, pale, dead, bleeding 
 burden, than if I stood at the foot of Sinai 
 
238 
 
 The Pilgrinis Progress, 
 
 them as things that directly tend to their overthrow. (2) They also 
 think that these fears tend to the spoiling of their faith ; when, alas for 
 them, poor men that they are, they have none at all! — and therefore 
 they harden their hearts against them. (3) They presume they ought 
 not to fear; and therefore, in despite of them, wax presumptuously 
 confident. (4) They see that those fears tend to take away from them 
 iheir pitiful old self-holiness, and therefore they resist them with all 
 their mioht. 
 
 Hope. I know something of this myself; for before I knew my- 
 self it was so with me, 
 
 Chr, Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbor Jg^norance by 
 himself, and fall upon another profitable question. 
 
 Hope, With all my heart; but you shall still begii. 
 
 Chr. Well, then, did you know, about ten years ego, one Tem- 
 porary in your parts, who was a forward man in religion then ? 
 
 Hope. Know him ! yes, he dwelt in Graceless:, a town about two 
 miles off Honesty; and he dwelt next door to one Turnback. 
 
 Chk. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well, that 
 man was much awakened once, I believe that then he had some sight 
 of his sins, and of the wages that were due thereto. 
 
 Hope. I am of your mind, for (my house not being above three 
 miles from him) he would ofttimes come to me, and that with many 
 tears. Truly I pitied the man, and was not altogether without hope 
 of him; but one may see it is not everyone that cries. Lord, Lord. 
 
 Chr. He told me once he was resolved to go on pilgrimage, as 
 we go now ; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one Saveself, 
 and then he became a stranger to me. 
 
 Hope, Now since we are talking about him, let us a little inquire 
 into the reason of the sudden backslidinor of him and such others. 
 
 amid the thunders, Hghtnings and trumpet 
 peals that made Moses himself exceedingly 
 fear and quake ?" 
 
 The pardoned sinner " fears " God, be- 
 cause he now is able to understand the 
 enormity of his sin in the greatness of the 
 ransom. If our sin were easily pardoned, 
 we might lightly sin, and reckon again upon 
 the round of easy pardon. But no; the 
 pardon of the sinner has cost a price too 
 awful to contemplate, has required a life too 
 vast to estimate, and demanded a ransom 
 in the person — the Divinely human person 
 
 — of Jesus Christ, the Son of God ; and this 
 must not be trifled with 
 
 " Did you know one Temporary?'' — This 
 is a backslider — one who received the Word, 
 the good seed, but received it in thorny 
 ground ; and although the seed gave some 
 promise of development, yet the prickly 
 thorns did ere long arise and choke the 
 seed, which, having " no deepness of earth," 
 soon withered away. 
 
 This evil influence was brought about by 
 one Saveself. Here, in another form, is the 
 spirit of self-sufficien^'v that seems to require 
 
The Effects of False Fear. 
 
 239 
 
 CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ENTER THE LAND OF BEULAH. 
 
 Chr. It may be very profitable ; but do you begin. 
 
 Hope. Well, then, there are in my judgment four reasons for it. 
 (i) Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their minds 
 are not changed ; therefore, when the power of guilt w^eareth away, 
 that which provoked them to be religious ceaseth ; wherefore they 
 naturally return to their own course again ; even as we see the dog 
 that is sick of what he hath eaten, so long as his sickness prevails he 
 vomits and casts up all ; not that he doeth this of a free mind (if we 
 may say a dog has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach ; but 
 now, when his sickness is over, and so his stomach eased, his desires 
 being not at all alienated from his vomit, he turns him about and licks 
 up all ; and so it is true which is written, "The dog is turned to his 
 
 no Saviour, and to stand in need of no sal- 
 vation. Alas ! that Pilgrims should thus 
 easily be persuaded to turn back ! " Be- 
 
 cause they had no root, they withered away." 
 Thus begins the downward course of the 
 backshders : They dray; off ^heir minds from 
 
240 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress^ 
 
 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 their 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) Another 
 reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster them. I speak 
 now of the fears that they have of men ; "for the fear of man bring- 
 eth a snare" (Prov. 29: 25). So, then, though they seem to be 
 hot for heaven so long as the flames of hell are about their ears, yet, 
 when that terror is a little over, they betake themselves to second 
 thoughts, namely, that it is good to be wise, and not to run (for they 
 know not what) the hazard of losing all, or at least of bringing 
 themselves into unavoidable and unnecessary troubles ; and so they 
 fall in with the world again. (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 wrath of God, they harden their hearts gladly, and 
 choose such ways as will harden them more and more. 
 
 Chr. You are pretty near the business ; for the bottom of all 
 is, for want of a change in their mind and will. And therefore they 
 are but like the felon 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 rehgion. 
 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. 
 
The Effects of False Fear. 
 
 241 
 
 Hope. Now I have showed you the reasons of their going back, 
 do you show me the manner thereof. 
 
 Chk. So I wilHngly 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, and 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 and wanton discourses in 
 secret; and glad are they if they can see such things in any that are 
 counted honest, that they may the more boldly do it through their 
 example. 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. 
 
 16 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The Land of Beulah— The Fords of the River— At Home 
 
 " Methinks I feel the balmy air 
 
 Breathe on 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 there, 
 
 The border-land of heaven 1" 
 
 The Enchanted Ground has 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 Castle — 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 was very sweet and pleasant, the w^ay 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 
 
 The Country of Betilah. — " 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 into 
 
 (242) 
 
The Pilgrims reach the La7id of Beulah. 
 
 243 
 
 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 the 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 description 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 
 tem.pests cease to blow ; all here is blessed 
 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 glory ; 
 and they can yet behold it only " as throus^h 
 a glass, darkly ;" but they are advancing 
 " nearer and nearer." They have, howcvW/ 
 
The Pilgrh7is 7'each the Land of Beulak, 245 
 
 showed them there the King's walks and the arbors where he 
 dehghted to be ; and here they tarried and slept. 
 
 Now I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in their sleep 
 at this time than ever they did in all their journey ; and, being in ? 
 muse thereabouts, the gardener said even to me, Wherefore musesl 
 thou at the matter ? It is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of 
 I 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 die 
 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 beholc 
 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, Ycu 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 hath not any. 
 
 two difficulties more to meet with : (i) the 
 intervening river; and (2) that river must 
 be crossed. 
 
 /I 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 mttst 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 ol 
 this river, if they could. It is a cold flood ; 
 a stormy sea ; at best it is a bitter pang, the 
 residue of the curse of sin. Even Standfast, 
 a brave and good comrade of the Second 
 
246 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 lave 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 
 cO 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 
 
 agam 
 
 half dead. Hopeful 
 
 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 
 
 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 i 
 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 
 
248 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 fore you have received of his goodness, and Hve upon him in youf 
 distresses. 
 
 Tlien I saw in my dre*am diat Christian was in a muse awhile. 
 To whom also Hopeful added these words, "Be of good cheer; Jesus 
 Christ maketh thee whole." And with that Christian brake out with 
 a loud voice, Oh, I see him again! and he tells me, "When thou 
 passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, 
 they shill not overflow thee" (Isa. 43 : 2). Then they both took 
 cDurage, and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they 
 were gone over. Christian therefore presently found ground to 
 stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was but 
 shallow ; thus they got over. 
 
 Now upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the 
 two shining men again, who there waited 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. ,-'I^hey 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). ^on 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 
 pli;:jhted word of his God and Father, the 
 scales of darkness fall from his eyes, his 
 feet are grouxided 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 ? 
 
 death, where is thy sting?" 
 
 Thus they went along,— rTV^ River, of 
 
The Pilgrims are Welcomed to Heaven, 
 
 249 
 
 Life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof; and when yon 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 'lirn; 
 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: 9, 10; i 
 Cor. 6: 2, 3). 
 
 Now while they were thus drawing toward the gate, behold a 
 
 Death has been safely overpassed. All that 
 was mortal has been left behind ; they now 
 are disemboHied spirits, unclothed of their 
 mortality, and "clothed upon with their 
 house 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 
 
250 
 
 7 he Pilgri)7i 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 left 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 cuu :*iso 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 how welcome they were into their 
 company, and with what gladness they came to meet them. And now 
 were these two men, as it were, in heaven before they came at it; 
 being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing 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 
 praises, 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). 
 
252 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress, 
 
 gate ; the which when they did, some from above looked over the 
 gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and EHjah, 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 
 unto 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 heir transfigured glory. 
 
 / looked in after them. — As it were a 
 ghmpse, and but for a moment, revealed to 
 the 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 reachea 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 ! 
 And, though the warrioi's sun has set, 
 Its light shall linger round us yet, 
 
 Bright, radiant, blest 1" 
 
 / wished myself among them, — Oh, that 
 such bhssful 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, 
 
The Doom of Ig7iof-ance. 
 
 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 praises withal. 
 
 There were also of them that had wings, and they answered 
 one another without intermission, saying, " Holy, holy, holy is the 
 Lord ! " And after that they shut up the gates ; which when I had 
 seen I wished myself among them. 
 
 Now, while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head 
 to lookback, 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 with 
 the least encouragement. When he was come up to the gate, he 
 looked up to the writing that was above, and then began to knock, 
 supposing that entrance should have been quickly administered to 
 him; but he was asked by the men 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 said they. Have 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 
 this 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 
 
254 
 
 The Pilgrhns 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 of the hill 
 
 The same angels that bind the wheat in 
 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!" 
 
 '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 hath reveal'd: 
 
 'i'he final haopiness of those that God the Father seal'd. 
 
 This was the sijjht from which I woke, and looked and looked again, 
 
 And though their pilg^rimage was o'er, I yet was on the plain ; 
 
 And in the rugged wilderness, I looked and sighed in prayer, 
 
 " O God ! complete my pilgrimage, conduct me safely there 1" 
 
(i>oncfa^ion. 
 
 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. 
 
 ^^^>'^»—- 
 
 '^5) 
 
fie eKutfior'/^ ©Y^a^ o^ ^enilin 
 iJortPi gKi^ ^econc| part 
 
 17 
 
 O now, my little Book, to every place 
 Where my First Pilgrim has but shown his face ; 
 Call at their door ; if any say. Who s there ? 
 Then answer thou, Christiana is here. 
 If they bid thee come in, then enter thou. 
 With all thy boys ; and then, as thou know'st how, 
 Tell who they are, also from whence they came ; 
 Perhaps they'll know them by their looks or name; 
 But if they should not, ask them yet again. 
 If formerly they did not entertain 
 One Christian, a Pilgrim ? If they say 
 They did and were delighted in his way, 
 Then let them know that these related were 
 Unto him ; yea, his Wife and Children are. 
 
 Tell them, that they have left their house and home; 
 Are turned Pilgrims ; seek a World to come ; 
 That they have met with hardships in the way ; 
 That they do meet with troubles night and day ; 
 That they have trod on serpents ; fought with devils ; 
 Have also overcome a many evils ; 
 Yea, tell them also of the next who have. 
 Of love to Pilgri7nage, been stout and brave 
 Defenders of that Way ; and how they still 
 Refuse this World to do their Father's will. 
 
 <^7) 
 
258 The Author's Apology. 
 
 Gc» tell them also of those dainty things 
 That Pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings, 
 Let them acquainted be, too, how they are 
 Beloved of their King, under his care ; 
 What goodly mansions for them he provides ; 
 Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides ; 
 How brave a calm they will enjoy at last, 
 Who to their Lord, and by his ways hold fasL 
 
 Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace 
 Thee as they did my firsding ; and will grace 
 Thee and thy fellows with such cheer and fare, 
 As show well they of Pilgrims lovers are. 
 
 OBJECTION I. 
 
 But how if they will not believe of me 
 That I am truly thine? 'cause some there be 
 That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name, 
 Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same ; 
 And by that means have wrought themselves into 
 The hands and houses of I know not who. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 'TIs true, some have, of late, to counterfeit 
 My Pilgrim, to their own my dtle set ; 
 Yea, others half my name, and title too. 
 Have stitched to their books, to make them do. 
 But yet they, by their features, do declare 
 Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are. 
 
 If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way, 
 Before them all, is to say out thy say 
 In thine own native language, which no man 
 Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can. 
 
 If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, 
 Thinking that you, like gypsies go about 
 In naughty-wise the country to defile, 
 Or that you seek good people to beguile 
 
The Authors Apology. 259 
 
 With things unwarrantable, send for me, 
 And I will testify you Pilgrims be ; 
 Yea, I will testify that only you 
 My Pilgrims are ; and that alone will do. 
 
 OBJECTION II, 
 
 But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him 
 Of those who wish him damned life and limb. 
 What shall I do, when I at such a door 
 For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more ? 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 Fright not thyself, niy Book, for such bugbears 
 Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. 
 My Pilgrim's book has travell'd sea and land, 
 Yet could I never come to understand 
 That it was sliofhted or turn'd out of door, 
 By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 
 
 In France and Flanders, where men kill each other, 
 My Pilgrim is esteem'd a friend, a brother. 
 
 In Holland, too, 'tis said, as I am told, 
 My Pilgrim is, with some, worth more than gold. 
 
 Highlanders and wild Irish can agree, 
 My Pilgrim should familiar w^ith them be. 
 
 'Tis in New England under such advance, 
 Receives there so much loving countenance. 
 As to be trimm'd, new cloth'd, and deck'd with gems, 
 That it might show its features and its limbs. 
 Yet more : so comely doth my Pilgrim w^alk, 
 That of him thousands daily sing and talk. 
 
 If you draw nearer home, it will appear. 
 My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear : 
 City and country will him entertain. 
 With IVeUome Pilgi'im ; yea, they can't refrain 
 
260 The Authors Apology, 
 
 From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by, 
 Or shows his head in any company. 
 
 Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love, 
 Esteem it much : yea, value it above 
 Things of a greater bulk ; yea, with delight 
 Say, my lark's leg is better than a kite. 
 
 Young ladies, and young gentlewomen, too, 
 Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show : 
 Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts, 
 My Pilgrim has ; 'cause he to them imparts 
 His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains. 
 As yield them profit double to their pains 
 Of reading ; yea, I think I may be bold 
 To say some prize him far above their gold. 
 
 The very children that do walk the street, 
 If they but do my holy Pilgrim meet, 
 Salute him will ; will wish him well and say, 
 He is the only stripling of the day. 
 
 They that have never seen him, yet admire 
 What they have heard of him, and much desire 
 To have his company, and hear him tell 
 Those pilgrim stories which he knows so well. 
 
 Yea, some who did not love him at the first, 
 But call'd \\\v[\fool and noddy, say they must, 
 Now they have seen and heard him, him commend. 
 And to those whom they love they do him send. 
 
 Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be 
 Afraid to show thy head ; none can hurt thee, 
 That wish but well to him that went before : 
 'Cause thou com'st after with a. second store 
 Of things as good, as rich, as profitable, 
 For young or old, for staggering, and for stable. 
 
The Author s Apology. 261 
 
 OBJECTION III. 
 
 But some there be that say, He laughs too loud ; 
 And some do say, His head is in a cloud ; 
 Some say, His words and stories are so dark, 
 They know not how, by them, to find his mark. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 One may, I think, say, both his laughs and cries 
 May well be guess'd at by his watery eyes. 
 Some things are of that nature as to make 
 One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache ; 
 When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, 
 He did at the same time both kiss and weep. 
 
 Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head ; 
 That doth but show his wisdom's covered 
 With its own mantle. And to stir the mind 
 To a search after what it fain would find, 
 Thinofs that seem to be hid in words obscure 
 Do but the godly mind the more allure 
 To study what those sayings should contain. 
 That speak to us in such a cloudy strain. 
 I also know a dark similitude 
 Will on the fancy more itself intrude. 
 And will stick faster in the heart and head 
 Than things from similes not borrowed. 
 
 Wherefore, my Book, let no discouragement 
 Hinder thy travels. Behold ! thou art sent 
 To friends, not foes ; to friends that will give place 
 To thee, thy Pilgrims, and thy words embrace. 
 
 Besides, what my First Pilgrim left conceal'd, 
 Thou, my brave Second Pilgrim, hast reveal'd. 
 What Christian left lock'd up, and went his way, 
 Sweet Christiana opens with her key. 
 
 OBJECTION IV. 
 
 But some love not the method of your first : 
 Romance they count it ; throw 't away as dust. 
 
262 The AutJuv's Apology. 
 
 It I should meet with such, what should I say? 
 Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay ? 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 My Christiana, if with such thou meet. 
 By all means, in all loving wise them greet ; 
 Render them not reviling for revile ; 
 But, if they frown, I pr'ythee on them smile ; 
 Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report, 
 Has made them thus despise or thus retort. 
 
 Some love no fish, some love no cheese, and some 
 Love not their friends, nor their own house or home ; 
 Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl, 
 More than they love a cuckoo or an owl. 
 Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice, 
 And seek those who to find thee will rejoice; 
 By no means strive, but, in most humble wise. 
 Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise. 
 
 Go, then, my litde Book, and show to all 
 That entertain, and bid thee welcome shall, 
 What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest. 
 And wish what thou shalt show them may be blest 
 To them for eood, and make them choose to be 
 Pilgrims better by far than thee or me. 
 
 Go, then, I say, tell all men who thou art ; 
 Say I am Christiana ; and my part 
 Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what 
 It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot. 
 
 Go, also, tell them who and what they be 
 That now do go on pilgrimage with thee ; 
 Say, Here's my neighbor Mercy ; she is one 
 That has long time with me a Pilgrim gone ; 
 Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn 
 'Twixt idle ones and Pilgrims to discern. 
 Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize 
 The world which is to come, in any wise. 
 
The Authors Apology. 263 
 
 When little tripping maidens follow God, 
 And leave old doting sinners to his rod, 
 'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried 
 Hosanna ! to whom old ones did deride. 
 
 Next tell them of old Honest, whom you found 
 With his white hairs treading the Pilgrim's ground ; 
 Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was, 
 How after his good Lord he bare his cross. 
 Perhaps with some gray head this may prevail 
 With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail. 
 
 Tell them also how Master Fearing went 
 On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent 
 In solitariness, with fears and cries ; 
 And how, at last, he won the joyful prize. 
 He was a good man, though much down in spirit ; 
 He is a good man, and doth life inherit. 
 
 Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also, 
 Who not before, but still behind would go. 
 Show them also, how he had like been slain, 
 And how one Great-heart did his life regain. 
 This man was true of heart, though weak in grace ; 
 One might true godliness read in his face. 
 
 Then tell of Master Ready-to-halt, 
 A man with crutches, but much without fault. 
 Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he 
 Did love, and in opinions much agree. 
 And let all know, though weakness was their chance, 
 Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance. 
 
 Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth, 
 That man of courage, though a very youth. 
 Tell every one his spirit was so stout. 
 No man could ever make him face about ; 
 And how Great-heart and he could not forbear, 
 But null down Doubting Casde, slay Despair ! 
 
264 The Author s Apology. 
 
 Overlook not Master Despondency, 
 Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie 
 Under such mantles as may make them look 
 (With some) as if their God had them forsook. 
 They softly went, but sure, and, at the end, 
 Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend. 
 
 When thou hast told the world of all these things, 
 Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings ; 
 Which, if but touched, will such music make. 
 They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake. 
 
 Those riddles that lie couch'd within thy breast, 
 Freely propound, expound ; and for the rest 
 Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain 
 For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain. 
 
 Now may this little Book a blessing be 
 To those that love this little Book and mt^ 
 And may its buyer have no cause to say, 
 His money is but lost or thrown away. 
 Yea, may this Second Pilgrim yield that fruit 
 As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit ; 
 And may it persuade some that go astray, 
 To turn their feet and heart to the right way, 
 
 Is the hearty prayer of 
 
 The Author y 
 
 joHr< p.;^NYAK. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 Christiana. 
 
 So Christian completed his pilgrimage, and finished his course with joy. As a 
 twave hero in the spiritual strife, we have followed his bold career. His Hke-minded com- 
 panions, full of faith and hope, have well fulfilled their parts, and contributed not a httle 
 to the sustained interest of the story ; yet, in the account of Christian's pilgrimage, wo 
 cannot forget that he has been alone, the one solitary member of his family who has ad- 
 ventured this great enterprise. He started alone, and trod the path of the highway alone, 
 and alone he attained the goal of the pilgrimage — that is, without wife or child to cheer his 
 checkered course, to support his oft-dechning strength, or to bear him company in either his 
 sorrows or his joys. And, for aught we know, the opposition offered by his family to his 
 Hrst setting out from the City of Destruction may have been continued even to his journey's 
 end. 
 
 |OME time since, to tell you of my dream that I had of 
 Christian the pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey 
 towards the Celestial Country, was plesant to me and 
 profitable to you. I told you then also what I saw con- 
 cerning his wife and children, and how unwilling they 
 were to go with him on pilgrimage ; insomuch that he was forced to 
 go on his progress without them ; for he durst not run the danger of 
 that destruction which he feared would come by staying with them 
 in the City of Destruction. Wherefore, as I then showed you, he 
 left them and then departed. 
 
 Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of business, 
 that I have been much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels 
 into those parts where he went, and so could not, till now, obtain an 
 opportunity to make further inquiry after those whom he left behind, 
 that I might give you an account of them. But, having had some 
 concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward. Now, 
 having taken up my lodging in a wood, about a mile off the place, as 
 I slept I dreamed again. 
 
 1 dreamed again. — The First Part of the 
 Pilgrim's Progress had been written in 
 the jail of Bedford. The Second Part was 
 produced a few years later, when, it would 
 Appear, Bunyan was again a free man, and 
 
 residing in his native village of Elstow, 
 which is " about a mile off the place" in 
 which the former Part had been indited. 
 
 The second Dream is in many respects 
 unlike its predecessor. The First Part is 
 
 (265) 
 
266 
 
 The Pilgrims Progress. 
 
 And, as I was in my dream, behold an aged gentleman came by 
 where I lay; and, because he was to go some part of the way that I 
 was travelling, methought I got up and went with him. So, as we 
 walked, and as travellers usually do, I was as if we fell into a discourse, 
 and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels ; for thus 
 I began with the old man : 
 
 Sir, said 1, what town is that there below, that lieth on the left 
 hand of our way? 
 
 Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name). It is the City 
 of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed with a very ill con- 
 ditioned and idle sort of people. 
 
 I thought that was that city, quoth I ; I went once myself through 
 that town, and therefore I know that this report you give of it is 
 true. 
 
 Sag. Too true. I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of 
 them that dwell therein. 
 
 Well, Sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man, 
 ind so one that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. 
 Pray did you ever hear what happened to a man some time ago in 
 this town (whose name was Christian), that went on a pilgrimage up 
 towards the higher regions ? 
 
 Sag. Hear of him ! aye, and I also heard of the molestations, trou- 
 bles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, frights, and fears, that he met 
 with and had on his journey. Besides, I must tell you, all our coun- 
 try rings of him ; there are but few houses, that have heard of him and 
 his doings, but have sought after and got the records of his pilgrim- 
 age ; yea, I think I may say, that this hazardous journey has got many 
 
 g^ave and weighty, stern and rugged in its 
 experiences ; the Second Part is of a more 
 domestic and famihar character, entering 
 into the ordinary associations of life, and 
 deahng with family scenes and concerns of 
 every-day experience. In the former Part 
 we see great stalwart heroes of the Lord, 
 who fill the canvas, and command the atten- 
 tion of the reader, like Elijah, or St. Paul. 
 In this Second Part we come down to the 
 level of domestic life, and are enabled to 
 trace out the career of godly women and 
 Christian children in the Pilgrimage of Zion. 
 // ii the City of Destruction. — The story 
 starts from the same point as before — the 
 same City of Destruction, as populous, as 
 
 profane, and as wicked as it had been in 
 Christian's days. The bygone pilgrim- 
 age, however, had come to be known and 
 read of all men, and its protest against the 
 wicked ways of the city had left an impres- 
 sion upon the people's minds that could not 
 easily be removed. The death of Chris- 
 tian, answering so consistently to his holy 
 life, had deepened this impression, and had 
 inclined some of his former townsmen to 
 follow his steps. 
 
 All our country rings of him. — This was 
 true even in Bunyan's own day ; how much 
 more so now, when it may be said of all 
 lands in Christendom : " There are but few 
 houses that have heard of him and his do- 
 
Christian's Gain. 
 
 267 
 
 CHRISTIANA'S REPENTANCE. 
 
 well-wishers to his ways ; for, though when he was here, he was/oo/ 
 in every man's mouth, yet now he is gone he is highly commended for 
 all. For it is said he lives bravely where he is; yea, many of them 
 that are resolved never to run his hazards, yet have their mouths 
 water at his gains. 
 
 They may, quoth I, well think, if they think anything that is true, 
 that heliveth well where he is ; for he now lives at and in the Fountain 
 of Life, and has what he has without labor and sorrow ; for there is 
 no grief mixed therewith. But, pray, what talk have the people 
 about him ? 
 
 Sag. Talk ! the people talk strangely about him ; some say that 
 he now walks in white (Rev. 3: 4; 6: 11); that he has a chain 
 of gold about his neck; that he has a crown of gold beset with 
 pearls, upon his head : others say, that the shining ones that some- 
 times showed themselves to him in his journey are become his com- 
 
268 
 
 The Pilgrims Progress. 
 
 panlons, and that he is as familiar with them in the place where he is 
 as here one neighbor is with another (Zech. 3:7). 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 shortly come into these parts, 
 and will know the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbors set 
 so little by him and had him so much in derision, when they perceived 
 that he would be a pilgrim (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 indignities that 
 were cast upon Christian, when he became a pilgrim, that he will look 
 upon all as 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't; 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 L 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- 
 rds of his pilgrimage." No book of un- 
 inspired origin has been more widely read 
 ihan the Pilgrim's 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 i*^ 
 
Sagacity's Account of Christiana. 269 
 
 I was upon the spot a* 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 life), 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 them. 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 all undone ! I 
 have sinned away your father, and he is gone; he would have had 
 us with him, but I would not go myself; I also have hindered you of 
 life. With that the boys fell all into tears, and cried out to go after 
 their father. Oh ! said Christiana, that it had been but our lot to 
 go with him ; then it had fared well with us, beyond what it is likely 
 to do now. For, though I formerly foolishly imagined concerning 
 the troubles of your father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancv 
 that he had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy humors, 
 
270 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 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. 
 
 Christiana 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 -vas 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 her 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 tc 
 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 
 
 CHRISTIAxNA PREPARES TO DEPART. 
 
 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 name is Secret ; I dwell with those that are on high. 
 It is talked of, where I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to go thither; 
 
 This dream was sent for her encouragement. 
 She is enabled in some measure to realize 
 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 ^wakened soul are an- 
 
272 
 
 The Pilgrims Progress, 
 
 also there is a report, that thou art aware of the evil thou hast fornix 
 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. 
 
 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 : that 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 " oi 
 
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 deliver 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 them : 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 
 ia thy bosom ; and present it at the far 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 — so narrow that only 
 true men can enter there, and yet so wide as 
 to administer an "abundant entrance " to 
 
 18 
 
 all God's children. 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' 5 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 neigh- 
 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 hii 
 
274 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress, 
 
 language they used not to hear, or to perceive A^ drop from the lips 
 of Christiana, Yet they came in ; but, behold, they found the good 
 A^oman 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 back 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 f 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 tempU^th 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 I 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 name is Mrs. 
 Timorous. She has come of no worthy 
 pedigree ; 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 vain does she relate her 
 dreams, and the visit of the Man of God — 
 Timorous calls it " madness," and recites 
 
CHRISTIANA AND FAMILY SET OUT. 
 
276 
 
 The Pilgritns Progress. 
 
 an 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 "»' a 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 this ? 
 
 Tim. Oh, the madness that hath possessed thee and thy husband 
 to run yourselves upon such difficulties ! You have heard, I am 
 sure, what your husband did meet with, even in a manner at the first 
 step that he took on his way, as our neighbor Obstinate can yet 
 testify, for he went along with him ; yea, and Pliable too ; until they, 
 like wise men, were afraid to go any further. We also heard, over 
 and above, how he met with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of 
 Death, and many 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 are thy children, thy flesh 
 and thy bones. Wherefore, though thou shouldst be so rash as to 
 cast away thyself, yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep 
 thou at home. 
 
 But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, my neighbor; I 
 have now a price 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 w^ith 
 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 hands, since she scorns 
 
 the difificulties 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 pros- 
 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, tieighbor Mercy." — The second of 
 these two neighbors, it now appears, was one 
 named Mercy. This is the inUroduction of 
 
7%e Neighbjrs hear of ChristiancLS Departm, 
 
 .77 
 
 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 wili go a litde way with 
 her and help her. Secondly, her 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. WherefDre 
 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, I 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 o/ 
 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 
 
 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 vn 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 PilgiHms Progress. 
 
 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 sorry 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 followeth : 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 should be there, but 
 I and Mrs. Love-the-flesh and three or four more, with Mr. Lechery, 
 Mrs. Filth, and some others: so there we had music and dancing, and 
 vhat else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And I dare say, my lady 
 herself is an admirable well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is 
 as pretty a fellow. 
 
 things, self-preservation may be said to be 
 the first law of grace. Mercy decides to go 
 with Christiana, and Mrs. Timorous de- 
 parts on her way alone. Thus are fresh 
 
 converts drawn to the cause of Jesus, and 
 the world and Satan spoiled of some of rhair 
 former subjects. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Wicket-gate. 
 
 The Second Pilgrimage is begun, and more auspiciously, perhaps, than the First. 
 A large group of Pilgrims, all of one household and family, now start for Zion, attended 
 by a fair companion, whose name is Mercy. This group is gradually increased, by the 
 addition of new comrades from time to time ; and the whole company, in a diversified 
 but yet consistent journey, march on to the better land. 
 
 Y this time Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy went 
 along with her. So as they went, her children being 
 there also, Christiana began to discourse. And, Mercy, 
 said Christiana, I take this as an unexpected favor, that 
 thou shouldst set foot out of doors with me to accompany 
 me a little in my way. 
 
 Then said young Mercy (for she was but young). If I thought it 
 would be to purpose to go with you, I would never go near the 
 town. 
 
 Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot with me ; I well know 
 what will be the end of our pilgrimage ; my husband is where he 
 would not but be for all the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt 
 thou be rejected, though thou goest but upon my invitation. The 
 King, who hath sent for me and my children, is one that delighteth in 
 mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along 
 with me as my servant. Yet we will have all things in common 
 betwixt thee and me ; only go along with me. 
 
 Mer. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall be enter- 
 
 The setting out of Christiana, accom- 
 panied by Mercy, suggests a thought or 
 two as to the respective reasons that urged 
 them to undertake their pilgrimage. 
 
 Christiana is impressed with the fact 
 that she has been directly called of God to 
 commit herself to the way of holiness. Thus 
 she interprets her dreams and visions, and, 
 above all, the tidings that Secret had told 
 her, and the invitation he had borne for her 
 acceptance from the King of the heavenly 
 
 country. And in the firm persuasion of this 
 call of God's own grace and love, she de- 
 termines to forsake the City of Destruction, 
 and to seek the heavenly rest, which, she is 
 assured, is even now enjoyed by Christian. 
 In the strength and assurance of the heav- 
 enly calling, and with true earnestness of 
 purpose, she betakes herself to her impor- 
 tant enterprise. 
 
 Mercy accompanies her, not because of 
 any known call of God, but (as she thinks) 
 
 (279) 
 
280 
 
 The Pilgrim* s Progre$%. 
 
 THEY PASS THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 
 
 tained ? Had I this hope but from one that can tell, I would make 
 no stick at all, but would go, being helped by Him that can help, 
 though the way be never so tedious. 
 
 Chr. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt do*, 
 go with me to the Wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for 
 thee ; and, if there thou shalt not meet with encouragement, I will 
 
 only on the invitation of Christiana. The 
 maiden does not yet feel the movings and 
 promptings of the Spirit (so as to know that 
 they are of God), but has been attracted by 
 the earnest spirit of her friend, besides being, 
 m some measure, anxious about the safety 
 of her own soul. 
 
 Thus it is that souls are brought to Christ 
 — some directly, and others indirectly. Some 
 are called sovereignly, by the voice of Jesus ; 
 while others are called instrumentally, by 
 the service of godly men. Christ will have 
 co-workers — " workers together with Christ 
 Jesus." Paul came at the direct «call of 
 
Christiana invites Mercy. 
 
 281 
 
 be content that thou return to thy place. I will also pay thee for thy 
 kindness which thou showest to me and my children, in the accom- 
 panying of us in our way as thou dost. 
 
 Mer. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall follow; 
 and the Lord grant that my lot may there fall even as the King of 
 heaven shall have his heart upon me. 
 
 Christiana was then glad at her heart; not only that she had a 
 companion, but also for that she had prevailed with this poor maid 
 to fall in love with her own salvation. So they went on together, 
 and Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Wherefore 
 weepeth my sister so ? 
 
 Alas ! said she, who can but lament, that shall but rightly con- 
 sider what a state and condition my poor relations are in, that yet 
 remain in our sinful town ? and that which makes my grief the more 
 heavy is, because they have no instructor, nor any to tell them what 
 is to come. 
 
 Chr. Bowels become pilgrims ; and thou doest for thy friends 
 as my good Christian did for me when he left me; he mourned for 
 that I would not heed nor regard him ; but his Lord and ours did 
 gather up his tears and put them into his bottle ; and now both I and 
 thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of 
 them. I hope, Mercy, that these tears of thine will not be lost ; for 
 the Truth hath said, "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy;" 
 and, " He that goetli forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall 
 doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him" 
 (Ps. 126 : 5, 6). Then said Mercy: 
 
 Let the most Blessed be my guide, 
 
 Ift be his blessed will, 
 Unto his gate, into his fold, 
 
 Up to his holy hill. 
 
 And let him never suffer me 
 
 To swerve or turn aside 
 From his free grace and holy ways, 
 
 Whate'er shall me betide. 
 
 And let him gather them of mine, 
 
 That I have left behind ; 
 Lord, make them pray they may be thine, 
 
 With all their heart and mind. 
 
 heaven ; and the Gentiles came at the 
 preaching of Paul. The woman of Samaria 
 believed for the word of Jesus, and then pro- 
 
 ceeded to call her townsmen to the Messiah. 
 And so, Christiana has been directly 
 called by the invitation of the Saviour, and 
 
282 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 Now, my old friend proceeded, and said : But, when Christiana 
 came to the Slough of Despond, she began to be at a stand : For, 
 said she, this is the place in which my dear husband had like to 
 have been smothered with mud. She perceived, also, that, notwith- 
 standing the command of the King to make this place for pilgrims 
 good, yet it was rather worse than formerly. So 1 asked if that was 
 true ? Yes, said the old gentleman, too true ; for many there be 
 that pretend to be the King's laborers, and say they are for mend- 
 ing the King's highways, that bring dirt and dung instead of stones, 
 and so mar instead of mending. Here Christiana, therefore, and 
 her boys did make a stand; but said Mercy, Come, let us venture; 
 only let us be wary. Then they looked well to their steps, and 
 made a shift to get staggering over. Yet Christiana had like to 
 have been in, and that not once or twice. 
 
 Now they had no sooner got over, but they thought they heard 
 words that said unto them, "Blessed is she that believeth, for there 
 shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the 
 Lord " (Luke i : 45). Then they went on again; and said Mere)- to 
 Christiana, Had I as good ground to hope for a loving reception at 
 the Wicket-gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond could dis- 
 courage me. 
 
 Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know mine; 
 and, good friend, we shall all have enough evil before we come to 
 our journey's end. For it cannot be imagined that the people that 
 design to attain such excellent glories as we do, and that are so 
 
 Mercy follows in her train, bidden to the 
 pilgrimage by the voice of our new Pilgrim. 
 " How shall they hear without a preacher ; 
 and how shall he preach except he be sent ?" 
 
 And Mercy began to weep. — The thought 
 that she has herself been called by the in- 
 tervention of Christiana, makes this young 
 beginner grieve over her relatives, who are 
 still hving in the midst of Destruction, no 
 man caring for their souls. She is, how- 
 ever, comforted by the thought that this 
 solicitude in their behalf may yet bring 
 forth its fruits. Her tears and prayers and 
 faithful efforts may yet be made the means 
 of turning her friends and relatives to Christ. 
 
 The Slough of Despond. — This is repre- 
 sented as being in a worse condition than 
 when Christian overpassed it ; and we 
 know that it was then so deep and danger- 
 
 ous as to have well-nigh stayed his pilgrim- 
 age at the very threshold of the journey. 
 This miry slough was continually undergo- 
 ing repair, and yet was never thoroughly 
 mended. To the ministry of the Word is 
 intrusted the reparation of this deep place 
 of conviction ; and therefore much depends 
 upon the materials used and the laborers 
 employed. This is the place where con- 
 science is troubled and the mind harassed 
 with doubts and fears. It needs a sound 
 ministry and true doctrine to conduct the 
 soul across the deep morass, and also a 
 thorough realization of the promises of God 
 in Christ, which are supplied as " stepping- 
 stones " across the slough. These promises 
 Christian had failed to seek for, and there- 
 fore found them not ; but Christiana and 
 he- ''ntnpany fared better, for "they looked 
 
The Pilgrims at the Gate. 
 
 283 
 
 en Tied that happiness as we are, but that we shall meet with what 
 terirs and snares, with what troubles and afflictions, they can possibly- 
 assault us with that hate us. 
 
 And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream by my- 
 self. Wherefore, methought I saw Christiana and Mercy and the 
 boys go all of them up to the gate ; to which when they were come> 
 they betook themselves to a short debate, about how they must 
 manage their calling at the gate, and what should be said unto him 
 that did open to them. So it was concluded, since Christiana was 
 the eldest, that she should knock for entrance, and that she should 
 speak to him that did open, for the rest. So Christiana began to 
 knock, and, as her poor husband did, she knocked and knocked 
 again. But, instead of any that answered, they all thought that they 
 heard as if a dog came barking upon them ; a dog, and a great one, 
 too ; and this made the women and children afraid. Nor durst they 
 for a while to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should fly upon 
 them. Now therefore they were greatly tumbled up and down in 
 'heir minds, and knew not what to do. Knock they durst not. for 
 fear of the dog ; go back they durst not, for fear the keeper of the 
 gate should espy them as they so went, and should be offended with 
 them. At last they thought of knocking again, and knocked more 
 vehemently than they did at first. Then said the keeper of the gate. 
 Who is there ? So the dog left off to bark, and he opened unto them. 
 
 Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said. Let not our Lord 
 be offended with his handmaidens, for that we have knocked at his 
 princely gate. Then said the keeper, Whence come ye? and what 
 is it that you would have? 
 
 Christiana answered, We are come from whence Christian did 
 come, and upon the same errand as he; to wit, to be, if it shall 
 please you, graciously admitted, by this gate, into the way that 
 
 well to their steps," and so cleared the dan- 
 gerous pass. 
 
 Dream out my dream by myself. — At this 
 point the narrative assumes the style and 
 manner of the former Allegory — the Dreamer 
 directly dreaming the experiences of the 
 Pilgrims. His informant now retires from 
 the scene; the Dreamer's thouglits enlarge 
 their scope, and already he sees the Pilgrim- 
 company arrived at the Wicket-gate. 
 
 Christiana began to knock. — Still are the 
 same conditions recorded on the Wicket- 
 
 gate — " Knock, and it shall be opened unto 
 you." And here occurs a test of faith, greater 
 than was required of Christian at this stage 
 of his journey. Their knock at the Gate 
 was answered, not by the immediate appear- 
 ance of the porter. Good-will, but by the 
 barking of a dog, to the great terror and dis- 
 comfort of the timid Pilgrims. Here, again 
 is one of the wiles of the devil set forth foi 
 our admonition. He had sought to destroy 
 Christian by the dispatch of his fiery darts 
 irom the Castle; but Goo ^-will did "pull 
 
MERCY AT THE VVICKET-GATE 
 
Knocking at the Gate. 285 
 
 lea is to the Celestial Cit}^ And I answer, my Lord, in the next 
 place, that I am Christiana, once the wife of Christian, that now is 
 gotten above. 
 
 With that the keeper of the g-ate did marvel, saying, What ! is 
 she now become a pilgrim, that but a while ago abhorred that life? 
 Then she bowed her head and said, Yes; and so are these my 
 sweet babes also. 
 
 Then he took her by the hand, and led her in, and said also, 
 "Suffer the little children to come unto me ; " and with that he shut 
 up the gate. This done, he called to a trumpter that was above, 
 over the gate, to entertain Christiana with shouting, and sound of 
 tr'jmpet, for joy. So he obeyed and sounded, and filled the air with 
 his melodious notes. 
 
 Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without, trembling 
 and crying for fear that she was rejected. But, when Christiana had 
 got admittance for herself and her boys, then she began to make 
 intercession for Mercy. 
 
 And she said. My Lord, I have a companion of mine that 
 stands yet without, that is come hither upon the same account as 
 myself; one that is much dejected in her mind, for that she comes, 
 as she thinks, without sending for ; whereas I was sent to by my 
 husband's Kinof to come. 
 
 Now Mercy began to be very impatient, and each minute was 
 as long to her as an hour ; wherefore she prevented Christiana 
 from a fuller interceding for her, by knocking at the gate herself. 
 And she knocked then so loud that she made Christiana start. 
 Then said the keeper of the gate. Who is there ? And Christiana 
 said, It is my friend. 
 
 him in." He now assails the feeble women 
 and children with another kind of alarm, 
 '\nd again fails of his purpose, for the voice 
 of Good-will doth effectually silence the 
 dog, and bereave him of his power to hurt 
 or harm the Pilgrims of the " narrow way " 
 But only Christiana and her children 
 
 of mercy, some gracious token of accept- 
 ance; but this long, lingering delay doth 
 sorely try and test her faith. Christiana, 
 meanwhile, prays for her, in that power of 
 intercessory prayer which God our Father 
 vouchsafes to grant to the members of his 
 great family (James 5 : 16) 
 
 have entered; poor Mercy did still stand | Knocking at the gate herself. — Interces- 
 without. She had received the invitation of sory prayer is, no doubt, very helpful to the 
 her companion, but she still needs the call Christian ; but we have not attained to the 
 of God. This is, again, one of the brilliant 1 full power of prayer until we have taken 
 touches of the glowing pencil of the Dreamer. , that potent weapon into our own hands, and 
 The poor, trembling suppliant, who still therewith knocked for ourselves at the door 
 deems herself uncalled, unbidden, yet stands j of grace. Thus it was with Mercy ; weary 
 at the Gate, hoping for some kind message I of waiting, and anxious for admittance, 
 
286 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 So he opened the gate and looked out, but Mercy was fallen 
 down without in a swoon ; for she fainted, and was afraid that no 
 gate should be opened to her. 
 
 Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I bid thee 
 arise. 
 
 Sir, said she, I am faint; there is scarce life left in me. 
 But he answered, that one once said, "When my soul fainted' 
 within me I remembered the Lord ; and my prayer came in unto 
 thee, into thine holy temple" (Jonah 2:7). Fear not, but stand 
 upon thy feet, and tell me wherefore thou art come. 
 
 Mer. I am come for that unto which I was never invited, as 
 my friend Christiana was. Hers was from the King, and mine was 
 but from her. Wherefore I fear I presume. 
 
 Good. Did she desire thee to come with her to this place? 
 
 Mer. Yes ; and, as my Lord sees, I am come ; and. If there is 
 any grace and forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech that thy poor 
 handmaid may be a partaker thereof. 
 
 Then he took her again by the hand, and led her gently in, and 
 said, I pray for all them that believe on me, by what means soever 
 they come unto me. Then said he to those that stood by, Fetch 
 something, and give it to Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay her 
 faintings. So they fetched her a bundle of myrrh (Song of Sol. 
 i: 13), and a while after she was revived. 
 
 And now were Christiana and her boys and Mercy received of 
 the Lord at the head of the way, and spoke kindly unto by him. 
 Then said they yet further unto him, We are sorry for our sins, 
 and beg of our Lord his pardon, and further information what we 
 must do. 
 
 1 grant pardon, said he, by word and deed — by word, in the 
 promise of forgiveness ; by deed. In the way that I obtained It. 
 
 she appeals on her own account, by loud 
 and repeated knocks, until the porter open- 
 eth to her also. And then — oh, what a 
 sight ! Behold a prostrate Pilgrim, the victim 
 of her own doubts and fears, alarmed by her 
 own loud call and claim upon the attention of 
 the Master, fainting by the door of the Wicket- 
 gate, which her own knock had opened ! 
 Oh, what strength is in the feeblest hand, 
 what might in the weakest prayer, what 
 life and future growth in the tiny seed of 
 faith, though it be no greater than the 
 
 grain of mustard-seed ! Surely, for some 
 of the weak-hearted and feeble-minded of 
 the flock is this dehneation given. It is to 
 such conscious weakness as this that Divine 
 strength is vouchsafed. These fainting ones 
 are revived and refreshed by the sweet- 
 smelling myrrh and spices of the Spirit. 
 " Thy comforts refresh my soul !" 
 
 Pardon by word and deed. — First, by the 
 good promise of God, and then by the 
 effectual work of Christ. We receive par- 
 don, first by the assurance of the promise 
 
Mercy fears the Dog, 287 
 
 Take the first from my lips with a kiss, and the other as it shall be 
 revealed (Song of Sol. i: 2; John 20: 19). 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that he spake many good words unto 
 them, whereby they were greatly gladdened. He also had them up 
 to the top of the gate, and showed then^ by what deed they were 
 saved; and told them withal, that that sight they would have again 
 as they went along the way, to their comfort. 
 
 So he left them a while in a summer-parlor below, where they 
 entered into a talk by themselves; and thus Christiana began — O 
 Lord, how glad am I that we are got in hither ! 
 
 Mer. So you well may ; but I of all have cause to leap for 
 joy. 
 
 Chr. I thought one time as I stood at the gate, because I had 
 knocked and none did answer, that all our labor had been lost; 
 especially when that ugly cur made such a heavy barking against us. 
 
 Mer. But my worst fear was, after I saw that you was taken 
 into his favor, and that I was left behind. Now, thought I, it is 
 fulfilled which is written, "Two women shall be grinding at the mill; 
 the one shall be taken, and the other left" (Matt. 24: 41). I had 
 much ado to forbear crying out, Undone ! and afraid I was to 
 knock any more ; but, when I looked up to what was written over 
 the gate, I took courage. I also thought that I must either knock 
 again or die; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how; for my spirit 
 now struggled between life and death. 
 
 Chr. Can you not tell how you knocked? I am sure your 
 knocks were so earnest that the very sound of them made me start. 
 I thought I never heard such knocking in all my life ; I thought you 
 would come in by a violent hand, or take the kingdom by storm 
 (Matt. 11: 12). 
 
 Mer. Alas, to be in my case ! who that so was could but have 
 done so ? You saw that the door was shut upon me, and that there 
 was a most cruel dog thereabout. Who, I say, that was so faint- 
 hearted as I, would not have knocked with all their might? But 
 pray, what said my Lord to my rudeness ? Was he not angry with 
 me? 
 
 and then by the sight of the Cross and the I is solved, when she is informed that the 
 spiritual view of the Crucified. ■ I dog is Satan's property, kept there, close 
 
 The dog. — The existence of danger so | by the entrance-gate, to deter those that 
 
 near to the Wicket-gate is a mystery to the 
 mind of Mercy. The difficulty, however, 
 
 would go in thereat. And he would indeed 
 deter them, but that a Stronger than he de- 
 
288 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 THE BOYS EAT OF THE FRUIT. 
 
 Chr. When he heard your lumbering noise, he 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, next 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 KET-i'ER OF THE GATE FINDS MERCY FAINTING OUTSIDE. 
 
THE KING'S ^.TRUMPETER. 
 
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 what his 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 way 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 imtothem in a fair place. The relief is 
 great, the promise of pardon is sure, and 
 has already insured to »hem 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 
 
290 
 
 The Pilgri7}i'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 bore 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 bnits over 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 
 ihe power of Satan. But Virtue, thoMgk 
 
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 shaU 
 ask. We are in haste and cannot stay; our business is business oi 
 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). Butthe 
 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 
 Uer own, while yet she cries aloud for help. 
 Their voice was heard. — Prayer calls to 
 Cod for aid, and is always arreptable 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 dc 
 
ms mnmn;,: n „ » . wMWJWg ^ 
 
 292 
 
7 he Pilgrim^ Rescue. 
 
 29a 
 
 wherefore some of the hoase came out, and, knowing that it was 
 Christiana's tongue, they made haste to her reHef. But by that they 
 were got within sight of them, the women were in a very great scuffle ; 
 the children also stood crying by. Then did he that came in for their 
 relief call out to the ruffians, saying, What is that thing you do? 
 Would you make my Lord's people to transgress? He also at- 
 tempted to take them ; but they did make their escape over the wall 
 into the garden of the man to whom the great dog belonged ; so the dog 
 became their protector. This Reliever then came up to the women, 
 and asked them, how they did. So they answered, We thank thy 
 Prince, pretty well ; only we have been somewhat affrighted ; we 
 thank thee, also, that thou camest in to our help, for otherwise we had 
 been overcome. 
 
 So, after a few more words, this Reliever said as foUoweth : I 
 marvelled much, when you were entertained at the gate above, seeing 
 ye knew that ye were but weak women, that you petitioned not the 
 Lord for a conductor : then might you have avoided these troubles 
 and dangers ; for he would have granted you one. 
 
 Alas ! said Christiana, we were so taken with our present bless- 
 ing, that dangers to come were forgotten by us ; besides, who could 
 have thought that so near the King's palace there could have lurked 
 such naughty ones ? Indeed, it had been well for us had we asked our 
 Lord for one ; but, since our Lord knew it would be for our profit, I 
 wonder he sent not one along with us. 
 
 Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for, 
 lest by so doing they become of little esteem ; but when the want of 
 a thing is felt, it then comes under, in the eyes of him that feels it, 
 chat estimate that properly is its due ; and so, consequently, it will be 
 thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a conductor, you would 
 not, either, so have bewailed that oversight of yours in not asking for 
 one ; as now you have occasion to do. So all things work for good, 
 and tend to make you more wary. 
 
 liver the suppliant. So was it now, in the 
 presence of emergency. 
 
 This Reliever. — The conversation of this 
 man discloses a hidden providence lurking 
 beneath this danger. The women had for- 
 gotten their own weakness, and had omitted 
 to ask for one stronger than they, to conduct 
 them through the severe discipline of the 
 pilgrimage. The blessings and favors they 
 
 had received at the Wicket -gate seem to have 
 filled their firmament with sunshine; and 
 so, they prepared not for the storms and 
 tempests of the way. Accordingly, they 
 must be practically taught how great danger 
 they incurred by this neglect ; and while they 
 are yet near to the gate, and within call of 
 ready help, Providence permits this sudden 
 peril to present itself, and, in the relief sub- 
 
'204 The Pilgrmi s 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 shall 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: 2^'])\ 
 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 dream about this ; for methought I 
 saw two men, as like these as ever any in the world could look, stand 
 ;it 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 It is in vain to excuse ourselves by saying 
 
 oversight, and uryes them instantly to repair that if it were necessary to have such help, 
 the mistake ' God would have granted it. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Interpreter's House. 
 
 Once, again, we have arrived at the gate of the Interpreter's House, 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 of religion. These lively emblems are further strengthened and supported by the 
 weighty aphorisms enunciated by the wisdom of the Interpreter, 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 way rejoicing, under the protection of the brave champion of the road, 
 whose name is Great-heart. 
 
 ijHUS now, when they had talked away a httle 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 
 Aeard a great talk in the house ; then they gave ear, and heard, as 
 they thought, Christiana mentioned by name. For you must know, 
 that the^re 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 relief of Pilgrims. — To Chris- 
 tiana and her companions the Interpre- 
 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 peaceful 
 retirement from the dangers of the outer road. 
 l2) It was also for their relief, inasmuch as 
 
 they there received those abiding helps, and 
 gifts, and graces, and tokens of acceptance, 
 which they so consistently retained even to 
 their journey's end. 
 
 Christiana mentiotied 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- 
 
 (295) 
 
296 
 
 The Pilgrims 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 ? 
 
 Chr. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight m^ 
 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 sa; 
 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. z\ -. 28, 29). 
 
Christiana in the Significant Rooms, 
 
 297 
 
 have come to us before, how thou art become 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 and rest 
 them ; the which when they had done, those that attended upon the 
 pilgrims in the house came into the room to see them. And one 
 smiled, and another smiled, and they all smiled, for joy that Christiana 
 was become a pilgrim. They also looked upon the boys; they stroked 
 them over 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 Sig7iificant 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 the 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. — The%e are the 
 chambers of imagery, through which the 
 Interpreter had conducted Christian. 
 And " significant " they are — of the ministry 
 of the Word, of the power of indwelHng sin, 
 of the peace of Patience, 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. 
 
 77^1? muck-rake. — This is the first of the 
 illustrations 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 
 
298 
 
 The Piigri?ns 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 
 thinofs 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 ! Tlius 
 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 joys and its eternal weight 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- 
 
300 
 
 The 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 somediing 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 nothincr in vain. 
 
 Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the water 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 her to acknowledge whence your mercies 
 come, by receiving them with looking up. Yet again, said he, 
 observe and look ; so they gave heed, and perceived that the hen 
 did walk in a fourfold method towards her chickens, (i) She had a 
 commo7i call, and that she hath all day long. (2) She had a special 
 call, and that she had but sometimes. (3) She had a broodi?tg note. 
 And (4) she had an ouioy (Matt. 23 : t^'j). 
 
 Now., said he, compare this hen to your King, and these chickens 
 to his obedient ones. For, answerable to her, he himself hath hii 
 methods which he walketh in towards his people ; by his coniinon 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 illustation here is in the allusion to 
 
 call " — universal offer of the Gospel ; (2) the 
 "special call" — the moving influence of 
 the Spirit; (3) the "brooding note" — the 
 love and care of 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 
 
 the fourfold "call" — (i) the "common j sufferings which 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 kilHng 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 what shall we do with the crop ? Then 
 said Christiana, Burn some, and make muck of the rest. Then said 
 the Interpreter again, Fruit, you see, is that thing you look for, and 
 for want of that you condemn it to the fire, and to be trodden under 
 foot of men ; beware, that in this you condemn not yourselves. 
 
 Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied a little 
 robin with a great 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 Flowers is designed to 
 teach us the importance of discharging well 
 the duty of our station and calling, as mem- 
 bers of one body, in which all the members 
 have not, indeed, the same office, but each 
 
 is honorable and honored in the fulfilment 
 of his own vocation. 
 
 The Corn field, rendering back only straw 
 and stubble as the fruit of the seed-time, 
 represents the unfruitful recipient of God's 
 grace and favor. What saith the Master } 
 " Cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground ?" 
 
30-2 
 
 The Pilgrim's 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, also, that 
 therefore it is that they frequent the house of the godly, and the 
 appointments of the Lord; but, when they are by themselves, as the 
 robin, they can catch and gobble up spiders, they can change their 
 diet, drink iniquity, and swallow down sin like water. 
 
 So when they were come again into the house, because suppet 
 was as yet not ready, Christiana again desired that the Interpretc. 
 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 fat"ter 
 the ox is, 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 nighf 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 friend 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 \vith 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 rehgion, 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 
 
Christiana s Experience. 
 
 303 
 
 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 gfood for nothinof but to be tinder for the devil's tinder-box. 
 
 Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set on 
 the board ; so they sat down and did eat, when one had given thanks. 
 And the Interpreter did usually entertain those that lodged with him 
 with music at meals ; so the minstrels played. There was also one 
 that did sing, and a very fine voice he had. His song was this : 
 
 The Lord is only my support, 
 
 And he that doth me feed ; 
 How can I, then, want anything 
 
 Whereof I stand in need ? 
 
 When the song and music were ended, the Interpreter asked 
 Christiana what it was that 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 tiicy 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 
 be silent, if she could, until her experience 
 is more enlarged. Not in visions and in 
 dreams was she warned to flee from wrath ; 
 
 nor yet by the example of former Pilgrims, 
 but by the invitation of Christiana, such 
 as Moses gave to Hobab : " Come thou with 
 us, and we will do thee good." 
 
304 The Pilgrim^s Progress. 
 
 Chr. Yes, a neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timorous (she was akin 
 to him tliat would have persuaded my husband to go back, for fear 
 of the Hons), 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 with in the 
 way ; but all riiis I got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of 
 two ill-looking ones, that I thought did plot how to make me miscarry 
 in my journey, that hath troubled me much ; yea, it still runs in my 
 mind and makes me afraid of every one that I meet, lest they should 
 meet me to do me a mischief, and to turn me out of my way. Yea, I 
 may tell my Lord, though I would not 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 cominof 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 
 
MR. BRISK. 
 
> MR. GREAT-HEART. 
 
Preparations for Departure. 305 
 
 asked her further of the truth of these things, and if she would let me 
 go with her ; for I saw now that there was no dwelling, but with the 
 danger of ruin, any longer in our town. But yet I came away with 
 a heavy heart; not for that I was unwilling to come away, but for 
 that so many of my relations were left behind. And I am come with 
 all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I may, with Christiana to her 
 husband and his King. 
 
 Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given credit to the 
 truth ; thou art a Ruth, who did, for the love she bare to Naomi and 
 to the Lord her God, leave father and mother, and the land of her 
 nativity, to come out and go with a people that she knew not here- 
 tofore. 
 
 "The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given 
 thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to 
 trust" (Ruth 2: II, 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 must wash and be clean, for so her Master would 
 have the women to do that called at his house as they were going 
 on pilgrimage. Then they went in and washed, yea, they and the 
 boys and all ; and they came out of that bath not only sweet and 
 clean, but also much enlivened and strengthened in their joints. 
 So, when they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when they 
 went out to the washing-. 
 
 o 
 
 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 
 
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 306 
 
Great-heart becomes the Pilgrims Gtdde. 
 
 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 of 
 angels. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that waited upon 
 these women, Go into the vestry, and fetch out garments for these 
 people. So she went and fetched out white raiment, and laid it 
 down before him ; so he commanded them to put it on ; it was "fine 
 linen, white and clean." When the women were thus adorned, 
 they seemed to be a terror one to the other ; for that they could not 
 see that glory each one in herself, which they could see in each 
 other. Now, therefore, they began to "esteem each other better 
 than themselves ; " for, You are fairer than I am said one; and You 
 are more comely than I am, said another. The children also stood 
 amazed, to see into what fashion they were brought. 
 
 The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, on(i 
 Great-heart, and bid him take a sword and helmet and shield ; and 
 take these my daughters, said he, conduct them to the house called 
 Beautiful, at which place they will rest next. So he took his 
 weapons, and went before them ; and the Interpreter said, God 
 speed. Those also that belonged to the family sent them away with 
 many a good wish. So they went on their way, and sang: 
 
 This place has been our second stage, 
 Here we have heard and seen 
 
 Those good things, that from age to age 
 To others hid have been. 
 
 The dunghill-raker, spider, hen, 
 
 The chicken, too, to me 
 Have taught a lesson ; let me then 
 
 Conformed to it be. 
 
 The butcher, garden, and the field, 
 
 The robin and his bait. 
 Also the rotten tree doth yield 
 
 Me argument of weight : 
 
 To move me for to watch and pray. 
 
 To strive to be sincere ; 
 To take my cross up day by day, 
 
 And serve the Lord with fear. 
 
 The bath, etc. — The concluding events of 
 this visit are full of deep spiritual significance, 
 seeing that the opportunity is taken to invest 
 Chkistiana and her company with those 
 marks and credentials which Chkistian had 
 received at the subsequent stage of the jour- 
 ney — at the Cross and the Sepulchre. They 
 i^r«« conducted to the bath, which Bunyan 
 
 himself interprets, in a side-note, to meao 
 "the bath of sanctification." From thence 
 they return washed and cleansed. They 
 then receive the Seal of the Spirit ; and, ere 
 they leave the house, they are clothed upon 
 with the change of raiment — " fine linen, 
 white and clean." Thus clad in the sanc- 
 tifying righteousness of the Spirit, they ar^ 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Cross and the Consequences. 
 
 From the mouth of Good-will (a Divine personage, as we have already observed") 
 Jhristiana and her company received pardon by word, with the kiss of peace as the pled^^e 
 and assurance of the promise. To this was, by-and-by, to be added a full view of the way 
 in which this pardon was obtained, a distant prospect of which was shown them at the 
 Wicket-gate. To the near view of that scene they have now arrived. They stand beside 
 the Cross ! This is to Christiana the full confirmation of her faith. Christian had been 
 so borne down by his weight of guilt, and by his conviction of sin, that nothing but the view 
 of the Cross and of the bleeding Lamb could suffice to 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'cxrbid 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 them ; so they went and came to the place 
 where Christian's burden fell off his back, and tumbled 
 into a sepulchre. Here then they made a pause, and 
 here also they blessed God. Now, said Christiana, 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 last parting gift of the 
 Interpreter, the Pilgrim band receive their 
 convoy for the road, in the person of the in- 
 domitable Great-heart, the future conduc- 
 tor of their pilgrimage, the hero of a hundred 
 battles, the somewhat more than human 
 Grf.at-heart — the boldest champion of the 
 ^cond Part of the Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 And Great-heart before them. — The char- 
 acter of Great-heart now begins to develop 
 itself, in his double capacity as teacher and 
 guide ; for this brave man is mighty both in 
 word and deed. There is something super- 
 human in the character of this great conduc 
 tor of the pilgrimage. Mr. Scott's idea, thaf 
 it means "the stated pastoral care of a vig- 
 ilant minister," scarcely rises to the high 
 dignity of this lion-hearted man. Nor can 
 we agree with Macaulay in his charge of in- 
 
 (308) 
 
Great-heart ^s Discourse on justification. 
 
 309 
 
 GnEAT. Pardon by the deed done is pardon obtained by some 
 one for another that hath need thereof; not by the person par- 
 doned, but in " the way," saith another, "in which I have obtained 
 it." So then (to speak to the question more at large) the pardon 
 that you and Mercy and these boys have attained was obtained by 
 another, to wit, by him that let you in at that gate ; and he hath 
 ' obtained it in this double way : he has performed righteousness to 
 cover you, and spilt his blood to wash you in. 
 
 Chr. But, if he parts with his righteousness to us, what will 
 he have for himself? 
 
 Great. He has more righteousness than you have need ol, 
 or than he needeth himself. 
 
 Chr. Pray, make that appear. 
 
 Great. With all my heart ; but first I must promise, that he 
 of whom we are now about to speak is one that hath not his fellow. 
 He has two natures in one person, plain to be distinguished, im- 
 possible to be divided. Unto each of these nati res a righteousness 
 belongeth, and each righteousness is essential to that nature. So 
 that one may as easily cause the nature to be extinct, as to separate 
 its justice or righteousness from it. Of these righteousnesses, 
 therefore, we are not made partakers, so as that they, or any oi 
 them, shall be put upon us, that we might be made just and live 
 thereby. Besides these, there is a righteousness which this person 
 has, as these two natures are joined in one. And this is not the 
 righteousness of the Godhead, as distinguished from the manhood ; 
 nor the righteousness of the manhood, as distinguished from the 
 Godhead ; but a righteousness which standeth in the union of both 
 natures, and may properly be called the righteousness that is essen- 
 tial to his being prepared of God to the capacity of the mediatory 
 office, which he was to be intrusted with. If he parts with his first 
 righteousness, he parts with his Godhead ; if he parts with his 
 second righteousness, he parts with the purity of his manhood ; if 
 he parts with his third, he parts with that perfection which capaci- 
 tates him for the office of mediation. He has therefore another 
 
 consistency against the AUegorist, in com- 
 bining the teaching and mihtant office in 
 his one personage. 
 
 In this double office of Great-heart is 
 certainly included more than can be found 
 in any, even of the choicest and bravest 
 human companions of the way. Great- 
 
 heart must rather mean a principle than a 
 person — the Divine grace and boldness. im- 
 planted in the heart, or kept so consciously 
 near as to insure Divine protection and con- 
 tinual aid in all danger and necessities ; that 
 grace that makes the heart strong and lusty 
 by feeding it with the daily bread of spiritual 
 
310 
 
 The Pilgri7n\ P7'0gresS, 
 
 righteousness, which standeth in performance or obedience to a 
 revealed will ; and that is it that he puts upon sinners, and that by 
 which their sins are covered. Wherefore he saith, "As by one 
 man's disobedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience 
 of one shall many be made righteous" (Rom. 5 : 19). 
 
 Chr. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us ? 
 
 Great. Yes ; for though they are essential to his natures and 
 offices, and cannot be communicated to another, yet it is by virtue 
 of them that the righteousness that justifies is for that purpose 
 efficacious. The righteousness of his Godhead gives virtue to his 
 obedience ; the righteousness of his manhood giveth capability to 
 his obedience to justify ; and the righteousness that standeth in the 
 union of these two natures to his office giveth authority to that 
 righteousness to do the work for which it was or Jained. 
 
 So then here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, hath no need 
 of ; for he is God without it ; here is a righteousness that Christ, as 
 man, has no need of to make him so, for he is perfect man without 
 it ; again, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God-man, has no need 
 of, for he is perfectlyso without it. Here then is a righteousness that 
 Christ, as God, and as God-man, has no need of, with reference to 
 himself, and therefore he can spare it — a justifying righteousness 
 that he for himself wanteth not, and therefore giveth it away. Hence 
 it is called "the gift of righteousness" (Rom. 5 : 17). This righteous- 
 ness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has made himself under the law, 
 must be given away; for the law doth not only bind him that is under 
 it to do justly, but to use charity. Wherefore he must, or ought by the 
 law, if he hath two coats, to give one to him that has none. Now 
 our Lord indeed hath two coats, one for himself and one to spare ; 
 wherefore he freely bestows one upon those that have none. And 
 thus, Christiana and Mercy, and the rest of you that are here, doth 
 your pardon come by deed, or by the work of another man. Your 
 Lord Christ is he that worked, and hath given away what he wrought 
 for to the next poor beggar he meets. 
 
 food. It is that Presence of Christ, so real 
 and so near, that gives the Pilgrim conscious 
 strength — such as Moses desired for his 
 gre'at enterprise, when he said, " If thy 
 presence go not with me, carry us not up 
 hence" (Ex. 33: 15). 
 
 Pardon by ivord and deed. — This is evi- 
 dently a leading thought in the mind of 
 
 Bunyan. He gives prominence to it at the 
 Wicket-gate, and now more thoroughly un- 
 folds its meaning at the Cross. Indeed, ht 
 labors to reveal its inner truth, and thereby 
 to illustrate the mighty salvation obtained 
 for us by Christ. We must, however, con- 
 fess that this exposition of Great-heart is' 
 not as lucid as most c^ the other doctrinal 
 
The Curse of Sin. 
 
 311 
 
 THE FATE OF SIMPLE. SLOTH AND PRESUMPTION. 
 
 But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must something be 
 paid to God as a price, as well as something prepared to cover us 
 withal. 
 
 Sin has delivered us up to the just curse of a righteous law ; 
 now from this curse we must be justified by way of redemption, a 
 price being paid for the harms we have done ; and this is by the 
 blood of our Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead, and 
 died your death for your transgressions ; thus has he ransomed you 
 
 teachings of the Allegory ; and we agree 
 with Mr. Scott, when he says, " It is need- 
 lessly systematical and rather obscure." We 
 might perhaps arrive at the same conclusion 
 Vy stating the question thus : 
 
 Man once possessed an original righteous- 
 ness, which consisted in his obedience to 
 God. From this righteousness he fell by the 
 sin of disobedience. A new covenant was 
 straightway made with man, to this effect— 
 
Sl2 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progresii 
 
 from your transgressions by blood, and covered your polluted and 
 deformed souls with righteousness (Rom. 8 : 34 ; Gal. 3: 13); for 
 the sake of which God passeth by you, and will not hurt you, when 
 he comes to judge the world. 
 
 Chr. This is brave ; now I see that there was something to be 
 learned by our being pardoned by word mid deed. Good Mercy, let 
 us labor to keep this in mind ; and, my children, do you remember it 
 also. But, sir, was not this it that made my good Christian's bur- 
 den fall from off his shoulder, and that made him give three leaps 
 for joy? 
 
 Great. Yes, it was the belief of this that cut off those strings, 
 that could not be cut by other means ; and it was to give him a 
 proof of the virtue of this that he was suffered to carry his burden 
 to the Cross. 
 
 Chr. I thought so ; for, though my heart was lightsome and 
 joyous before, yet it is ten times more lightsome and joyous now. 
 And I am persuaded by what I have felt (though I have felt but little 
 as yet) that if the most burdened man in the world was here, and 
 did see and believe as I now do, it would make his heart merry and 
 blithe. 
 
 Great. There is not only comfort and the ease of a burden 
 brought to us, by the sight and consideration of these, but ^n 
 endeared affection begot in us by it ; for who can (if he does but 
 once think that pardon comes not only by promise, but thus) but be 
 affected with the way and means of his redemption, and so with the 
 man that hath wrought it for him ? 
 
 Chr. True ; methinks it makes my heart bleed to think that 
 he should bleed for me. Oh ! thou loving One ! Oh ! thou blessed 
 One ! thou deservest to have me ; thou hast bought me ; thou de- 
 servest to have me all ; thou hast paid for me ten thousand times 
 
 if he can by obedience regain his former 
 relationship to God, well; but if not, then, 
 for the purpose of man's salvation, the 
 righteousness of another is offered, which is 
 made available for man, and, being perfect, 
 is acceptable before God. To test man's 
 power to regain his lost position by renewed 
 obedience, a law was given, with a legal 
 righteousness attached to the perfect fulfil- 
 ment of its conditions. Man has not kept 
 this law ; he has broken it, in thcght, in 
 word, and in deed. Op the scorff :.ien, of 
 
 man's own personal obedience, his salvation 
 is utterly hopeless. Shall man die the death? 
 He need not ; for now steps in the pro- 
 vision, in mercy made, of the righteousness 
 of another — the righteousness of Christ. He 
 is perfect God, and therefore righteous in all 
 his way, and holy in all his works. He is 
 sinless man, and therefore righteous, need- 
 ing no obedience to constitute his personal 
 righteousness. But though he needed not 
 such obedience, yet he did "learn obedi- 
 ence," and by his subjection to the law in 
 
The ^nd of Simple y Sloth, and PresiLmptmi, 3l3 
 
 more than I am worth ! No marvel that this made the tears stand 
 in my husband's eyes, and that it made him trudge so nimbly on. I 
 am persuaded he wished me with him ; but, vile wretch that I was ! 
 I let him come all alone. O Mercy, that thy father and mother 
 were here ; yea, and Mrs. Timorous also ; nay, I wish now with all 
 my heart that here was Madam Wanton, too. Surely, surely, their 
 hearts would be affected ; nor could the fear of the one, nor the 
 powerful lusts of the other, prevail with them to go home again, 
 and refuse to become good pilgrims. 
 
 Great. You speak now in the warmth of your affections ; will 
 it, think you, be always thus with you ? Besides, this is not com- 
 municated to every one, nor to every one that did see your Jesus 
 bleed. There were that stood by, and that saw the blood run from 
 his heart to the ground, and yet were so far off this, that, instead of 
 lamenting, they laughed at him, and, instead of becoming his dis- 
 ciples, did harden their hearts against him. So that all that you 
 have, my daughters, you have by peculiar impression made by a 
 Divine contemplating upon what I have spoken to you. Remem- 
 ber that it was told you, that the hen by her common call gives no 
 meat to her chickens. This you have therefore by a special grace. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that they went on until they were come 
 to the place that Simple and Sloth and Presumption lay and slept 
 in, when Christian went by on pilgrimage ; and behold they were 
 hanged up in irons a little way off on the other side. 
 
 Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor, 
 What are these three men ? and for what are they hanged there? 
 
 Great. These three men were men of bad qualities ; they had 
 no mind to be pilgrims themselves, and whomsoever they could they 
 hindered ; they were for sloth and folly themselves, and whomsoever 
 they could persuade, they made so too ; and withal taught them to 
 presume that they should do as well at last. They were asleep when 
 Christian went by ; and now you go by they are hanged. 
 
 all things, by his sinless submission to its | Jesus, presented freely to us, by which we, 
 
 demands, and by his sufferings as a substi- 
 tute for man — he hath a righteousness which 
 was not required or needed for himself, and 
 
 who have no personal righteousness, are 
 accounted righteous, through Christ's merits 
 and for Christ's sake. 
 
 which as ' the gift of righteousness," he Simple, Sloth, and Presumption. — In the 
 
 hath now to bestow upon all those who will | former pilgrimage we have read of these men 
 
 receive it by faith in his great sacrifice. This 
 is the deed, by which pardon is attained — 
 through the meritorious righteousness of 
 
 -in their sin ; we now read of them in their 
 condemnation. Great sinners, who are zeal- 
 ous in their sin, and thus mislead those that 
 
814 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 Mek. But could they persuade any one to be of tlieir opinion ? 
 
 Grea \ Yes, they turned several out of the way. Tlu-ie was 
 51owpace ttiey persuaded to do as they. They also prevailed widi 
 one Short-wik.d, with one No-heart, with one Linger-after lust, and 
 with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman, her name was Dull, 
 to turn out of t»]e way and become as they. Besides, they brought 
 up an ill report o; your Lord, persuading others that he was a hard 
 task-master. The/ also brought up an evil report of the good land, 
 saying it was not half so good as some pretended It was. They also 
 began to vilify his servants^ and to count the best of them meddlesome, 
 troublesome busybodios. Further, they would call the bread of God, 
 husks ; the comforts of hii: children, fancies ; the travail and labor of 
 pilgrims, things to no pjjpose. 
 
 Nay, said Christiai.a, if they were such, they should never be 
 bewailed by me ; they ha/r: but what they deserve ; and I think it well 
 that they stand so near I'le highway, that others may see and take 
 warning. But had it not been well if their crimes had been graven 
 on some plate of iron or brass, and left here where they did their 
 mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men ? 
 
 Great. So it is, as you may well perceive, if you will go a liule 
 to the wall. 
 
 Mer. No, no ; let them hang, and their names rot, and their 
 crimes live forever against them ; I think it is a high favor that they 
 are hanged before we came hither ; who knows else what they might 
 have done to such poor women as we are ? 
 
 Then she turned it into a song, saying — 
 
 Now, then, you three, hang there, and be a sign 
 To all that shall against the truth combine ; 
 And let him that comes after fear this end, 
 If unto pilgrims he is not a friend. 
 And thou, my soul, of all such men beware, 
 That unto holiness opposers are. 
 
 would go right on their way, must be made 
 e;;amples of, that all men may see and take 
 warning, that they follow not in their steps. 
 The Second Pilgrimage is conducted in the 
 same way as was the former — exposed to, or 
 exempt from, its difficulties and temptations, 
 as God's good grace and mercy may ap- 
 point. Ofttimes the stumbling-block that 
 has been in the path of one man has been 
 removed ere the next pilgrim hies that way. 
 
 The hill Difficulty. — This hill is not a mere 
 circumstance or incident, which may or may 
 not occur upon the road, but is an essential 
 part of the pilgrimage, and must be climbed, 
 and thus overpassed. It is the next stage 
 after the Cross, appointed as a test to those 
 that have received pardon and peace, to see 
 what they are able to bear and are ready to 
 endure for Christ. It also is the stage before 
 the communion of the Palace Beautiful, and 
 
The Hill D'_Slculty 
 
 315 
 
 Thus they wenton till they came at the foot of the hill Difficulty, 
 where again their good friend Mr. Great-heart took an occasion to 
 tell them what had happened there when Christian himself went by. 
 So he had them first to the spring; Lo, saith he, this is the spring 
 diat Christian drank of before he went up this hill ; and then it was 
 clear and good, but now it is dirty with the feet of some that are not 
 djsirous that pilgrims here should quench their thirst (Ezek. 34: 
 18). Thereat Mercy said, And why so envious, trow? But, said the 
 guide, it will do, if taken up and put into a vessel that is sweet and 
 good ; for then the dirt will sink to the bottom, and the water come 
 out by itself more clear. Thus therefore Christiana and her com- 
 panions were compelled to do. They took it up, and put it into an 
 earthen pot, and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom, 
 und they drank thereof. 
 
 Next he showed them the two by-ways that were at the foot of 
 the hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy lost themselves. Ancl, said 
 he, these are dangerous paths ; two were here cast away when Chris- 
 tian came by. And, although you see these ways 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 railingly return them answer, and say. "As 
 for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the King, 
 we will not hearken unto thee ; but we will certainly do whatso- 
 ever thing goeth out of our mouth " (Jer. 44 : 16, 17), Nay, if you 
 look a litde 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 
 
l-H 
 
 Oh 
 
 H 
 
 O 
 
 14 
 
 Q 
 
 CO 
 
 o 
 
 pL. 
 
 w 
 
 ai6 
 
The Pilgrims refresh Themselves in the Princes Arbor, 317 
 
 Chr. They are Idle ; they love not to take pains ; up-hill way is 
 unpleasant to them. So it is fulfilled unto them as it is written, " The 
 way of the slothful man 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 
 smoother way. Then said Mercy, I must sit down ; also the least of 
 the children began to cry. Come, come, said Great-heart, sit not 
 down here, for a litde above is the Prince's arbor. Then he took 
 the litde 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 orood 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. Come, my pretty 
 )oys, 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 life, than down the hill to death. 
 
 Then said Mercy, But the proverb is, " To go down the hill is 
 easy." But James said (for that was his name), The day is coming 
 when, in my opinion, going down 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 little boy did blush. 
 
 Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit to sweeten your mouths, 
 while you sit here to rest your legs ? fori have here a piece of pome- 
 granate, which Mr. Interpreter put into my hand just when I came 
 
 spiritual life, and especially of spiritual teach- 
 ing. This is the second allusion of the kind ; 
 a former instance being found at the Slough 
 of Despond, which had been growing worse, 
 owing 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 
 
318 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress, 
 
 out of his door. He gave me also a piece of an honeycomb, and a 
 litrie botde of spirits. I diought 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? But 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 chatted a little 
 longer, their guide said to them, The day wears away ; if you think 
 good, let us prepare to be going. So they got up to go, and the little 
 boys went before ; but Christiana forgot to take her bottle of spirits 
 with her ; so she sent her little boy back to fetch it. Then said Mercy, 
 I think this is a losing place. Here Christian lost his roll, and here 
 Christiana left her bottle behind her. Sir, what is the cause of this? 
 So their guide made answer, and said. The cause is sleep or 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 ot 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 
 irnth ; 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 ynu may safelv 
 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 
 
The Eficounter with G^n^n. 
 
 319 
 
 The words underneath the verses were, "This stage was built 
 to punish such upon, who, througli timorousness 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 place where the lions 
 v/ere, the boys that went before were now glad to cringe behind, for 
 they were afraid of the lions ; so they stepped back and went behind. 
 At this their guide smiled, and said. How now, my boys ; do you love 
 to go before when no danger doth approach,, and love to come 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 tliat 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 w^ill 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 
 ^ate had been much unoccupied, and was almost all grown over with 
 grass. 
 
 acter of Great-heart occurs here — his care 
 of die little children. He is like the Ciuod 
 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. 
 Witliin sight of the lions. --The experience 
 of the path is unchanged, except .n 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 
 Chkistian 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 nar^v consists of womep 
 
320 
 
 The Pilgriins Progress:, 
 
 THE PLACE WHERE MISTRUST AND TIMOROUS WERE PUNISHED. 
 
 Then said Christiana, Thoug-h the highways have been unoccupied 
 heretofore, and though the travellers have been 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. But 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 Gkeat-heart 
 with them ; and this is everything. 
 
 This Tvay had lain much unoccupied — 
 The political allusion here seems to be suf- 
 ficiently apparent The persecutions and 
 disabilities of Banyan's days had already 
 
The Pilgrims pass the Lions. 
 
 321 
 
 Great. It is the King's highway that we are in, and in this way 
 it is that thou hast placed the hons ; 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 tfiey would die ; but they all got by 
 without further hurt. 
 
 deterred many from joining themselves in 
 Christian fellowship, such as is indicated by 
 the intercourse of the Palace Beautiful, The 
 " lions " of persecution, backed by the 
 "giant "hand of power, during that un- 
 happy 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. 
 
 // is the Kings highivay. — Great-heart 
 lacks neither words nor deeds of greatness. 
 He will enjoy for himself, and will have 
 others to enjoy, the sweet communion of 
 saints, and all other privileges of the people 
 of God ; and he enforces his 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 
 
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 provisior 
 and enjoyment 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 famihar 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 chaptei 
 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 
 travelHng 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? I 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 leav^ 
 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 GUI' 
 journey's end ! How caa 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 allof: 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 
 b-'av^; 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 portei 
 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- j terpreter's House: " Conduct them," said 
 low after our best and brightest days, during | his Lord, "to the house called Beautiful." 
 which we are reminded that we are not yet ! The Holy Spirit gives "grace by measuie,' 
 
 at home, but are still in the weary wilderness 
 " I loill return to-ttigk/." —A\a.?,\ evil tid 
 ings on the very threshold of enjoyment ! 
 
 and according to our asking. We must ask, 
 and then we receive ; we must ask for large 
 things and for long-continued blessings, else 
 
 (iREAr-HFART is bidding them farewell! we must not expect to receive largely. And 
 
 Having thus far conducted his company, he 
 must now return to his Lord for fresh instruc- 
 tion and another mission. He has fulfilled 
 
 herein was Christiana's double mistake : m 
 the first place, she had not asked at all ; and 
 in the next, she had not asked enough. Ac- 
 
 the commission he had received at the In- ' cordingly, at the outset she was granted no 
 
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The Pilgrims Ktnaty Receptiori. 
 
 325 
 
 So they came with haste to the porter, for Christiana stood still 
 at the door. Then some of the most grave said unto her, Come in, 
 Christiana ; come in, thou wife of that good man ; come in, thou 
 blessed woman, come in, with all that are with thee. 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 go to rest. Nay, said those of the family, refresh your- 
 selves with a morsel of meat; for they had prepared for them 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- 
 tiana and Mercy entered into discourse about things that were con- 
 venient. 
 
 convoy for the road, and when she did re- 
 ceive the gift, it was but for a single stage — 
 she had asked no more. Thus does God 
 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. 
 
 What noise for f^ladness. — 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 Pilgrims go 
 on "from strength 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 brough'' 
 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 Christian personally, and had made 
 special inquiries about his family. He had 
 at that time no good report to give respect- 
 ing them ; but now his wife and children 
 present themselves as candidates for th» 
 
326 
 
 The Pilgrim s Pj'ogress. 
 
 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 tliink 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. 
 
 So I was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are you sure I 
 Yes; you laughed heartily. But pr'ythee, Mercy, tell me 
 
 Mer. 
 
 laughed ? 
 
 Chr. 
 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 gathered about me to see me, 
 and to hear what it was that I said. So they hearkened, and I went 
 on bemoaning the hardness of my heart. At this some of them 
 laughed 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. All the graces of the Spirit 
 are made stronger and more permanent, in 
 proportion as they are enjoyed and culti- 
 vated in the genial atmosphere of the Chris- 
 tian home and family. 
 
 When they ivere 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. — Mercy 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 
 Mercv, 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- 
 couragements — 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. 
 
 32; 
 
 ibout. With that methought I looked up, and saw one coming witl 
 fving-s towards me. So he came directly to me, and said, Merc\ 
 wliat 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 m\ 
 neck, and earrings in my ears, and a beautiful crown upon my head 
 (Ezek. i6 : 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, 1 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 know what we 
 must do. 
 
 Mer. Pray, if they advise us to stay a while, let us willingly ac- 
 cept of the proffer. I am the willinger to stay a while here, to ghow 
 better acquainted with these maids ; methinks, 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. 
 
 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 4uch holy gladness in the communion of 
 
 the Palace. Here she seems to see the 
 pecuUar cross she has to bear, and how it 
 changes into the crown of glory, as, in her 
 dream, she is lifted to the throne of Hght; 
 and she that finds no sympathy in her home 
 
328 
 
 The Pilgrim s 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 well. 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 ? 
 
 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 decline from 
 "^race, and to decay in Christian strength. 
 Christian intercourse is as the dew of heaven 
 the soul ; it is as the fatness of the earth 
 Lthe 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 of our Israel, as to how they per- 
 form this great duty. Maternal influence is 
 that which chiefly contributes to the forma- 
 
Prudence commends Christiana, 
 
 329 
 
 PRUDENCE CATECHISES THE BOYS. 
 
 said. 
 
 Jos, A reasonable creature, made so by God, as my brother 
 
 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 
 gre.'.t 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 
 
330 
 
 The 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 place 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. With 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 quaintness. 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 MattJiew. 331 
 
 pRUD. Is there nothing written therein but what you under- 
 stand? 
 
 Matf. Yes, a great deal. 
 
 Prud. What do you do when you meet with such places therein 
 that you do not understand ? 
 
 Matf. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that he will please 
 to let me know all therein that he knows will be for my good. 
 
 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 must 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 ; butespecially 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 
 
 ing conducts us from the simpler to the 
 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 
 nature 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, 
 
 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- 
 
 the Umits of man's understanding, the ne- ( sccnds to the concerns of ordinary life, and, 
 
 S 
 
'V> 
 
 The Pilgrim s 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 ol 
 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 oi 
 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. I 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 may lay 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 of 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. Bkisk 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 
 
MR. BRISK AND MERCY. 
 
 333 
 
334 
 
 The Pilgidnis Progress. 
 
 not of it to any ; but they were such as did not Hke 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 anc/ 
 well-approved physician. So Christiana desired it, and they sent foi 
 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 what 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 
 I lias learned enough to prove that the spirit- 
 I 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 Mercy, by her consistent 
 resolution, illustrates the counsel o^ 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 
 
Matthew's Sickness. 33t 
 
 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. 
 
 Skill. 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 naughty 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 was 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 came et sajigiiine 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 
 
 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 
 distpiietude. On inquiry, however, the bv- 
 gone sin is brought to remembrance — the 
 eating of the fiuit of the trees that did over- 
 
 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 
 medicine of the law is weak ; the strong and 
 
 h-aiig the A-ay at the Wicket-gate. Sin is an \ sufficient remedy must be found in Christ, 
 
 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 ; 
 
 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. 
 
336 
 
 The 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 
 brothers, 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 he got up, and walked about with a staff, and 
 would go from room to room, and talk with Prudence, Piety and 
 Charity of his distemper, and how he was healed. 
 
 So when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, saying. 
 Sir, what will content you for your 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 keep 
 good time out of mind. 
 
 Chr. 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 
 
 There is a graceful modesty in Bunyan's 
 character displayed here. He records the 
 prescription in Latin, after 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 1 borrow" — an incident 
 illustrating the genuine spirit of the man. 
 
 There is much spiritual significance in the 
 
 sequel — the manner of taking this spiritual 
 prescription, the minghng of the medicine 
 in the " tears 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- 
 nouncs it to be " sweeter than honey " — all 
 
Matthew and Prudence, 
 
 337 
 
 MATTHEW AND PRUDENCE. 
 
 good. So he gave unto Christiana physic for herself and her boys 
 and for Mercy, and bid Matthew take heed how he ate any more 
 green plums, and kissed 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 bitter to our palates? 
 
 Prud. 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, 
 
 T/ien Matthew asked hir. — Prudence, 
 who had been the examiner, is now appealed 
 to as a teacher. Significant questions elicit 
 equally significant answers. 
 
 29 
 
 (i) Christiana's own motto is btojght to 
 mind here : "The bitter must coir before 
 the sweet, and that also will make the sweet 
 the sweeter." The discipline of the Word 
 of God is against the grain of the carnal 
 heart, but is good for the soul's health and 
 well-being. 
 
338 
 
 The 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 brdy 
 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 influences 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 high, reaches down with his grace 
 and love to us below. 
 
 Matt. Where have the clouds their water? 
 
 Prud. Out of the sea. 
 
 Matt, What may we learn from that? 
 
 Prud. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from God, 
 
 Matt. 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 of spiritual 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 nses, as though it would return to its 
 birth-place. Hence the ascending fire of the 
 altar, and the smoke of the incense coiling 
 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. 
 
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. 
 
 Mait. 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 of life in us, 
 
 Mait. Why are the wick and tallow 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. 
 
 Matf. Why doth the pelican pierce 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 ^eat 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 
 mu>t 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 it? food ; and 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 being, evidences that 
 before the foundation of the world, the 
 scheme of redemption, by the shedding of 
 the blood of Christ, had been foreordained 
 and appointed. 
 
 (11) 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 with the examples 
 of those that have gone before, as well as 
 with th-? duties that now devolve upon our. 
 selves. 
 
340 
 
 The Pilgrim's PnogresSc 
 
 nihed to tho.se «/ the house that it was convenient for them to up 
 and b^ going. Then said Joseph to his mother, It is proper that 
 you forget not to send to the house of Mr. Interpreter, to pray hin^ 
 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, to 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 petition, said to the messenger. Go tell them that I will send 
 him 
 
 When the family, where Christiana was, saw that they had a 
 purpose to go forward, they called the whole house together, to give 
 thanks to their King for sending of them such profitable guests as 
 these. Which done, they said unto Christiana, And shall we not 
 show thee something, 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 them 
 one of the apples that Eve ate 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 
 siglit. 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 oitt, — 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 the 
 way. In the anticipation of their need, they 
 ire reminded of tlie departure of (]reat- 
 
 HEART, and that he may be fetched back 
 again only for the asking. Accordingly, they 
 forward a petition to the Interpreter that 
 he would renew his grant of Grkat-iieart, 
 still to be the conductor of the pilgrimage 
 even to the end ; and their prayer is granted 
 
^k-Cj:i'S LADDER 
 
 341 
 
S4L> 
 
 The P'lgrims Pi'ogresS. 
 
 steadfast, in case you should meet with turbulent weather; so they 
 were glad thereof (Joel 3:16; 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 of sacrifice. 
 
 Now about this time one knocked at the door ; so the porter 
 opened, and, behold, Mr. Great-heart was there. But when he was 
 tome 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 
 p-iant, 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 1 came 
 
 uher ; and also that you have been so loving and kind to my chil- 
 
 iren. 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 
 tew. And to the boys he said, Do you flee youthful lusts, and follow 
 after godliness with them that are grave and v/ise ; so shall you put 
 gladness into your mother's heart, and obtain praise of all that are 
 sober-minded. So they thanked the porter and departed. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that they went forward, until they were 
 come to the brow 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 brouorht thee a scheme of all those thino-s 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. 
 
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 
 Pilgrims, 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. 
 
 OW they began to go down the hill into the Valley of Hu- 
 miliation. It was a steep hill, and the way was slippery ; 
 but they were very careful ; so they got down 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 Apollyon, and where they had that dreadful fight that 
 they had; I know you cannot but have heard thereof. But be 
 of good courage; as long as you have here Mr. Great-heart, to be 
 your guide and conductor, we hope you will fare the better. So 
 when these two had committed the pilgrims unto the conduct of their 
 guide, he went forward, and they went after. 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart, We need not be so afraid of this 
 valley, for there is nothing to hurt us unless 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 
 For the common people, when they hear that some frightful 
 
 name. 
 
 The Valley of Humiliation. — Once more 
 we are introduced to the dangerous descent 
 of the diffictdt 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 
 
 (344) 
 
The i'alley of liuiuiliaUoh. 
 
 Ub 
 
 THE PILLAR IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILITY. 
 
 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 that such things do befall them there. 
 
 This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place as any 
 the crow flies over ; and I am persuaded, if we could hit upon it, we 
 might find somewhere hereabout something that might give us an 
 account why Christian was so hardly beset in this place. 
 
 Then James said to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a pillar, and it 
 looks as if something was written thereon ; let ws 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- 
 
 lime enjoyments ; this is also designed for a 
 purpose — to suggest the need of caution, and 
 
 to furnish scope and opportunity for putting 
 forth and using the supplies of spiritual 
 
346 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 timation of the reason why Christian was so hard beset in this place? 
 Then turning himseU" to Christiana, he said, No disparagement to 
 Christian, more than to many others whose hap and lot it was, I'or 
 it is easier going up than down this hill, and that can be said but of 
 few hills in all these parts of the world. But we will leave the good 
 man ; he is at rest ; he also had a brave victory over his enemy. Let 
 Him grant that dwelleth above that we fare no worse, when we come 
 to be tried, than he ! 
 
 But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. It is the 
 best and most fruitful piece of ground in all these parts. It is a fat 
 ground, and, as you see, consisteth much in meadows ; and if a man 
 was to come here in the summer-time, as we do now, if he knew 
 not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted himself in the 
 sight of his eyes, he might see that which w^ould be delightful to 
 him. Behold how green this valley is ; also how beautiful with 
 lilies (Song of Sol. 2:1). I have also known many laboring men 
 jiat have got good estates in this Valley of Humiliation (for " God 
 resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble ") ; for indeed 
 it is a very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth by handfuls (James 4 : 
 6; I Peter 5 : 5). Some also have wished that the next way to 
 their Father's house were here, that they might be troubled no 
 more with either hills or mountains to go over ; but the way is the 
 way, and there is an end. 
 
 Now as they were going along and talking, they espied a boy 
 feeding his father's sheep. The boy was in very mean clothes, but 
 of a fresh and well-favored countenance ; and as he sat by himself, 
 
 strength that have been received. This is I cause us to meet with hardships in the vale, 
 
 illustrated in the narrative of both Pilgrim- It is a prohfic ground, producing fruits and 
 
 ages — though differently in each. I flowers in rich and rare abundance — meet 
 
 Infiinntion of the reason. — The manner of | emblems of the spirit of humility, that spir- 
 
 accomplishing this descent is the measure of itual soil that is most productive of Christian 
 
 the danger of the valley itself. Christian ; virtues and heavenly graces. We are spir- 
 
 had many slips by the way; and hence the itually nearer to God, and more like to Christ. 
 
 hard experience he met with in his fight with while dwelling in the low-lying valley of 
 
 Apollvon. He that walks not steadfastly, humility, or even in the still lower valley oV 
 
 after enjoying the great privilege of Christian 
 fellowship, may well expect to meet with 
 some sharp brunt that will teach him to walk 
 more circumspectly, and more dearly prize 
 the strength he has received. 
 
 The best and most fruitful ground. — It is 
 
 humiliation, than when perched upon the 
 mountain-top of human pride. The moun- 
 tain summit may be covered with the chiii 
 and icy barrenness of the everlasting snows, 
 while in the well-watered valleys beneath are 
 the abounding fruits and sweet-scented flow- 
 
 plain it is something within ourselves, and ers and waving corn-fields of a garden which 
 ttot in the nature of the valley itself, that doth ] the Lord hath blessed. 
 
The Joys of I he Valley of Hiuniliation, 
 
 347 
 
 he suncr. Hark! said Mr. Great-heart, to what the shepherd's boy 
 saith. ^So they hearkened, and he said : 
 
 He that is down, needs fear no fall, 
 
 He that is low, no pride ; 
 He that is humble ever shall 
 
 Have God to be his guide. 
 
 I am content with what I have. 
 
 Little be it, or much ; 
 And, Lord, contentment still I crave. 
 
 Because thou savest such. 
 
 Fulness to such a burden is 
 
 That go on pilgrimage : 
 Here little, and hereafter bliss. 
 
 Is best from age to age. 
 
 Then said their guide, Do you hear him? I will dare to say, 
 this boy lives a merrier hfe, and wears more of that herb called 
 heart's ease in his bosom, than he that is clad in silk and velvet. 
 But we will proceed in our discourse. 
 
 In this valley our Lord formerly had his country-house ; he 
 loved much to be here. He loved also to walk in these meadows, 
 and he found the air was pleasant. Besides, here a man shall be 
 free from the noise and hurryings of this life ; all states are full ot 
 noise and confusion ; only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty 
 and solitary place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in 
 his contempladon, as in other places he is apt to be. This is a val 
 ley that nobody walks in but those that love a pilgrim's life. And 
 though Chrisdan had the hard hap to meet here with Apollyon, and 
 to enter with him into a brisk encounter, yet I must tell you that in 
 former times men have met with angels here, have found pearls 
 here, and have in this place found the words of life (Hos. 12:4, 5). 
 
 Did I say our Lord had here in former days his country-house. 
 
 The shepherd-boy s song. — This is one of 
 the purest gems of the Allegory — the scene 
 of the shepherd-boy, singing his pastoral 
 song of humility, while he feeds his father's 
 sheep. The peace and quietude of the valley, 
 the joy and gladness of the spirit of the swain, 
 the beauty and pathos of the song he sings, 
 and, above all, the contrast with the experi- 
 ence of Christian in this same valley— all 
 tend to enhance the subhmity of the occasion, 
 %nd to point out how happy, thrice happy, 
 
 are those humble-minded and lowly Pilgrims 
 whose hearts are in accord with the spirit of 
 the place. Oh, for more of the spirit of 
 humility ! for more of that mind that was in 
 Christ Jesus ! for in this valley was the chosen 
 resort of the Saviour. Yes, in the lowly 
 peace and shade and quietude of this deep 
 vale did the Son of the Highest dwell for a.- 
 space; and he who would be as Christ was, 
 will also seek his habitation there. So near is 
 the footstool of humility to the throne of glory! 
 
348 
 
 The Pitgrhn s Progress. 
 
 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 jusi beyond Forgetful 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 unworthy they 
 are of them. This is the place also where others have been hard 
 put to it. But more of the place wlien 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 
 ^ought 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- 
 tling with coacb':;s, nor rumbling with wheels. Methinks here one 
 may, without nnich 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 God 
 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. 
 
 Forgetful Green. — The cause of Chris- 
 tian's hard experience in this valley receives 
 here additional illustration. Besides his 
 "slips" in the descent of the hill, there was 
 yet another cause of offence— his departure 
 from the right way, by which he wandered 
 into the place of Forgetfulness. The dispen- 
 sation of Providence to the Pilgrim had been 
 a dispensation of favor and goodness. The 
 Author of these blessings was ever to be 
 
 remembered, never to be forgotten ; more 
 particularly after the large and liberal favors 
 bestowed upon him in the communion of the 
 Palace. Yet it would appear that this was a 
 moment of forgetfulness, a season of oblivion 
 of God's goodness, while Christian trav- 
 ersed the valley, and that therefore he met 
 with that fierce encounter and that long-con- 
 tinued conflict, so that he might again be 
 taught to know and recognize the harid that 
 
The Monument in the Valley of Hwniliation. 
 
 349 
 
 It lA true, said their guide; I have gone through this valley 
 many a time, and never was better than when here. I have also 
 been a conductor to several pilgrims, and they have confessed the 
 same. "To this man will I look" (saith the King), "even to him 
 that is poor, and that trembleth at my word" (Isa. 66 : 2). 
 
 Now they were come to the place where the afore-mentioned 
 battle 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 tell you, 
 here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this day. 
 Behold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon the place 
 some of the shivers of Apollyon's broken darts. See also how they 
 did beat the ground with their feet as they fought, to make good 
 their places against each other ; how also, with their by-blows, 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 which 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, and yet most true ; 
 
 Christian and Apollyon sought 
 Each other to subdue. 
 
 The man so bravely played the man, 
 He made the fiend to fly ; 
 
 Of which a monument I stand, 
 The same to testify. 
 
 hitherto had been over him good, for guiding 
 and guarding him in his Pilgrimage. 
 
 This is the place. — The realization of pre- 
 vious downfalls and reverses may be as ad- 
 monitory to the Pilgrims 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, in his providence, 
 permits the marks and tokens of the fray to 
 abide, as an evidence of the intensity of the 
 strife, and a proof of the greatness of the 
 victory. Veteran heroes generally 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 God and 
 Father, all his wounds were proofs of the 
 genuineness of his fidelity and of the power 
 of his faith — evidences that he would not be 
 brought into bondage of the Destroyer. 
 
 The Shadow of Death.— "'YYixs doleful 
 place," though not utterly dark, was yet dis- 
 mal enough to our Pilgrim-company. The 
 intense horror of the place was much mod- 
 erated on this occasion ; for Gkeat-heart 
 was with the Pilgrims. Dangers arise • fiend$ 
 
360 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 When 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. 
 
 When 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 thai 
 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 on 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 
 rumble beneath their feet ; and serpents and 
 scorpions, with a hissing sound, alarm them. 
 Thus do spiritual misgivings crowd upon 
 the soul, and at times startle the spirit of 
 true pilgrims. Convictions, doubtings, fears 
 lay siege round about the spiritual man, and, 
 more or less, disturb his peace, weaken his 
 faith, and darken the prospect of his hope. 
 Even with the company of Great-heart, 
 these troubles came upon these Pilgrims ; 
 but when they kept close to his protecting 
 
 hand, and set his great strength in advance, 
 the danger vanished. 
 
 Great-heart went behind. — Here is the 
 protecting providence of Divine favor once 
 more screening the Pilgrims from assault. 
 At one time it goes before them, at another 
 time it follows them — always standing be- 
 tween the Pilgrims and the harm that is de 
 signed against them. Like the pillar of 
 cloud in the wilderness, it acts both as a 
 protection and a guide. 
 
 A great fnist and a darkness. — Dangers 
 
The Fiend and the Lion. 
 
 351 
 
 close to me. So the fiend came on, and the conductor met it ; but 
 when it was just come to him it vanished to all their sights. Then 
 remembered they what had been said some time ago, " Resist the 
 devil, and he will flee from you." 
 
 They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed ; but they 
 had not gone far, before Mercy, looking behind her, saw, as she 
 thought, something most like a lion, and it came a great padding pace 
 after ; and it had a hollow voice of roaring ; and at every roar 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. The Hon 
 also came on apace, and Mr. Great-heart addressed himself to give 
 him battle. But when he saw that it was determined that resist- 
 ance should be made, he also drew back, and came no farther 
 (i Peter 5: 8, 9). 
 
 Then they went on again, and their conductor did go before 
 them, till they came to a place where was cast up a pit the whole 
 breadth of the way ; and before they could be prepared to go over 
 that, a great mist and a darkness fell upon them, so that they could 
 not see. Then said the pilgrims, Alas ! what now^ shall we do? But 
 their guide made answer, Fear not, stand still, and see what ai- end 
 will be put to this also. So they stayed there, because their padi 
 was marred. They then also thought that they did hear more appar- 
 ently the noise and rushing of the enemies; the fire also and smoke 
 of the pit were much easier to be discerned. Then said Christiana 
 to Mercy, Now I see what my poor husband went through. I have 
 heard much of this place, but I never was here before now. Poor 
 man ! he went here all alone, in the night ; he had night almost quite 
 through the way ; also these fiends were busy about him, as if they 
 would have torn him in pieces. Many have spoken of it, but none 
 can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean until 
 they come in it themselves. " The heart knoweth his own bitterness; 
 and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy." To be here is 
 a fearful thine. 
 
 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 
 
 thicken now around the feet of the Pilgrims. 
 Some dark moment of spiritual fear is indi- 
 cated here, the darkness increasing the ef- 
 fect of their other sorrows. Even Great- 
 
 heart seems as though he were brought tn 
 a standstill at this dark spot; and, having 
 large experience of the way, he suggests thy 
 use of that potent weapon by which Chri5' 
 
352 
 
 Tfie Mlgrini' s Progress. 
 
 sea," and like "going down to die bottoms of the mountains." Nov; 
 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 put to it than now I am ; and yet you see 1 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 ; 
 lor there was now no let in their way, no, not there where but now 
 they were stopped with a pit. Yet they were not got through the 
 valley ; so they went on still, and, behold, great stinks and loathsome 
 smells to the great annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to Chris- 
 tiana, It is not so pleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Inter- 
 preter's, or at the house where we lay last. 
 
 Oh, 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 
 miofht 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 end ot 
 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 cast into 
 the ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. Then said 
 the Guide, That is one Heedless that was going this way ; he has lain 
 there a ereat while. There was one Take-heed with him when he was 
 taken and slain, but he escaped their nands. 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 things. 
 
 Their need is felt ; their prayer is offered ; 
 
 the prayer is heard — yea, it is answered — 
 " and God sent light and deliverance I" 
 
 Maul, a giant. — The former narrative 
 places the cave of Giants Pope and Pagan 
 at the end of this valley. In this Allegory 
 another giant is represented as issuing forth 
 from this same cave. The name of this 
 
OLD lIONpST 
 
 "t' .' ■' ■ *■■ 
 
"THE MAN COULD LOOK NO WAY BUT DOWNWARDS." 
 
Amcyng the Snares. 
 
 353 
 
 GREAT-HEART KILLS GIANT MAUL. 
 
 many are killed hereabouts, and yet men are so foolishly venturous 
 as to set out lightly on pilgrimage, and come without a guide. Poor 
 Christian ! it was a wonder that he here escaped. But he was beloved 
 of his God ; also he had a good heart oi" his own, or else he cotild 
 never have done it. 
 
 Now they drew towards the end of this way ; and just where 
 Christian had seen the cave when he went by, out of thence came forth 
 Maul, a giant. This Maul did use to spoil young pilgrims with 
 sophistry ; and he called Great-heart by his name, and said unto him, 
 How many times have you been forbidden to do these things? Then 
 said Mr. Great-heart, What things ? What things ! quoth the giant; 
 you know what things ; but I will put an end to your trade. But 
 pray, said Mr. Great-heart, before we fall to it, let us understand 
 wherefore we must fight. (Now the women and children stood 
 trembling, and knew not what to do.) Quoth the giant, You rob tl" 
 
 23 
 
354 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 country, and rob it with the worst of thefts. These are L,jt generals, 
 said Mr. Great-heart; come to particulars, man. 
 
 Then said the giant, Thou practisest the craft of a kidnapper ; 
 thou gatherest up women and children, and carriest them into a 
 strange country, to the weakening of my master's kingdom. But now 
 Great-heart replied, I am a servant of the God of heaven ; my busi- 
 ness is to persuade sinners to repentance ; I am commanded to do my 
 endeavors to turn men, women and children " from darkness to light) 
 and from the power of Satan unto God ;" and if this be indeed the 
 ground of thy quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou wilt. 
 
 Then the giant came up, and Mr. Great-heart went to meet him; 
 and as he went he drew his sword ; but the giant had a club. So, 
 without more ado, they fell to it, and at the first blow the giant struck 
 Mr. Great-heart down upon one of his knees. With that the women 
 and children cried out; so Mr. Great-heart, recovering himself, laid 
 about him in a full lusty manner, and gave the giant a wound in his 
 arm ; thus he fought for the space of an hour, to that height of heat 
 that the breath came out of the giant's nostrils as the heat doth out 
 of a boiling caldron. 
 
 Then they set down to rest them ; but Mr. Great-heart betook 
 himself to prayer; also the women and children did nothing but sigh 
 and cry all the time that the battle did last. 
 
 "When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it 
 again ; and Mr. Great-heart, with a full blow, fetched the giant down 
 to the ground. Nay, hold, let me recover, quoth he ; so Mr. Great- 
 heart let him fairly get up. So to it they went again, and the giant 
 missed but little of breaking Mr. Great-heart's skull with his club. 
 Mr. Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit, 
 and pierceth him under the fiTth rib. With that the giant began to 
 faint, and could hold up his club no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart 
 seconded his blow, and smote the head of the giant from his 
 
 giant is Maul. This new enemy is sup- 
 posed to mean some vigorous State persecu- 
 tion, which, in persecuting policy and power, 
 may be said to have taken the place of the 
 former giants of the place. Bunyan's own 
 day, alas ! experienced the hand of power 
 and the "club" of persecution; and it 
 needed such a one as Great-heart to 
 breast the impetuous waves and stay the 
 tide of wrath. And, in God's mercy, those 
 days were shortened. And while great- 
 
 hearted men stood forth as the defenders of 
 the weak, and engaged in moral combat 
 against the persecuting statutes of the period, 
 the weaker ones stood by, as Christiana 
 and her children did, and watched the issue 
 of the fight, until, by-and-by, the faith and 
 steadfastness of a noble few opened the gates 
 of liberty to all ; and, thank God, those 
 gates of freedom have never since been 
 utterly closed, at least in these lands. 
 
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 ^ -^ssenger.'* 
 might read : 
 
 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 oppose. 
 That was their enemy. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Mr. Honest and Mr. Fearing. 
 
 Mr. Honest and Mr. Fearing are two characters magnificently drawn by the sicifi 
 of the Dreamer, who has thereby set before his readers two very sublime descriptions of 
 men of God — characters, however, which are essentially unlike, except in just one point of 
 similitude — that they were both Pilgrims, with their faces Zionward. 
 
 ;0W 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 o( 
 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 
 Miemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if 
 .le 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 
 
 They 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 pu/pose of refresh- 
 ment, after the hard encounter of C.reat- 
 UEART 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 are many. So, thev 
 take occasion to talk of the lute mercy ani 
 
 (356) 
 
The Pilgrims eticotinter Mr. Honest. 
 
 357 
 
 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 ol 
 his love. 
 
 Then they got up and went forward. Now a little before them 
 stood an oak; and under it, when they came to it, they found an old 
 pilgrim fast asleep ; they knew that he was a pilgrim by his clothes, 
 and his staff and his girdle. 
 
 So the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him ; and the old 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 giveq 
 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. HONE.ST, 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 you 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 hi^ 
 
358 The Pilgrim! s Progress, 
 
 Great. Well, now we are so happily met, let mc 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 najue, and I wish my 7iature 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, his 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 
 thintr 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 n?me 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 parading 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 
 
 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 sci-ince of Christian philosophy since he 
 left the town of " Stupidity." And he is 
 right. Honesty in the abstract would mean 
 the possession of that virtue in perfection 
 and in all its power; but " Honest " means 
 that he is aiming to attain that goodly char- 
 acteristic. 
 
 wrought in his soul ; and when Great- And this man's change was indeed a 
 
Mr. Honest joinetfi the Pilgrims. 
 
 359 
 
 hKi •;^ho she was ! He skipped, he smiled, and blessed them with 2 
 th usand good wishes, saying, I have heard much of your husband 
 and of his travels and wars which he underwent in his days. Be ii 
 sp-^ker* to your comfort, the name of your husband rings all over these 
 parts (J the world; his faith, his courage, his enduring, and his sin- 
 cerity ;inder all have made his name famous. Then he turned him 
 to the boys, and asked of them their names, which they told him. 
 And th^n said he unto them, Matthew, be thou like Matthew the pub- 
 lican, rotin vice but in virtue (Matt. lo: 3). Samuel, said he, be thou 
 like Spjnuel 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 ihst flies from temptation (Gen. 39). And, James, be thou like 
 Jame> the Just, and like James the brother of our Lord (i\cts 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 thit tl e old honest man said, Mercy is thy name ; by 7nercy thou 
 shalt be i^.ustained, 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 th is 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, A ery well, said he. He was a man that had " the root of the 
 matter in h im ; " but he was one of the most troublesome pilgrims that 
 ever I met with in all my days. 
 
 Great I perceive you knew him ; for you have given a very 
 right chara ;ter 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 its-lf, farther removed from the 
 Sun of Righteousness, and yet (oh, great 
 miracle of grac-; !) the hght-bearing, hfe-giv- 
 ing rays of the light of the World penetrated 
 even to that coia, dark, senseless place, and 
 warmed the heart of this man into love to 
 God in Christ. 
 
 One Mr. Fearing. — We do well to give 
 heed to the description of this man's spirit- 
 ual character, h 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 )et of holy determination, that, 
 come what may, he would still hold on to 
 
860 
 
 The 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 
 callinof are ofttimes 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 
 whither he had a desire to go. Everything frightened him that 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, J don't know 
 \ovj, he ventured, and so got over. But when he was over, he would 
 ^^arce 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 ; and there 
 also he stood a eood 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 Slough of Despond. — Here 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 
 
 straw would suffice to stumble him ; and 
 where a more sanguine spirit would see a 
 possibility of escape, he could see none. His 
 soul refused to be comforted. Despond was 
 not merely a stage of his pilgrimage, but l^he 
 very type of the man himself. 
 
 At the Wicket-gate. — The entrance-gate 
 
How Mr. Fearing fared. 
 
 S61 
 
 FEARING AT THE INTERPRETER'S DOOR. 
 
 Thou tiemblinjj- one, what wantest cnou ? With that he feh iown 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 trembHnor ; 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 cold 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 fears to knock, or to arour .; the 
 Master ; and when at last he does kn_^k, i( 
 is with so feeble a hand as scarcely to bt 
 heard. Yet the ear of the porter at the 
 
362 The Pit grim' s P?' ogress. 
 
 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 ; yea, 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, 1 
 looked out of the window, and perceiving a man to be up and down 
 about the door, I went out to him, and asked what he was ; but, 
 poor man ! the water stood in his eyes ; so I perceived what he 
 wanted. I went therefore in, and told it in the house, and w-e 
 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 Christian 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- 
 
 infirmities," and pours out the abundance of 
 his love towards him ; and, because the m;iii 
 is lowly and abased, the Spirit welcomes limi 
 the more, pours consolation into his bosom, 
 reassures his doubting heart, and also pro- 
 vides Great-heart as his conductor. 
 
 At the Cross. — His fearful spirit was re- 
 freshed as he lingered beside the Cross and 
 
 TERPRETER (the Holy Spirit) " helpeth his i the Sepulchre. Kindred sympathies were 
 
Great-heart s Description of Mr. Fearing. 
 
 363 
 
 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 about such things as 
 these ; his fear was about his acceptance at last. 
 
 I got him into the house Beautiful, 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, I think there was a kind of sympathy be- 
 twixt that valley and him ; for I nevei 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 sufferings. The 
 great love of Jesus, the cross and passion, 
 the blood of Christ, the agony and the death 
 of 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. — Here 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, rather 
 by stealth than openly, listens to the sweet 
 communion of the palace, and is comforted 
 
 In the Valley of Humiliation. ~Th.\s 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 to 
 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 
 
364 
 
 The 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 the)- 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 ho*- was he against their fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground 
 he alsv; 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 was 
 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 to 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. Fearing 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 Fair, 
 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 Hved 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 ihi 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 than 
 
MR. FEARING IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 
 
366 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 Great. Yes, yes ; I never had a doubt about him ; he was a 
 man of a choice spirit ; only he was always kept very low, and that 
 made his life so burdensome to himself and so very troublesome to 
 others (Ps. 88). He was, above many, tender of sin; he was so 
 afraid of doing injuries to others, that he often would deny himself 
 of that which was lawful, because he would not offend (Rom. 14: 21 ; 
 I Cor. 8:13). 
 
 Hun. But what should be the reason that such a good man 
 should be all his days so much in the dark ? 
 
 Great. There are two sorts of reasons for it. One is, the wise 
 God will have it so (Matt. 11 : 16, 17); some must pipe, and some 
 must weep ; now Mr. Fearing was one that played upon the bass. 
 He and his fellows sound the sackbut, whose notes are more doleful 
 than the notes of other music are ; though, indeed, same say the bass 
 is the ground of music. And, for my part, I care not at all for that 
 profession that begins not in heaviness of mind. The first string 
 that the musician usually touches is the bass, when he intends to put 
 all in tune ; God also plays upon this string first, when he sets the 
 soul in tune for himself. Only there was the imperfection of Mr. 
 Fearing ; he could play upon no other music but this till towards his 
 latter end. 
 
 [I make bold to talk thus metaphorically, for the ripening of the 
 wits of young readers ; and because in the Book of Revelation the 
 saved are compared to a company of musicians, that play upon their 
 trumpets and harps, and sing their songs before the throne (Rev. 7 ; 
 H--2, 3).] 
 
 Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by that 
 relation which you have given of him. Difficulties, lions, or Vanity 
 Fair he feared not at all ; it was only sin, death, and hell that were to 
 him a terror; because he had some doubts about his interest in that 
 celestial country. 
 
 he had ever felt before, he passed the fords 
 of the river almost dry-shod, and entered 
 into joy and peace and rest. 
 
 This is, indeed, a marvellous picture of a 
 true Pilgrim — with love so warm, to have 
 fears so great ; so loving and so humble, and 
 yet so doubtful and desponding ! His lack 
 of confidence in himself prevented his full 
 enjoyment of Christian privilege. He looked, 
 perhaps, too much to his own unworthiness 
 and too little to the worthiness of Christ. 
 
 His sadness checkered his sunshine ; his 
 tears obscured his clearer vision ; the clouds 
 hung too low upon the mountains of his joy. 
 Ere he had realized his hope and confidence 
 a shadow would intervene and rob him of 
 his peace — 
 
 " And in that shadow I have passed along, 
 Feeling myself grow weak as it grew strong, 
 Walking in doubt, and searching for the way. 
 And often at a stand— as now, to-day." 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding, his faith in Chrisi 
 
The Pilgrims discourse upo?i the Nai-rative, 367 
 
 Great. You say right ; those were the things that were his 
 troubles ; and they, as you have well observed, arose from the weak- 
 ness ol his mind thereabout, not from weakness of spirit as to the 
 practical part of a pilgrim's life. I dare believe that as the proverb is, 
 he could have lit a firebrand had it stood in his way ; but those 
 thin^;- with which he was oppressed no man ever yet could shake ofi 
 witli ease. 
 
 Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr. Fearing has done me 
 good ; I thought nobody had been like me ; but I see there was some 
 semblance betwixt this good man and me. Only we differ in two 
 things ; his troubles v/ere so great that they brake out ; but mine I 
 kept within. His also lay so hard upon him, they made him that he 
 could not knock at the houses provided for entertainment ; but my 
 troubles were always such as made me knock the louder. 
 
 Mer. If I might also speak my heart, I must say that something 
 of him has also dwelt in me ; for I have ever been more afraid of the 
 lake, and the loss of a place in paradise, than I have been of the loss 
 of other things. Oh, thought I, may I have the happiness to have a 
 habitation there ! it is enough, though I part with all the world to 
 win it. 
 
 Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing that made me think that 
 I was far from having that within me which accompanies salvation ; 
 but, if it was so with such a good man as he, why may it not also go 
 well with me ? 
 
 No fears, no grace, said James. Though there Is not always 
 grace where there is the fear of hell, yet, to be sure, there is no 
 grace where there Is no fear of God. 
 
 Great. Well said, James; thou hast hit the mark; for, "the 
 fear of God is the beginning of wisdom ;" and, to be sure, they that 
 want the beo^innintr have neither middle nor end. But we will here 
 
 was true. Like the needle that ever points, 1 tian joy, or hope, or happiness ; and the 
 yet always tremblingly, to the pole, so did ' children of the King would go mourning all 
 
 this poor man, with fear and trembling, ever 
 
 tend and always look to Jesus his Saviour. 
 
 Thcimperfrction of Mr. Fearins;;. — Diverse 
 
 are the characteristics of pilgrims ; some 
 
 their days, shrinking from both privilege 
 and duty, as though they were but half- 
 trustful of Divine providence and grace. 
 Mr. Self-iuilL — .As a contrast to the hum- 
 
 sorrowful, some rejoicing ; some despond- ble spirit of Mr. Fearing, the presumption 
 
 ing, others glad of heart. It may be that 
 Wisdom is justified of all these her children ; 
 but it would not be to the profit of the 
 
 of Mr. Self-will is now set forth. This 
 was a self-righteous man, who sought to 
 balance his virtues against his vices, to be a 
 
 Church if all men were like this Mr. Fear- servant to sin and righteousness at the same 
 IHG. If it were so, there would be no Chris- [ time, and to build his house partly on the 
 
3U8 
 
 The Pilgrim's Prog?' ess. 
 
 conclude our discourse of Mr. Fearing, after we have sent after him 
 this farewell : 
 
 Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear 
 
 Thy God, and wast afraid 
 Of doing anything, while here, 
 
 That would have thee betrayed. 
 
 And didst thou fear the lake and pit ? 
 
 Would others did so too ! 
 For as for them that want thy wit, 
 
 They do themselves undo. 
 
 Now I saw that they still went on in their talk ; for after Mr. 
 Great-heart had made an end of Mr. Fearing, Mr. Honest began to 
 tell of another, but his name was Mr. Self-will. He pretended him- 
 self to be a pilgrim, said Mr. Honest; but I persuade myself he never 
 came in at the gate that stands at the head of the way. 
 
 Great. Had you ever any talk with him about it? 
 
 Hon. Yes, more than once or twice ; but he would always be 
 like himself, self-ivilled. He neither cared for man, nor argument, 
 nor yet example ; what his mind prompted him to, that he would do ; 
 and nothing else could he be got to do. 
 
 Great. What principles did he hold? for I suppose you can tell, 
 
 Hon. He held that a man migrht follow the vices as well as the 
 virtues of pilgrims, and that if he did both he should be certainly 
 saved. 
 
 Great. How? If he had said, it is possible for the best to be guilty 
 of the vices as well as to partake of the virtues of the pilgrims, he could 
 not much have been blamed ; for indeed we are exempted from no vice 
 absolutely, but on condition that we watch and strive. But this, I 
 perceive, is not the thing ; but, if I understand you right, your mean- 
 ing is, that he was of opinion that it was allowable so to be. 
 
 Hon. Aye, aye, so I mean ; and so he believed and practised. 
 
 Great. But what grounds had he for so saying ? 
 
 Hon. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his warrant. 
 
 Great. Pr'ythee, Mr. Honest, present us with a few particulars. 
 
 rock and partly on the sand. He quotes 
 other men's sins as the warrant of his own 
 offences ; and where others have been over- 
 taken in a fault, he cultivates their sin into 
 a system, and deliberately walks in the way 
 of transgression. Surely, the conscience of 
 this self-willed professor must be seared, and 
 
 insensible to the hardest contact. No man's 
 sins can by any means be allowed to give 
 sanction to sin, or be used as a justification 
 of wrong-doing by others. 
 
 Time enough to repent. — Procrastination 
 is said to be "the thief of time," and so, in 
 a spiritual sense, it may be said to be "the 
 
MR. FEARING AT THB GATE. 
 
FEEBLE-MIND WELCOMES READY-TO-HALT. 
 
Jtionest and Great-heart. 
 
 369 
 
 HONEST CONVERSES ABOUT ONE SELF-WILL. 
 
 Hon. So I will. He said, to have to do with other men's wives 
 had been practised by David, God's beloved, and therefore he could 
 do it. He said, to have more women than one was a thing that Solo- 
 mon practised, and therefore he could do it. He said that Sarah 
 and the godly midwives of Egypt lied, and so did saved Rahab, and 
 therefore he could do it. He said that the disciples went, at the bid- 
 ding of their Master, and took away the owner's ass, and therefore 
 he could do so too. He said that Jacob got the inheritance of his 
 father in a way of guile and dissimulation, and therefore he could 
 do so too. 
 
 Great. High bass, indeed ! And are you sure he was of this 
 opinion? 
 
 Hon. I have heard him plead for it, b»"'ng Scripture for it, bring 
 arguments for it, etc. 
 
 Great. An opinion that is not fit to be with any allowance in the 
 world ! 
 
 24 
 
370 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 Hon. You must understand me rightly. He did not say that anj 
 man might do this ; but that 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 tliis 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 wilfully 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 what can 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 lust, 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 Kincr 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 hour 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 <rrowth of both root and branches. 
 
 Suffice it to say, there is no time to lose, no 
 time to trifle with. If eternity is the unend- 
 ing period of bhss, 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 generahtyof 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 fo ward, 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 it. 
 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, v.e 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 formity to the image of Christ, without which 
 use, for the attainment of the heavenly char- no man shall see the Lord, 
 acter, and for that growth in grace, and con- 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Guests of Gaius. 
 
 How qnickly 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 have so many things to say. 
 So many failings to confess. 
 Time flies, alas ! so soon away, 
 We cannot half we would express.' 
 
 Here, again, the little group enlarges, by the addition to their number of Mr. 
 /eeble 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 u/ failing strength (as they may be rescued) out of the hands of the 
 Destroyer. 
 
 IHRISTIANA 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 ? 
 
 Gal 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, 873 
 
 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 persuaded 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 
 has 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 ii: 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. 
 
 T/iey went in, not knocking. — A sense of 
 freedom and a 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. ?--\^ ^"^'js*holds were famil- 
 
c 
 -J 
 
 w 
 
 u 
 
 CO 
 
 p 
 
 < 
 a 
 
 374 
 
Gams 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 anciendy of the family from 
 A^hence your husband came, there was Ignatius, who was cast to the 
 Hons ; 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 ucterly 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 
 jtill 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 that's the way to uphold it. 
 
 iar to Christians in Bunyan's day, as 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; Philem. 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 hospitaUty, 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 
 lounger children with "milk," the elders 
 
 with " butter and honey." He gives them 
 the "apples" of the Lord's love, and then 
 "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 S lay- 
 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 sort. 
 
■♦» 
 
 376 
 
 The Pilgrims Progress. 
 
 And, Christiana, said this inn-keeper, I am glad to see thee and 
 thy friend Mercy here together, a lovely couple. And may I advise. 
 Take Mercy into a nearer relation 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 on oehalf 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 might 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 when he was going to the cross, and 
 women that followed him from the cross, and that sat over against 
 his sepulchre when 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 life (Matt. 27 : 55-61 ; Luke 7 : 37-50 ; 
 8 : 2, 3 ; 23:27; 24 : 22, 23 ; John 2:3:11:2). 
 
 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. Heathendom 
 has degraded her ; and even Judaism re- 
 stricted her rights. 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 Pilgrims. 
 
 377 
 
 Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of this forerun- 
 ner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater appetite to my food than 
 I had before. 
 
 Gal 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-breast 
 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 ; Heb. 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 Gains 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 Gains said. Let the boys 
 havethat," that they may grow thereby" (i Peter 2 : i, 2). Then they 
 brought up in course, a dish of butter and honey. Then said Gains, 
 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 
 Ihereby helped to establish woman's claim 
 to that reverence, honor, love, and admir- 
 ation, which they universally receive in all 
 Christian lands. 
 
 Yes, the women 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 in 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 flowing 
 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 theii 
 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 hngered 
 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 
 were earlv 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. Thb 
 preparation for the feast is not the festival. 
 The cloth and the trenchers and the trap- 
 
378 
 
 The Pilgrinis Progress. 
 
 THE PILGRIMS' SUPPER. 
 
 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? 
 
 ^"^^en said Gains : 
 
 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- 
 
Holy Conversation, 
 
 379 
 
 other dish, and It was a dish of nuts (Song of Sol. 6: 1 1). Then 
 said some at the table, Nuts spoil tender teeth, 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 Father's 
 kingdom. 
 
S80 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 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, I will have them to 
 bed. So she had them to bed, and 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- 
 lowed 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. 
 
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 v/ay 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 with 
 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 *"'ith to see if it can do any good. 
 
382 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 sap and spirit of religion. To the second, I say, the words are 
 spoken in the person of unbeHevers, who, because they want the 
 eye tliat can see into our Prince's heart, therefore they judge of him 
 by the meanness of his outside. Just Hke 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 well 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 brought 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 the^ 
 yvanted. 
 
 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 still 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 tlie Ciospel, but spread 
 them abroad to others. Like stars, we are 
 not only to receive light, but also to reflect 
 light. Sonietimcs opportunities are put in 
 Dur way f r doing good, and sometimes for 
 preventing evil. In one place an "open 
 and effectual door" may beset before us; 
 "nd iii another, some giant impediment — 
 jome modem Si,AY good — may have to be 
 ■enioved ere the Gospel- words' works can 
 
 enter. There are ample scope and work 
 enough for all. 
 
 Theieare some who say that by the "giants" 
 of the Pilgrim's Progress, Bunyan always 
 means to indicate the persecuting power 
 of the period in which his lot was cast. This 
 may be so ; but it does not exclude other in- 
 terpretations. For example: this fierce Giant 
 though slain by Great-heart, lives still in 
 his posterity. Many a Slay-good still holds 
 in bondage many a Feeble-mind, furnish- 
 
b 
 
884 The 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 
 fly 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 Feeble-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, where 1 
 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 but crawl, 
 spend my life in the pilgrim's way. When I came at the gate 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 my 
 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 bid me be of good cheer, and 
 said that it was the will of their Lord that 'comfort" should be 
 given t( 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. Feeble-mind. — The nature of the 
 Slant 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 LiTTLF -FAITH of the former Part, and 
 that of Mr. Fearing and others in the 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- 
 
Mr. Feeble-niiiid 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 ; but 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 
 look 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 ? 
 
 Fee. 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 brother. He 
 and I have been much of a temper ; he was a little shorter 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. 
 
 Fee. 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 Gaius, 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 temptation ; the 
 root of the matter was still within him ; it 
 was his weakness, not his will, that caused 
 
 25 
 
 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. 
 
386 
 
 The PUgri7its 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 gc no 
 farther? Did he intend that, after he had rifled my pockets, 1 
 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, 
 
 Ofttimes 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 life to me. 
 
 Now about this time Matthew and Mercy were married ; als-j 
 Gaius gave his daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's brother, to wife; 
 alter 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 them 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 his 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-7-ight struck dead. — This man was 
 wholly wrong, hopelessly lost. Therefore, 
 being bad, he is far from the power of Slay- 
 good, and thus escapes only to fall a victim 
 to a severer stroke of j udgment. Of the two , 
 the Giant would rather have Feeble-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 — Matthew is 
 married to Mercy ; and Phebe, the daughter 
 of Gaius, is married to James. These mar- 
 
Tlie Pilgrims take leave of Gains. 
 
 387 
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF MATTHEW AND MERCY. 
 
 Then Gaiustook his leave of them all, and his children, and par- 
 ticularly of Mr. Feeble-mind; he also gave him something to drink 
 by the way. 
 
 Now Mr. Feeble-mind, when they were gone out at the door, 
 made as if he intended to linger ; the which when Mr. Great-heart 
 espied, he said, Come, Mr. Feeble-mind, pray do you go along with 
 us ; I will be your conductor, and you shall fare as the rest. 
 
 Fee. Alas ! I want a suitable companion ; you are all lusty and 
 strong ; but I, as you see, am weak; I choose, therefore, rather to 
 come behind, lest by reason of my infirmities, I should be both a 
 
 riages are undoubtedly "in the Lord." 
 When pilgrims thus intermarry, they prove 
 mutually helpful in the way of pilgrimage. 
 Pay from the Good So.vtaritan. — This is a 
 beautiful allusion to the parable of our Lord, 
 and shows that if Gaius " kept an inn " for 
 
 the refreshment of pilgrims, it was not for 
 purposes of worldly gain, and that the en- 
 tertainment there was purely of a spiritual 
 character. It is a comforting thought to the 
 wayfarers of the road that they are spirit- 
 ually cared for and supported at the King's 
 
388 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress, 
 
 burdt^n to myself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of a weak and 
 feeble mind, and shall be offended and made weak at that which others 
 :an bear. I shcdl like no laughing ; I shall like no gay attire ; I sliall 
 like no unprofitable questions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be 
 offended with that which others have a liberty to do. I do not know 
 all the truth ; I am a very ignorant Christian man. Sometimes, x'i I 
 hear any rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me because I cannot do so 
 too. It is with me as it is with a weak man among the strong, or as 
 with a sick man among the healthy, or as "a lamp despised ; " so that 
 I kr.ow not what to do. " He that is ready to slip with his feet, is as 
 a lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease" (Job 12: 5). 
 
 But, brother, said Mr. Great-heart, I have it in commission to 
 "comfort the feeble-minded," and "to support the weak." You 
 must needs go along with us ; we will wait for you ; we will lend you 
 our help; we will deny ourselves of some things, both opinionative 
 and practical, foryour sake; we will not enter into "doubtful dis- 
 putations" before you ; we will be " made all things" to you, rather 
 than you shall be left behind (i Cor. 7 ; Rom. 14). 
 
 Now all this while they were at Gaius's door ; and behold, as 
 they were thus in the heat of their discourse, Mr. Ready-to-halt came 
 by, with his crutches in his hand, and he also was going on pilgrim- 
 age (Ps. 38: 17). 
 
 Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, How camest thou hither? 
 I was but now complaining that I had not a suitable companion ; but 
 
 charges ; that their supply of " daily bread " 
 comes from his bountiful hand ; and that by 
 his care they are brought on their way to the 
 Better Land. So they purpose to proceed 
 upon their journey 
 
 Feeble-mind intended to linger. — How 
 touching is this story of poor Feeble-mind ! 
 Although he is in this iDrave company, yet 
 he feels worse than if he were alone. He is 
 so weak, and they are so strong, he cannot 
 but feel a want of sympathy with his own 
 state and experience. He is a type of that 
 class of Christian men who are of weak and 
 tender conscience, easily offended and made 
 weak. The Christian liberty of other men 
 stumbles him. He therefore feels that he 
 may prove but a burden to his fellow-pil- 
 ^"riins, and longs for some companion of 
 5 ke spirit with his own, with whom he might 
 keep easy pace in the path of the pilgrimage. 
 
 But see how Great-heart deals with his 
 weak brother ! This bold, brave, lion-hearted 
 man stoops to the necessities of his feeble- 
 minded comrade ; and, in his answer, he 
 gives expression to the very spirit of the 
 Gospel of the grace of God. In a body con- 
 stituted as is the Church of Christ on earth, 
 there are diversities of character ; some are 
 weak and some are strong. Now, plainly, 
 the strong must have some duty to perform 
 towards those that are weak. St. Paul pro- 
 vides for this. He tells us that conscience 
 must be the judge for each man's conduct. 
 But if there should come a conflict of con- 
 sciences — the strong and the weak — what 
 then ? Is the strong man's conscience, by 
 reason of its strength, to overbear the con- 
 science of the weak? No; rather must the 
 strong man's conscience yield to the con- 
 science of the weak, lest a stumbling-block 
 
Mr. Ready-to-halt joins the Pilgrims. 389 
 
 thou art according to my wish. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. 
 Ready-to-halt ; I hope thou and I may be some help. 
 
 I shall be glad of thy company, said the other ; and, good Mr. 
 Feeble-mind, rather than we will part, since we are thus happily met, 
 I will lend thee one of my crutches. 
 
 Fee. Nay; though I thank thee for thy good will, I am not in- 
 clined to halt before I am lame. Howbeit, I think when occasion is, 
 it may help me against a dog. 
 
 Ready. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a pleasure, 
 we are both at thy command, good Mr. Feeble-mind. 
 
 Thus, therefore, they went on. Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Hon- 
 est went before, Christiana and her children went next, and Mr. 
 Feeble-mind came behind, and Mr. Ready-to-halt with his crutches. 
 Then said Mr. Honest,, Pray, sir, now we are upon the road, tell us 
 some profitable things of some that have gone on pilgrimage before us. 
 
 Great. With a good will. I suppose you have heard how 
 Christian of old did meet with Apollyon in the Valley of Humilia- 
 tion, and also what hard work he had to go through the Valley of the 
 Shadow of Death. Also I think you cannot but have heard how 
 Faithful was put to it by Madam Wanton, with Adam the First, with 
 one Discontent, and Shame — four as deceitful villains as a man can 
 meet with upon the road. 
 
 Hon. Yes, I believe I have heard of all this ; but indeed good 
 Faithful was hardest put to it with Shame ; he was an unwearied one. 
 
 Great. Aye ; for as the pilgrim well said. He of all men had 
 the wrong name. 
 
 Hon. But pray, sir, where was it that Christian and Faithful met 
 Talkative ? that same was also a notable one. 
 
 be cast in the way of a weak brother for 
 whom Christ hath died. Great-heart has 
 learned this great principle of the Gospel ; 
 and, accordingly, he pronounces himself 
 ready to stoop very low, and to resign many 
 things, and to exercise great forbearance of his 
 Chiistian liberty, rather than this man should 
 be left behind, or be caused, by his example, 
 to stumble in the way. We have all much 
 to learn from this exercise of the Christian 
 liberty of Great-heart, the brave conductor 
 of the pilgrimage. 
 
 Ready-to-halt came by. — Notwithstanding 
 
 God's mercy grants the wish of the feeble 
 Pilgrim ; and, lo ! as they are debating, one 
 came by, whose name is Readv-to-halt. 
 This man leans upon crutches, and, though 
 weak, is yet consistently pursuing his pil- 
 grimage. 
 
 In a side-note, Bunyan interprets the 
 " crutches " to mean " the Promises," upon 
 which this halting Christian has learned to 
 lean and to support himself. Here, then, is 
 a companion who will walk with Feeble- 
 mind, and enter into the feeling of his in- 
 firmities, and thoroughly sympathize with 
 
 Great-heart's willingness to conform in all him in his lowly state and condition. And 
 things to Mr. Feeble-mind's necessities, yet both these men. naturally and constitution- 
 
390 
 
 The Pilgrim'' s Progress. 
 
 Great. He was a confident fool ; yet many follow his ways. 
 
 Hon. He had liked to have beguiled Faithful. 
 
 Great. Aye, but Christian put him into a way quickly to find 
 him out. 
 
 Thus they went on till they came to the place where Evangelist 
 met with Christian and Faithful, and prophesied to them what 
 should befall them at Vanity Fair, 
 
 Then said their Guide, Hereabouts did Christian and Faithful 
 meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to them of what troubles they 
 should meet with at Vanity Fair. 
 
 Hon. Say you so ? I dare say it was a hard chapter then that 
 he did read unto them. 
 
 Great. It was so ; but he gave them encouragement withal. 
 But what do we talk of them ? They were a couple of lion-like men ; 
 they had set their faces like flints. Do not you remember how un- 
 daunted they were when they stood before the judge ? 
 
 Hon. Well, F^aithful bravely suffered. 
 
 Great. So he did, and as brave things came of it ; for Hopeful 
 and some others, as the story relates it, were converted by his death. 
 
 Hon. Well, but pray go on ; for you are well acquainted with 
 thincrs. 
 
 Great. Above all that Christian met with after he had passed 
 through Vanity Fair, one By-ends was the arch one. 
 
 Hon. By-ends ! What was he ? 
 
 Great. A very arch fellow, a downright hypocrite ; one that 
 would be religious which way soever the world went ; but so cunning, 
 that he would be sure neither to lose nor suffer for it. He had his 
 mode of religion for every fresh occasion ; and his wife was as good 
 at it as he. He would turn from opinion to opinion ; yea, and plead 
 for so doing, too. But, so far as I could learn, he came to an ill end 
 with his by-ends ; nor did I ever hear if any of his children were ever 
 of any esteem with any that truly feared God. 
 
 ally feeble and halting, will be made strong, 
 and be brought on their way by the friendly 
 aid and Christian forbearance of their 
 stronger companions, who have meekly 
 
 learned the great Gospel duty — "To the 
 weak became I as weak, that I might gain 
 the weak ; I am made all things to all men, 
 that I might by all means save some '' 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Vanity Fair and Mr. Mnason's House. 
 
 Onwarsj *tjll moves the company of the Second Pilgrimage ; and now, without hurt 
 or damage, without any serious downfall or drawback, they approach, under the bravc 
 coz-'duct of their guide, to the vicinity of Vanity Fair. 
 
 low by this time they were come within sight of the towr. 
 of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept. So, when they savv 
 that they were so near the town, they consulted with one 
 another how they should pass through the town; and some 
 said one thing, and some another. At last Mr. Great- 
 heart said, I have, as you may understand, often been a conductor of 
 pilgrims through this town; now, I am acquainted with one Mr. Mna- 
 son, a Cyprusian by nation and an old disciple, at whose house we 
 may lodge. If you think good, we will turn in there. 
 
 Content, said old Honest ; Content, said Christiana ; Content, 
 said Mr. Feeble-mind ; and so they said all. Now you must think it 
 was eventide by that they got to the outside of the town ; but Mr. 
 Great-heart knew the way to the old man's house. So thither they 
 came ; and he called at the door, and the old man within knew his 
 tongue as soon as ever he heard it ; so he opened, and they all came 
 in. Then said Mnason, their host. How far have you come to-day ? 
 So they said, From the house of Gains, your friend. I promise you, 
 said he, you have come a good stretch ; you may well be weary ; sit 
 down. So they sat down. 
 
 They consulted with one another. — The 
 Pilgrims are nearing a point of danger — 
 danger hitherto attaching to both body and 
 soul. In anticipation of possible perils, they 
 take counsel together. They have the fate 
 of Faithful and the experience of Chris- 
 tian before their eyes ; and it needs some 
 forethought and preparation before they 
 commit themselves to like protests and perils 
 of the town of Vanity. On the eve of some 
 great battle, a council of war is held ; in 
 prospect of some vast expedition, the pro- 
 jectors take mutual counsel and advice. So, 
 
 in advance of spiritual dangers and tests, it 
 behooves the wayfaring Pilgrims to advise 
 with each other in godly and spiritual con- 
 sultation. 
 
 One Mnason, a Cyprusian. — How com- 
 fortable to know that in this godless town 
 there is a home for the Christian, a commun- 
 ion-place for Pilgrims, an altar erected to 
 the Lord of all ! There was a time when 
 former Pilgrims found in it no home, no 
 friend, no sweet communion of faithful men. 
 In those days there were but rage and hatred 
 and ungoverned fury against the servants of 
 
 (391) 
 
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The Pilgrims abide in Vaiiity Fair. 
 
 S93 
 
 Then said their guide, Come, what cheer, good sirs ? I dare say 
 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 get 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 togedier, 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 ? 
 
 Mnas. We have a few ; for indeed they are but a few, when com- 
 pared with them on the other side. 
 
 Hon. 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. 
 But 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 Goshen, not dwell- 
 ing among the Egyptians. Within the 
 walls some possibly may live, and all may 
 be obUged 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 ourselves into the peace and quietude 
 of Christian fellowship; and there, apart 
 from the busy haunts of men, and away from 
 the distracting occupations of our own hves, 
 to hold communion with our God 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 
 
394 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 Then said Mr. Mnason, their landlord : My neighbors, I Kave. 
 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 
 tliey stood amazed, saying, We little 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 this, 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, but yet 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 waning. Fellow-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- 1 
 ceive light and reflect light; thus shedding 
 their bright but borrowed rays down upon 
 the dark pavements of human society — 
 
 "Nor let the meanest think 
 His lamp too dim; 
 In this dark world 
 The Lord hath need of him." 
 
 Some notable rubs. — The Pilgrims com- 
 
Friends in Vmitty Fair, 
 
 395 
 
 CONTRITE AND HONEST CONVERSE. 
 
 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 rising seeds of in- 
 dwelling sin. Holy-man would have us to 
 be separate from sinners, and, for this pur- 
 
396 
 
 The Pilgrims 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. We 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 " Gains 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 Gains 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 pracdse 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. 
 
 Then 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. 
 
 Then said Mr. Holy-man, There are two things that they have 
 need to be possessed of that go on pilgrimage — courage and an 
 unspotted life. 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 holiness — requirements 
 essentially needed in a world of sin and 
 strong temptation. Love-saints knows the 
 value of Christian fellowship ; and, seeing how 
 few the little flock 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 " the very bond of peace and 
 of all virtues." Dare-not-lie abhors the 
 falsehoods 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 Sons. 
 
 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 comingf. 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 
 offended 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 Grace 
 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 
 
398 
 
 Thi 
 
 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 to 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, go 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-heart and 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 
 adventures. 
 
 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 woods. — 'Wn^ 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 supersti- 
 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 Dr Gibson, Bishop of London, 
 and recently reissued in a series of volumes, 
 entitled " Gibson's Preservative against 
 Popery." The writers of these works, no 
 
400 
 
 The Pilgrim s 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-halt 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 was put to death; therefore they made a stand, and thanked 
 Him that had enabled him to bear his cross so well ; and 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 Lucre, 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 hill 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- 
 ESTS of the day, who went forth to subdue 
 
 the spirit of the wrathful and destructive 
 monster of the woods. 
 
 I 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Delectable Mountains and the Shepherds. 
 
 This chapter contains a record of some bold exploits of the Pilgrim-band. Their 
 flumbers 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 pleasant 
 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, showing 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 gently 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 pleasan-t 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 little 
 ones of his flock. This allusion is suggested 
 by the circumstances of the Pilgrims — chil- 
 dren having been born to those God-fearing 
 
 26 
 
 (401) 
 
402 
 
 The 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 them 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 man will die before one 
 of those committed to his trust shall be lost. Besides, here they 
 shall be sure to have good nurture and admonition, and shall be 
 taught to walk 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 hospital 
 for young children 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 have, 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 Meadow to the stile. — How differ- 
 ent are the thoughts of different men at the 
 same point of the Pilgrimage ! We recall to 
 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 the 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 o/ 
 
Doubting Castle, 
 
 403 
 
 GREAT-HEART AND THE SONS OF CHRISTIANA DESTROY DOUBTING CASTLE. 
 
 Great-heart said, Though that 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 Despair? I will 
 therefore attempt the taking away of his life, and the demolishing 
 of Doubting Casde. 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 
 
404 
 
 The 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 back ; for in that place, though Giant Despair dwelt 
 so near, they keeping in the road, "a litde child might lead them" 
 (Isa. II : 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. 
 
 Now 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 Castle, 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 went up. — It is easy to awake the 
 Giant, and easy to provoke him ; but he must 
 be a brave man that can go up against him 
 and defy him. And even 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, through doubts and 
 fears, brings them into captivity. Whoso, 
 by putting forth a strong hand, destroys 
 
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 how full of dead men's bones the dungeon was. 
 
 When Mr. Great-heart and his companions had performed this 
 'exploit, they took 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 botde 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 that 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 
 
406 
 
 The Pilgrim s 
 
 Progress. 
 
 Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his eye 
 Up hither, may his scruples satisfy. 
 This head also, when doubting cripples dance. 
 Doth show from fears they have dehverance. 
 
 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 follow 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: 
 
 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 dehvered 
 by the Key of Promise from within ; but 
 Despondency and Much-afraid were de- 
 livered by the assault ot Great-heart from 
 without. "There are vMversities 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- 
 shepherds of the flock : they carry the weak 
 
The Pilgrifus 07i the Delectable Mountains. 
 
 407 
 
 (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 clay 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 diseased 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 was 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 
 'lepherds are the pastors of the flock, the 
 •ninisters 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 nfifright 
 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 
 
408 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 pilgrim show to believe, or to tumble out of their ways what difficul- 
 ties they should meet with by faith (Mark ii : 23, 24). Then said 
 Mr. Great-heart, I 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 o-arment 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 his bundle or roll of cloth was never the less. Then sai^ 
 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 magnified and made 
 honorable. 
 
 Mount Imiocence. — " To keep himself un- 
 spotted from the world " is 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 charity " 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 
 
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 in 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 in pieces, 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, when 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 v/as one of a thousand. It would present a man, 
 
 never-failing supply, increased by the pro- 
 phet's Lord. 
 
 Fool attd 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 thr 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 pecuhar 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. Th( 
 Bible is the Christian's looking-glass, iiv 
 which he is to see, and read, and observe, 
 and know himself. It is a \r^« mirror, 
 and presents us to ourselves is we really 
 
410 
 
 The Pilgrim s 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 (James 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 lead the Ilible long 
 without being rewarded with the view of 
 Christ his Saviour. There is more about 
 Christ 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 tb«» 
 Saviour. 
 
The Looking-glass. 
 
 411 
 
 ven ; whether in a state of humihation 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, Watchful, 
 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. 
 
 Exp. 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 tlr 
 desired, and to their husbands great commendations, for that the^ 
 had joined with Mr. Great-heart in the slaying of Giant DespaL, 
 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 m 
 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: "Father, reveal thy Son!'' And 
 in the conversation on the Enchanted 
 Ground, this good man thus remarks : 
 •' Christ is so hid in God 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 hberty," 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 
 
412 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 ceived of the Shepherds, they had also lost by that the time was 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 fitly are the stages set 
 
 For their relief that pilgrims are become ; 
 I And how they receive us without one let, 
 
 . That make 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 himself to the 
 downward path. He now began 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 desperate 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. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Mr. Valiant-for-truth. 
 
 Christian valor, influenced and impelled by Christian doctrine, is the principle in. 
 culcated in the person of Valiant-for-truth, whose strife and conflict, consistency and 
 faith are here set forth as an illustration of the power of Divine grace, and as an example 
 to all who, receiving like faith and precious promises, would fight the good fight, endure to 
 the end, and finish their course with joy. 
 
 HEN they were gone from the shepherds, they quickly 
 came to the place where Christian met with one Turn- 
 away, that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. Wherefore 
 of him Mr. Great-heart, their guide, did now put them 
 in mind, saying, This is the place where Christian met 
 with one Turn-away, who carried with him the character of his re- 
 bellion at his back. And this I have to say concerning this man ; he 
 would harken to no counsel, but, once a falling, persuasion could not 
 stop him. When he came to the place where the cross and the 
 sepulchre were, he did meet with one that bid him look there ; but 
 he gnashed with his teeth, and stamped, and said he was resolved to 
 go back to his own town. Before he came to the gate, he met with 
 Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on him to turn him into the way 
 again ; but this Turn-away resisted him, and having done much de- 
 spite unto him, he got away over the wall, and so escaped his hand. 
 Then they went on ; and, just at the place where Little-faith for- 
 merly was robbed, there stood a man with his sword drawn, and his 
 face all covered with blood. Then said Mr. Great-heart, Who art 
 thou ? The man made answer, saying, I am one whose name is 
 Valiant-for-truth. I am a pilgrim, and am going to the Celestial City. 
 
 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 
 Little-faith had suffered loss. But 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 the 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) 
 
414 
 
 The Pilgriin 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 I 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 1 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, ojfficiotisly 
 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, hov.'ever, 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 
 
Xfi 
 
 W 
 X 
 
 >^ 
 
 PQ 
 
 H 
 W 
 en 
 
 W 
 CQ 
 
 g 
 
 O 
 
 l-l 
 
416 The Pitgrim's Progress, 
 
 Val. So I did, to my King, who I knew could hear me, and 
 afford invisible 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 man 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, 
 striving 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 ehcited 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 
 Ught had 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 Christian and his pilgrimage were 1 
 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- 
 
STAND-FAST AND MADAME BUBBLE. 
 
TURN-AWA^- ^AMLL NOT LISTEN TO EVANGELIST. 
 
Valiantfor4ruth 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 man, 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 
 far 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 
 
 87 
 
 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 
 
418 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progresif 
 
 Great. Do they think they shall kncA' tneri'iselves then, or that 
 they shall rejoice to see themselves in that bli^s? and, if 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, thouo^h 
 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 
 you any more things to ask me about my 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 slo^-h 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. tha 
 most dange»^ous 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. Name 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 ready in Beelzebub-castle to shoot them who should knock 
 at the Wicket-gate for entrance. They told me also of the wood and 
 dark mouni"ains, of the hill 1 )ifficulty, 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, wher( 
 
 inuendos, with nasrepresentations 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 
 
 stress is laid upon the misadventures of false 
 pilgrims. The lions and giants, of course, 
 form 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 
 
Dangers of the Way. 
 
 
 VALIANT RESISTS THE ENTREATIES OF HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 
 
 the hobgoblins are, where the Hght is darkness, where the way is full 
 of snares, pits, traps and gins. They told me also of Giant Despair, 
 of Doubting Casde, 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 ? Dc 
 they not accuse that way wrongfully, and lay 
 to its* charge things that belong not to it "i 
 
420 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 Great. But how did they make that out? 
 
 Val. They told me that Mr. Worldly-wiseman did he there in 
 wait to deceive. They said also that there were Formahty 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. 1 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 something of the glory there that so many had so much 
 talked of from dme to time ; and how they came back again, and 
 befooled themselves for setdng a foot out of doors in that path to the 
 sadsfaction 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 celesdal 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 
 the 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 the 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 belic7>ed this; his faith impelled him to 
 the pilgrimage, and hitherto had the Lord 
 helped him. 
 
Valiant's Belief in Tell-true. 
 
 421 
 
 Great. And did none of diese things discourage you? 
 
 Val. No ; diey seemed but so many nothings to me. 
 
 Great. How came that about ? 
 
 Val. Why, I sdll beheved 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 fright ; 
 
 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. 
 
 ^^^ 
 
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 Ground — (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 wrestling 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 very temptation that assails Stand-fasi 
 in this perilous place. Madam Bubble is the ably-drawn picture of the present evil world, 
 in its manifold and strong temptation of the fleshly nature 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 one 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 sleeps, it is a 
 question, say some, whether ever he shall rise or wake again in this 
 world. Over this forest therefore they went, both one and another. 
 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 
 
 The 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 stupefy 
 the soul, and to bring it into the captivity of 
 spiritual lethargy and unconcern. It repre- 
 
 (422) 
 
 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 God. The stumblings and downfalls 
 of the Pilgrims indicate the dangers of such 
 
423 
 
424 
 
 The Unchanted 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 they 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 greens, 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 hfe, 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 
 
MR. GREAT-HEART. 
 
 425 
 
426 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 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, 
 though when it was lio-ht 
 their guide could well 
 enoucrh tell how to miss 
 those ways that led wrong, 
 yet 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 groes 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- 
 a])ility 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 with 
 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. 
 
 Then 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. 
 
Heedless mid 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 to 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 rot 
 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 (for the guide, it seems, did know them), but there was no 
 voice nor answer. Then the guide did shake them, and did what 
 he could to disturb them. Then said one of them, I will pay yoi: 
 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 laughed. 
 
 Then said Christiana, What is the meanino- 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, when 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- 
 
 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 
 to 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 upoi 
 the eyehds 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, but stepped short. He 
 was hot while he ran, but he was quickly 
 out of breath." This is a timely admonition 
 
428 
 
 The Pilgrims Progress. 
 
 herency in their words now, as there was before betwixt their going 
 on pilgrimage and sitting down here. This, then, is the mischief ot 
 ^t ; when heedless ones go on pilgrimage, 'tis twenty to one but they 
 
 are served thus. F"or 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 as 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 1:19). 
 
 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 before them ; 
 and behold they saw, as they thought, a man upon his knees, 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 
 (thereabout I dwelt ; his name is Stand-fast ; he is certainly a right 
 ^ood 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 of 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-J 
 eth ! " What darkness hath befallen him ; 
 what danger threatened him ; what sore 
 
430 The Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 amiss, said Stand-fast, how happy am I ; but, if I be not as I should, 
 it is I alone must bear it. That is true, said the other ; but your 
 fear doth further confirm me that things are rio^ht 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 upon thy knees jven 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 there; 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 ? Stand-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 his battles bravely. 
 But he is now walking amid the enchant- 
 ments of earthly scenes ; and, lo, 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 ! " 
 
 This phantom world, 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. 
 
 43 i 
 
 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 asked 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 knees, 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, bhndness, 
 and cnptivity Had the strong Samson 
 krelt 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. 
 
432 
 
 The Pilgrijns Progress. 
 
 you talk of her, methinks I either have seen her, or have read some 
 story of lier. 
 
 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. Tliis 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 not 
 fascinated by her wiles, nor yet enchanted 
 
 by her spells. Betake you to your knees in 
 prayer, that ye may be " able to withstand 
 in the evil day, and having done all, to 
 stand" (Eph. 6: 13). 
 
Great-heart desciibes the Wantons Snares. 
 
 433 
 
 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 
 of 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 miorht 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 
 chat 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 hving 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 
 
 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 with reasons not unplausiole. 
 Wind me into the easy-hearted man, 
 And hug him into snares." 
 
 28 
 
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 foimer Part. 
 The group that has been gradually enlarging is now about to break up and to dissolve into 
 the Invisible. In the portraiture of this concluding stage, the Dreamer summons to his aid 
 all his powers of imagery and description. A perspective opens upon the view — a continu- 
 ous series of scenes, as the Pilgrim-band breaks up, piecemeal, one by one. Gathered 
 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. 
 
 ^^^p^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, diey 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 
 
 The Lmid 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 ' jrdan rolls between." 
 
 (434) 
 
436 
 
 The Pilgrim s 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 their 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 flo wings, and what ebbings it has 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 
 appointed 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 City, 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 the 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- 
 senger 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 love. 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 
 
Christiajia s htjuiictionS. 
 
 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 liad 
 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 these 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 true-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. 
 
 things to say, many messages to leave, 
 many adieus to present to those 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 
 
438 
 
 The 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 you 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 ot his goodness, 
 before he sends for thee ; lest thou shouldst, when he comes, 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 Hfe 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 hii.' 
 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-miiid crosses the River. 439 
 
 said, 1 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, 'T 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. Feeble- 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 his days ; but withal he 
 had been faithful to his King. Fo*- this he 
 
 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 humble-minded man is 
 now the message sent — " Friend, come up 
 
 is rewarded at the last, and, as a sickly- higher i" He invokes " faith and patience ' 
 
440 The Pilgrim s Progress. 
 
 the day being come in which he was to depart, he entered the rivei 
 as the rest. His last words were, Hold out, faith and patience! So 
 he went over to the other side. 
 
 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 tobeaburden unto him" (Eccles. 12: 5). Now Mr. Despond- 
 ency's daughter, whose name was Much-afraid, said, when she 
 heard what was done, that she 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 with you, they are 
 ghosts which we entertained when we first began to be 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! Welcome, day! His daughter went through the 
 river sineinof, 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 with him to the last, and passes to 
 the other side. 
 
 Despo.ndency and Much-afraid. — Born of 
 the same blood, characterized by the same 
 spiiit, bound once in the same bondage of 
 Doubting Castle, " in death they were not 
 divided. ' And in putting off this mortality 
 an 1 the fleshly raiment, they put off also 
 their doubts and fears. The seeds of doubt 
 h:ul lingered to the last. The iron of despair 
 had entered into their soul, and the marks 
 of their bondage were never wholly 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 welcome with joy and singing the eternal 
 day, whose sunrising shall know no sunset. 
 Mr. Honest. — Thou brave Pilgrim ! Jor- 
 dan this day has overflowed its banks, and 
 its fords are deep, and its swellings high. 
 But thou art strong to breast its waves and 
 to cross its floods ! " Good-conscience " is 
 thy succor, and "Grace reigns" thy battle- 
 cry. Pass safely to thy rest ! As a brave, 
 manly Pilgrim, "old father Honest" has 
 fought the good fight, has discomfited many 
 a foe, and by his true faith and honest walk 
 
442 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progj'ess. 
 
 where he was, and dehvered to his hands these Hnes: 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. hlonest called for his friends, and 
 said unto them, I die, but shall make no will. As for my honesty, h 
 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, and lent him his hand, and so helped him over. The last 
 words of Mr. Honest were, Grace reigns ! So he left the world. 
 
 After this, it was noised about that Mr. Valiant-for-truth was 
 sent for by a summons by the same post as the other, and had this 
 for a token that the summons was true, that "his pitcher 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 him that shall succeed me in my pilgrim- 
 age, and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My marks 
 and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought 
 his battles who now will be my rewarder. 
 
 When the day that he must go hence was come, many accom- 
 panied him to the river-side, into which as he went he said. Death, 
 where is thy sting ? And as he went down deeper, he said. Grave, 
 where is thy victory? So he passed over, and all the trumpets 
 sounded for him on the other side. 
 
 Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Stand-fast. This Mr. 
 Stand-fast was he whom the pilgrims found upon his knees in the 
 
 and cheerful countenance he has tended 
 much to mitigate the sorrows and the trials 
 of the Pilgrim-company. These men of 
 s^enerous heart and large experience are 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 cloud 
 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 that it is Victory 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 vahant soldiers 
 of the King — even "the sword of the Spirit, 
 which is the Word of God." 
 
 Mr. Stand-fast. — Last of all, the message 
 comes for Stand-fast, and he obeys the 
 
Mr. S^/ajid-fasfs Parting Words. 
 
 443 
 
 Enchanted G'r'and ; and the post brought it him open in his hands. 
 The contents whereof were, that he must prepare for a change of hfe, 
 for his Master was not wilhng 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 of Christian and Christiana his 
 wife, and how she and her children came after her husband. Tell 
 tl sm 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 
 ■\nd 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 ilood, 
 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 let my last end be Uke 
 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 them away, 
 to follow those 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 sight. The finishing touch of the inimit- 
 able pencil of the Allegorist shades off the 
 things of earth into the things of heaven, 
 and merges that 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:— 
 Saviour and Lord ! with Thy frail child abide ! 
 Guide me toward Home, where, all my wanderings 
 ending, 
 I shall see Thee, and shall be satisfied ! " 
 
444 The Pilg7i?N's Progress. 
 
 Nc>w there was a great calm at that time in the river ; wherefore l^.Tr, 
 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. I 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 I delight myself. I have loved to hear my Lord 
 spoken of; and wherever 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 more 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 city. 
 
 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 be 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. 
 
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." 
 
 Macmilat. 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
©I^e "bife o^ (^oRn. Si)un^art, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 N this my relation of the merciful working of God upon 
 my soul, it will not be amiss if, in the first place, 1 do, in 
 a few words, give you a hint of my pedigree, and manner 
 of bringing up ; that thereby the goodness and bount) of 
 God towards me may be the more advanced and inagni- 
 :^ed 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 dtvil, 
 "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) 
 
148 Life of 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 
 da)- 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 afflicted 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 there 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 
 fiesh 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 
 
Life of Bimyan, 
 
 449 
 
 BUNYAN'S BIRTHPLACE. 
 
 ways (Job 21 : 14, 15). I was now void of all good consideration ; 
 heaven and hell were both out of sig-ht and mind ; and as for savino- 
 and damnino-, 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 
 
450 
 
 Life of Bwiyan. 
 
 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. 
 
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 would 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 little 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. 
 
 (451) 
 
452 Life 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 
 IsraeHtes or no ? For, finding in the Scriptures that they were once 
 the pecuHar 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 the 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 
 
Life of Btmyatt. 453 
 
 the Lord Jesus looking down upon me, as being very hody 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 
 nie, 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 can 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 presently 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 these things I protest, before God, I He 
 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, therefore, 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- 
 
464 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 litde 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, for I thought that could never be. 
 
 But how it came to pass I know not, I did from this time for- 
 ward so leave 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. AH this while I knew not Jesus Christ, 
 neither did I leave my sports and plays. But quickly after this I fell 
 into company with one poor man that made profession of religion, 
 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 away 
 with them, being as yet ignorant either of the corruption of my nature 
 or of the want and worth of Jesus Christ to save 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 rr« ch 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 began 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 
 a poor painted hypocrite, yet I liked to be talked of as one 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 
 I continued for about a twelvemonth or more. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 OW, you must know, that before this I had taken much de- 
 Hght in ringing, but my conscience beginning to be tender, 
 I thought such practice was but vain, and therefore forced 
 myself to Jeave 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 thp: bells should fall ? Then I chose to stand 
 under a main beam th^t lay over-thwart the steeple, from side to 
 side, thinking here I might sf^and 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 no»v, thought I, I am safe enough ; for if the 
 bell should then fall, I can si*p out behind these thick walls, and ?>o 
 be preserved notwithstanding. 
 
 So, after this, I would yet go to see them ring, but would not go 
 any further than the steeple-d-oor; but then it came into my head, 
 how if the steeple itself should fa'l ? And this thought (it may be, for 
 aught I know, when I stood and hoked on) did continually so shake 
 my mind, that I durst not stand a.C the steeple-door any longer, bu*" 
 was forced to flee, for fear the steeplr* should fall upon my head. 
 
 Another thing was my dancing. I was full a year before I could 
 quite leave that. But all this while, 'W^hen I thought I kept this or 
 that command, or did, by word or dec^d, any thing I thought wa.* 
 good, I had great peace in conscience, and would think with myself, 
 God cannot chose but be now pleased witJ^ me ; yea, to relate it in 
 my own way, I thought no man in England could please God bette* 
 than I. But, poor wretch as I was, I was all th's while ignorant oi 
 Jesus Christ, and going about to establish my ovn righteousness, 
 and had perished therein, had not God, in mercy, si^owed 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 nes'r to heal 
 
 (456) 
 
Life of Btmyan. 
 
 457 
 
 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 ; they 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 
 temptations 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 riofht- 
 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 women 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 
 
458 Life of Bimyan. 
 
 enter 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 aboui 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 Btmyan. 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 little time I should see all professors turn to 
 'he 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 in religion formerly, yet were 
 also drawn away by these Ranters. These would also talk with me 
 of their ways, and condemn me as legal 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 m-- '\\\ r'ose days. 
 
 And now, methought, 1 ' ■ • look into the Bible with new 
 
460 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 eyes, and read as I never did before, and especially the Epistles 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 I, 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 my 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 thougfh I endeavored at the first to look over the busi- 
 ness of faith, yet in a litde time, I better considermg the matter, was 
 willing to put myself upon a trial whether I 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. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BOUT 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). But, 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 
 'only room for body and soul, but not for body, and soul, and 
 sin. This resemblance abode upon my spirit many days ; all which 
 time I saw myself in a forlorn and sad condition, but yet was 
 provoked to a vehement hunger and desire to be one of that 
 
 (462) 
 
Life of Bunyan. 468 
 
 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 fifty-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 was 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 litde thought that Satan had thus assaulted me, but that 
 rather it was my own prudence thus to start 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 
 
464 Life 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, that 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 ; 
 that word doth still ofttimes shine before my face. 
 
 After this, that other doubt did come with strength upon me : 
 But hov/ if the day of grace should be past and gone ? How if you 
 have overstood the time of mercy? Now I remember that oncj 
 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 
 
Life of Bunyan, 465 
 
 already, they were all that God would save in those parts ; and that 
 I 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 trifle 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, knowing that the time 
 would come 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 verily 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 
 
466 Life 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 God ; 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 with 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. 
 
 Here 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 gladly would 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 m-? 
 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, ^or 
 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, \ 
 think , from little grounds. But he invited me to his house, where } 
 should hear him confer with others about the dealings of God with 
 their souls ; from all which 1 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 to work at that 
 rate as it never did before. Now I evidently found that lust and cor- 
 ruptions 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 would 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 to 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 worse ; now I am further 
 from conversion than ever I was before ; wherefore I began to sink 
 greatly in my soul, and began to entenain such discouragement in my 
 
468 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 heart as laid me as low as hell. If now I should have burned at the 
 stake, I could not believe that Christ had a love forme. Alas! I could 1 
 neither hear him, nor see him, nor feel him, nor savor any of his i 
 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, j 
 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 du rst 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 did or said ! ! 
 I found myself as in a miry bog that shook if I did but stir, and I 
 was as there left both of God and Christ, and the Spirit, and all good I 
 things. 
 
 But, I observed, though I 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 nowhere 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 
 
Life of Bunyan. 469 
 
 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. I 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 thiy 
 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 punishment 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 
 
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. 
 
 ^^=^8^ 
 ^*?^ 
 
 *i 
 
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 little 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) 
 
472 Life of Bimyan. 
 
 capable to have understood me; wherefore I said in my soul with 
 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 
 o-reat 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 I 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 f-^ble and 
 cunning story, than the holy and pure word of God. 
 
Life of Bu7iyan. 473 
 
 The tempter would also much assault me with this : How can 
 you tell but that the Turks had as good Scriptures to prove their 
 Mahomet the Saviour as we have to prove our Jesus? and could I 
 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 aroue atrainst these sua-- 
 gestions, and to set some of the sentences of blessed 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 subtle 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 gavj 
 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 spittle ; 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, 
 
474 Life of Bimyan. 
 
 no love, nor peace, nor gracious disposition could I feel widiln me. 
 These things did sink me into very dt^ep 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. Tliere 
 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, nori 
 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, 
 
Life of Btcnyan. 47b 
 
 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 get rid of these 
 things, I could not. While this temptation lasted, which was about 
 a year, I could attend upon none of the ordinances of God, but with 
 sore and great affliction ; yea, then I was most distressed with blas- 
 phemies ; if I had been hearing the Word, then uncleanness, 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 gready 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 fancy 
 the form of a bush, a bull, a besom, or the like, as if I 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 
 
4?6 Life of Btmyan. 
 
 Then hath the tempter come upon me, also, with such discour- 
 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 ? " 
 
Life of Bunyan, 477 
 
 (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 wickedness and blasphemy of my heart, and consider- 
 ing the enmity that 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. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ^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 any 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 pertained to God's glory and my own eternal happiness, he 
 would suffer me to be without the confirmation thereof from heaven ; 
 for now 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 is 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 5:1). 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 his ascension and second 
 coming from heaven to judge the world. 
 
 Truly I then found, upon this account, the great God was very 
 good unto me ; for to my remembrance, there was not anything that 
 I dien 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 Je ;,us, but I was orderly let into it ; methought I saw with great 
 evidence, from the four Evangelists, the wonder^"! v'orks of God, in 
 
 (478) 
 
Life of Bunyan. 479 
 
 giving Jesus Christ to save us, from liis conception and birth, even 
 to his second coming to judgment ; methought 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 crucified, 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 Pet. i: 20). When I have considered, also, the 
 truth of his resurrection, 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 from 
 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 ot 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 this 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 Mighty 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 tw ? 
 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 the Scripture that did wonderfully maintain it. 
 
 The errors that this people then maintained were: 
 
 (i) That the Holy Scriptures were not the work of God. 
 
 (2) That every man in the world had the spirit of Christ, grace, 
 faith, etc. 
 
480 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 (3) That Christ Jesus, 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 greatly 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 wull 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 
 
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 greatly 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 streng-th 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. 
 
482 Life of 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. For after the Lord had in this 
 manner thus graciously delivered me from this great and sore tempta- 
 tatlon, and set me down so sweetly In the faith of his holy Gospel, 
 and had o-Iven me such strong consolation and blessed evidence from 
 heaven, touching my interest In his love through Christ, the 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 who 
 were once effectually in Christ, as I hoped through his grace I had 
 seen miyself, I could never lose him forever : " For the land shall not 
 be sold for ever, for the land is mine, saith God" (Lev. 25 : 23), yet 
 It was a continual vexation to me, to think that I should have so 
 much as one such thought within me against a Christ, a Jesus, who 
 had done for me as he had done ; and yet then I had almost 
 none others but such blasphemous ones. 
 
 But it was neither my dislike of the thought, nor yet any desire and 
 endeavor to resist it, that in the least did shake or abate the contin- 
 
Life Of Bunyan. 483 
 
 uation, Ot i-.i^e 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 this, or sell Christ for that ; sell him, sell him. Sometimes it 
 would run in my thoughts not so litde as a hundred times together: 
 Sell him, sell him ; against which I may say, for whole hours to- 
 gether, I have been forced to stand as continually 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 fas( 
 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 .^t 
 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 mu:;h 
 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 last, after much striving, even until I was almost 
 out of breath, I felt this thought pass through myheart : Let him go 
 
484 Life 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 of 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 tor 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 birthriglit ; 
 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 
 
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 begfan 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 found 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 1 
 evf r 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 
 
486 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 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 resolvings 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, being loath and unwilling to perish, I began to compare 
 my sin with others, to see if I could find that any of those that were 
 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. I 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, I 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 still, 
 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. , , 
 
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, too, after warning given him. 
 I also considered that he did 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 
 flame out and afflict 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 other 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 perdition. 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 
 before 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) 
 
488 Life of Buiiyan. 
 
 ful of all God's ways to his people ! He would let David, Hezekiah, 
 Solomon, Peter, and others fall, but he would not let them fall into 
 the sin unpardonable, nor into hell for sin. Oh ! thought I, these 
 be the men that God hath loved ; these be the men that God, 
 though he chastiseth them, keeps them in safety by him ; and 
 them whom he makes to abide under the shadow of the Almighty. 
 But all these thoughts added sorrow, grief, and horror to me, as, 
 whatever I now thought on, it was killing me. If I thought how 
 God kept his own, that was killing to me ; if I thought of how I 
 was fallen myself, that was killing to me. As all things wrought 
 together for the best, and to do good to them that were the called 
 according to his purpose ; so I thought that all things wrought for 
 damage and for my eternal overthrow. 
 
 Then, again, I began to compare my sin with the sin of Judas, 
 that, if possible, I might find if mine differed from that, which in truth 
 is unpardonable; and oh ! thought I, if it should differ from it, though 
 but the breadth of a hair, what a happy condition is my soul in ! 
 And by considering, I found that Judas did his intentionally, but mine 
 was against prayer and strivings ; besides, his was committed with 
 such deliberation, but mine in a fearful hurry on a sudden. All this 
 while I was tossed to and fro like the locust, and driven from trouble 
 to sorrow; hearing always the sound of Esau's fall in mine ears, and 
 the dreadful consequences thereof. Yet this consideration about 
 Judas's sin was, for a while, some little relief to me ; for I saw I had 
 not, as to the circumstances, transgressed so fully as he. But this 
 was quickly gone again, for I thought with myself there might be 
 more ways than one to commit this unpardonable sin ; also I thought 
 there might be degrees of that, as well as of other transgressions ; 
 wherefore, for aught I yet could perceive, this iniquity of mine might 
 never be passed by. I was often now ashamed that I should be like 
 such an ugly man as Judas ; I thought also how loathsome I should 
 be unto all the saints in the day of judgment; insomuch that now I 
 could scarce see a good man that I believed had a good conscience, 
 but I should feel my heart tremble at him while I was in his presence. 
 Oh ! now I saw a glory in walking with God, and what a mercy it was 
 to have a good conscience before him. 
 
 I was much about that time tempted to content myself by re- 
 ceiving some false opinions : as that there should be no such thing as 
 a day of judgment ; that we should not rise again ; and that sin was 
 no such grievous thing ; the tempter suggested thus : For if these 
 
Life of Bunyan. 489 
 
 things should indeed be true, yet to believe otherwise would yield 
 you ease for the present. If you must perish, never torment your- 
 self so much beforehand; drive the thoughts of damning out of your 
 mind, by possessing your mind with some such conclusions that 
 Atheists and Ranters use to help themselves withal. But, oh ! when 
 such thoughts have fled through my heart, how, as it were, within a 
 step, have death and judgment been in my view ! Methought the 
 Judge stood at the door; I was as if come already, so that such things 
 could have no entertainment. But methinks I see by this, that Satan 
 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 mortal, 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 wringing 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 fall on those that 
 have sinned that most fearful and unpardonable sin. I felt also such 
 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). 
 
490 Life 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 
 he had charged on him for the blood of his brother Abel. Thus 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 : I once loved 
 him, feared him, served him ; but now I am a rebel. I have 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 I thought on, and would 
 labor hard to take thereof, that some, though small, refreshment 
 might have 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 I had thus considered the sins of the saints 
 m particular, and found mine went beyond them, then I began to 
 think with myself: Set the case as I should, put all theirs together, 
 and mine alone against them, might I not then find encouragement? 
 for if mine, though bigger than any one, yet should be equal to all, 
 then there is hope ; for that blood that hath virtue enough in it to 
 wash away all theirs, hath virtue enough in it to wash away mine, 
 though this one be full as big, if not bigger, than all theirs. Here 
 again I would consider the sin of David, of Solomon, of Manasseh, 
 of Peter, and the rest of the great offenders, and would also labor, 
 what I might with fairness, to aggravate and heighten their sins by 
 several circumstances. I would think with myself that David shed 
 blood to cover his adultery, and that by the sword the children of 
 Ammon ; a work that could not be done but by contrivance, which 
 was a great aggravation to his sin. But then this would turn upon 
 me. Ah ! but these were but sins against the law, from which there 
 was a Jesus sent to save them ; but yours is a sin against the Saviour, 
 and what shall save you from that ? 
 
 Then I thought of Solomon, and how he had sinned in loving 
 strange women, in falling away to their idols, in building them tem- 
 ples, in doing this afterlight, in his old age, after great mercy received. 
 
Life of Bunyan. 491 
 
 But the same conclusion that cut me off in the former consideration, 
 cut me off as to this, namely, that all these were but sins against the 
 law, for which God had provided a remedy ; but I had sold my Sav- 
 iour, and there remained no more sacrifice for sin. I would then 
 add to these men's sins, the sins of Manasseh ; how that he built 
 altars for idols in the house of the Lord ; he also observed times, 
 used enchantments, had to do with wizards, was a wizard, had his 
 familiar spirits, burned his children in sacrifice to the devils, and 
 made the streets of Jerusalem run down with the blood of innocents. 
 These, thought I, are great sins, sins of a bloody color, but yet it 
 would turn again upon me. They are none of them of the nature of 
 yours ; you have parted with Jesus, you have sold your Saviour. 
 This one consideration would always kill my heart, my sin was point- 
 blank against my Saviour; and that too at that height, that I had in 
 my heart said of him, Let him go, if he will. Oh ! methought this 
 sin was bigger than the sins of a country, of a kingdom, or of the 
 whole world, no one pardonable ; nor all of them together was able 
 to equal mine, mine out-went them every one. 
 
 Now I should find my mind to flee from God, as from the face of 
 a dreadful judge ; yet this was my torment, I could not escape his hand ; 
 " it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God " (Heb. 
 lO : 31). But blessed be his grace, that Scripture, in these flying fits, 
 would call, as running after me, "I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, 
 thy transgressions; and, as a cloud, thy sins ; return unto me, for I 
 have redeemed thee" (Isa. 44 : 22). This, I will say, would come 
 in upon my mind, when I was fleeing from the face of God ; for I 
 did flee from his face ; that is, my mind and spirit fled before him, by 
 reason of his highness I could not endure ; then would the text cry : 
 "Return unto me; " it would cry aloud, with a great voice, " Return 
 unto me, for I have redeemed thee," Indeed this would make me a little 
 stop, and, as it were, look over my shoulder behind me, to see if I could 
 discern that the God of grace did follow me with a pardon in his 
 hand ; but I could no sooner do that, but all would be clouded and 
 darkness again by that sentence, " You know how that afterwards, 
 when he would have inherited the blessing, he found no place of 
 repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears." Wherefore 1 
 could not refrain, but fled, though at some times it cried, Return, 
 return, as it did follow after me : but I feared to close in therewitli, 
 lest it should not come from God : for that other, as I said, was still 
 sounded in my conscience, "for you know that afterwards, when he 
 would have inherited the blessing, he was rejected," etc. 
 
49^ Life of Bunyan, 
 
 Once, as I was walking to and fro in a good man's shop, bemoan- 
 ing of myself in my sad and doleful state, afflicting myself with self 
 abhorrence for this wicked and ungodly thought ; lamenting also this 
 hard hap of mine, for that I should commit so great a sin, gready 
 fearing that I should not be pardoned ; praying also in my heart, 
 that if this sin of mine did differ from that against the Holy Ghost, 
 the Lord would show it me. And being now ready to sink with fear, 
 suddenly there was as if there had rushed in at the window the 
 noise of wind upon me, but very pleasant, and as if I heard a voice 
 speaking, Didst thou ever refuse to be justified by the blood of 
 Christ? And withal my whole life of profession past was in a 
 moment opened unto me, wherein I was made to see, that designedly 
 I had not ; so my heart answered groaningly. No. 
 
 Then fell, with power, that word of God upon me : " See that ye 
 refuse not him that speaketh" (Heb. 12 : 25), This made a strange 
 seizure upon my spirit ; it brought light with it, and commanded a 
 silence in my heart of all those tumultuous thoughts that did before 
 use, like masterless hell-hounds, to roar and bellow, and make a 
 hideous noise within me. It showed me also that Jesus Christ had 
 yet a word of grace and mercy for me ; that he had not, as I had 
 feared, quite forsaken and cast off my soul ; yea, this was a kind of 
 check for my proneness to desperation ; a kind of threatening of 
 me, if I did not, notwithstanding my sins and the heinousness of 
 them, venture my salvation upon the Son of God. But as to my 
 determining about this strange dispensation, what it was I know 
 not ; or from whence it came I know not; I have not yet in twenty 
 years' time been able to make a judgment of it ; I thought then 
 what I should be loath here to speak. But verily that sudden rush- 
 ing wind was as if an angel had come upon me ; but both it, and 
 the salvation, I will leave until the day of judgment; only this I say, 
 it commanded a great calm in my soul ; it persuaded me there might 
 be hope ; it showed me, as I thought, what the sin unpardonable 
 was, and that my soul had yet the blessed privilege to flee to Jesus 
 Christ for mercy. 
 
 But I say, concerning this dispensation, I know not what to say 
 unto it yet; which was also, in truth, the cause that at first I did not 
 speak of it in the book ; I do now also leave it to be thought on by 
 men of sound judgment. I lay not the stress of my salvation there- 
 upon, but upon the Lord Jesus, in the promise; yet seeing I am 
 here unfolding my secret things, I thought it might not be alto- 
 
Life of Bunyan. 493 
 
 gether inexpedient to let this also show itself, though I cannot now 
 relate the matter as then I did experience it. This lasted, in the 
 fervor of it, for about three or four days, and then I began to mis- 
 trust and to despair again. 
 
 Wherefore still my life hung in doubt before me, not knowing 
 which way I should tip; only this I found my soul desire, even to 
 cast itself at the foot of grace by prayer and supplication. But, 
 oh! it was hard for me now to have the face to pray to this Christ 
 for mercy, against whom I had thus vilely sinned ; it was hard work, 
 I say, to offer to look him in the face, against whom I had so vilely 
 sinned ; and, indeed, I have found it as difficult to come to God by 
 prayer, after backsliding from him, as to do any other thing. Oh ! 
 the shame that did now attend me ! especially when I thought, I am 
 now a going to pray to him for mercy that I had so lightly es- 
 teemed but a while before ! I was ashamed ; yea, even confounded, 
 because this villany had been committed by me. I must go to him 
 and humble myself unto him, and beg that he, of his wonderful 
 mercy, would show pity to me, and have mercy upon my wretched 
 sinful soul. Which, when the tempter perceived, he strongly sug- 
 gested to me. That I ought not to pray to God, for prayer was not 
 for any in my case ; neither could it do me good, because I had re- 
 jected the Mediator, by whom all prayer came with acceptance to 
 God the Father ; and without whom no prayer could come into his 
 presence ; wherefore, now to pray, is but to add sin to sin ; yea, 
 now to pray, seeing God has cast you off, is the next way to anger 
 and offend him more than you ever did before. For God, saith he, 
 hath been weary of you for these several years already, because 
 you are none of his ; your bawling in his ears hath been no pleas- 
 ant voice to him, and therefore he let you sin in this sin, that you 
 might be quite cut off; and will you pray still ? 
 
 This the devil urged, and set forth that in Numbers, when Moses 
 said to the Children of Israel, that because they would not go up to 
 possess the land when God would have them, therefore forever he 
 did bar them out from thence, though they prayed they might with 
 tears (Num. 14: 36, 37, etc). As it is said in another place, "The 
 man that sins presumptuously shall be taken from God's altar, that 
 he may die" (Exod. 21 : 14) ; even as Joab was by King Solomon, 
 when he thought to find shelter there (i Kings 2 : 28-34). These 
 places did pinch me very sore ; yet, my case being desperate, I 
 thought with myself, I can but die ; and if it must be so, it shall 
 
494 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 once be said, that such an one died at the foot of Christ in prayer. 
 This I did, but with great difficulty, God doth know ; and that be- 
 cause, together with this, still that saying about Esau would be at 
 my heart, even like a flaming sword, to keep the way of the tree of 
 life, lest I should take thereof and live. Oh ! who knows how hard 
 a thing I found it, to come to God in prayer! I did also desire the 
 prayers of the people of God for me ; but I feared that God would 
 give them no heart to do it ; yea, I trembled in my soul to think 
 that some or other of them would shortly tell me, that God hath 
 said these words to them, that he once did say to the prophet con- 
 cerning the children of Israel : "Pray not for this people, for I will 
 not hear them" (Jer. ii : 14); so, pray not for him, for I have re- 
 jected him. Yea, I thought that he had whispered this to some of 
 them already, only they durst not tell me so ; neither durst I ask 
 them of it, for fear, if it should be so, it would make me quite be- 
 side myself. "Man knows the beginning of sin (said Spira), but 
 who bounds the issue thereof? " 
 
 About this time I took an opportunity to break my mind to an 
 ancient Christian, and told him all my case. I told him also, that I 
 was afraid that I had sinned the sin against the Holy Ghost ; and he 
 told me he thought so too. Here, therefore, I had but cold comfort; 
 but talking a little more with him, I found him, though a good man, 
 a stranger to much combat with the devil. Wherefore I went to God 
 again, as well as I could, for mercy still. Now also did the tempter 
 beo-in to mock me in my misery, saying, that, seeing I had thus parted 
 with the Lord Jesus, and provoked him to displeasure who would 
 have stood between my soul and the flame of devouring fire, there 
 was now but one way, and that was, to pray that God the Father 
 would be a mediator betwixt his Son and me ; that we might be 
 reconciled again, and that I might have that blessed benefit in him 
 that his blessed saints enjoyed. Then did that Scripture seize upon 
 my soul, " He is of one mind, and who can turn him?" Oh ! I saw 
 it was as easy to persuade him to make a new world, a new covenant, 
 a new Bible, besides those we have already, as to pray for such a 
 thing. 
 
 This was to persuade him, that what he had done already was 
 
 ^ mere folly, and persuade him to alter, yea, to disannul the whole way 
 
 of salvation ; and then would that saying rend my soul asunder, 
 
 '* Neither is there salvation in any other ; for there is none other name 
 
 under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved " (Acts 
 
Life of Bunyan, 495 
 
 4: 12), Now the free, and full, and gracious words of the Gospel 
 were the greatest torment to me; yea, nothing so afflicted me as the 
 thoughts of Jesus Christ; the remembrance of a Saviour, because I 
 had cast him off, brought forth the villany of my sin, and my loss by 
 it, to mind ; nothing did twinge my conscience like this ; everything 
 that I thought of the Lord Jesus, of his grace, love, goodness, kind- 
 ness, gentleness, meekness, death, blood, promises and blessed ex- 
 hortations, comforts and consolations, went to my soul like a sword; 
 for still unto these my considerations of the Lord Jesus, these 
 thoughts would make place for themselves in my heart; aye, this is 
 the Jesus, the loving Saviour, the Son of God, whom you have parted 
 with; whom you have slighted, despised and abused; this is the only 
 Saviour, the only Redeemer; the only one that could so love sinners, 
 as to wash them from their sins in his own most precious blood; but 
 you have no part nor lot in this Jesus; you have put him from you ; 
 you have said in your heart, Let him go, if he will. Now, therefore, 
 you are severed from him ; you have severed yourself from him ; be- 
 hold, then, his goodness, but yourself to be no partaker of it! Oh! 
 thought I, what have I lost! what have I parted with! What has dis- 
 inherited my poor soul ! Oh ! it is sad to be destroyed by the grace 
 and mercy of God ; to have the Lamb, the Saviour, turn lion and 
 destroyer (Rev. 6). I also trembled, as I have said, at the sight ol 
 the saints of God, especially at those that greatly loved him, and that 
 made it their business to walk continually with him in this world ; 
 for they did, both in their words, their carriages, and all their expres- 
 sions of tenderness and fear to sin against their precious Saviour, 
 condemn, lay guilt upon, and also add continual affliction and shame 
 unto my soul. The dread of them was upon me, and I trembled at 
 God's Samuel (i Sam. 16:4). 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OW, also, the tempter began afresh to mock my soul an- 
 other way, saying, That Christ, indeed, did pity my case, 
 and was sorry for my loss ; but, forasmuch as I had sinned 
 and transgressed as I had done, he could by no means 
 help me, nor save me from what I feared ; for my sin 
 was not of the nature of theirs for whom he bled and died ; neither 
 was it counted with those that were laid to his charge when he hung 
 on a tree. Therefore, unless he should come down from heaven, 
 and die anew, for this sin, though, indeed, he did greatly pity me, yet 
 I could have no benefit of him. These things may seem ridiculous 
 to others, even as ridiculous as they were in themselves, but to me 
 they were most tormenting cogitations ; every one of them aug- 
 mented my misery, that Jesus Christ should have so much love as to 
 pity me, when yet he could not help me, too. Nor did I think that the 
 reason why he could not help me was because his merits were weak, 
 or his grace and salvation spent on others already, but because his 
 faithfulness to his threatenings would not let him extend his mercy 
 to me. Besides, I thought, as I have already hinted, that my sin was 
 not within the bounds of that pardon that was wrapped up in a prom- 
 ise ; and if not, then I knew, surely, that it was not more easy for 
 heaven and earth to pass away than for me to have eternal life. So 
 that the ground of all these fears of mine did arise from a steadfast 
 belief I had of the stability of the holy Word of God, and also from 
 my being misinformed of the nature of my sin. But, oh ! how this 
 would add to my affliction, to conceit that I should be guilty of such 
 a sin for which he did not die ! 
 
 These thoughts did so confound me, and imprison me, and tie 
 me up from faith, that I knew not what to do. But oh ! thought I, 
 that he would come down again ! Oh ! that the work of man's re- 
 demption was yet to be done by Christ! how would I pray him and 
 entreat him to count and reckon this sin among the rest for which 
 he died ! But this Scripture would strike me down as dead : " Christ, 
 being raised from the dead, dieth no more ; death hath no more 
 dominion over iiim" (Rom. 6: 9). Thus, by the strange and un- 
 usual assaults f^f the tempter, my soul was like a broken vessel, 
 
 (496) 
 
' Life of Bunyan. 497 
 
 driven as with the winds, and tossed sometimes into despair; some- 
 times upon the covenant of works, and sometimes to wish that the 
 new covenant, and the conditions thereof, might, so far as I thought 
 myself concerned, be turned another way and changed : but in all 
 these I was as those who jostle against the rocks ; more broken, 
 scattered and rent. Oh ! the unthought-of imaginations, frights, 
 fears and terrors that are effected by a thorough application of guilt 
 yielding to desperation ! This is as the man that hath his dwelling 
 among the tombs with the dead, who is always crying out and 
 cutting himself with stones (Mark 5 : 2-5). 
 
 But, I say, all in vain ; desperation will not comfort him, the old 
 covenant will not save him. Nay, heaven and earth shall pass away 
 before one jot or tittle of the Word and law of grace will fail or be 
 removed. This I saw, this I felt, under this 1 groaned ; yet this 
 advantage I got thereby, namely, a further confirmation of the cer- 
 tainty of the way to salvation, and that the Scriptures were the 
 Word of God. Oh ! I cannot now express what I then saw and felt 
 of the steadiness of Jesus Christ, the rock of man's salvation. What 
 was done could not be undone, added to nor altered. I saw, indeed, 
 that sin might drive the soul beyond Christ, even the sin which is 
 unpardonable ; but woe to him that was so driven, for the Word 
 would shut him out. Thus was I always sinking, whatever I did 
 think or do. So one day 1 walked to a neighboring town and sat 
 down upon a settee in the street, and fell into a very deep pause 
 about the most fearful state my sin had brought me to; and, after 
 long musing, I lifted up my head, but methought I saw as if the sun 
 that shineth in the heavens did grudge to give me light, and as if 
 the very stones in the streets and tiles upon the houses did bend 
 themselves against me, Methought that they all combined together 
 to banish me out of the world. I was abhorred of them, and unfit to 
 dwell among them, or be partakers of their benefits, because I had 
 sinned against the Saviour. Oh ! how happy now was every crea- 
 ture over me ! For they stood fast and kept their station ; but I was 
 gone and lost. 
 
 Then, breaking out In the bitterness of my soul, I said to my soul, 
 with a grievous sigh. How can God comfort such a wretch ! I had 
 no sooner said it but this returned upon me, as an echo doth answer 
 a voice, This sin is not unto death. At which I was as if I had beer, 
 raised out of the grave, and cried out again. Lord, how couldst thou 
 find out such a word as this ! For I was filled with admiration at 
 
 32 
 
498 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 the fitness and at the unexpectedness of the sentence ; the fitness of 
 the word, the Tightness of the timing it. The power and sweetness 
 and Hght and glory that came with it also were marvellous to me to 
 find. I was now, for the time, out of doubt as to that about which I 
 so much was in doubt before. My fears before were that my sin 
 was not pardonable, and so that I had no right to pray, to repent, 
 etc. ; or that if I did, it would be of no advantage or profit to me. 
 But now, thought I, if this sin is not unto death, then it is pardon- 
 able ; therefore, from this I have encouragement to come to God, by 
 Christ, for mercy to consider the promise of forgiveness, as that which 
 stands with open arms to receive me as well as others. This, there- 
 fore, was a great easement to my mind, to wit, that my sin was par- 
 donable, that it was not the sin unto death (i John 5: 16-17). 
 None but those that know what my trouble (by their own experi- 
 ence) was, can tell what relief came to my soul by this consideration ; 
 it was a release to me from my former bonds and a shelter from 
 my former storms. I seemed now to stand upon the same ground 
 with other sinners, and to have as good a right to the word and 
 prayer as any of them. 
 
 Now, I say, I was in hopes that my sin was not unpardonable, but 
 that there might be hopes forme to obtain forgiveness. But oh! 
 how Satan did now lay about him for to bring me down again ! But 
 he could by no means do it, neither this day nor the most part of the 
 next, for this sentence stood like a mill-post at my back ; yet, towards 
 the evening of the next day, I felt this word begin to leave me and 
 to withdraw its support from me ; and so I returned to my old fears 
 again, but with a great deal of grudging and peevishness, for I feared 
 the sorrow of despair ; nor could my faith long retain this word. 
 But the next day at evening, being under many fears, I went to seek 
 the Lord, and as I prayed I cried, and my soul cried to him in these 
 words, with strong cries: "O Lord, I beseech thee, show me that 
 thou hast loved me with everlasting love" (Jer. 31 : 3). I had no 
 sooner said it, than with sweetness that returned upon me as an echo 
 or soundinof aeain, "I have loved thee with an everlastincr love." 
 
 Now I went to bed in quiet ; also, when awakened the next 
 morning, it was fresh upon my soul, and I believed it. But yet the 
 tempter left me not ; for it could not be so little as an hundred times 
 that he that day did labor to break my peace. Oh ! the combats 
 and conflicts that I did then meet with; as I strove to hold by this 
 word, that of Esau would fly in my face like lightning. I should be 
 
Life of Bunyan. 499 
 
 sometimes up and down twenty times in an hour ; yet God did bear 
 me out, and keep my heart upon this word; for which I had also, for 
 several days together, very much sweetness and comfortable hopes 
 of pardon ; for thus it was made out unto me : I loved thee whilst 
 thou wast committing this sin, I loved thee before, I love thee still, 
 and I will love thee forever. Yet I saw my sin most barbarous and 
 a filthy crime, and could not but conclude, with 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 
 the Lord, and to express my love to him, that saying came in upon 
 me : " 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, that he might be feared ; that is, as I then understood it, that 
 he 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 refreshed by it: "Then shalt thou remember 
 and be confounded, and never open thy 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 many 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 I 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), 
 
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 indig- 
 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 inherited 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 that 
 no promise or encouragement was to be found in the Bible for me, 
 and now would that saying work upon my mind to afflict me, " Rejoice 
 not, O Israel, for joy, as other people" (Hos. 9 : i). For I saw, in- | 
 deed, there was cause of rejoicing for those that held to Jesus; but ; 
 for me, 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 fee' myself to sink into 
 a gulf, as a house whose foundation is destroyed. I did liken myself 1 
 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 1 
 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 \. .^ ^lad 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 my 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 i8 : 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 I, I will pray. So I went to prayer to 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 
 n ■ 7-9-) Ai^d 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 
 
602 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 the same time, which I cannot now call to mind, with which this text 
 did sweeten my heart, and make me conclude, that his mercy might 
 not be quite gone, nor gone forever. 
 
 At another time I remembered I was again much under this 
 question, Whether the blood of Christ was sufficient to save my 
 soul? In which doubt I continued from morning till about seven or 
 eight at night ; and at last, when I was as it were quite worn out with 
 fear, lest it should not lay hold on me, these words did sound sud-* 
 denly within my heart. He is able. But methought this word, able, 
 was spoke loud unto me ; it showed a great word, it seemed to be 
 writ in great letters, and gave such a jostle to my fear and doubt (I 
 mean for the time it tarried with me, which was about a day) as I 
 had never had from that all my life, either before or after (Heb. 
 
 7-25)- 
 
 But one morning, as I was again at prayer, and trembling 
 
 under the fear of this. That no word of God could help me, that 
 piece of a sentence darted in upon me. My grace is sufficient. At 
 this methought I felt some stay, as if there might be hopes. But, 
 oh ! how good a thing it is for God to send his word ! for about a 
 fortnight before I was looking on this very place, and then I thought 
 it could not come near my soul with comfort ; therefore I threw 
 down my book in a pet. Then I thought it was not large enough for 
 me ; no, not large enough ; but now it was as if it had arms of 
 grace so wide that it could not only enclose me, but many more be- 
 sides. By these words I was sustained, yet not without exceeding 
 conflicts, for the space of seven or eight weeks ; for my peace 
 would be in it, and out, sometimes twenty times a day ; comfort now, 
 and trouble presently ; peace now, and before I could go a furlong, 
 as full of fear and guilt as ever heart could hold ; and this was not 1 
 only now and then, but my whole seven weeks' experience. For r 
 this about the sufficiency of grace, and that of Esau's parting with 
 his birthright, would be like a pair of scales within my mind ; some- 
 times one end would be uppermost, and sometimes again the other ; 
 according to which would be my peace or trouble. 
 
 Therefore I did still pray to God that he would come in with his 
 Scripture more fnlly on my heart; to wit, that he would help me to 
 apply the whole sentence, for as yet I could not. What he gave, that 
 I gathered ; but further I could not go, for as yet it only helped me 
 to hope there might be mercy for me. My grace is sufficient. And 
 though it came no further, it answered my former question ; to wit, 
 
Life of Dunyan. 603 
 
 that there was hope ; yet, because for thee, was left out, I was not 
 contented, but prayed to God for that also. Wherefore one day, 
 when I was in a meeting of God's people, full of sadness and terror, 
 for my fears again were strong upon me, and as I was now thinking 
 my soul was never the better, but my case most sad and fearful, 
 these words did with great power suddenly break in upon me; My 
 grace is sufficient for thee, my grace is sufficient for thee, three times 
 together ! And, oh! methought that every word was a mighty word 
 unto me; as my, and grace, and sufficient, and for thee; they were 
 then, and sometimes are still, far bigger than others be. At which 
 time my understanding was so enlightened, that I was as though I had 
 seen the Lord Jesus look down from heaven, through the tiles upon 
 me, and direct these words unto me. This sent me mourning home; 
 it broke my heart and filled me full of joy, and laid me as low as the 
 dust; only it stayed not long with me, I mean in this glory, and '-efresh- 
 ing comfort ; yet it continued with me for several weeks, and did 
 encourage me to hope. But as soon as that powerful operation of 
 it was taken from my heart, that other about Esau returned upon 
 me, as before ; so my soul did hang as in a pair of scales again, 
 sometimes up and sometimes down ; now in peace, and anon again 
 in terror. 
 
 Thus I went on for many weeks, sometimes comforted and some- 
 times tormented, and especially sometimes my torment would be 
 very sore ; for all these Scriptures afore- named in the Hebrews would 
 be set before me, as the only sentences that would keep me out of 
 heaven. Then, again, I would begin to repent that ever that thought 
 went through me ; I would also think this with myself: Why, how 
 many Scriptures are there against me ? There are but three or four; 
 and cannot God miss them and save me for all of them ? Sometimes 
 again, I would think, Oh ! if it were not for these three or four words, 
 now, how might I be comforted ! And I could hardly forbear at 
 some times to wish them out of the book. Then methought I should 
 see as if both Peter and Paul and John, and all the writers, did look 
 with scorn upon me, and hold me in derision ; and as if they had said 
 unto me. All our words are truth, one of as much force as the other. 
 It is not we that have cut you off, but you have cast away yourself. 
 There is none of our sentences that you must take hold upon but 
 these, and such as these: It is impossible (Heb. 5: 4); There remains 
 no more sacrifice for sin (Heb. 10. 26). And it had been better for 
 them not to have known the wUl of God, than after they had known 
 
604 Life of BunyaH. 
 
 it, to turn from the holy commandment delivered unto them (2 Pet. 
 2: 21). For the Scriptures cannot be broken (John 10: 35). These, 
 the elders of the city of refuge, I saw were to be the judges both of 
 my case and me, while I stood with the avenger of blood at my heels, 
 trembling at their gate for deliverance ; also, with a thousand fears 
 and mistrusts, I doubted that he would shut me out for ever (Joshua 
 20: 3, 4). Thus was I confounded, not knowing what to do, or 
 how to be satisfied in this question, whether the Scriptures could 
 agree on the salvation of my soul ? I quaked at the apostles ; I knew 
 their words were true, and that they must stand forever. 
 
 And I remember one day, as I was in divers frames of spirit, 
 and considering that these frames were according to the nature of 
 several Scriptures that came in upon my mind: If this of grace, then 
 was I quiet; but that of Esau, then tormented. Lord, thought I, if 
 both these Scriptures should meet in my heart at once, I wonder 
 which of them would get the better of me. So metliought I had a 
 longing mind that they might both come together upon me; yea, I 
 desired of God they might. Well, about two or three days after, so 
 they did indeed; they bolted both upon me at a time, and did work 
 and struggle strongly in me for a while; at last that about Esau's 
 birthright began to wax weak and withdraw and vanish ; and this 
 about the sufficiency of grace prevailed with peace and joy. And, as 
 I was in a muse about this thing, that Scripture came in upon me, 
 "Mercy rejoiceth against judgment" (James 2: 13). This was a 
 wonderment to me ; yet, truly I am apt to think it was God ; for the 
 word of the law and wrath must give place to the word of life and 
 grace ; because, though the word of conderrmation be glorious, yet 
 the word of life and salvation doth far exceed in glory (2 Cor. 3: 8- 
 11). Also, that Moses and Elias must both vanish and leave Christ 
 and his saints alone. 
 
 This Scripture did also most sweetly visit my soul : " And him 
 that Cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out " (John 6: '^']). Oh ! the 
 comfort that I had found from this word. In no wise ! As who should 
 say, By no means, for nothing, whatever he hath done. But Satan 
 would greatly labor to pull this promise from me, by telling of me. 
 That Christ did not mean me and such as I, but sinners of a lower 
 rank, that had not done as I had done. But I would answer him 
 again, Satan, here is in these words no such exception ; but him that 
 comes, him, any him ; "him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast 
 out. " And this I well remember still, that of all the sleights that Satan 
 
Life of Bunyan, 605 
 
 tise4 to take this Scripture from me, yet he never did so much as put 
 this question, But do you come aright? And I have thought the 
 reason was, because he thought I knew full well what coming aright 
 was ; for I saw that to come aright was to come as I was, a vile and 
 ungodly sinner, and so cast myself at the feet of mercy, condemning 
 myself for sin. If ever Satan and I did strive for any word of God 
 in all my life, it was for this good word of Christ ; he at one end, and 
 I at the other. Oh ! what work we made ! It was for this in John, I 
 say, that we did so tug and strive. He pulled, and I pulled ; but, God 
 be praised, I overcame him ; I got sweetness from it. 
 
 But, notwithstanding all these helps and blessed words of grace, 
 yet that of Esau's selling his birthright would still at times distress 
 my conscience; for though I had been most sweetly comforted, and 
 that but just before, yet when that came into my mind it would make 
 me fear again. I could not quite be rid thereof, it would every day 
 be with me. Wherefore now I went another way to work, even to 
 consider the nature of this blasphemous thought ; I mean, if I should 
 take the words at the largest, and give them their own natural force 
 and scope, even every word therein. 
 
 So when I had thus considered, I found that if they were fairly 
 taken they would amount to this : That I had freely left the Lord 
 Jesus Christ to his choice, whether he would be my Saviour or no ; 
 for the wicked words were these. Let him go, if he will. Then the 
 Scripture gave me hope : "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee" 
 (Heb. 13: 5). O Lord! said I, but I have left thee. Then it an- 
 swered aeain, " But I will not leave thee." For this I thanked God 
 also. Yet I was grievously afraid he should, and found it exceeding 
 hard to trust him, seeing I had so offended him. I could have been 
 exceeding glad that this thought had never befallen ; for then I 
 thought I could with more ease and freedom in abundance have 
 leaned on his grace. I saw that it was with me as it was with 
 Joseph's brethren ; the guilt of their own wickedness did often fill 
 them with fears that their brother would at last despise them (Gen. 
 45 : 4). Yet above all the Scriptures that I yet did meet with, that 
 in Joshua 20 was the greatest comfort to me, which speaks of the 
 slayer that was to flee for refuge. And if the avenger of blood 
 pursue the slayer, then, said Joshua, they that are the elders of the 
 city of refuge shall not deliver him into his hands, because he smote 
 his neighbor unwittingly, and hated him not aforetime (Joshua 20 : 5). 
 Oh ! blessed be God for his word. I was convinced that I was the 
 
b06 Life of Btmyan. 
 
 slayer, and that the avenger of blood pursued me, I felt wiih great 
 terror; only now remained that I inquire whether I have right to 
 enter the city of refuge. So I found that he must not " who lay in 
 wait to shed blood." It was not the wilful murderer, but he wiio 
 unwittingly did it, he who did it unawares ; not out of spite, or 
 grudge, or malice ; he that shed it unwittingly ; even he who did 
 not hate his neighbor before. 
 
 Wherefore I thought verily I was the man that must enter, be- 
 cause I had smitten my neighbor "unwittingly and hated him not 
 aforetime." No, I prayed unto him, was tender of sirming against 
 him ; yea, and against this wicked temptation I had strove for twelve 
 months before ; yea, and also when it did pass through my heart, it 
 did it in spite of my teeth. Wherefore I thought I had a right to 
 enter this city ; and the elders, which are the apostles, were not to 
 deliver me up. This, therefore, was great comfort to me, and gave 
 me much ground of hope. Yet being very critical, for my smart had 
 made me so that I knew not what ground was sure enough to bear 
 me, I had one question that my soul did much desire to be resolved 
 about, and that was. Whether it be possible for any soul that had 
 sinned the unpardonable sin, yet, after that to receive, though but 
 the least true spiritual comfort from God through Christ? The 
 which, after I had much considered, 1 found the answer was, No, 
 they could not, and that for these reasons : First, because those 
 that have sinned that sin, they are debarred a share in the blood of 
 Christ; but being shut out of that, they must needs be void of the 
 least ground of hope, and so in spiritual comfort, " For to such there 
 remains no more sacrifice for sin (Heb. lo: 26). Secondly, because 
 they are denied the promise of life, " They shall never be forgiven, 
 neither in this world nor in that which is to come" (Matt. 12 : 32). 
 Thirdly, the Son of God excludes them also from a share in his 
 blessed intercession, being forever ashamed to own them, both 
 before his Holy Father and the blessed angels in heaven (Mark 
 
 8=38). 
 
 When I had with much deliberation considered of this matter, and 
 
 could not but conclude that the Lord had comforted me, and that too 
 after this my wicked sin ; then methought I durst venture to come nigh' 
 unto those most fearful and terrible Scriptures, with which all this while 
 I had been so greatly affrighted, and on which, indeed, before I durst 
 cast mine eye (yea, had much ado an hundred times to forbear wish- 
 ing them out of the Bible), for I thought they would destroy me; 
 
Life of Biinyan. 507 
 
 but now, I say. I began to take seme measure of encouragement to 
 come close to them, to read them, and consider of them, and to weigh 
 their scope and tendency. The which, when I began to do, I found 
 my visage changed ; for they looked not so grimly as before I thought 
 they did. 
 
 And first I came to the sixth of Hebrews, yet trembling for fear 
 it should strike me ; which, when I had considered, I found that the 
 falling there intended was a falling quite away ; that is, as I conceived, 
 a falling from, and absolute denying of, the Gospel of remission of 
 sins by Jesus Christ ; for from them the apostle begins his argument 
 (Heb. 6: 4-6). Secondly, I found that this falling away must be 
 openly, even in the view of the world, even so as " to put Christ to 
 an open shame." Thirdly, I found that those he there intended were 
 forever shut up of God, both in blindness and impenitency : 'Tt is 
 impossible they should be renewed again unto repentance." By all 
 these particulars, I found, to God's everlasting praise, my sin was not 
 the sin in this place intended. 
 
 First. — I confessed I was fallen, but not fallen away ; that is, 
 from the profession of faith in Jesus unto eternal life. 
 
 Secondly. — I confessed that I had put Jesus Christ to shame by 
 my sin, but not to open shame ; I did not deny him before man, nor 
 condemn him as a fruitless one before the world. 
 
 Thirdly. — Nor did I find that God had shut me up, or denied me 
 to come (though I found it hard work indeed to come) to him by sor- 
 row and repentance. 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, hut 
 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, 
 
608 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 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 sought 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 Esau, 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 despise those things which 
 are indeed the birthright to heaven ; who yet, when the declining day 
 appears, will cry as loud as Esau, " Lord, 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: -^T^) ; 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, I 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 I 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 
 \liis word I saw the other sentence true. For by this Scripture I 
 jaw 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 because 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 fiesh of 
 his flesh, and bone of his bone ; and now was that a sweet word to me 
 
510 Life 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 blessed 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 105: I, 2). 
 
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 guih 
 and terror that these 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 unto 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 
 mucL 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 thai 
 
 (611) 
 
512 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 are to come. I do beseech thee, reader, that thou learn to beware o! 
 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 I 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 
 m 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 that thou canst 
 discern the most sacred thoughts of the heart." 
 
 I had no sooner said it in my heart, but her pangs were 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 I awaked 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 dry, 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 this 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, blasphemy, 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 way 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 forevermore. 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 trembling, 
 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 a 
 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 
 
514 Life of Bmiyatv 
 
 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: t^"]). 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 these days, often in my greatest agonies, even flounce 
 towards the promise (as the horses do towards some ground, and 
 yet stick in the mire), concluding (though as one almost bereft of 
 his wits throuo-h 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 comforv 
 (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 
 
Life of Bunyan. 51 
 
 K 
 
 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. 1 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 
 vvhich was his last supper with 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 the 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 nor 
 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- 
 
516 Life of B tiny an. 
 
 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 w^anderings 
 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 anydme; 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 jnH mercy ; and 
 
Life of Btmyan, 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 1 
 saw that we shall never live indeed till 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 " 
 ;ivom, 8: 17), than ever I shall be able to express while I live in 
 .,is world. Heirs of God! God himself is the portion of the saints, 
 riiis 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 setdng 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 the 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 witt 
 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 presendy 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 darkness, 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, heartless 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 affliction 
 the more heavy and uncomfortable to me. 
 
 After I had been in this condition some three or four days, as I 
 was sitdngby 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 
 
518 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 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 ttll ; 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 
 nieht to me. I never had but few better. I loncred 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 
 tlie New Testament, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh 
 better things than that of Abel." Througrh this sentence the Lord 
 h d 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 1 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 ND now I am speaking of my experience, I will in this 
 place thrust in a word or two concerning my preaching 
 the Word, and of God's dealing with me in that partlcu 
 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 to 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 meet- 
 ings, to speak a word of exhortation unto them. The which, though 
 at the 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 frequently protest, as in the 
 sight of the great God, they were both affected and comforted, and 
 gave thanks to the Father of mercies for the grace 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 
 open way, yet more privately still, as I came among the good people 
 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 evidently find in my mind a 
 secret pricking forward thereto ; though I bless God, not for a desire 
 
 (519) 
 
520 
 
Life of Bzmyan, 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 greatly animated, not only by the continual desires of the 
 godly, but also by that saying of Paul to the Corinthians : " 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 submit yourselves unto such, and to 
 every one that helpeth with us, and laboreth " ( i Cor. i6 : 15, 1 6). 
 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 ; and Fox's Acts 
 and Monuments. 
 
 Wherefore, though of myself of all the saints the most unwor- 
 thy, yet I, but with 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 greatly affected in their 
 minds at the apprehension of the greatness of their sin 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 ihose 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 
 
Life of Bunyan, 523 
 
 God ; they would also bless God for me (unworthy wretch that I am !), 
 and count me God's instrument that showed to them the way of sal- 
 vation. Wherefore, seeing them in both their words and deeds to be so 
 constant, and also, in their hearts, so earnestly pressing after the 
 knowledge of Jesus Christ, rejoicing that ever God did send me 
 where they were, then I began to conclude it might be s), that God 
 had owned in his work such a foolish one as I ; and then came the 
 word of God to my heart, with much sweet refreshment: "The bless- 
 ing of them that are ready to perish is come upon me ; yea, I caused 
 the widow's heart to sing for joy " (Job 29: 13). At this therefore 
 I rejoiced ; yea, the tears of those whom God did awaken by my 
 preaching would be both solace and encouragement to me; I thought 
 on these sayings : "Who is he that maketh me glad, but the same that 
 is made sorry by me?" (2 Cor. 2: 2.) And again: " Though I be not 
 an apostle to others, yet doubtless lam unto you ; for the seal of my 
 apostleship are ye in the Lord" (i Cor, 6 : 2). These things, there- 
 fore, were as another argument unto me, that God had called me to, 
 and stood by me in this work. 
 
 In my preaching of the Word, I took special notice of this one 
 thing, namely, that the Lord did lead me to begin where his word 
 begins with sinners ; that is, to condemn all flesh ; and to open and 
 allege, that the curse of God by the law doth belong to and lay 
 hold on all men as they come into the world, because of sin. Now 
 this part of my work I fulfilled with great seriousness ; for the ter- 
 rors of the law, and guilt for my transgressions, lay heavy on my 
 conscience. I preached what I felt, what I smartingly did feel ; even 
 that under which my poor soul did groan and tremble to as- 
 tonishment. Indeed, I have been as one sent to them from the 
 dead. I went myself in chains, to preach to them in chains ; and 
 carried that fire in my own conscience that I persuaded them to be 
 aware of. I can truly say, and that without dissembling, that, when 
 I have been to preach, I have gone full of guilt and terror, even to 
 the pulpit-door, and there it hath been taken off, and I have been at 
 liberty in my mind until I have done my work ; and then immedi- 
 ately, even before I could get down the pulpit stairs, I have been as 
 bad as I was before ; yet God carried me on, but surely with a 
 strong hand, for neither guilt nor hell could take me off my work. 
 
 Thus I went on for the space of two years, crying out against 
 men's sins and their fearful state because of them. After which 
 the Lord came in upon my soul with some sure Dea<"e and comfort 
 
524 
 
 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 through Christ ; for he did give me many sweet discoveries of his 
 blessed grace through him. WhcM'efore, now I altered in my preach- 
 ing (for still I preached what I saw and felt); now tlierefore 1 did 
 much lal^or to hold with Jesus Christ in all his offices, relations, 
 and benefits unto the world, and did strive also to discover, to con- 
 demn, and remove those false supports and props on which the 
 
 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 
 
 world doth both lean, and by them fall and perish. On these things 
 also I stayed as long as on the other. 
 
 After this, God led me into something of the mystery of the 
 union of Christ ; wherefore, that I discovered and showed to them 
 also. And when I had travelled through these their chief points of 
 the Word of God, about the space of five years or more, I was 
 caught in my present practice and cast into prison, where I have lain 
 
Life of Bunyan. 525 
 
 above as long again to confirm the truth by way ot suffering, as I 
 was before in testifying of it according to the Scriptures in a way of 
 preaching. When I have been preaching, I thank God, my heart 
 hath often all the time of this and the other exercise, with great 
 earnestness cried to God that he would make the work effectual to 
 the salvation of the soul ; still being grieved lest the enemy should 
 take the Word away from the conscience, and so it should become 
 unfruitful. Wherefore I shall labor to speak the Word, as that, 
 thereby, if it were possible, the sin and person guilty might be par- 
 ticularized by it. 
 
 Also, when I have done the exercise, it hath gone to my heart 
 to think the Word should now fall as rain on stony places ; still wish- 
 ing from my heart. Oh ! that they who have heard me speak this day 
 did but see as I do what sin, death, hell and the curse of God are ; 
 and also what the grace and love and mercy of God are, through 
 Christ, to men in such a case as they are, who are yet estranged from 
 him. And, indeed, I did often say in my heart before the Lord, That 
 if I be hanged up presently before their eyes, and it would be a 
 means to awaken them and confirm them in the truth, I gladly should 
 be contented. For I have been in my preaching, especially when I 
 have been engaged in the doctrine of life by Christ, without works, 
 as if an angel of God stood by at my back, to encourage me. Oh! 
 it hath been with such power and heavenly evidence upon my own 
 soul, while I have been laboring to unfold it, to demonstrate it and 
 to fasten it upon the consciences of others, that I could not be con- 
 tented with saying, I believe, and am sure ; methought I was more 
 than sure (if it be lawful to express myself) that those things which 
 I then asserted were true. 
 
 When I first went to preach the Word abroad, the doctors and 
 priests of the country did open wide against me, but I was per- 
 suaded of this, not to render railing for railing, but to see how 
 many of their carnal professors I could convince of their miserable 
 state by the law, and of the want and worth of Christ; for, thought 
 I, that shall answer for me in time to come, when they shall be for 
 my hire before their face (Gen. 30: n). I never cared to meddle 
 with things that were controverted and in dispute among the saints, 
 especially things of the lowest nature ; yet it pleased me much to 
 contend with great earnestness for the word of faith and remission 
 of sins by the death and sufferings of Jesus ; but I say, as to otlier 
 things, I would let them alone, because I saw they engendered strife ; 
 
526 Life of Btmyan. 
 
 and because that they neither in doing, nor in leaving undone, did 
 commend us to God to be his. Besides, I saw my work before me 
 did run into another channel, even to carry an awakening word ; to 
 that, therefore, I did stick and adhere. I never endeavored to nor 
 durst make use of other men's lines (Rom. 15: 18), though I con- 
 demn not all that do, for I verily thought, and found by experience, 
 that what was taught me by the Word and Spirit of Christ could be 
 spoken, maintained, and stood to, by the soundest and best estab- 
 lished conscience ; and though I will not now speak all that I know 
 in this matter, yet my experience hath more interest in that text of 
 Scripture, Gal. i : 11,12, than many among men are aware. 
 
 If any of those who were awakened by my ministry did after 
 that fall back (as sometimes too many did), I can truly say, their loss 
 hath been more to me than if my own children, begotten of my own 
 body, had been going to their grave. I think verily I may speak it 
 without offence to the Lord, nothing has gone so near me as that, 
 unless it was the fear of the loss of the salvation of my soul. I have 
 counted as if I had goodly buildings and lordships in those places 
 where my children were born. My heart hath been so wrapped up 
 in the glory of this excellent work, that I counted myself more blessed 
 and honored of God by this than if he had made me the emperor of 
 the Christian world, or the lord of all the glory of the earth without 
 it ! Oh ! these words : " He that converteth a sinner from the error 
 of his ways, doth save a soul from death" (James 5 : 20). " The fruit 
 of the righteous is a tree of life ; and he that winneth souls is wise" 
 (Prov. II : 30). "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of 
 the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars 
 forever and ever" (Daniel 12 : 30). "For what is our hope, our joy, 
 or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in the presence of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ at his coming? For ye are our glory and joy" (i 
 Thess. 2 : 19, 20). These, I say, with many others of a like nature, 
 have been great refreshments to me. 
 
 I have observed, that where I have had a work to do for God, I 
 have had first, as it were, the going of God upon my spirits, to de- 
 sire I might preach there. I have also observed that such and such 
 souls in particular have been strongly set upon my heart, and I stirred 
 up to wish for their salvation ; and that those very souls have after 
 this been given in the fruits of my ministry, I have observed that a 
 word cast in, by-the-by, hath done more execution in a sermon than 
 all that was spoken besides. Sometimes, also, when I have thought 
 
Life of Bunyan. 
 
 527 
 
 I did no good, then I did most of all ; and at other times, when I 
 thought 1 should catch them, I have fished for nothing. I have also 
 observed, that where there has been work to do upon sinners, there 
 the devil hath begun to roar in the hearts and by the mouths of his 
 servants ; yea, oftentimes, when the wicked world hath raged most, 
 there hath been souls awakened by the Word. I could instance par- 
 ticulars, but I forbear. 
 
 My ereat de- 
 
 sire m my tulhllmg ^ ili'Vc/ 
 
 my ministry was to T fonj-ci-iiid j-,-' 
 
 get into the darkest |,i!;i jrji j a t; r 
 
 places of the coun- 
 try, even among 
 those people that 
 were farthest off of 
 profession ; yet not 
 because I could not 
 endure the light 
 (for I feared not to 
 show my Gospel to 
 any), but because 
 I found my spirit 
 did lean most after 
 awakeningand con- 
 verting work, and 
 the word that I car- 
 ried did lean itself 
 most that way also : 
 "Yea, so have I 
 strived to preach 
 the Gospel, not 
 where Christ was 
 named, lest I should 
 build upon another 
 man's foundation" (Rom. 15 : 20). In my preaching I have really 
 been in pain, and have, as it were, travailed to bring forth children 
 to God ; neither could I be satisfied unless some fruits did appear 
 in my work. If I were fruitless, it mattered not who commended 
 me ; but if I were fruitful, I cared not who did condemn, I have 
 thought of that: " Lo ! children are an heritage of the Lord; and 
 
 BUNYAN'S FAMILY VISITING HIM IN PRISON. 
 
528 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows in the hand of a 
 mighty man, so are children of the youth. Happy is the man tliat 
 hath his quiver full of them ; they shall not be ashamed, but they shall 
 speak with the enemies at the gate" (Psalm 127 : 3-5). It pleased 
 me nothing to see people drink in opinions, if they seemed igno- 
 rant of Jesus Christ and the worth of their own salvation; but when 
 I saw others who were found convicted for sin, especially unbelief, 
 and with a heart set on fire to be saved by Christ, with strong 
 breathings after a truly sanctified soul, that it was that delighted 
 me ; those were the souls I counted blessed. 
 
 But in this work, as in all others, I had my temptations attending 
 me, and that of divers kinds ; as sometimes I should be assaulted 
 with great discouragement therein, fearing that I should not be able 
 to speak a word at all to edification ; nay, that I should not be able to 
 speak sense to the people ; at which times I should have such a 
 strange faintness and strengthlessness seize upon my body, that my 
 legs have scarce been able to carry me to the place of exercise. 
 
 Sometimes, again, when I have been preaching, I have been 
 violently assaulted with thoughts of blasphemy, and strongly tempted 
 to speak the words with my mouth before the congregation. I have 
 also, at times, even when I have begun to speak the word with 
 much clearness, evidence and liberty of speech, yet been, before 
 the ending of that opportunity, so blinded and so estranged from 
 the things I have been speaking, and have been also so straitened 
 in my speech as to utterance before the people, that I have been as 
 if I had not known or remembered what I have been about ; or as 
 if my head had been in a bag all the time of my exercise. Again, 
 when as sometimes I have been about to preach upon some smart 
 and searching portion of the Word, I have found the tempter sug- 
 gest, What! will you preach this? This condemns yourself; of this 
 your own soul is guilty ; wherefore, preach not of this at all ! or if 
 you do, yet so mince it as to make way for your own escape; lest, 
 instead of awakening others, you lay that guilt upon your own soul 
 that you will never get from under. 
 
 But I thank the Lord, I have been kept from consenting to 
 these so horrid suggestions, and have rather, as Samson, bowed my- 
 self with all my might, to condemn sin and transgression wherever 
 I found it ; yea, though therein also I did bring guilt upon my own 
 conscience. Let me die, thought I, with the Philistines (Judges 16: 
 29, 30), rather than deal corruptly with the blessed Word of God. 
 
JJ/& ilf Bunyan, 529 
 
 "Thou that teachest av^^thfir, teachest not thou thyself? " It is far 
 better then to judge thyself, even by preaching plainly unto others, 
 than thou, to save thyself, iittprison the truth in unrighteousness. 
 Blessed be God for his help also in this ! I have, also, while found in 
 this blessed work of Christ, been often tempted to pride and liftings 
 up of heart ; and, though I dare not say I have been affected with 
 this, yet truly the Lord, of his precious mercy, hath so carried it 
 towards me, tha.t, for the most part, I have had but small joy to give 
 way to such a thing. For it hath been my every day's portion to be 
 let into the evil of my own heart, and still made to see such a multi- 
 tude of corruptions and infirmities therein, that it hath caused hang- 
 ing down of the head under all my gifts and attainments ; I have felt 
 this thorn in the flesh (2 Cor. 12 : 8,9) the very mercy of God tome. 
 
 I have also had, together with this, some notable place or other 
 of the word presented before me, which word hath contained in it 
 some sharp and precious sentence concerning the perishing of the 
 soul, notwithstanding gifts and parts. As for instance, that hath 
 been of great use to me : " Though I speak with the tongues of men 
 and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass 
 or a tinkling cymbal" (i Cor. 13: i, 2). A tinkling cymbal is an 
 instrument of music, with which a skilful player can make such me- 
 lodious and heart-inflaming music, and that all who hear him play can 
 scarcely hold from dancing; and yet, behold, the cymbal hath not 
 life, neither comes the music from it, but because of the art of him 
 that plays therewith ; so, then, the instrument at last may come to 
 naught and perish, though in times past such music hath been made 
 upon it. Just thus I saw it was, and will be, with them that hath gifts, 
 but want saving grace. They are in the hand of Christ, as the cymbal 
 in the hand of David ; and as David could, with the cymbal, make 
 that mirth in the service of God as to elevate the hearts of the wor- 
 shippers, so Christ can use these gifted men, as with them to affect 
 the souls of his people in his Church ; yet when he hath done all, 
 hang them by as lifeless, though sounding cymbals. 
 
 This consideration, therefore, together with some others, was 
 for the most part as a maul on the head of pride and desire of vain- 
 glory. What! thought I, shall I be proud because I am as sounding 
 brass? Is it so much to be a fiddle? Hath not the least creature 
 that hath life more of God in it than these? Besides, I knew it wae 
 love that should never die ; but these must cease and vanish ; so 1 
 concluded a little grace, a little love, a little of the true fear of God, 
 
 34 
 
630 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 IS better than all the gifts ; yea, and I am fully convinced of it, that 
 it is possible for souls that can scarce give a man an answer, but with 
 great confusion as to method ; I say, it is possible for them to have 
 a thousand times more grace, and so to be more in the love and 
 favor of the Lord than some who, by the virtue of the gift of knowl- 
 edge, can deliver themselves like angels. 
 
 Thus, therefore, I came to perceive that though gifts in them- 
 selves were good, to the thing for which they w^ere designed, to wit, 
 the edification of others, yet empty and without power to save the 
 soul of him that hath them, if they be alone ; neither are they, as so, 
 any sign of man's state to be happy, being only a dispensation of 
 God to some, of whose improvement, or non-improvement, they 
 must, when a little more time is over, give an account to Him that 
 is ready to judge the quick and the dead. This showed me, too, 
 that gifts being alone, were dangerous ; not in themselves, but be- 
 cause of those evils that attend them that have them ; to wit, pride, 
 desire of vain-glory, self-conceit, etc., all which were easily blown 
 up at the applause and commendation of every unadvised Christian, 
 to the endangering of a poor creature to fall into the condemnation 
 of the devil. I saw, therefore, that he that hath gifts had need to be 
 let into a sight of the nature of them ; to wit, that they come short 
 of making of him to be in a truly saved condition, lest he rest in 
 them, and so fall short of the grace of God. He hath cause to walk 
 humbly with God, and be little in his own eyes, and to remember 
 withal, that his gifts are not his own, but the Church's; and that by 
 them he is made a servant to the Church, and he must give at last 
 an account of his stewardship unto the Lord Jesus ; and to give a 
 good account will be a blessed thing. Let all men, therefore, prize 
 a little with the fear of the Lord (gifts, indeed, are desirable), but 
 yet great grace and small gifts are better than great gifts and no 
 grace. It doth not say, the Lord gives gifts and glory, but the 
 Lord gives grace and glory ; and blessed is such an one to 
 whom the Lord gives grace, for that is a certain forerunner 
 of glory. 
 
 But when Satan perceived that his thus tempting and assaulting 
 of me would not answer his design, to wit, to overthrow the minis- 
 try and make it ineffectual as to the ends thereof, then he tried 
 another way, which was to stir up the minds of the ignorant and 
 malicious to load me with slanders and reproaches. Now, therefore, 
 1 say, that what the devil could advise, and his instruments invent, 
 
Life of Bunyan. 531 
 
 was whirled up and down the country against me, thinking, as I 
 said, that by that means they should make my ministry to be aban- 
 doned. It began, therefore, to be rumored up and down among the 
 people, that I was a witch, a Jesuit, a highwayman and the like. To 
 all which I shall only say, God knows that I am innocent. But, as 
 for mine accusers, let them provide themselves to meet me before 
 the tribunal of the Son of God, there to answer for all these things 
 (with all the rest of their iniquities), unless God give them repent- 
 ance for them, for the which I pray with all my heart. 
 
 But that which was reported with the boldest confidence, was, 
 that I WIS addicted to orross immoralities and the like. Now these 
 slanders (with others) I glory in; because but slanders, foolish or 
 knavish lies, and falsehoods cast upon me by the devil and his seed ; 
 and should I not be dealt with thus wickedly by the world, I should 
 want one sign of a saint and a child of God. " Blessed are you 
 (saith the Lord Jesus) when men shall revile you, and persecute you, 
 and shall say all manner of evil of you falsely for my sake; rejoice 
 and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so 
 persecuted they the prophets, which were before you" (Matt 5:11, 
 12). These things, therefore, upon mine ow^n account, trouble me 
 not. No, though they were twenty times more than they are I 
 have a good conscience ; and whereas they speak evil of me, as an 
 evil-doer, they shall be ashamed that falsely accuse my good conver- 
 sation in Christ. So then, what shall I say to those who have thus 
 bespattered me? Shall I threaten them? Shall I chide them? Shall 
 I flatter them ? Shall I entreat them to hold their tongues? No, not 
 I. Were it not for that these things make them ripe for damnation, 
 that are the authors and abettors, I would say unto them. Report it; 
 because it wall increase my glory. 
 
 Therefore, I bind these lies and slanders to me as an orna- 
 ment ; it belongs to my Christian profession to be vilified, slandered, 
 reproached and reviled ; and since all this is nothing else, as my God 
 and my conscience do bear me witness, I rejoice in reproaches for 
 Christ's sake. I also call all these fools and knaves that have thus 
 made it anything of their business to affirm any of these things 
 aforenamed of me; namely, that I have been of unchaste life or the 
 like. When they have used the utmost of their endeavors, and 
 made the fullest inquiry that they can, to prove against me truly, 
 that there is any one in heaven, or earth, or hell that can say I 
 have at any time, in any place, by day or night, so much as at- 
 tempted any unbecoming familiarity ; and speak I thus to beg 
 
632 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 mine enemies into a good esteem of me ? No, not I. I will in this 
 beg belief of no man ; believe or disbelieve me in this, all is a simi- 
 lar case to me. 
 
 My foes have missed their mark in this their shooting at me. 
 I am not the man, I wish that they themselves be guiltless. If all 
 the fornicators and adulterers in England were hanged up by the 
 neck till they be dead, John Bunyan, the object of their envy, would 
 be still alive and well. I know not whether there be such a thing 
 as a woman breathing under the copes of the heaven, but by their 
 apparel, their children, or by common fame — except my wife. 
 
 And in this I admire the wisdom of God, that he made me in 
 this respect circumspect, from my first conversion until now. They 
 know, and can also bear me witness, with whom I have been most 
 intimately concerned, that it is a rare thing to see me to behave 
 familiarly towards females ; the common salutation I abhor, it is 
 odious to me in whomsoever I see it. Their company alone I can- 
 not approve, for I think these things are not so becoming me. 
 When I have seen good men salute those women that they have 
 visited, or that have visited them, I have, at times, made my objec- 
 tion against it ; and when they have answered that it was but a piece 
 of civility, I have told them it is not a comely sight ; some, indeed, 
 have urged the holy kiss ; but then I have asked why they have 
 made such exceptions, why they did salute the most handsome, and 
 let the ill-favored go? Thus, how laudable soever such things have 
 been in the eyes of others, they have been unseemly in my sight. 
 And now for a wind up in this matter, I call not only on men, but 
 angels to prove me guilty of having broken the marriage covenant; 
 nor am I afraid to do it a second time, knowing that I cannot offend 
 the Lord in such a case, to call God for a record upon my soul, that 
 in these things I am innocent. Not that I have been thus kept be- 
 cause of any goodness in me more than any other ; but God has 
 been merciful to me, and has kept me, to whom I pray that he will 
 keep me still, not only from this, but every evil way and work, and 
 preserve me to his heavenly kingdom. Amen. 
 
 Now, as Satan labored by reproaches and slanders to make 
 me vile among my countrymen, that, if possible, my preaching 
 might be made of none effect, so thereby was added hereto a long 
 and tedious imprisonment, that thereby I might be frightened from 
 my service for Christ, and the world terrified and made afraid to 
 hear me preach, of which I shall in the next place give you a briei 
 account. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 |AVING made profession of the glorious Gospel of Christ 
 a long time, and preached the same about five years, I 
 was apprehended at a meeting of good people in the 
 country (among whom, had they let me alone, I should 
 have preached that day ; but they took me away from 
 among them), and had me before a justice, who, after I had offered 
 security for my appearing the next sessions, yet committed me, be- 
 cause my sureties would not consent to be bound that I should 
 preach no more to the people. 
 
 At the sessions after, I was indicted for an upholder and main- 
 tainer of unlawful assemblies and conventicles, and for not conforming 
 to the national worship of the Church of England, and after some con- 
 ferences there with the justices, they took my plain dealing with 
 them for a confession, as they termed it, of the indictment, because 
 I refused to conform. So being delivered up to the jailer's hand I 
 was had home to prison, and there have laid now complete fof 
 twelve years, waiting to see what God would suffer those men to do 
 with me. In which condition I have continued with much content, 
 through grace, but have met with many turnings and goings upon my 
 heart, both from the Lord, Satan and my own corruption ; by all 
 which (glory be to Jesus Christ) I have also received among many 
 things, much conviction, instruction and understanding, of which at 
 large I shall not here discourse; only give you a hint or two, a word 
 that may stir up the godly to bless God and to pray for me ; and also 
 to take encouragement, should the case be their own, not to fear what 
 man can do unto them. I never had in all my life so great an inlet 
 into the Word of God as now; those Scriptures that I saw nothing in 
 before, were made in this place and state to shine upon me. Jesus 
 Christ was also never more real and apparent than now. Here I have 
 seen and felt him, indeed; oh ! that word: "We have not preached unto 
 you cunningly devised fables" (2 Pet. i : 16), and that: "God raised 
 Christ up from the dead and gave him glory, that our faith and hope 
 might be in God" (i Pet. i : 21), were blessed words unto me in this 
 imprisoned condition. These three or four Scriptures, also, have 
 been great refreshments in this condition to me: John 14: 1-4; 16: 
 33; Col. 3 : 3, 4; Heb. 12: 22-24. 
 
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Life of Bunyan. 535 
 
 So that sometimes, when I have been in favor of them, I have been 
 able to laugh at destruction and to fear neither the horse nor his 
 rider. I have had sweet sights of the forgiveness 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 that 
 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 : 8). 
 I never knew what it was for God to stand by me at all times, and 
 at evtry offer of Satan to afflict me, etc., as I have found him since 
 I came in hither ; for look how fears have presented themselves, so 
 have supports and encouragements ; yea, when I have started, even 
 as it were at nothing else but my shadow, yet God, as being very 
 tender of me, hath not suffered me to be molested, but would, with 
 one Scripture or another, strengthen me against all ; insomuch that 
 I have often said, were it lawful, I could pray for greater trouble, for 
 the greater comfort's sake (Eccl. 7 : 14; 2 Cor. 1:5). 
 
 Before I came to prison I saw what was coming, and had especially 
 two considerations warm 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 : 11, was great information to me, namely, 
 ^o pray to God "to be strengthened with all might, according to his 
 glorious power, unto all patience and long-suffering with joyfulness." 
 I could seldom go to prayer before I was imprisoned, but for not so 
 little as a year together, this sentence or sweet petition would, as it 
 were, thrust itself into my mind and persuade me, that if ever I 
 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 had the sentence of death in our- 
 selves, that we might not trust in ourselves, but in God that raiseth 
 the dead " (2 Cor. 1:9). By this Scripture I was made to see that if 
 ever I would suffer rightly, I must first pass a sentence of death upon 
 everything that can be properly called a thing of this life, even to reckon 
 myself, my wife, my children, my health, my enjoyment, and all, as 
 dead to me, and myself as dead to them. The second was to live 
 upon God that is 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 
 
636 Life of Bu7iyan. 
 
 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 I conclude that banishment is 
 the worst, then if death comes, I am surprised ; so that I see the best 
 way to go through suiferings 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, I 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 flesh 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 must 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 thousfht 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: lo). 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 Lord 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: 11). 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 stood 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 flaw. 
 
 That scripture also greatly helped it to fasten the more on me, 
 where Christ prays against Judas, that God would disappoint him in 
 his selfish 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 with the sword ; they 
 wandered about in sheep-skins and goat-skins, 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, by 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 ; 
 
538 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 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 die 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 condition 1 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 methought I was 
 ashamed to die with a pale face, and tottering knees, in such a case 
 as this. Wherefore, I 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 count 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 when 
 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 I 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 me comfort now, or at the hour of death ; 
 but I might not, therefore, choose whether I would hold my profes- 
 sion or no. I was bound, but he was free ; yea, it was my dut)' 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 I, I will leap 
 off the ladder, even blindfold into eternity, sink or sw^m, come 
 heaven, come hell. Lord Jesus, if thou wilt catch me, do ; if not I 
 will venture for thy name. 
 
Life of Bunyan. 539 
 
 I was no longer fix-ed 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, though 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 
 ol the Lord (i Chron. 26: 27). 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 @J^e (^oncPui^lon, 
 
 1. Of all the temptations that ever I met with in my life, to 
 question the 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 riohteous 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 
 
640 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 thouglit I was not wise to give such way to comfort; with such strength 
 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 
 
 jbeen 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 I 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, 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Bunyan's liberation from prison was obtained from Charles II 
 by Whitehead, the Quaker. This discovery was not made when 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.— 
 Southey 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 to 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's 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 Meeting, to be pre- 
 sented to the Trustees of the said Meeting, to be held by them in 
 continuance. Dated this 26th day of October, 1832. Bedford. 
 Witness, A. Brandram, Secretary of the British and Foreign 
 Bible Society ; G. P. Livlus ; J. S. Grimshaw, Vicar of Biddenham." 
 " According to the above statement, this writing of John Bunyan f 
 was put into my hand at the death of Mrs. Livlus, 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 
 
 (541) 
 
542 
 
 Life of Bunyan. 
 
 Bunyan; William White, Bookseller. Bedford, October 30th, 1838." 
 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 his confidence in her prudence. And his Eliza- 
 beth \vell deserved both ! 
 
 BUNYAN ON HIS LAST ERRAND OF MERCY. 
 
 Whatever Bunyan may have feared when he thus disposed of 
 ill the litde 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 IPs 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 o/ Bunyan, 
 
 543 
 
 he did nothing but carry the six books through the press ; for none 
 of chem 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 liorseback. 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 L)je, "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. 
 Strudwirk, a grocer on Snow Hill, with all the kind endearments ofa 
 loving friend, but soon found himself indisposed with a VinAoi shak- 
 ing, as it were an ague, which increasing to a kind of fever, he took 
 to his bed, where, orrowino- worse, he found he had not lone to last 
 in this world, and therefore prepared himself for another, towards 
 
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, I quote it : 
 
 " The last act of his life was a labor of love and chanty. A 
 young gentleman, a neighbor of Mr. Bunyan, falling under his father's 
 displeasure, and being much troubled in mind on that account, and 
 also 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 coming to his lodg- 
 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 hands 
 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. 
 
©Ifte "bifffe p if grim. 
 
 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 oft 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 in 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. 
 
 The servants, too, were all engaged ; 
 
 "The day is come at last," 
 Said Marian, " but oh, I wish. 
 
 My pilgrimage was past." 
 She knelt beside the apple-tree, 
 
 And for God's assistance prayed ; 
 Then, with her basket in her hand, 
 
 Forth tripped the little \naid. 
 
 35 
 
 (546) 
 
546 
 
 The PUgfim's Progress. 
 
 Behind the house where Marian dwelt, 
 
 Far oft 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 had often thought ; 
 Towards th.is 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. 
 Then with fresh hope she journeyed on, 
 
 For many miles away ; 
 And she reached the bottom of the hill. 
 
 Before the close of day. 
 
 She -:lambered up the steep ascent. 
 Though faint 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 httle tired soul ; 
 "I'm sure I should have sat me down. 
 
 And lost my httle 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 sheltering 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 trembling 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 Miss, 
 
 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 I 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 Pilgrim 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 resti 
 And rest you soon shall find." 
 
The Little Pilgrim. 
 
 547 
 
 To a room where three young ladies sat 
 
 The child was quickly led ; 
 "Piety, Prudence and Charity," 
 
 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 to 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 dar'- '^oor. 
 
 Even little girls like you." 
 
 "Yes," said the timid, trembling child, 
 
 " I 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 armor. 
 
 When you have time to spare ? 
 I hope you have some small enou^ 
 
 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 glorious 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 mamma. 
 
 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 book, 
 
 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 child ; 
 And her poor old aunts, when they came 
 home. 
 
 With grief were almost wild. 
 
 The coachman and the footman, too. 
 
 In different ways were 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 home; 
 
 I fear the child is dead. '" 
 
648 
 
 The Pilgrim s Progi'ess. 
 
 And to the town the ccichman 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. " 
 Then louder grew the ladies' grief; 
 
 But soon their hearts were cheered, 
 When 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 res!. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 And, more than all, while there she stayed, 
 
 They did their best to bring 
 The httle lamb to that blest fold 
 
 Where reigns the Shepherd King. 
 For many a lesson ne'er forgot. 
 
 The little Marian learned ; 
 And a thoughtful and a happier child 
 
 She to her home returned. 
 
 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 that 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 Marian'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. 
 
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