/ C fl-t^'l St- <£L-~ st't 7 rV, / ■ "'. % $ < & #» /2_,3. 06 Present! a flic Wmtotfxm M PRINCETON, N. J. ty 3d by~"V?<2/^£. {7\rVvAvAr Vb Division Section "-'^ w^ N B IT London, FubUshed May 2iijpS,bj T.BeptimtaUJFleet Street. ////// a « x%#d /<> ///r . ////y/c?// C A Ci: [TlpiJE ON ri'.s BEAUTJ E • Christian fcHoPEFi'LL in a Pi-easam Meadoiv near DuriiTiNO t'ASTLB a Zondon Publuked Ahn i '■'',""'■ />>''/'■ fbptoifSaU t'/tfl Stlvet THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. VV HEN at the first I took my pen in hand, Thus for to write, I did not understand That I at all should make a little book In such a mode : nay, I had undertook To make another : which, when almost done, Before I was aware, I thus begun. And thus it was : I, writing of the way And race of saints in this our gospel day, Fell suddenly into an allegory, About their journey and the way to glory, In more than twenty things, which I set down : This done, I twenty more had in my crown, And they again began to multiply, Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. Nay then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out The book that I already am about. Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think To shew 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 neighbour j no, not I, I did it mine own self to gratify. Neither did I but vacant seasons spend In this my scribble ; nor did I intend But to divert myself in doing this, From worser thoughts, which made me do amiss. Xlli THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 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 so I penn'd Itdown, until at last it came to be, For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. Well, when I had put my ends together, I shew'd them others, that I might see whether They would condemn them or them justify : And some said, Let him live j some, Let him die ; Some said, John, print it ; others said, Not so. Some said, It might do good ; others said, No. Now I was 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 farther thought, if now I did deny Those that would have it, thus to gratify, I did not know, but hinder them I might Of that which would to them be great delight : For those which were not for its coming forth, I said to them, Offend you I am loth j Yet since your brethren pleased with it be, Forbear to judge, till you do farther see. If that you would not read, let it alone : Some love the meat, some love to pick a bone. Yea, that I might them better moderate, I did too with them thus expostulate : May I not write in such a style as this ? In such a method too, and yet not miss the author's apology. xliii My end, thy good ? Why may it not be done ? Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops, Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either, But treasures up the fruit they yield together ; Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit None can distinguish this from that ; they suit Her well when hungry -, but if she be full, She spews out both, and makes their blessing null. You see the ways the fisherman doth take To catch the fish-, what engines doth he make ? Behold ! how he engageth all his wits ; Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets : Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line, Nor snares, nor net, nor engine can make thine s They must be grop'd 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 gun, 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 j Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss. If that a pearl may on 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 tnay find it ! Now my little book (Though void of all these paintings that may make It with this or the other man tp take) xl'lV THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. Is not without these things that do excel What do in brave, but empty notions dwell. Well, yet I am not fully satisfied, That this your book will stand, when soundly tried. Why, what's the matter ? It is dark : What though ? But it is feigned : What of that ? I trow, Some men, by feigned words as dark as mine, Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine ! But they want solidness : speak, man, thy mind : They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind. Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen Of him that writeth things divine to men : But must I needs want solidness, because By metaphors I speak ? Were not God's laws, His gospel laws, in older times 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 full happy 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 shew, not solid be ; All things in parables despise not we, Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, And things that good are, of our souls bereave Mv dark and cloudy words they do but hold The truth, as cabinets inclose the gold. The prophets used much by metaphors To set forth truth > yea, whoso considers THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. xlv Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see, That truths to this day in such mantles be. 1 am afraid to say that Holy Writ, Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit, Is every-where 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 also it doth fill With what doth our imagination please; Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use, And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; But yet grave Paul him no-where did forbid The use of parables ; in which lay hid That crold, those pearls, and precious stones that were Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. Let me add one word more : O man of God, Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had Fut 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 : Xlvi THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 1. I find not that I am denied the use Of this method, so I do not abuse Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude In handling figure or similitude, In application •, but all that I may Seek the advance of truth this or that way. Denied, did I say ? Nay, I have leave (Examples too, and that from them that have God better pleased, by their words or ways, Than any man that breathes now in our days) Thus to express my mind, thus to declare Things unto thee that excellentest are. 2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write Dialogue ways ; yet no man doth them slight For writing so : indeed, if they abuse Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use To that intent ; but yet let truth be free To make her sallies upon thee and me, Which way it pleases God ; for who knows how, Better than he that taught us first to plow, To guide our minds and pens for his design ? And he makes base things usher in divine. 3. I find that Koly Writ, in many places, Hath semblance with this method, where the cases Do call for one thing to set forth another : Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother Truth's golden beams ; nay, by this method may Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. And now, before I do put up my pen, I'll shew the profit of my book, and then Commit both thee and it into that hand, That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. This book, it chalketh out before thine eyes The man that seeks the everlasting prize : the author's apology. xlvii It shews you whence he comes, whither he goes ; What he leaves undone ; also what he does : It shews you how he runs and runs, Till he unto the gate of glory comes. It shews, too, who set out for life amain, As if the lasting crown they would obtain : Here also you may see the reason why They lose their labour, and like fools do die. This book will make a traveller of thee, If bv its counsel thou wilt ruled be ; It will direct thee to the holy land, If thou wilt its directions understand : Yea, it will make the slothful active be ; The blind also delightful things to see. Art thou for something rare and profitable ? Or wouldst thou see a truth within a fable ? Art thou forgetful ? Or wouldst thou remember From new year's day to the last of December ? Then read my fancies ; they will stick like burs, And may be to the helpless comforters. This Book is wrote in such a dialect, As may the minds of listless men affect: It seems a novelty, and yet contains Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ? Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ? Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation ? Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ? Dost thou love picking meat ? Or wouldst thou see A man i' th' clouds, and hear him speak to thee ? Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? Or, wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep ? xlviii the author's apology. Or, wouldst thou lose thyself, and catch no harm j And find thyself again without a charm ? Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know'st not what, And yet know whether thou art bless'd or not, By reading the same lines ? O then come hither ! And lay my book, thy head, and heart, together. JOHN BUNYAN. THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. XhE whole compass of biography exhibits not a character more interesting, than that of a man converted from sin- gular depravity of manners, to eminent piety ; and raised from the deepest obscurity, to be an author celebrated for genius, and uncommonly useful to mankind. Such was the excellent writer of the Pilgrim's Progress. John Bunyan was born at Elstow, within a mile of Bed- ford, in the year 1628. His descent was, as himself ex- presses it, of a « low and inconsiderable generation', his fa- ther being an itinerant tinker, and his mother of the like rank. They gave him the best education in their power, which was common reading and writing, of which he after- wards made a very excellent use ; but for the present he gave himself up to the most execrable 'vices, particularly < cursing, swearing, lying, and blaspheming the holy name « of God.' During this period he was not without considerable checks of conscience. At but nine or ten years of age, in the midst of his sports and childish vanities, he was often, dis- tressed, both by day and night. For even in his sleep he was terrified with * apprehensions of devils and wicked spi- < rits/ and « of the fearful torments of hell-fire,' insomuch a U THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. that he sometimes wished himself to be a devil to torment others, that thereby (as he ignorantly hoped) he might escape being tormented by them. These terrors were but partial and temporary restraints upon his conduct, and by no means cured him of his de- light in sin, or of his aversion to true religion. He men- tions it, however, as a remarkable circumstance in his ex- perience, that though he delighted in his own sins and those of his wicked companions, ' it made his heart ache,' to hear profane language from people reputedly religious, and to see the wicked actions of persons professing godliness. The early part of Mr. Bunyan's life was also attended with some hair-breadth escapes from dangerous accidents. At one time he fell into the river Ouse; at another into a creek of the sea 5 in a third instance he escaped the bite of an adder, and (after wounding it) drew out its sting with his fingers •, but the most remarkable instance was the fol- lowing : while a soldier in the Parliament army in 16 15, he was drafted for the siege of Leicester, but another, desiring to change with him, took his place, and was shot through the head with a musquet-ball, while standing cen- tinel. If ' every bullet has its billet,' as our king William III. used to say, this must surely be regarded as an instance of a particular providence in Bunyan's favour. Soon after this he married a young woman poor as him- self-, for they had not, he says, < so* much household-stuff * as a spoon or dish between them.' But she had been bless- ed with a religious education, and brought for her marriage- portion two small devotional tracts, c The Plain Man's Path- « way to Heaven,' and « The Practice of Piety.' These books Bunyan repeatedly read ; and though they were not the means of his conversion,, they had such an effect on him, that he was willing to « do many things,' and give up some of his outward vices. He used to be among the THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAtf. Ill foremost to go to church, and there * very devoutly both * sing and say' as other folks did. Nay, so prone are man- kind to fail into extremes, that the profligate Bunyan became a superstitious pharisee, and even idolized the ministers and services of the established church, little suspecting that he should ever be made to suffer as a dissenter from that esta- blishment. At this period he received a considerable check of con- science under one of the sermons he heard at church on sabbath-breaking, to which he was much addicted ; but this conviction he shook out of his mind, and the same afternoon returned to his usual sunday sports, when the following incident happened, which shall be related in his own words : < The same day, as I was in the midst of a game of cat, < and having struck it one blow from the^iole, just as I was « about to strike 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 amaze ; wherefore, leaving * my cat upon the ground, I looked up to heaven, and was as « if I had, with the eyes of my understandings seen the Lord ' Jesus looking down upon me, as being very hotly displeased « with me, and as if he did severely threaten me with some * grievous punishment for these and other ungodly practices. 1 I had no sooner thus conceived in my mind, but sud- « denly this conclusion was fastened on my spirit, that I had * been a great and grievous sinner, and that it was now too * late for me to look after heaven. Then I felt my heart sink « in despair, and therefore I resolved to go on in sin : For, * thought I, if the case be thus, my state is surely miserable : * miserable if 1 leave my sins, and but miserable if I follow ' them. I can but be damned -, and if I must be so, I had as ( good be damned for many as for few. IV THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. « Thus I stood in the midst of my play before all that then * were present : yet I told them nothing ; but, 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 comfort than what I should get in sin : * wherefore I found within me great desire to take my fill of « sin, stilt studying what sin was yet to be committed, that I * might taste the sweetness of it; lest I should die before I had ' my desires. In these things I protest before God, I lie not ; c these were really, strongly, and with all my heart my de- f sires : the good Lord, whose mercy is unsearchable, forgive ' me my transgressions !' Thus Bunyan went on sinning greedily for about a month or more, till one day, as he was standing at a neigh- bour's shop-window, and « there cursing and swearing and « playing the madman' (as he expresses it) after his usual manner, the woman of the house, though a loose and irre- ligious person, reproved him very severely, protesting he was « the ungodliest fellow for swearing' she had ever heard, and enough to spoil all the youth in the whole town. This reproof, coming from such a woman, silenced and . shamed him ; nay more, it even cured him of that detestable vice j and his remark on this circumstance is wf 11 worthy the attention of profane and customary swearers : l How it came * to pass (says he), I know not, I did from this time forward ' 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 e my words have authority, now I could, without it, speak 1 better and with more pleasantness than ever I could before/ Soon after this he fell into company with a poor religious man that spake pleasantly of religion and of the scriptures ; which so delighted Bunyan, that he betook himself to his THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. V Bible, and found great pleasure in reading the historical and more entertaining parts of it. This carried his reformation one step farther. He became now conscientiously moral ; his acquaintance reckoned him very godly and religious ; and himself thought that he « pleased God as well as any « man in England.' Eunyan's two favourite amusements were ringing and dancing ; these now appeared inconsistent with the character he had assumed, and therefore must be relinquished, though reluctantly and by degrees : they were like the extinction of a right eye, or the excision of a right hand. All this time, however, he was building upon a wrong foundation : being « ignorant of God's righteousness,' he went about to establish his own ; and had no suspicion that he was in an error, till one day he overheard three or four poor women in Bedford discoursing on religious sub- jects. He was much surprised to hear them talk of convic- tion, the new birth, the sweetness of the promises, and the power of temptation ; of the depravity of their own hearts, and of their unbelief; and to hear them bitter- ly contemn * their own righteousness as filthy and insuffi- < cient to do them any good.' They also spake (as he ex- « presses it) with such pleasantness of scripture language, < and with such appearance of grace in all they said, that they < were to him as if they had found a new world ; as if they « were " people that dwelt alone, and not reckoned among « the nations I." These topics were not only new to him, but in a great measure unintelligible ; and he was led first to suspect, and afterwards to condemn himself, as a vain babbler and a hypo- crite ; as wanting the « true tokens of a godly man,' and as a stranger to those pleasures which he found these good • Num. xxiii. 9. VI THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. people had experienced. This conviction induced him to seek repeated opportunities of their company, and the more he enjoyed of their conversation, the more earnestly he de- sired it. The various branches of christian experience, and the important truths of scripture, now engaged his whole attention, and he found it as difficult then to bring his mind from heaven to earth, as, at some other times, to ele- vate his mind from earth to heaven. Before his conversion, Bunyan had formed a friendly at- tachment to a young man of very loose morals, whose ac- quaintance he now found it necessary to drop ; but meeting with him a few months afterwards, and asking him how he did, the other replied in his usually wild and profane lan- guage. « But, Harry (said Bunyan), why do you swear and •curse thus?' The other replied in a great rage — 'What < would the devil do for company, if it were not for such as « I am ?' About this time Mr. Bunyan met with some books writ- ten by the ranters of that age, who were a set of practical, as well as theoretical, antinomians. Their leading maxims seem to have been (when fairly expressed), those diabolical ones mentioned by St. Paul — « Let us do evil, that good may « come :• — let us sin, that grace may abound.' We have above mentioned that Bunyan had formed an acquaintance with a poor man who made a zealous profession of religion j this man, to the great grief of our author, now became a ranter^ and ran into the wildest extrava- gancies of the sect. He denied the first principles of religion, gave himself up to all manner of licentiousness, and laughed at all exhortations to sobriety. Many other professors were tainted with the delicious poison, and left no means untried to infect Bunyan. They told him his present views were dark and legal, pretending that they only had attained to perfection, being able to do what they would, and not sin. THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. VU These temptations were adapted to the carnal palate of a young man in the prime of life ; but the Lord kept him from the snare ; and he lived to bless him many years after- wards, for putting it into his heart to seek divine direction, distrusting his own strength and wisdom, as weak and in- sufficient. He adds, < I have since seen even the effects of 1 that prayer in preserving me not only from ranting errors, * but from those also that have sprung up since.' About this time he began to read the scripture, * with f new eyes,' and as he had never done before j especially St. Paul's epistles, which were now very delightful, though formerly they had much offended and disgusted him. In short, the Bible became his constant companion, and he was (as he says) ' never out of it, either by reading or * meditation ; 'constantly crying to God, that he might know the truth, and follow it. A fresh difficulty however occurred. Reading in the New Testament, of the various extraordinary gifts of the Spirit, wisdom, knowledge, faith, &c. he was particular- ly stumbled at the latter, and, misunderstanding some of our Lord's words on that subject x, he was tempted to try to work a miracle to prove his faith. One day, in particular, walking between Elstow and Bedford, it was strongly sug- gested to him to bid the puddle c be dry,' and to say to the dry places, * Be you puddles.' But just as he was about to speak, the, thought came into his mind, to go under the hedge to pray that God would enable him. On the other hand it occurred to him, that if he tried and could not effect it, it would discourage and sink him into deep de- spair. For this reason he prudently declined it. While his mind was thus agitated between hope and fear, he had what he calls ' a kind of vision,' respecting the good 1 Matt. xvii. 20. VIII THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. people of Bedford, which is thus related in his own words : « I saw, as if they were on the sunny side of some high raoun- « tain, 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 did compass about ' this mountain ; now through this wall my soul did greatly « desire to pass, concluding, that, if I could, I would even go < in the very midst of them, and there also comfort myself ' with the heat of their sun. « About this wall I thought myself to go again and again, ' still prying as I went, to see if I could find some way or pas- < sage, 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 door-way in the wall, through which I attempt- « ed to pass : now the passage being very strait and narrow, I ' made many offers to get in, but all in vain. At last, with « great striving, methought I at first did get in my head, and ' after that by sidling striving, my shoulders, and after that * my whole body. Then was I exceeding glad, 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, &c. was made thus out to « me : the mountain signified the church of the living God 9 1 the sun that shone thereon, the comfortable shining of his « merciful face on them' that were therein ; the wall I thought * was the world, that did make separation between the Chris- * tians and the world ; and the gap which was in the wall I * thought was Jesus Christ, who is the way to God the « Father l. But forasmuch as the passage was wonderful « narrow, even so narrow that I could not, but with great ' difficulty, enter thereat, it showed me none could enter « into life, but those that were in downright earnest.' 1 John, xjv. 6. Matt. tu. 14. THE LIFE OF JOHN BTJNYAN. IX This vision, whatever it was, abode much upon his mind, gave him an ardent desire to enjoy the sunshine of the divine presence, and excited him to cry mightily to God for it. Two other temptations now beset him, very common in- deed, but also very dangerous and distressing. — The one led him to doubt whether he was elected — the other, to fear that, perad venture, his day of grace might be already past. The former was grounded chiefly on this scripture — ( It is c not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth ; but of God ' that sheweth mercy V Here then it was suggested, < How ' can you tell that you are elected ? and if not, how then ?'— Bunyan's inward reasonings on this important question will appear best in his own simple language : 1 O Lord ! (thought I,) what if I should not indeed ? — " It may be 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 farther : for if indeed you « should not be elected, there is no talk of your being « saved : — for it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that " runneth, but of God that sheweth mercy." Dr. Watts hath finely remarked, * we should not go to * the university of predestination, till we have been at the « grammar-school of faith and repentance.' The contem- plation of the divine decrees is always painful and distressing, until through grace we are enabled to see our interest in them : then we may say with the church of England, That c the godly consideration of predestination, and our « election in Christ, is full of sweet, pleasant, and unspeak- ' able comfort to godly persons, and such as feel in them- ' selves the working of the Spirit of Christ 2. But poor Bunyan not having attained this experience, was greatly distressed for several weeks, until these words were 1 Rom. ix. 1 6. 2 Art. xvii. X THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. strongly suggested to his mind, t Look at the generations ' of old, and see ; did any ever trust in God, and were con- ' founded ?' The impression of the passage was the more remarkable, in that he had never seen nor heard of it ; nor could he, for more than a twelvemonth, find it, either by searching or inquiry ; though he had no doubt but it was in the Bible. At last he met with it by accidentally turning over the Apocrypha l, and was a little staggered to find it there, fearing he had done wrong to take consolation from it, because it was not canonical ; but recollecting himself, he considered, that this sentence s being the sum and substance ' of many of the promises,' he did right to take the com- fort of it, and blessed God for it even many years after- wards. Another doubt which greatly terrified him was, lest the day of grace should be passed with him. He recollected his vision of the good people of Bedford, and was tempted to suppose that those already converted, were all that God would save in those parts ! Weak as was the foundation of these surmisings, they were no less painful and distressing till they were removed by another text, from the parable of the gospel feast — * and yet there is room V and so elevated was he with these words, that he could not help supposing our Lord Jesus had a particular reference to him in uttering them. A variety of temptations succeeded these; but with every temptation the Lord made a way for his escape. At length he began to break his mind to the good people of Bedford, and they introduced him to their minister, Mr. GifFord, who invited him to mingle with those serious persons that frequented his house •, and to listen to the experience of others, in order to enlarge his own. ! Ecclesiasticus, ii. io. 2 Luke, xiv. 23. THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. XI He now acquired a deeper acquaintance with the human heart, its inward corruptions and unbelief ; evils which he felt so strongly working in himself, that he thought it im- possible he should be already converted, and had little hopes that he ever should. His spiritual conflicts, therefore, in- creased rather than diminished, insomuch that he compares himself to the possessed child, brought by his parent to Jesus Christ, who, while he was yet coming to him, was thrown down by the devil, and cruelly torn by him «. Bunyan observes here, as a sign that his convictions were of the right sort, that they made him very conscien- tious ; so much so, as to tremble at the verge of duty, and shudder at the approach of sin. He now became (as is often the case with young converts) so scrupulous, that he who once never spake without an oath, was afraid to speak at all, lest he should speak idly, or misplace his words. He was not, however, so entirely taken up with his own feelings, as totally to neglect observation upon those around him. The following remarks, as they cannot easily be bet- ter expressed, shall be given in his own words : « 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 hus- « band, wife, child, &c. Lord, thought I, what ado is here ' about such little things as these ! What seeking after car- « nal things by some, and what grief in others for the loss ' of them ! If they so much labour after, and shed so many ' tears for the things of this present life, how am I to be be- * moaned, pitied, and prayed for ! My soui is dying, my soul ' Luke, he. 42. Xll THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. « is damning. Were my soul but in a good condition, and « were I but sure of it, ah ! how rich would I esteem « myself though blessed with bread and water 1 I should « count those but small afflictions, and should bear them as ' little burdens. " A wounded spirit who can bear ?" Painful as he felt his convictions, yet was he at times fearful of their dying away, or being removed by improper means ; because he had observed persons in similar distress, who, when their troubles wore away, or were improperly re- moved, became more carnal, and more hardened in wicked- ness, than before. That scripture lay much upon his mind, « Without shedding of blood there is no remission1 j' and he was led to cry earnestly to the Lord, that he might be deli- vered from « an evil conscience,' only by the sprinkling of atoning blood. At length the time of his deliverance approached, and he received his first consolation through a sermon on those words of Solomon * Behold, thou art fair, my love */ The preacher, who appears not to have displayed either learning, eloquence, or logical acumen, which certainly would have been lost upon his auditory, taking it for granted that his text referred to Christ's love to his church, endeavoured to show that this neither arose from any intrinsic excellence in the subjects of it, nor could be lessened by any temptations or distresses to which they might be exposed. This reached Bunyan's case, afforded him ' strong consolation,' and gave him a happy interval of joy and triumph in the Lord : but his triumph was of short duration : the enemy returned to the charge with double force, re-attacked him with increased malice, and he was now tempted to question the first princi- ple and ground -work of all religion, the very being of a God, Or, admitting this, said the spirit of infidelity, « How can 1 Heb ix. 2z. 2 Cant iv. i. THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. Xlll « you tell but the Turks have as good scriptures to prove ' their Mahomet to be the saviour, as we have to prove our * Jesus ? Every one thinks his own religion right, Jews, * Moors, and Pagans ! and what if all our faith, and Christ, * and scriptures should be no more !' These sceptical suggestions were accompanied with strong temptations to immorality and profaneness - even to curse God, and to blaspheme his Son. For infidelity and profane- ness are of near neighbourhood, and the arch-enemy of man- kind knows how to accelerate the course of sinners from one unto the other. Sometimes he attempted to reason with his temptations, but under great disadvantages, for want of his being ac- quainted with the external evidences of Christianity. The principal check his doubts received was from an internal principle, which rejected and disrelished them. At length it pleased God, however, to leave him for a time to sink again into despondency ; and, at intervals, he feared that his senses would have left him ; at other times he thought himself possessed by the devil. But the sorest trial of this period of his life, was a tempta- tion to commit the unpardonable sin against the Holy Ghost ; this he was prompted even to covet the opportunity of committing, though the new principle within him so revolted at the suggestion, that he forcibly closed his mouth with his hands, lest the fatal blasphemy should escape him. This temptation lasted about a year, and was attended, one while, with peculiar insensibility, and at other times with such distractions in duty as frustrated his attempts to pray j and so much was his mind convulsed by it, that at some times he thought he even felt one behind him pulling his clothes, to stop him when he began to pray. XIV THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. It is unnecessary, and might appear tedious, to relate all the temptations with which this good man was agitated, du- ring this period j it is, however, proper to observe that they were not without some allays of comfort : his cup was bitter, but dashed with some pleasant ingredients ; or, to speak without a figure, he had intervals of consolation ; many precious promises were applied, and he was at some times as much elevated with joy, as he was at others depress- ed with grief. It is also worthy of observation, that during this time he enjoyed the advantages of sitting under the ministry of good Mr. Gifford (an ancestor of the late learned Dr. Gifford), an evangelical and useful minister at Bedford ; whose advice appears to have been very judicious and salutary. ' He ' would bid us take special heed (says Bunyan), that we * took not up any truth upon trust j as from this or that ' man ; but pray to God that he would convince us of the « reality thereof by his Spirit in the word : for (said he), « otherwise, when temptations come, not having received ' them with evidence from heaven, you will now find the ' want of that help and strength to resist, which once * you thought you had.' This advice was very seasonable to Bunyan, and^of great service in his present circumstances j for having in good measure recovered from his former temptations, he began now to be tried as to the leading principles of the christian faith, particularly respecting the person of Christ, and several of the strange notions propa- gated at that time among the Quakers, who were then a rising sect, and made no little noise. In these difficulties he betook himself to the scriptures, and to prayer ; and there found, as every simple honest in- quirer doubtless will, all the satisfaction which he desired. He remarks also, that the sense he had of the guilt of sin, THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. XV was of use to keep him steady in the truth, by discovering his absolute need of a Saviour, and exactly such a Saviour as the New Testament reveals. About this time he met with Martin Luther upon the Galatians, and was much struck with *the similarity of his experience with that of the good old reformer ; and to find him describe so nearly the various temptations and conflicts which he had felt. He also received from this book con- siderable light into the gospel scheme of redemption, and esteemed it, next to the Bible, the most valuable book he had ever met with. Now again he began to rejoice and triumph : now he began to sing with the Psalmist, « My mountain stands « strong ; I shall never be removed *.' He found, however, this was but a short truce in his warfare •, and that these comforts were only to support and strengthen him for future conflicts. The next trial which beset him was a truly diabolical one — < it was to sell Christ, to exchange him for the things of « this life, for any thing.' And those words, * Sell him, sell « him,' would be impressed upon his thoughts an hundred times running, for hours together, and that during a succes- sion of many weeks. It may well be supposed he prayed and strove against this temptation ; at last he found nothing so much relieve him as answering the enemy in his own way, as fast as his temptations were repeated — c I will not, I will « not, I will not j no, not for thousands, thousands, thou- « sands, thousands of worlds !' At length, after much striv- ing, he felt the thought pass through his heart, as he ex- presses it — * Let him go if he ivi/l ;' and he imagined also that, for the moment, it had his free consent. * Now (says ' our author) was the battle won ; and down fell I, as a 1 Ps. xxx. 6, 7, XVI THE LIFE OF JOHN BUN Y AN. * bird that is shot from the top of a tree, into great guilt « and fearful despair.' And this continued until he was at length relieved with that comfortable word, f The blood of ' Jesus Christ cleanseth us from dLL sin V During the above period the tempter assaulted him in a manner that some persons have jested with, though it was no jest to Bunyan. In short, he tells us his enemy would not let him eat his food in quiet : but < forsooth (says he), ( when I was set at my table at any meat, I must go hence to ' pray ; I must leave my food now, and just now ; so coun- « terfeit holy would this devil be ! When I was thus tempt- « ed, I would say in myself, " Now I am at my meat, let me « make an end." — " No (said he), you must do it now, or « you will displease God, and despise Christ." And when he omitted to obey this temptation, his conscience smote him, as if he had refused to leave his meat for God. We have already mentioned the consolation he received from a sense of the efficacy of atoning blood ; on this occa- sion it seemed to him * as if the tempter did leer and steal * away from him as ashamed of what he had done :' but this modest fit of the devil was of short duration ; he soon re- collected his usual effrontery, and returned with a more se- rious and alarming temptation. In short, he now tempted him to believe that he had committed that unpardonable sin, the sin against the Holy Ghost 2 ; and that his case was like Esau's, after he had sold his birth-right, < when he would c have inherited the blessing, he was rejected ; for he * found no place for repentance, though he sought it care- * fully with tears 3.' These passages have given so much pain and uneasiness to others beside Bunyan, that it may not be an unprofitable digression, to bestow a short explanation on them, in hopes * i John, i. 7. J Mark, iii. 29. 3 Heb. xii. 17. THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. xvii it may be of use to such as may in future be attacked with the like temptations. Divines seem now pretty well agreed, that an enlightened understanding and a malicious heart must meet in the same person, to constitute a capacity of committing the unpar- donable sin. Thus it has been supposed, that if Peter had denied his Master with the same malice that Paul perse- cuted him ; or, if Paul had persecuted Jesus with the same conviction of his divinity as Peter had received when he de- nied him — either would have committed the unpardonable sin. The instances of this union of knowledge and hatred are so few, that we may reasonably hope sinners of this class are far from numerous : the most awful appearance of ic seems to be in those malicious pharisees, who wilfully shut their eyes against the evidences of Christ's mission, and at- tributed all his miracles to the agency of Beelzebub. The case of Esau has also been much misunderstood : the place be sought for repentance was not in his own, but his fa- ther's mind, as appears by the history ; that is, he sought to revoke his father's blessing. The supposition, however, that he had committed the unpardonable sin, had such an effect on Bunyan, that it not only distressed his mind, but made his very body tremble for many days together ; and produced such a stoppage and heat at his stomach, as greatly disordered him. Some comfort indeed he received, at intervals, frc±m occasional reflections on the promises : but the most effectual relief he met with was in the following extraordinary manner, which shall be re- lated in his own words : « Once, as I was walking to and fro in a good man's shop, « bemoaning myself in my sad and doleful state, praying « also in my heart, that if this sin of mine did differ from « that against the Holy Ghost, the Lord would shew it me j and being now ready to sink with fear, suddenly c XV111 THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 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 to 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 V This made a strange seizure upon my spirit : it brought light with it, and commanded a silence in my heart. It shewed me, also, that Jesus Christ had yet a word of grace and mercy for me ; yea, this was a kind of threatening of me, if I did not, not- withstanding my sins and the heinousness of them, venture my salvation upon the Son of God. But as to my deter- mining 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 abb to make a judg- ment of it : I thought then what here I should be loth to speak. But verily that sudden rushing wind was as if an angel had come upon me ; but both it and the salva- tion I will leave until the day of judgment: only this I say, it commanded a great calm in my soul j it persuaded me there might be hope \ it shewed 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. This lasted in the savour of it for about three or four days : and then I began to mistrust and to despair again.' In this situation Bunyan found his mind strongly impelled to private prayer, which, when the tempter perceived, he endeavoured to persuade him that it was now too late that having denied and rejected Christ, it was only adding « Heb. xii, 25, THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. XtX Tsin to sin, and farther provocation to his crimes. His case was desperate ; but he resolved that if he perished it should be * at the foot of Christ in prayer.' About this time he took an opportunity to break his mind to an aged christian. * I told him (says he), that I was afraid « I had sinned the sin against the Holy Ghost. He told me ' he thought so too.' Here therefore he had but cold com- fort ; and talking farther with him, found him, though a good man, a stranger to such severe spiritual conflicts. He therefore went to God again, and reiterated his cries for mercy ; though as yet with little comfort, because the hour of his deliverance was not fully come. In this interval he walked to a neighbouring town, where sitting to rest himself upon a settle in the street, he fell into a deep pause upon his state : after long musing he lifted up his head : « But methought (says he), I saw as if the * sun that shineth in the heavens did grudge to give light ; « and as if the very stones in the street, and tiles upon the 1 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 unworthy to dwell among * them, or be partaker of their benefits, because I had sinned * against the Saviour. O how happy now was every creature * 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 as I am r" 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 been 1 raised out of the grave, and cried out again, "Lord, how " couldst thou find out sach a word as this ?" For I was filled 1 i John, v. j 6, ly. XX THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. « with admiration at the fitness and at the unexpectedness ' of the sentence : the power, and sweetness, and light, and ' glory, that came with it also, was marvellous to me to « find. Now, thought I, if this sin is not unto death, then < it is pardonable j therefore from this I have encourage- * ment to come to God by Christ for mercy, as well as < others.' The comfort of this word was not, however, of long dura- tion, any more than the preceding . "Within two or three days he began to droop again ; but, again and again, was re- vived with the application of some or other of the promises of the Gospel. These repeated temptations made him more attentive and scrupulous in examining the ground of his con- " solations, lest he should deceive himself with a misapplica- tion of the promises. Thus his mind continued for weeks, and months, and in the whole for years, ( hanging (so he ' expresses it), as in a pair of scales ; sometimes up, and < sometimes down j now in peace, and anon again in terror ;' not, however, so extreme as he had felt before, for this was but the hinder part of the tempest : * the thunder (says he) « was gone beyond me, only some drops did still now and * then fall on me ; but because my former frights and an- < guish were 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 !' At length his chains were loosed, his irons knocked off, and those alarming scriptures ceased to trouble him. As he saw farther into the nature and spirit of the Gospel, he felt the ground of his dependance more secure, and was in the end made an extraordinary instrument of comforting others with the same consolations which he had himself received. But, before we proceed, I beg to be indulged in a few ob- serve, ions on the preceding narrative ; and I shall begin with Mr. Bunyan's own reflections. THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. XXI I . On the causes of his extraordinary temptations. These he considers as principally two, which shall be related in his own simple phraseology. 'The first was, that I did not, « when 1 was delivered from the temptations that went < before, still pray to God to keep me from temptations that « were to come ; for though, as I can say in truth, my soul < was much in prayer before this trial seized me \ yet then « I prayed only, or 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 : according to what is « written, " Pray, that ye enter not into temptation." « Another cause of this temptation was, that I had tempt- ' ed God, and in this manner : Upon a time my wife was < great with child, and before her full time was come, her « pangs, as of a woman in travail, were fierce and strong « upon her, even as if she would have immediately fallen in < labour, and been delivered of an untimely birth. Now at « this very 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 e 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 I shall know that thou canst discern <« the most secret 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 ; at this I greatly mar- < veiled ; but after a good while, I fell to sleep also : so when * I awaked in the morning, it came upon me again, what * I had said in my heart the last night, and how the s Lord had shewed me, that he knew my secret thoughts ; XX11 THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. « which was a great astonishment unto me for several weeks * after. « Well, about a year and an half afterwards, that sinful « thought, of which I have spoken before, went through « my wicked heart, even this thought, " Let Christ go if " he will :" so when I was fallen under guilt for this, the re- f membrance of my other thought, and of the effe£l thereof, < would also come upon me, with this 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 j 4 how because that Gideon tempted God with his fleece, * both wet and dry, when he should have believed and ven- « tured upon his word : therefore the Lord did afterwards « so try him, as to send him against an innumerable com- < pany of enemies •, and that too, as to outward appearance, * without any strength or help *. Thus he served me, and « that justly j for I should have believed his word, and * not have put an if to the all-seeing God.' 2. Our author leads us next to remark the advantages he derived from these painful and distressing trials : they were briefly such as these : a strong and abiding conviction of the being, power, and holiness of God — a deep experience of the value and preciousness of the promises, to which he was enabled to cling and cleave, as a man in immediate dan- ger of being drowned — an exceeding lively sense of the in- finite mercy and grace of God, which was at times such, that he thinks if it had abode long * it would have made « him incapable of business.' 3. The following remark is of a different nature. ' He « (Bunyan) was much under the influence of enthusiasm. ' Judges, vi. 7 THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN". XX1U * He sometimes imagined that he saw visions, and that * voices were addressed to him from heaven.' This is the observation of Dr. Towers, one of the ingenious editors of the Bicgraphia Briiatinica ', which, as it alludes to the facts above stated, merits our attention. Mr. Scott % on one of these instances, remarks, that a con- sciousness of his wicked life, and ' a recollection of the truths * he had read, suddenly meeting, as it were, in his mind, ' made such an impression on his imagination that he ' seemed to have heard these words, and to have seen Christ ' frowning and menacing him.' If this solution will not ap- ply to all the instances, nor be thought satisfactory, I con- fess I dare not reject facts, merely because I cannot account for them. If, however, we admit Bunyan, and other good men, to be subject to enthusiasm, as well as to other weak- nesses of human nature, it will neither be a stain upon his character, nor upon true religion. Enthusiasm is such a proof of the doctrine of divine influences, as counterfeits exhibit of a current coin. If there were no genuine coin, there would be no counterfeits. It is added by the same respectable pen, « That he was < extremely bigotted, and very censorious against those who ' opposed the Cahnnistical doctrines, to which he was vehe- ' mently attached/ That he had reasons for his attachment, cannot be denied, when it is considered, how many proofs of its truth he had in his own experience, from which, and not from human systems, he acquired his knowledge in divinity. As to bigotry, it was the fault of the age, and not peculiar to the Calvinists -, though it must be confessed, those had the most excuse for it, who had the highest sense of the importance of religious truth. 1 Vol. iii. p. u, Note (G), new editipn. 3 1 ife of Bunyan, p. x. XXIV tHE LIFE OF JOHN- BUNYAN. To resume our narrative : about the year 1655 our author was baptized, and received a member of the Baptist congre- gation at Bedford, under the pastoral care of Mr. Gifford, to whom, as we have remarked, he was introduced some time before. He, of course, communicated with them in the Lord's supper, and enjoyed some delightful opportunities of communion with God ; but even here the enemy followed him, persecuting him with blasphemous suggestions, and made this comfortable ordinance a mean of trial and afflic- tion, more or less, for three quarters of a year, till this trouble was removed by an application of some of the same promises which had before consoled him. ' Upon a time,' he says, meaning, as I suppose, about this time, he was inclined to a consumption, and much op- pressed in mind as well as weakened in body. Now was he ready to despair of living, though afraid to die : but a powerful sense of the free grace of God in Christ Jesus de- livered him from his fears ; and that went far (as often is the case) in the recovery of his health and strength, even in more than one instance. We must now begin to consider our author as a public character, and give some account of his being called to the work of the ministry, which was ' about five or six years' after his conversion. This was first suggested, it seems, by some serious and judicious members of Mr. Gifford's church, who apprehended that, both from his gifts and experience, he was calculated for public and eminent usefulness in the church. His first attempts were (as is the manner among dis- senters) in private, and to a few select hearers ; afterwards he ventured to exhort in some of the neighbouring villages ; and finally, at the desire of the church, he was solemnly set apart, with prayer and fasting, to the public ministry of the word. As to himself, he tells us, he was enabled to see THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. XXV * that the Holy Ghost never intended that men who have * gifts and abilities should bury them in the earth ; but ra- * ther did command and stir up such to the exercise of their * gift ; and also did commend those that were apt and ready * so to do : " They have addicted themselves to the ministry « of the saints V When it was known that Bunyan, the profane tinker, had commenced a preacher of the Gospel, hearers soon flocked around him to the amount of many hundreds, and that from all quarters. Nor did he preach long without visible suc- cess : many came with weeping eyes and bleeding hearts, to confess their sins, and bless God for him as the instrument of their conversion. At rlrst he found it hard to believe that the Lord had so highly honoured him, but was soon con- strained to join with them in blessing and adoration. One instance particularly worth recording, is of a dissolute student of Cambridge university, who, being induced by cu- riosity to hear * the tinker prate,' was so affected with his sermon as to become a real convert, and, in the issue, an eminent preacher of the Gospel. The effects of this honest man's preaching were so different from what usually attend the sermons of learned, ingenious, and polite preachers, that the reader may probably wish to hear something of the matter and method of his preaching, which cannot be given better than in his own plain but em- phatic language. ' In my preaching of the word, I took special notice of this ' one thing, namely, that the Lord din' 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 c come into the world, because of sin. Now this part of my « work I fulfilled with great sense [of terror] ; for the terrors 1 1 Cor. xvi. 15. XXVI THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. of the law, and guilt for my transgressions, lay heavy on my conscience. ' I went myself in chains, to preach to them in chains •» and carried that fire in my own conscience that I persuaded them to beware of. I can truly say, and that without dissem- bling 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 immediately, 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. After which the Lord came in upon my own soul, with some sure peace and comfort through Christ j for he did give me many sweet discoveries of his blessed grace through him. Wherefore now I altered in my preaching (for still I preached what I saw and felt) ; now therefore I did much labour to hold forth Jesus Christ in all offices, relations, and benefits unto the world, and did strive also to dis- cover, to condemn, and remove those false supports and props on which the wor,ld doth both lean, and by them fall and perish. On these things also I staid 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 shewed to them -lso. And when I had travelled through these three 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 above as long again to confirm the truth by way of suffering, as I was before in testifying of it according to the scriptures, in a way of preaching. I THE LIFE OF JOHN BT7NYAN. XXvli e 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 word effectual to salvation : wherefore I did labour so to speak, as that thereby, if it were possible, the sin and per- son guilty might be particularized by it. < Also when I have done the exercise, it hath gone to my heart to think the word should now fail as rain on stony places : still wishing, O that they who have heard me speak, did but see as I do, what sin, death, hell, and the curse of God is ! and also what the grace, and love, and mercy of God is 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 to be hanged up presently before their eyes, would be a means to awaken them, and confirm them in the truth, I gladly should be contented. « When I went first to preach the word abroad, the doctors and priests of the country did open wide against me : but I was persuaded 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, '« This shall ; answer for me in time to come, when they shall be for my hire before their face J." * I never cared to meddle with things that were contro- verted, and in dispute among the saints, and especially things of the lowest nature ; yet it pleased me much to contend with great earnestness for the word of faith, and the remission of sins by the death and sufferings of Jesus : but, I say, as to other things I should but let them alone, because I saw they engendered strife, and because that they, neither in doing, nor in leaving undone, did com- 1 Gen. xxx. 13, XXV111 THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. mend us to God to be his. Besides, I saw my work before me did run into another channel, even to carry an awaken- ing word ; to that therefore I did adhere. ' If any of those who were awakened by my ministry, did after that fall back (as too many did), I can truly say, their loss hath been more to me, than if my own child had been going to its grave. My heart hath been so wrapped up in the glory of this excellent work, that I counted myself more blessed and honoured of God by this, than if he had made me 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 way, doth 1 save a soul from death V " They that be wise shall shine c as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn ' many to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever 2." These, I say, with many others of a like nature, have been great refreshments to me. c My great desire, in my fulfilling my ministry, was to get into the darkest places of the country : yet not because I could not endure the light (for I feared not to shew my gospel to any), but because I found my spirit leaned most after awakening and converting work, and the word that I carried 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 founda- < tion 3." « But in this work, as in all other, 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 unto the people ; at which times I should have such a strange faintness and strengthlessness seize upon my body, 1 James, v. 2,0. 2Dan. xii. 3. 3 Rom. xv. 20. THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. XXIX * 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, betore 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 at some times I have been about to preach ' upon a smart and searching portion of the word, I have ' found the tempter suggest, " What ! will you preach this ? « This condemns yourself; wherefore preach not of it at allj «* 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 as 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 Sampson, bowed myself with all my might, to condemn * sin and transgression wherever I found it : yea, though ' therein I did bring guilt upon my own conscience. « I have also, while found in this blessed work of Christ, « been often tempted to pride and lifting up of heart ; and « though I dare not say I have not been affected with this, * yet truly the Lord, of his precious mercy, hath so carried 1 it towards me, that for the most part I have had but small ' joy to give way to such a thing j for it hath been my every * day's portion, to be let into the evils of my own heart, and * still made to see such a multitude of corruptions and in- XXX THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. c firmities therein, that it hath caused hanging down of * the head, under all my gifts and attainments. I have felt ' this " thorn in the flesh '," the very mercy of God to me.' Mr. Bunyan's imprisonment has been already mentioned. He was tried at Bedford quarter sessions in 1660 ; and the indictment stated that parchment roll ; and there wras written within, " Flee from the wrath to, come V f A&s, xvi, 30, 31. J Heb. ix. 27. Job, xvi. %i, 21. Ezek. xxii. 14. 3 Isa. xxx. a- 4 Matt. iij. 7. 4 OBSTINATE AND PLIABLE 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-gate1 ? The man said, No. Then said the other, Do you see yonder shining light3? He said, I think I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate ; at which when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do. So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now he had not run far from his own door, but his wife and children (perceiving it) began to cry after him to returns ; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, ' Life ! life i eternal life I' So he looked not behind him*, but fled towards the middle of the plain. The neighbours also came out to see him run : and, as he ran, 'some mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return ; and among those that did so there were two that were resolved to fetch him back by force. The name of one was Obstinate, and the name of the 'other Pliable. Now by this time the man was got a good distance from them 3 but, however, they were resolved to pursue him ; which they did, and in a little time they overtook him. Then said the man, Neighbours, wherefore are ye come ? They said, To persuade ! Matt. vii. 13, 14. 2 Psal. cxix. 105. 2 Pet. i. 19. 3 Luke, xiv. 26. 4 Gen. xix. 17. a Cor. iv. 18. PURSUE CHRISTIAN. ^ you to go back with us ; but he said, That can by no means be : you dwell, said he, in the city of Destruction ; the place also where I was born ; I see it to be so ; and dying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave into a place that burns with fire and brimstone: be content, good neighbours, and go along with me. What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends and our comforts behind us i Yes, said Christian (for that was his name); because that all which you shall forsake is not wor- thy to be compared with a little of that that I am seeking to enjoy ; and if you will go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there where I go is enough and to spare1: come away, and prove my words. Obst. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them ? Chr. I seek an " inheritance incorruptible, un- " defiled, and that fadeth not away ; and it is laid " up in heaven2," 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. Tush, said Obstinate, away with your book: will you go back with us or no ? No, not I, said the other, because 1 have laid 'my hand to the plough 3. Obst. Come then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn again and go home without him : there is a / » Luke, xv. 17. J 1 Tet. i. 4—6. Hcb. xi. 6. 16. 3 Luke, ix. 63. 6 PLIABLE ACCOMPANIES HIM. company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that when they take a fancy by the end are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason. Then said Pliable, Don't revile; if what the good Christian says is true, the things he looks after are better than ours ; my heart inclines to go with my neighbour. 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. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour Pliable; there are such things to be had which I spake of, and many more glories besides : if you believe not me, read here in this book; and, for the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of him that made it1. Well, neighbour 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 ? 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 neighbour, let us be go- ing. Then they went both together. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate ; I will be no companion of such misled fantastical fellows. »Heb. is. 17—32. THEIR CONVERSATION. 7 Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate "Was gone back, Christian and Pliable went talking over the plain ; and thus they began their discourse. Chr. Come, neighbour 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, neighbour 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 sromtr. o o Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind than speak of them with my tongue: but yet, since you are desirous to know, I will read of them in my book. 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 lie1. Pli. Well said ; what things are they? Chr. There is an endless kingdom to be inha- bited, and everlasting life to be given us that we may inhabit that kingdom for ever2. 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 3. « Tit. i. 3. * hai. xlv. 17. John, x. 27—29. J a Tim. iv. 8. Rev. xxii. $. Matt. xiii. 43. 8 THEIR CONVERSATION CONTINUED. Pli. This is very pleasant ; 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 eyes1. 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*. There also you shall meet with thousands and ten thousands that have gone before us to that place ; none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy ; every one walking in the sight of God, and standing in his presence with acceptance for ever. In a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden crowns 3 , 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 the seas, for the love that they bare to the Lord of the place, all well, and clothed with immortality as with a garment5. 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 thereof? Chr. The Lord, the governor of the country, hath recorded that in this book ; the substance of which is, if we be truly willing to have it, he will bestow it upon us freely6. Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these, things; come on, let us mend our pace. > Isai. xxv. 8. Rev. vii. 16, 17. xxi. 4. 2 Isai. vi. 2. 1 Thess. iv. 16, 17. 3Rev.iv. 4. 4 Rev. xns. 1 — 5. 5 John, xii. 25. a Cor. v. 3 — 4. 6 Isai. It. 1—3. John, vi. 37. vii. 37. Rev. xxi. 6. xxii. 17. THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. q Chr. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my back. Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk they drew nigh to a very miry slouch 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 wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with dirt; and Christian, because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink in the mire. Then said Pliable, Ah! neighbour Christian, where are you now ? Truly, said Christian, I do not know. 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 his own house : so away he went, and Christian saw him no more. Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the slough of Despond alone; but still he endeavoured to struggle to that side of the slough that was fur- thest 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 G lO ACCOUNT OF THE SLOUGH. him, whose name was Help, and asked him, What he did there ? Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way by a man, called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that J 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? Chr. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and fell in. Help. Then said he, Give me thy hand; so he gave him his hand, and he drew him out and set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way l . Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said; Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way from the city of Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with more security ? And he said unto me, This miry slough is such a place as can- not be mended : it is the descent whither the scum and filth that attends conviction for sin doth con- tinually run, and therefore it was 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 labourers also have, by 1 P«al. xl. a. z Isa. xxxv. 3, 4. PLIABLE RETURNS HOMI\ I I the direction of his majesty's surveyors, been for above these sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended : yea, and to my knowledge, said he, here have been swallowed up at least twenty thousand cart-loads ; yea, millions of wholesome instructions that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the king's dominions (and they that can tell, say, they are the best materials to make good the ground of the place), if so be it might have been mended : but it is the slough of Despond still ; and so will be, when they have done what they can. True, there are, by the direction of the law-giver, certain good and substantial steps placed even through the very midst of this slough ; but at such times as this place does much spew out its filth, as it doth against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen ; or if they be, men through the dizzi- ness 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 gate1. Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pli- able was got home to his house. So his neigh- bours 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, 1 Surely, since you began to venture, I would not ' i Sam. xii. iz. 12 WORLDLY-WISEMAN MEETS CHRISTIAN. ' have been so base to have given out for a few dif- ' Acuities :' so Pliable sat sneaking among them. But at last he got more confidence ; and then they all turned their tales, and began to' deride poor Christian behind his back. And thus much concerning Pliable. Now as Cliristian was walking solitarily by himself, he spied one afar off crossing over the field to meet him, and their hap was to meet just as they were crossing 'the way of each other. The gentle- man's name, that met him, was Mr. Worldly- wiseman; he dwelt in the town of Carnal- policy; a very great town, and also hard by from whence Christian came. This man, then, meet- ing w7ith Christian, and having some inkling of him (for Christian's setting forth from the city of Destruction was much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the town-talk in some other places); Mr. Worldly-Wiseman, therefore, having some guess of him, by beholding his laborious going, by ob-> serving his sighs and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian. World. 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 asked me, whither away ? I tell you, Sir, I am going to yon^ der Wicket-gate before me; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put in a way to be rid of my heavy burden. HIS COUNSEL TO HIM. 13 World. 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: inethinks I am as if I had none1. World. Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee counsel? Chr. If it be good, I will ; for I stand in need of good counsel. World. 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 hath bestowed upon thee till then. 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 am I going this way, as I told you,, that I may be rid of my burden. World. Who bid you go this way to be rid of your burden ? Chr. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honourable person ; his name, as I re- member, is Evangelist. World. Beshrew him for his counsel; there is not a more dangerous 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 1 i Cor. vii. 29. 14 THEIR FURTHER CONVERSATION. I perceive, already ; for I see the dirt of the slough of Despond is upon thee; but that slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way. Hear me: 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 tes- timonies. And why should a man so carelessly cast away himself by giving heed to a stranger ? Chr. Why, Sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than are all these things which you have mentioned: nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in my way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden. World. How earnest thou by the burden at first ? / Chr. By reading this book in my hand. World. I thought so; and it has happened unto thee as to other weak men, who meddling with things too high for them do suddenly fall into thy distractions ; which distractions do not only unman men (as thine I perceive have done thee), but they run them upon desperate ventures to obtain they know not what. Chr. I know what I would obtain; it is ease from my heavy burden. World. 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 LEGALITY, AND THE VILLAGE MORALITY. 15 direct thec to the obtaining of what thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself .into. Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, that instead of these dangers thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content. Chr. Sir, I pray, open this secret to me. World. Why, in yonder village (the village is namedMoRALiTY) 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 is from their shoulders; yea, to my knowledge, he hath done a great deal of good this way : aye, and besides, he hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is not quite a mile from this place ; and if he should not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man to his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old 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 stand empty, one of which thou mayest have at reason- able rates : provision is there also cheap and good : and that which will make thy life more happy, is, to be sure there thou shalt live by honest neighbours in credit and good fashion. 1 6 CHRISTIAN TURNS ASIDE. HIS ALARM. Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he concluded, If this be true which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice; and with that he thus further spake. Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house ? World. Do you see yonder high hill? Chr. Yes, very well. World. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come at is his. So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house for help. But, behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next the way-side did hang so much over, thatjCHRisTiAN was afraid to venture further, lest the hill should fall on his head : wherefore there he stood still, and wotted not what to do. Also his burden now seemed hea- vier to him than while he was in his way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made Christian afraid that he should be burned1 : here therefore he sweat and did quake for fear. And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr.WoRLDLY-wisEMAN's counsel. And with that he saw Evangelist coming to meet him; at the sight also of whom he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer; and, coming up to him, he looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus began to reason with Christian. 1 Exod. xix. 16—18. Heb. xii. aj. HE IS MET BY EVANGELIST. I J What dost thou here, Christian? said he. At which words Christian knew not what to answer ; wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. Then said Evangelist further, Art thou not the ' rhan that I found crying without the walls of the city of Destruction? Chr. Yes, dear Sir, I am the man. Evan. Did not I direct, thee the way to the little Wicket-gate ? Yes, dear Sir, said Christian. Evan. How is it then that thou art so quickly turned aside ? for thou art now out of the way. Chr. I met with" a gentleman, 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? D l8 CHRISTIAN CONVINCED OF HIS ERROR. I Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my bur- den ; and I told him it was ease that I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate to receive further directions 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 that has skill to take off these burdens : so I believed him, and turned out of that way'into this, if haply I might be soon eased of my burden. But when I came to this place, and beheld things as they are,. I stopped for fear, as I said, of danger : but now know not what to do. Then, said Evangelist, stand still a little that I may show thee the words *of God. So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, ." See that ye " refuse not him that speaketh: for if they escaped " not who refused him that sp^ake on earth, much " more shall not we escape if we turn away from "him that speaketh from heaven1." Fie said3 moreover, " Now the just shall live by faith ; but K if any man draw back, my soul shall have no " pleasure in him2." He also did thus apply them: Thou art the man that art running into this misery : thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, even almost to the hazarding of thy perdi- tion. 1 H«b. xii. »j. * Heb. x. 3». €MMISTIAWtds\ \syMWAW€EM$Txuvtev^[€>UNT > VIA \ I K London Published April j".' tjgO by T.Hep tins tallFUet Street. THE FALLACIES OF WORLDLY-WISEMAN DETECTED. I <) Then Christian fell clown at his feet as dead, crying, " Wo. is me, for I am undone!" At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, " All manner of sin and blas- " phemy shall be forgiven, unto men :" " be not " faithless, but believing." 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 whoni he sent thee. The man that met thee is one Worldly-wiseman, and rightly is he so called; partly because he savour- eth only the doctrine of this world t (therefore he always goes to the town' of Morality to church), and partly because he loveth that doctrine best, for* it saveth him best from the cross2 : 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 labouring 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 thine own consenting thereto ; because this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel of a zvorldly wise man. The » 1 John, iv. 5. 1 Gal. yi. 12. 20 THE PRETENSIONS OF LEGALITY CONFUTED. Lord says, " Strive to enter in at the strait gate" (the gate to which I send thee), " for strait is the " gate that leadeth unto life, and few there be that " find it1." FrCm 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 labouring to render the cross odious unto thee ; for thou art to " prefer " it before the treasures in Egypt2." Besides, the King of Glory hath told thee, that " he that will " save his life shall lose it :" and, " He that comes " after me, and hates not his father, and mother, " and wifje, and children, and brethren, and sisters, " yea, and his own life also, cannot be my disciple 3." I say, therefore, for a man to labour 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. t% Thirdly, thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way, that leadeth to the ministration of death. And for this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and also how unable that person was to de- liver thee from thy burden. He to whom thou wast sent for ease,being byname Legality, is " the son of the bond-woman which " now is, and is in bondage with her children4 ;" ' Luke, xiii. 24. Matt. vli. 13, 14. 2 Heb. xi. 25, 26, ? Matt. x. 37—39. Mark, viii. 34,35. Luke, xiv. 26,27. John,xii. 25. 4 Gal. iv. 21— 27. CHRISTIAN GREATLY TERRIFIED. 2 I 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, there- fore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of. his burden by him ; no, nor ever is like to be. " Ye cannot be justified " by the works of the law ; for by the deeds of " the law no man living" can be rid of his burden : therefore Mr. Worldly-wiseman is a liar, and Mr. Legality a cheat: and for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing: in all this noise that thou hast heard of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from the way in which 1 had set thee. After this Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for" confirmation of what he had said ; and with that there came words and fire out of the mountain under which poor Christian stood, 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 written in the book of the " law to do them1." Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out lamentably ; even cursing the time in which he met with MlWorldly-wise- 1 Gal. iii. 10. 22 CHRISTIAN ENCOURAGED BY EVANGELIST. man; still calling himself a thousand fools for hearkening to his counsel. He also was greatly ashamed to think that this gentleman's arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the preva- lency with him as to .cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he applied himself again to Evan- gelist in words and sense as follows: Sir, what thh>k you ? Is there any hope ? May I now go back, and go up to the Wick et-g ate? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back from thence ashamed? I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's counsel ; but may my 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 good will for men ; only, said he, take heed that thou turn not aside again, " lest thou perish from the way when his wrath is " kindled but a little1." — Then did Christian ad- dress himself to go back; and Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God speed. So he went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor if any asked him would he vouchsafe them an answer. He went like one that was all the while 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 M^'Worldly-wiseman's coun- 1 Psal. ii. T2. KE IS ADMITTED AT THE WICKET-GATE. 23 sel. So in process of time Christian got up to the orate. Now over the gate there was written, " Knock, and it shall be opened unto you1." He knocked therefore more than once or twice, saying — « May 1 now enter here ? Will he within Open to sony 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 Good-will, 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 that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in. I am willing with all my heart, said he. And with 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 captain; from thence % both he and they that are with him shoot arrows ' at those that come up to this gate, if haply they 1 may die before they can 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. ' Matt. yu. 7, 8. 2A GOOD-WILL DISCOURSES WITH CHRISTIAN. 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 before thee, and no " man can shut it." Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards. Good. But how is it that you come alone? Chr. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger, as I saw mine. Good. Did any of them know of your coming? Chr. Yes, my wife .and children saw me at the first, and called after me to turn again : also some of my neighbours stood crying and ' calling after me to return ; but'I put my fingers in my ears,, and 60 came on my way. Good. But did none of them follow you, to per- suade you to go back ? Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable: but when they saw that they could not prevail, Obsti- nate 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 we also suddenly fell. And then was my neigh- bour Pliable discouraged, and would not adven- ture 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. GOOD-WILL CONTINUES HIS DISCOURSE. 25 Then said Good-will, 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 j and if I should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear there is no difference betwixt him and myself. It is true he went back to his own house, but 1 also turned aside to go into the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argu- ment of one Mr. Worldly-wiseman. Good. Oh! did he light upon you? What, he would have had vou have sought for ease at the hands of Mr. Legality ! they are both of them very cheats. But did you take his, 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 be- come of me there, had not Evangelist happ'ly 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 in- deed for death by that mountain, than thus to stand talking with my Lord. But, oh ! what a favour is tliis to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here. & 26 CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTED IN THE WAT. Good. We make no objections against any, not- withstanding all that they have done before they come hither. " They in no wise are cast out1 5" and therefore, good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee ; dost thou see this narrow way ? that is the way thou must go. It was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ and his apostles, and it is as straight as a rule can make it : this is the way thou must go. But, said Christian, are there no turnings nor windings, by which a stranger may lose his way ? Good. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are crooked and wide: but thus thou must distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being straight and narrow2. Then I saw in my dream that Christian asked him further, if he could not help him off with the 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 helD. He told him, As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou comest to the place of deliverance -y for there it will fall from thy back of itself. Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. So the other told him that by that he was gone some distance from the gate he would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, « John, vi. 37. a Matt. vii. 13, 14. THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 27 and he would show him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him God speed. Then he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, where he knocked over and over : at last one came to the door, and asked who was there ? Chr. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance of the good man of this 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. Then said the Interpreter, Come in 5 I will show thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light a candle, and bid Christian follow him : so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door ; the which when he had done, Christian saw the pic- ture of a very grave person hang up against the wall \ and this was the fashion of it: ' it had eyes * lifted up to heaven, the best of books in its hand, * the law of truth was written upon its lips, the ■ world was behind its back ; it stood as if it pleaded ' with men, and a crown of gold did hang over its * head.' 28 THE PICTURE OF THE PILGRIM'S GUIDE. Then said Christian, What meaneth this? Interp. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand; he can beget children1, travail in birth with children2, and nurse them himself when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law of truth written on his lips ; it is to show thee that his work is to know and un- fold 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 pre- sent, for the love that 'he hath to his Master's ser- vice, he is sure in the world that comes next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Inter- preter, I have showed thee this picture first, be- cause the man whose picture this is, is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be thy guide, in all diffi- cult 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 parlour that was full of dust, because never swept ; the which, after he had reviewed a » i Cor, iv. 15. 2 Gal. iv. 19, THE DUSTY PARLOUR SPRINKLED AND CLEANSED. 20 little while, the Interpreter called tor. a man to sweep. Now when he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about, that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room ; the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure. Then said Christian, What means this ? The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the gospel : the dust is his original sin and inward corruptions that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first, is the law; but she that brought water and did sprinkle it, is the gospel. , Now whereas thou sawest that, so 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 choked 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, even as it doth discover and forbid it ; for it doth not give power to subdue it1. 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 1 Rom. v. 30. vii. 7 — 11. 1 Cor. xv. 56. 3° PASSION AND PATIENCE. damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made clean through the faith of it, and con- sequently fit for the King of glory to inhabit1. I saw, moreover, in my dream, that the Inter- preter took him by the hand, and had him into a little room where sat two little children, each one in his chair. The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion Seemed to be much discontented, but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, What is the reason of the discontent of Passion? The Interpreter answered, The governor of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of the next year ; but he will have all now. But Patience is willing to wait. Then I saw that one came to Passion and brought him a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet : the which he took up and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him but rags. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter more fully to me. So he said, These two lads are figures : Passion, of the men of this world; and Patience, of the men of that which is to come. For as here thou seest Passion will have "all now this year, that is to say, in this world ; so are the men of this world : they must » John, xiv. 21 — 23. xv. 3. Acts, xv. 9. Rom. xvi. 25, 26. Eph. v. 26. THE EMBLEM EXPLAINED. ?t 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 as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing but rags ; so will it be with all such men at the end of this world. Then said Christian, Now I see thatPATiENCE has the best wisdom, 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. Interp. 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 ; for first must give place to lasty because last must have its time to come ; but last gives place to nothing, for there is not another to succeed : he, therefore, that hath his portion first must needs have a time to spend it ; but he that has his portion last must have it lastingly: therefore it is said of Dives, " In thy life-time thou receivedst * thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things j " but now he is comforted, and thou art torment- " ed1." 1 Luke, xvi. 19 — 3*. 32 THE FIRE SECRETLY KEPT FROM BEING QUENCHED. Chr. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are now, but to wait for things to come. Interp. You say truth: " For the things that " are seen are temporal ; but the things that are not "seen are eternal1 :" but/ though this be so, yet, since things present and our fleshly appetite are such near neighbours one to another ; and again, because things to come and carnal sense are such strangers one to another ; therefore it is that the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continually between the second. Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand, and led him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it always casting much water upon it to quench it ; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter. 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 which he did also continually cast, but secretly, into the fire. Then said Christian, What means this? • The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, 1 a Cor. iv. it. THE VALIANT MAN'S CONFLICT AND VICTORY. %$ 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 still1. 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, beau- tiful to behold; at the sight of which Christian was greatly delighted : he saw also upon the top thereof certain persons walking, who were clothed all in gold. Then said Christian, May we go in thither? Then the Interpreter took him and led him up towards 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 before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein : he saw also that in the door-way stood many men in armour to keep it, being resolved to do to the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze: at last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of a very stout coun- ' z Cor. xii. 9. F 24 THE MAN IN THE IRON CAGE. tenance come up to the man that sat there to write, saying, ' Set down my. name, Sir :' the which when he had done, he saw the man draw his sword, and put an helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force ; but the man was not at all dis- couraged, but fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. 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 for- ward into the palace ; at which there was a plea- sant 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 Interpreter, 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. Then said Christian, What means this? At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man. CHRISTIAN INTERROGATES HIM. 3^ Then said Christian to the man, What art thou- The man answered, I am what I was not once. Chr. What wert thou once ? The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing professor, both in mine own eyes and also in the eyes of others : I once was, as I thought, fair for the celestial city, and had then even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither1. Chr. Well, but what art thou now? Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it as in this iron cage. I cannot get out ; O nozv 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 to come to me ; I have provoked God to anger, and he has left me ; I have so hard- ened my heart, that I cannot 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 ; I have despised his person, I have despised his right- • Luke, viii. 13. 36 CHRISTIAN WARNED BY HIS EXAMPLE. eousness, I have counted his blood an unholy thing, I have done despite to the Spirit of grace l : there- fore I have shut myself out of all the promises, and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings, dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings, of cer- tain judgment and fiery indignation, 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 pro- mise myself much delight : but now every one of those things also bite me and gnaw me like a burn- ing worm. Chr. But canst thou not 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 i 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 cause of this man's misery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now ? Inter p. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on thy way. • ' Luke, six. 14. Hcb. vi, 4—6. x. a8, 29. A DREAM CONCERNING THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 37 So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber where there was one rising out of bed ; and as he put on his raiment he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began and said, This night as I was in my sleep I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceeding black ; also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony : so I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate ; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sit upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven : they were all in flaming fire, also the heavens were on a burning flame. I heard then a voice saying, ' Arise ye dead, and come to judg- * ment ;' and with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth l : some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upwards ; and some sought to hide them- selves under the mountains2 : 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 which issued out and came before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar 3. I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on 1 John, v. 28, 29. 1 Cor. xv. 51 — 58. 2 Thess. i. 7 — 10. Jude, 14, 15. Rev. xx. 11 — 15. 2 Ps. 1. 1 — 3. 22. lsai. xxvi. 20, %u Mic. \»ii. 16, 17. J Dan. vii 9, 10. Mai. iii. a, 3. ag THE DREAM CONTINUED. the man that sat on the cloud, ' Gather together * the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them 1 into the burning lake :' and with that the bottom- less pit opened just whereabout I stood ; out of the mouth of which there came, in an abundant man- ner, smoke, and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, ' Gather my « wheat into the garner1.' And with that I saw many catched up and carried away into the clouds2, 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 in my mind, and my conscience did accuse me on every side3. Upon this I awaked from my sleep. Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight? Man. Why I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that I was not ready for it: but this frighted 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 con- science too afflicted me ; and, as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, showing indignation in his countenance. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered all these things ? Chr. Yes -y and they put me in hope and fear. Inter p. Well, keep all things so in thy mind that they may be as a goad in thy sides,., to prick « Mai. iv. I. Matt. iii. iz. xiii. 30. Luke, iii. 17. 3 1 Thcss. iv. 13— 18. 3 Rom. ii. 14, 15. CHRISTIAN'S BURDEN FALLS OFF AT THE CROSS. 39 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 In- terpreter, 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.' Now I saw in my dream, that the highway, up which Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called Sal- vation1. 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 Sepilchre. 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 giad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, ' He hath given me rest by ' his sorrow? and life by his death.' Then he stood 1 Isal xxvi. 1. 40 SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND PRESUMPTION. stood still awhile to look and wonder ; for it was very surprising to him, that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden. He looked, therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down his cheeks1. Now, as he stood looking and weeping, behold three shining ones came to him, and saluted him with " Peace be to thee :" so the first said to him, ** Thy sins be forgiven thee*;" the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with change of raiment ; the third also set a mark on his forehead, and gave him a roll with a seal upon it 3, 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 fai did I come laden with my sin, Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in, Till I came hither : what a place is this ! Must here be the beginning of my bliss ? Must here the burden fall from off my back ? Must here the strings that bind 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 at the 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 Presump- tion. 1 Zcch. jtii. 10, = Mark, ii. 5. 3 Zcch, iii. 4. Eph, i. i^. FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY. 4 1 Christian then seeing them lie in this case went to them, if peradventure he might awake them ; and cried, You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast1, for the dead sea is under you, a gulph 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 cer- tainly become a prey to his teeth2. With that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: Simple said, ' I see no danger:' Sloth said, £ Yet a little more sleep :' and Presumption said, ' Every tub must stand upon its own bottom.' And so they laid down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way. Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely offered to help them, both by the awakening of them, counselling of them, and prof- fering to help them off with their irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, he spied two men come tumbling over the wall on the left-hand of the nar- row 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 dis- course. Chr. Gentlemen, whence come you, and whither go you ? 1 Prov. xxiii. 34, 2 1 Pet. t. 8. 42 CHRISTIAN IN VAIN REASONS WITH THEM. Form. & Hyp. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and are going (or jiraise to mount Zion. Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the beginning of the way ? Know you not that it is written, that " He that cometh not in " by the door, but climbeth up some other way, " the same is a thief and a robber1 ?" They said, that to go to the gate for entrance was by all their countrymen counted too far about ; and that, therefore-, their usual way was to make a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall, as they had done. Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will ? They told him, that, as for that, he needed 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 a trial at law ? They told him, that custom, it being of so long standing as above a thousand years, would doubt- less now be admitted as a thing legal by an impar- tial judge: and besides, say they, if we get into the way, what's matter which way we get in ? If we are in, we are in : thou art but in the way, who, as « John, x. r. \ THEIR SELF-SUFFICIENCY. 4^ 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. To this they made but little answer ; only they bid him look to himself. Then I saw that they went on every man in his way, without much con- ference 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 neighbours, to hide the shame of thy nakedness. Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved1, since you came not in by the door. And as tor 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 kindness to me ; for I had nothing but rags before : and besides, thus I com- fort myself as I go ; Surely, think I, when I come ' Gal. ii. 16. 44 THE HILL DIFFICULTY. 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. 1 will tell to 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 cer- tain going in after it : all which things I doubt you want, and want them because you came not in at the gate. To these things they gave him no answer 5 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. , I beheld then that they all went on till they came to the foot of the hill Difficulty 5 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 went now to FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY TURN ASIDE. 45 the spring, and drank thereof to refresh himself l9 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 other two also came to the foot of the hill 5 but when they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go; and supposing also that these two ways might meet again with that up which Christian went, on the other side of the hill, therefore they were re- solved to go into 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 did lead him into a great wood, and the other took directly up the way to Destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of dark mountains, where he stum- bled and fell, and rose no more. I looked then after Christian to see him go up the hill, where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbour made by the Lord of the .hill for the refreshing of weary travellers ; 1 ha!, xlix. 10. 46 CHRISTIAN SLEEPS, AND LOSES HIS ROLL. 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 al- most night j and in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping, there came one to him and awaked him, saying, " Go to the ant, " thou sluggard ; consider her ways, and be wise1." And with that Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, and went apace till he came to the top of the hill. Now when he was got up to the top of the hill there came two men running to meet him amain j the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust : to whom Christian said, Sirs, what is the matter you run the wrong way ? Ti- morous 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 lies 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. 1 Prov. vi. 6, MISTRUST AND TIMOROUS GO BACK. 47 Then said Christian, you make me afraid: but whither shall I flee to be safe ? If I go back to my own country, that is prepared for fire and brim- stone, and I shall certainly perish there : if I can ge*t to the celestial city, I am sure to be in safety there: — I must venture :— 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 had 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 j for he wanted that which used to relieve him, and that which should have been his pass into the celestial city. Here therefore he be- gan to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he bethought himself that he had slept in the arbour that is on the side of the hill ;— and falling down upon his knees he asked God forgive- ness for that foolish fact, and then went back to look for his roll. Buto all the way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Chris- tian's heart? Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was erected only for a little refreshment for his weari- ness. Thus, therefore, 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 48 CHRISTIAN SEEKS AND FINDS HIS ROLL. been his comfort so many times in bis journey. He went thus till he came again in sight of the arbour where he sat and slept ; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping unto his mind. Thus therefore he now went on bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, " O wretched man that I am !" that I should sleep in the day-time l ! 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 took 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 : — O that I had not slept ! Now by this time he w&s come to the arbour again, where for a while he sat down and wept; but at last (as God would have it), looking sorrow- fully down under the settle, there he spied his roll ; the which he with trembling and haste catched up and put in his bosom. But who can tell how joy- ful this man was when he had gotten his roll again? » 1 Thess. v. 7, 8. Rev. ii. 4, 5, THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL. 49 For this roll was the assurance of his life, and ac- ceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave God thanks for directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again to his journey. But O how nimbly now did he go up the rest of the hill ! — Yet before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian; and this made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance ; and thus he again began to condole with himself : ' O ' thou sinful sleep ! how for thy sake am I like to ' be benighted in my journey ! I must walk without f 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 remem- bered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him of, how they were frighted with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts range in the night for their prey ; and if they should meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them? how should I escape being by them torn in pieces ? Thus he went on. But, while he was bewailing his unhappy miscar- riage, he lifted up his eyes; and, behold, there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood by the highway side. So I saw in my dream, that he made haste and went forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. Now before he had gone far he entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong H ^O THE PORTER QUESTIONS CHRISTIAN. off the Porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before him as he went, he spied two lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the danger that Mis- trust and Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them; for he thought nothing but death was before him. But the Porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Chris- tian made a halt, as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, ' Is thy strength so small ' ? 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 unto thee.' Then I saw that he went on trembling for fear of the lions; but taking good heed to the directions of the Porter, he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate where the Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir, what house is this? and, 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. This Porter also asked whence he was? and whither he was going ? Chr. I am come from the city of Destruc- tion, and am going to mount Zion ; but, because 1 Mark, ir. 40. Discretion comes out to him. 51 the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. Por. What is your name ? Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless : I came of the race of Japheth1, whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem. Por. But how doth it happen that you come so late ? The sun is set. Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am ! I slept in the arbour that stands on the hill-side. Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came without it to the brow of the hill ; and then feeling for it, and finding it not, I was forced, with sorrow of heart, to go back to the place where I slept my sleep ; where I found it, and now I am come. Por. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will, if she like 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 beautiful 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 1 Geo. ix, 37. 52 DISCRETION INTRODUCES HIM TO THE FAMILY. call for thee, who, after discourse had with himA mayest do as seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the house. Then she asked him whence he was? and whi- ther he was going? and he told her. She asked him also how he got in 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 little pause she said, I will call forth two or three more of the family. So she ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more dis- course with him, had him into the family; and many of them meeting him at the threshold of the house said, ' Come in, thou blessed of the Lord ; * this house was built by the Lord of the hill, on * purpose to entertain such pilgrims in.' Then he bowed his head, and followed them into the house. So when he was come in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and consented together that, until supper was ready, some of them should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best improvement of time ; and they ap- pointed Piety, and Prudence, and CharitYj to discourse with him ; and thus they began. PIETY DISCOURSES WITH CHRISTIAN. C<1 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 that 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 |i dreadful sound that was in mine ears ; to wit, $hat 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 wmither 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 which will stick by me as long as I live; especially three things; to wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan, maintains his work of grace jn the heart ; how the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's mercy; and also the 54 HE RELATES WHAT HE HAD SEEN IN THE WAY. dream of him that thought in his sleep the day of judgment was come. Pi. Why, did you hear him tell his dream? Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one 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 eter- nal glory: methought those things did ravish my heart. I would have staid at that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I had further to go. Pi. And what saw you else in the way? Chr. Saw ! Why, I went but a little further, and I saw One, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon a tree ; and the very sight of him made my burden fall off my back (for I groaned under a very heavy burden, 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 look- ing), 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 em- broidered coat which you see ; and the third set the mark which you see in my forehead, and gave HE IS INTERROGATED BY PRUDENCE. CC me this sealed roll (and with that he plucked it out of his bosom). Pi. But you saw more than this, did you not? Ghr. The things that I have told you were the best ; yet some other, matters I saw ; as, namely, I saw three men. Simple, Sloth, and Presump- tion, 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 Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to Zion, but they were quickly lost; even as I myself did tell them, but they Would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions' mouths ; and truly, if it had not been for the good man, the Porter, that stands at the gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might have gone back again ; but now, I thank God, I am here ; and I thank you for receiving of me. Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer to them. Pr. Do you not think sometimes of the country from whence you came ? Chr. Yes, but with much shame and detesta- tion : truly, if I had been mindful of that country from whence I came out, I might have had oppor- tunity to have returned ; but now I desire a better country, that is, an heavenly one1. Pr. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were conversant withal? * Hcb. xj, i6. 5 6 Prudence asks him of his inward experience; Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will ; espe- cially my inward and carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were de- lighted: but now all those things are my grief; and might I but choose mine own things, I would choose never to think of those things more ; but when I would be a doing of that which is best, that which is worst is with me1. Pr. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished, which at other times are your perplexity ? Chr. Yes, but that is but seldom ; but they are to me golden hours in which such things happen to me. Pr. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances at times as if they were van- quished ? Chr. Yes : when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it ; and when I look upon my em- broidered coat, that will do it; and when I look into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it ; and when my thoughts wax warm about whi- ther I am going, that will do it. Pr. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to mount Zion ? Chr. Why, there I hope to see him alive that did hang dead on the cross : and 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 death2 ; and there I shall dwell with such company f Rom. vii. * lsa. xsv. 8. Rev. xxi, 4, CHARITY INQUIRES CONCERNING HIS FAMILY. ry as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I love him because I was by him eased of my burden ; and i am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall 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 not you 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 endeavoured to have shown them the danger of being left behind. Chr. So I did; and told them also what God had showed to me of the destruction of our city ; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed me not1. 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. Char. But did you tell them of your own sor- row, and fear of destruction ? for I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you. J Gen. xix. 14, I ^ 8 CHRISTIAN SHOWS WHY RE CAME ALONE. 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 labour 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 neighbour. DISCOURSE ABOUT THE LORD OF THE HILL. CQ Char. Indeed Cain hated his brother, " because " his own works were evil, and his brother's right- " eous1 ;" and if thy wife and children have been offended with thee for this, they thereby show them- selves to be implacable to good ; and thou hast de- livered thy soul from their blood2. Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talk- ing together until supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they sat 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. For, as they said, and, as I believe, said Chris- tian, 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 out of pure love to his country. And besides, there were some of them of the household s that said, they had been and spoke with him since he did die on the cross; and they have attested, that they had it from his own lips, that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west. 1 i John, iii. 13. * Ezek. iii. 19. 3 Heb. ii. 14, 15. 60 THE CHAMBER PEACE, AND THE STUDY. 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 bom, and their original had been the dunghill1. Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; and after they hag! committed themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the 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, they told 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 ot the hill, that he was the Son of the Ancient-of-days, and came by that eternal generation : here also, « j Sam. ii. 8. Ps. cxiii. 7. THE ARMOURY, AND ITS CURIOSITIES. 6 1 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 aliens1." Then they read again in another part of the re- cords of the house, where it was showed how will- ino- the Lord was to receive into his favour anv, o * 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. The next day they took him and had him into the armoury, where they showed him all manner of furniture which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breast-plate, all-prayer, and » Heb. xi. 33.34- 62 CHRISTIAN SEES THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. shoes that would not wear out. And there wa^ here enough of this to harness out as many men, for the service of their Lord, as there be stars in the heaven for multitude. They also showed him some of the engines, with which some of his servants had done wonderful things. They showed him Moses's rod ; the ham- mer and nail with which Jael slewSisERA; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox's goad, wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They showed him also the jaw-bone with which Sampson did such mighty feats : they showed him moreover the slins: and stone with which David slew Goliah 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 forwards, 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 staid. When the morn- ing was up they had him to the top of the house, and bid him look south : so he did; and, behold, at CHRISTIAN ARMED. 63 a great distance1, he saw a most pleasant moun- tainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold. Then he asked the name of the country. They said, It was Em- manuel's land; and it is as common, say they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City, as the shep- herds 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 armoury. So they did ; and when he came there they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the way. He being therefore thus accoutred, walked out with his friends to the gate, and there he asked the Porter, if he saw any pilgrims pass by? Then the Porter answered, Yes. Chr. Pray did you know him ? Port. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful. O, said Christian, I know him: he is my towns- man, my near neighbour, he comes from the place where I was born : how far do you think he may be before ? Port. He is got by this time below the hill. « Isai. xxxiii. 16, 17. 64 THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 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 accom- pany 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 an hard matter for a man to go down into the valley of Humi- liation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore, said they, are we come out to accompany thee down the hill. So he began to go down, but very warily, yet he caught a slip or two. Then I saw in my dream, that these good com- panions, when Christian was gone down to the • bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bot- tle of wine, and a cluster of raisins ; and then he went on his way. But now, in this valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to it; tor he had gone but a little way, before he spied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him: his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back or stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no APOLLYON MEETS CHRISTIAN. 6$ ' armour for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to him might give him greater ad- vantage, with ease to pierce him with his darts ; therefore he resolved to venture, and stand his ground : for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand. So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was hideous to behold: he was clothed with scales like a fish (and they are his pride) ; he had wings like a dragon, 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 Destruc- tion, 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. How is it then that thou hast run away from thy king? Were it not for that I hope thou mayest do me more service, 1 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 was such as a man could not live on ; " for the wages of sin is " death ■ j" therefore when I was come to years I 1 Rom. vi. sj . . K 66 APOLLYON TEMPTS HIM TO GO BACK. 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, neither will I as yet lose thee; but since thou complainest of thy service 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, ' Change a bad for a zvorfe ;' but it is or- dinary for those that have professed themselves his servants, after a while to give him the slip, and re- turn 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 pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back. Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage; and besides, I count that the prince under whose banner now I stand, is able to absolve me ; yea> and to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with thee : and, besides, O thou destroying Apol- lyon, to speak truth, I like his service, his wages, his servants, his government, his company, and country, better than thine ; and therefore leave off to persuade me further; I am his servant, and I will follow him. CHRISTIAN REFUTES HIS SUGGESTIONS. 67 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 countest his service better than mine, whereas he never came yet from the place where he is to deliver any that served him out of their hands : but, as for me, how many times, as all the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him and his, though taken by them : and so I will 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, 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 Apol l yon, have I been un- faithful to him ? Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost choked in the gulph of De- spond; thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldest have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off: thou didst sinfully t>8 APOLLYON REPROACHES AND THREATENS HIM. sleep, and lose thy choice things : 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 in- wardly desirous of vain-glory 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 honour, is merciful and ready to forgive. But besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy coun- try: for there I sucked them in, and I have groaned under them, being sorry for them, and have ob-> tained 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 j 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 naming dart at his breast; but Christian had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the danger of that. Then did Christian drawr ; for he saw it was time to bestir him; and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail; by t\\e THEIR DREADFUL COMBAT. 6q. which, notwithstanding ail that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian give a little back: Apollyon, therefore, followed his work amain, and Christian again took cou- rage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent ; for you must know, that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker. Then Apollyon, spying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall ; and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now: and with that he had almost pressed him to death ; so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, " Rejoice not ** against me, O mine enemy ! when I fall, I shall " arise l ;" and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back as one that had re- ceived 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 us2 ;'•' and with that Apollyon 1 Mic. via. 8. * Rom. yiii. 37 — 39. Jam. iv. 7, I 70 CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY AND THANKSGIVING. spread forth his dragon's wings and sped him away, that Christian saw him no more. 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 perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edoed o sword j then indeed he did smile and look upward ! But it was the dreadfullest fight 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 thanks, and bless his holy name always.' Then there came to him an hand with some of the leaves of the tree of life, the which Christian took and applied to the wounds that he had re- ceived 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 be- CHRISTIAN MEETS TWO MEN GOING BACK. jf fore : 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 the valley. Now at the end of this valley was another, called the valley of the Shadow of Death; and Chris- tian 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 pro- phet 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, " passeth through, and where no " man dwelt1." 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 on the borders of the Shadow of Death, there met him two men, children of them that brought up an evil report of the good land2, 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 » Jer. ii. 6. * Numb. xiii.. ♦? 2 THEY IN VAIN ATTEMPT TO DISCOURAGE HIM. 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 Death1 ; but that by good hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to it. But what have you seen? said Christian. Men. Seen ! why the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch : we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit: we heard also in that valley a continual howling and yelling, as of people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and irons ; and over that valley hang the discouraging clouds of confusion : death also doth always spread his wings over it2. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly with- out order. Then said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what you have said, but that this is my way to the desired haven. Men. Be it thy way; we will not choose it for ours. So they parted; and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted. I saw then in my dream, so far as tills valley reached there was on the right hand a very deep ditch; that ditch is it into which the blind hath 1 PsaL xliv. 19. 2 Job, i*. 5. x 22. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 73 led the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished. Again, behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous quag, into which if even a good man falls he finds no bottom for his foot to stand on: into this quag king David once did fall, and had, no doubt, therein been smothered, had not he that is able plucked him out x. The path-way 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 here sigh bitterly : for besides the danger mentioned above, the path-way was here so dark, that oft-times when he lifted up his foot to go 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 way-side : 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 Chris- tian's sword, as did Apollyon before}, that he was forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called all-prayer : so he cried, in my hearing, " O Lord, I beseech thee deliver my » Psal. lxix. 14. L 74 CHRISTIAN'S TERROR AND PERPLEXITY. " soul1." Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching towards him : also he heard doleful voices, and rushing to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard, by him for several miles to- gether : and coming to a place where he thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him, he stopt, 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 and nearer : but when they were come even almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, " I " will walk in the strength of the Lord God jH 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 per- ceived it : just when he was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked-ones got behind him, and stept up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded J Ps. cxvi. 4. Ephes. vi. 18. HE IS CHEERED BY THE BREAKING OF DAY. J$ from his own mind. This put Christian more to it than any thing that he 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 discon- solate condition some considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, " Though I walk through the valley of the " shadow of death I will fear no ill, for thou art " with me1." Then was he glad, and that for these reasons : — first, because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God were in this valley as well as him- self:— 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 itz: — 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 3." Now morning being come he looked back, not out of desire to return, but to see by the light of 1 P«. xxiii. 4. 2 Job, is. II. * Amos, v. 8. 7 6 CHRISTIAN SEES THE DANGERS HE HAD ESCAPED. the day what hazards he had gone through in the dark : so he saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the other; also how narrow the way was which led betwixt them both : also now he saw the hobgob- lins, 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 to light the shadow "of death1." Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the dangers of his solitary way ; which dangers though he feared them more before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him. And about this time the sun was rising ; and this was another mercy to Christian: for you must note, that though the first part of the valley of the Shadow of Death was dangerous j yet this se- cond part, which he was yet to go, was, if possible, far more dangerous : for, from the place where he now stood even to the end of the valley, the way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets, here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings down, there ; that had it 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 1 Job, xii. 22. I'M IK II STU AN at the CAVE oi'l'OFE . /.f/n/<'/i,/'t//i/iWtf,('r /:// Ephcs. iv. 22. ESCAPED HIM WITH DIFFICULTY AND PAIN: 83 that he had but three daughters, " the Lust of the " Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life r " and that I should marry them if I would. Then I asked how long time he would have me to live with him ? And he told me, as long as he lived himself. Chr. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last ? Faith. 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? Faith. 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 from him -s but just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and gave me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part of me after himself: this made me cry, O wretched man* ! — So I went on my way up the hill. Now, when I had got about half way up, I looked behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind ; so he overtook me just about the place where the settle stands. » 1 John, K. 16. * Rom. vii. 14. 84 WAS ALMOST SLAIN BY MOSES, BUT SAVED BY CHRIST. 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. Faith. But, good brother, hear me out : so soon as the man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow, for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me so ? He said, because of my secret inclining toADAMTHE first: and with that he struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward : so I lay at his foot as dead as before. When I came to my- self again I cried him mercy : but he said, I know not how to show mercy; and with that 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? Faith. 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. The man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none, neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law. Faith. I know it very well ; it was not the first time that he has met with me. It was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he would burn my house over my head if I staid there. Chr. But did you not see the house that stood there on the top of the hill on the side of which Moses met you? PASSED THE. HOUSE BEAUTIFUL: MET DISCONTENT; 8 $ Faith. 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 ? Faith. 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 honour. He told me, moreover, that there to go was the way to disoblige all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, 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 ? Faith. I told him that although all these that he named might claim kindred of me, and that rightly (for indeed they were my relations according to the flesh) ; yet since I became a pilgrim they have dis- owned me, as I also have rejected them, and there- fore they are to me now no more than if they had never been of my lineage. I told him, moreover, that, as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing ; for " before honour is humility," " and *l a haughty spirit before a fall." Therefore, said I, 86 WAS ASSAULTED BY SHAME; HIS IMPORTUNITY. I had rather go through this valley to the honour that was so accounted by the wisest, than choose that which he esteemed most worthy our affec- tions. Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley? Faith. 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 that bold-faced Shame would never have done. Chr. Why, what did he say to you ? Faith. What ! why he objected against religion itself; he said, It was a pitiful, low, sneaking business for a man to mind religion ; he said, that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing ; and that for a man to watch over his words and ways, so as to tie up himself from that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but few 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 no- body knows what *. He moreover objected the base and low estate and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived; also their ignorance, and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also about a great many more things than " John, vii. 48. 1 Cor. i. 26. iii. 18. Phil. iii. 7—9. HIS ARGUMENTS ANSWERED BY FAITHFUL: 3 7 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 neighbour forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution where I have taken from any. He said also, that religion made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices, which are 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? Faith. Say ! I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he put me so to it that my blood came up in my face : even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me quite ofF. But at last I began to consider that " that which is highly esteemed among " men is had in abomination with God1." And I thought again, this shame tells me what men are ; but it tells me nothing what God or the word of God is. And I thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life, according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best, though all the men in the world are against it: seeing then that God prefers his religion; see- ing God prefers a tender conscience; seeing they that make themselves fools for the kingdom of hea- ven are wisest ; and that the poor man that loveth ' Luke, xvi. 15. S8 WHO AT LENGTH SHAKES HIM OFF. 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? Should I now be ashamed of his ways and servants, how can I expect the blessing1 ? But indeed this Shame was a bold villain ; I could scarce shake him out of my company : yea, he would be haunting of me, and continually whispering me in the ear, with some one or other of the infirmities that attend religion : but at last I told him, it was but in vain to attempt further in this business j for those things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory : and so at last I got past this importu- nate 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 heav'nly call, Are manifold and suited to the flesh, And come, and come, and come again afresh ; That now, or some times else, we by them may Be taken, overcome, and cast away. O let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims, then Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men.' Chr. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst with- stand this villain so bravely; for of all, as thou say- est, I think he has the wrong name: for he is so bold as to follow us in the streets, and to attempt to put us to shame before all men; that is, to make us • Mark, viii. 38. FAITHFUL HAD SUN-SHINE THROUGH THE VALLEYS. 8a 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, notwith- standing all his bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else. " The wise shall inherit glory," said Solomon ; " but shame shall be the promotion of "fools1." Faith. 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 ? Faith. No, not I; fori had sun-shine 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 as almost 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 1 Prov. iii. 35. N Q0 THEY OVERTAKE TALKATIVE. HIS PLAUSIBLE brake, and the sun rose, and I went through that which was behind with far more ease and quiet. Moreover I saw in my dream, that, as they went on, Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man, whose name is Talkative, walking at a distance besides them ; for in this place there was room enough for them all to walk. He was a tall man, and something more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this manner : Friend, whither away? are you going to the hea- venly country ? Talk. I am going to the same place. Faith. That is well ; then I hope we may have your good company ? Talk. With a very good will will I be your companion. Faith. 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. Faith. That is indeed a thing to be lamented: for what thing so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of heaven? CONVERSATION WITH FAITHFUL. 9 1 Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your say- ings are full of conviction : — and, I will add, what things are so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God ? What things so pleasant ? that is, if a man hath any delight in things that are wonderful: for instance, if a man doth delight to talk of the history or the mystery of things j 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? Faith. That's true: but to be profited by such things in our talk should be our chief 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, &c. Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like : by this also a man may learn what are the great promises and consolations of the gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this a man may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct the ignorant. Faith. All this is true, and glad am I 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 neces- 92 FAITHFUL BEGUILED BY HIM, sity 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. Faith. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the g-ift of God ; no man attaineth to them by human industry, or only by the talk of them. Talk. All that I know very well : for a man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven j all is of grace, not of works : I could give you an hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this. Well then, said Faithful, what is that one thing that we shall at this time found our discourse upon ? Talk. What you will : I will talk of things hea- venly or things earthly; things moral or things evan-^ gelical; things sacred or things profane ; things past or things to come; things foreign or things at home; things more essential or things circumstantial; pro- vided that all be done to our profit. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and stepping to Christian (for he walked all this while by himself) he said to him, but softly, What a brave companion have we got ! surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrim. At. this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This man, with whom you are so taken, will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them who know him not. Faith. Do you know him then ? CHRISTIAN KMOW'o AND EXPOSES HIM. O-J Chr. Know him ! yes, better than he knows him- self. Faith. 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 large. Faith. Whose son is he? and whereabouts doth he dwell ? Chr. He is the son of one Say-well, he dwelt in Prating-row ; and 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 sorry fellow. Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. Chr. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him ; for he is best abroad, near home he is ugly enough : your saying, that he is a pretty man, brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the painter, whose pictures show best at a distance, but very near, more unpleasing. Faith. I am ready to think you do but jest, be- cause 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 hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his mouth: religion hath no place in his heart, or house, 94. TALKATIVE'S TRUE CHARACTER. or conversation; all he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise therewith. Faith. Say you so? then I am 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 power1." He talketh of prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the new-birth; but he knows but only to talk of them. I have been in his family, and have observed him both at home and abroad ; and I know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of religion as the white of an ey inclining the soul to abhor its sin. Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying out against, and abhorring of, sin? Faith. Oh ! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin, of policy, but he cannot abhor it but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it: I have heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and con- versation. Joseph's mistress cried with a loud voice, as if she had been very holy ; but she would REFUTES HIS ANSWERS. 99 willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness with him r . Some cry out against sin, i even as the mother cries out against her child in her lap, when she calls *it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it. Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. Faith. No, not I, I am only for setting things right. But what is the second thing whereby you will prove a discovery of a work of grace in the heart ? Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries. ~ Faith. 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 soul2. Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so consequently be no child of God. When Christ said, " Do ye know all these " things ?" and the disciples had answered, Yes, — he added, " Blessed are'ye, if ye do them." He doth not lay the blessing in the knowing of them, but in the doing of them. For there is a know- ledge 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 chris- tian : therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed to know is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boast- ers ; but to do is that which pleaseth God. Not that the heart can be good without knowledge ; for * Gen. xxxix. u— 15. * 1 Cor. xiii. IOO TALKATIVE REFUSES TO PROCEED. without that the heart is naught. There are there- fore two sorts of knowledge : knowledge that rest- eth in the bare speculation of things, and know- ledge 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 heart1." Talk. You lie at the catch again; this is not for edification. Faith. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this work of grace discovereth itself where it is. Talk. Not I ; for I see we shall not agree. Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it ? Talk. You may use your liberty. Faith. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself, either to him that hath it, or to standers by. To him that hath it, thus : it gives him convic- tion of sin, especially of the defilement of his na- ture, 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 Christ2. 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 * Psal. cxix. 34. * Mark, xvi. 16. John, xvi. 8, 9. Rom- vii. 34. FAITHFUL SHOWS THE SIGNS OF A WORK OF GRACE, lOl necessity of closing with him for life ; at the which he findeth hungerings and thirstings after him ; to which hungerings, &c. the promise is made1. 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 his 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 : — i. By an expe- rimental confession of his faith in Christ. — 2. By a life answerable to that confession ; to wit, a life of holiness ; heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he hath a family), and by conversation-holiness in the world ; which in the general teacheth him in- wardly 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 an hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a practical subjection in faith and love to the power of the word2. And now, Sir, as to this brief de- scription of the work of grace, and also the dis- 1 Ps. xxxviii. 18. Jer. xxxi. 19. Matt. v. 6. Acts, iv. 11. Gal. i. 15, 16. Rev. xxi. 6. 2 Ps. 1. 23. Ezek. xx. 43. Matt. v. i. John, xiv. 15. Rom. x 9, 10. Phil. iii. 17 — 20. 1 02 AND APPLIES THEM TO TALKATIVE'S CONSCIENCE. covery 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. Faith. It is this: Do you experience this first part of the description of it ? and doth your life and conversation testify the same ? or standeth your religion in word or 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 con- science can justify you in : " for not he that com- " mendeth himself is approved, but whom the ' " Lord commendeth." Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when my conversation and all my neigh- bours tell me I lie, is great wickedness. Then Talkative at first began to blush; but, recovering himself, thus he replied : You come now to experience, to conscience, and God ; and to appeal to him for justification of what is spoken : this kind of discourse I did not expect ; nor am I disposed to give an answer to such questions : be- cause I count not myself bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a catechizer ; and though you should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But I pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions ? Faith. 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 TALKATIVE DEPARTS OFFENDED. 103 heard of you, that you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation gives this your 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 danger of being destroyed thereby ; your religion and an alehouse, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, -and vain company-keeping, &c. will stand together. The proverb is true of you which is said of a whore, to wit, that c 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 con- clude you are some peevish or melancholic 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 your company : besides, the apostle says, " From " such withdraw thyself." Faith. But I am glad we had this little dis- course with him ; it may happen that he will think of it again: however, I have dealt plainly with hini, and so am clear of his blood if he perisheth, 104 EVANGELIST OVERTAKES THEM. Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did ; there is but little of this faithful dealing with men now-a-days, and that makes religion to stink so in the nostrils of many as it doth : for they are these talkative fools, whose religion is pnly in words, and are debauched and vain • in their con- versation, 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 con- formable to religion, or the company of saints would be too hot for them. Then did Faithful say — « 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 by the way, and so made that way easy which would otherwise no doubt have been tedious to them : for now they went through a wilderness. Now, when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and spied 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 in the way to the gate. Now as HIS EARNEST EXHORTATION. ICjJ Evangelist came up unto them, he thus saluted them : Peace be with you, dearly beloved ; and peace be to your helpers. Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evange- list; the sight of thy countenance brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied labours for my eternal good. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faith- ful; thy company, 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 be- haved yourselves ? Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had happened to them in the way; and how, and with what difficulty, they had arrived to that place. Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have met with trials, but that you have been victors, and for that you have, notwithstanding many weak- nesses, continued in the way to this very day. I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for my own sake and your's. I have sowed and you have reaped ; and the day is coming, when " both he " that sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice to- " gether ;" that is, if you hold out ; " for in due " time ye shall reap, if you faint not1." The crown ' John, iv. 36. Gal. vi. 9. 106 HE FORETELS THEIR APPROACHING TRIALS. is before you,- and it is an incorruptible one ; " so " run, that you may obtain it." Some there be that set out for this crown, and after they have gone far for it, another comes in and takes it from them ; " hold fast therefore that you have, let no " man take your crown * :" you are not yet out of the ffun-shot of the devil : " vou have not resisted o J " unto blood, striving against sin :" let the king- dom be always before you, and believe stedfastly concerning things that are invisible : let nothing that is on this side the other world get within you : and, above all, look well to your own hearts and to the lusts thereof, for they are " deceitful above all " things, and desperately, wicked :" set your faces like a flint ; you have all power in heaven and earth on your side. Then Christian thanked him for his exhorta- tion ; but told him withal that they would have him speak further to them for their help the rest of the way ; and the rather for that they well knew that he was a prophet, and could tell them of things that might happen unto them, and how they might resist and overcome them. To which request Faithful also consented. So Evangelist be- gan as followeth : My sons, you have heard in the words of the truth of the gospel, that " you must through many " tribulations enter into the kingdom of heaven.'* And again, that " in every city, bonds and afflic- • i Cor. is, 24—27. Rev. iii. jr. VANITY FAIR. IO7 ? tions abide on you " and therefore you cannot expect that you should go long on your pilgrimage without them, in some sort or other. You have found something of the truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more will immediately fol- low: for now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness, and therefore you will soon come into a town that you wTill by and by see before you; and in that town you wTill be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but they will kill you ; and be you sure that one or both of you must seal the testimony, which you hold, with blood : but " be you faithful unto death, and the " King will give you a crown of life." He that shall die there, although his death will be un- natural, and his pains perhaps great, he will yet have the better of his fellow, not only because he will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he will escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall find ful- filled what I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit yourselves like men ; and " commit the keeping of your souls to your God " in well-doing, as unto a faithful Creator." Then I saw in my dream that, when they were got out of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them ; the name of that town is Vanity ; and at that 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 108 THINGS THERE TO BE SEEN AND SOLD. 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 vanity1." This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of ancient standing : I will show you the original of it. Almost Ave thousand years agone there were pil- grims walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest persons are; and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their companions, perceiving, by the path that the pilgrims made, that their way to the city lay through this town of Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair ; a fair, wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity; and that it should last all the year long : therefore at this fair are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands, trades, places, honours, preferments, titles, coun- tries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures; and delights of all sorts, as whores, bawds, wives, husbands, chil- dren, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not? "And moreover, at this fair there is 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 colour. And as in other fairs of less moment there are several rows and streets under their proper names., • Eccles. i. a. <4- "• ?!■ J7- & 8, Isaiah, xl. 17. THE BLESSED ONE REFUSETH TO BUY. 109 where such wares are vended, so here likewise you have the proper places, rows, streets (viz. countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair are soonest to be found. Here is the Britain row, the French row, the Italian row, the Spanish row, the German row, where several sorts of vanities are to be sold. But as in other fairs some one commodity is as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of Rome and her merchandise is greatly pro- moted in this fair: only our English nation, with some others, have taken a dislike thereat. Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through the town where this lusty fair is kept ; and he that will go to the city, and yet not go through this town, " must needs go out of the " world." The Prince of princes himself, when here, went through this town to his own country, and that upon a fair-day too : yea, and as I think, it was Beelzebub the chief lord of this fair that invited him to buy of his vanities ; yea, would have made him lord of the fair, would he but have, done him reverence as he went through the town : yea, because he was such a person of honour, Beel- zebub 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 so much as one farthing upon these vanities1. This fair, therefore, ' Matt. iv. 8, 9. Luke, iv. 5. 7. I 1 0 A HUBBUB IN THE FAIR. is an ancient thing, of long standing, and a very great fair. Now these pilgrims, as I said, must need go through this fair. Well, so they did ; but, behold, even as they entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved, and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them; and that for several reasons : for, First, The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was diverse from the raiment of any that traded in that fair. The people, therefore, of the fair made a great gazing upon them : some said they were fools r ; some, they were bedlams ; and some, they were outlandish men. Secondly, And, as they wondered at their apparel, so they did likewise at their speech ; for few could understand what they said : they naturally spoke the language of Canaan ; but they that kept the fair were the men of this world : so that from one end of the fair to the other they seemed barbarians each to the other. Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the merchandisers was, that these pilgrims set very light liy 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 vanity2;" and look upwards, signifying that their trade and traffic was in heaven. One chanced, mockingly, beholding the carriages of the men, to say unto them, * What will ye buy?' J i Cor. it, 9, 10. f Ps. cxix. 37. THE PILGRIMS APPREHENDED AND EXAMINED. II I but they looking gravely upon him, said, We " buy " the truth1." At that, there was an occasion taken to despise the men the more : some mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some calling upon others to smite them. At last, things came to an hubbub and great stir in the fair, inso- much 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 examina- tion, about whom the fair was almost overturned. So the men were brought to examination; and they that sat upon them, asked them whence they came, whither they went, and what they did there in such an unusual garb? The men told them that they were pilgrims and strangers in the world ; and that they were going to their own country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem*; and that they had given no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them, and to stop them in their journey : except it was for that, when one asked them what they would buy, they said they would buy the truth. — But they that were appointed to examine them, did not believe them to be any other than bedlams and mad, or else such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair. There- fore 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 1 Prov. xxiii. 23. 2 Heb. xi. 13 — 16. j i'2 THEIR CONFINEMENT, AND MEEK BEHAVIOUR. of the fair. 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 befel them. But, the men being patient, and " not rendering railing for railing, but contrari- " wise blessing," and giving good words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair, that were more observing and less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men : they therefore in angry manner let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed confederates, and should be made partakers of their misfortune. The other replied, that, .for aught they could see, the men were quiet and sober, and intended nobody any harm : and that there were many that traded in their fair that were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men that they had abused. Thus after* divers words had passed on both sides (the men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and soberly before them), they fell to some blows among themselves, and did harm one to another. Then were these two poor men brought before their examiners again, and there charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example and terror to others, lest any should speak in their behalf, or join themselves unto them. But Christian and Its effects ; and their further sufferings. 113 Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was cast upon them, with so much meekness and patience, that it won to their side (though but few in com- parison of the rest) several of the men in 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 order should be taken with them. So they put them in, and made their feet fast in the stocks. Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful friend Evange- list, and were the more confirmed in their ways 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 commit- ting themselves to the all-wise disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the condition in which they were, until they should .be otherwise disposed of. Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to their trial, in order to their condemnation. When the time was come, they were brought before their enemies, and arraigned. The 114 THEIR INDICTMENT. FAITHFUL'S ANSWER. judge's name was Lord Hate-good : their indict- ment was one and the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form ; the contents whereof was this : That they were enemies to, and disturbers of, their trade : that they had made commotions and divisions in the town, and had won a party to their own most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their prince. Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself against that which 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 beholding our truth and inno- cence* 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 wit- nesses, to wit, Envy, Superstition, and Pick- thank : 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 honourable bench, that lie is THE TESTIMONY OF ENVY AND SUPERSTITION. II5 Judge. Hold, give him his oath. So they sware him. — Then he said, My Lord, this man, notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of the vilest men in our country ; he neither regardeth prince nor people, law nor custom 3 but doeth all that he can to possess all men with certain of his disloyal notions, which he in the general calls < prin- \ cijiles of faith and holiness' And, in particular, I heard him once myself affirm, that Christianity and the customs of our town of Vanity were diame- trically 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 any more to say ? Envy. My Lord, I could say much more, only I would not be tedious to the court. Yet if need be, when the other gentlemen have given in their evi- dence, rather than any thing shall be wanting that will dispatch 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 prisoner ; 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 pesti- lent fellow, from some discourse that the other day I had with him in this town; for then, talking with 1 1 6 PICKTHANK CLOSES THE EVIDENCE. him, I heard him say that our religion was naught, and such by which a man could by no means please God. Which saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we still do worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned : and this is that which I have to say. Then was Pick thank sworn, and bid sav 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 honourable friends, whose names are the Lord Old-man, the Lord Carnal-delight, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord Desire-of-vain-glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of our no- bility : 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 vilifying terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town. When this Pick thank had told his tale, the judge directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, Thou renegade, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard what these honest gentlemen have wit- nessed against thee ? FAITHFUL REPLIES TO THE WITNESSES. I I 7 Faith. May I speak a few words in my own defence ? Judge. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain immediately upon the place ; yet that all men may see our gentleness towards thee, let us hear what thou, vile renegade, hast to say. Faith. 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 Christianity. 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 revelation of the will of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the worship of God that is not agree- able to divine revelation, cannot be done but by an human faith, which faith will not be profitable to eternal life. As to what Mr. Pick thank 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 rab- blement, his attendants, by this gentleman named, are more fit for being in hell than in this town and country; and so the Lord have mercy upon me. Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by to hear and observe), Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about whom so great an I I 8 LORD HATE-GOOD'S CHARGE TO THE JURY. 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 in- struct you in our law. There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the great, servant to our prince, that, lest those of a contrary religion should multiply and grow too strong for him, their males should be thrown into the river1. — There was an act also made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the great, another of his servants, that whoever would not fall down and worship his golden image, should be thrown into the fiery furnace2. — There was also an act made in the days of Darius, that whoso for some time called upon any God but him should be cast into the lions' den3. Now the substance of these laws this rebel has broken, not only in thought (which is not to be borne), but also in word and deed; which must therefore needs be intolerable. For that of Pharaoh; — his law was made upon suspicion 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. * Exod. i. 2 Dan. ill. 3 Dan. vi. FAITHFUL'S CONDEMNATION AND MARTYRDOM. I I Q Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cru- elty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable ; who every one gave in his private verdict against him among themselves, and afterwards unanimously- concluded to bring him in guilty before the judge. And first among themselves, — Mr. Blindman, the foreman, said, ' I see clearly that this man is an * heretic.' Then said Mr. No-good, ' Away with c 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,' saidMr.LivE-LoosE, ' for he would always ' be condemning my way.' ' Hang him, hang him/ said Mr. Heady. ' A sorry scrub,' said Mr. High- mind. c My heart riseth against him,' said Mr. Enmity. ( He is a rogue,' said Mr. Liar. ' Hang- * ing is too good for him,' said Mr. Cruelty. e Let c us dispatch him out of the way,' said Mr. Hate- light. Then said Mr. Implacable, ' Might I * have all the world given me, I could not be recon- ' ciled 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. 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, I ±0 CHRISTIAN LET GO, AND JOINED BY HOPEFUL. then pricked him with their swords ; and last of all they burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus came Faithful to his end. Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple of horses waiting for Faith- ful, who, so soon as his adversaries had dispatched him, was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through the clouds, with sound of trum- pet, the nearest way to the Celestial gate. But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was re- manded back to prison ; so he there remained for a space : but He that over-rules all things, having the power of their rage in his own hand, so wrought it about, that Christian for that time escaped them, and went his way. And as he went he sang, saying, * Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest Unto thy Lord, of whom thou shalt be blest : "When faithless ones, with all their vain delight, Are crying out under their hellish plight, Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive ; For though they kill'd thee thou art yet alive.' Now I saw in my dream that Christian went not forth alone 5 for there was one whose name was Hopeful (being so made by the beholding of Christian and Faithful in their words and behaviour 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 BY-ENDS OF FAIR-SPEECH, AND HIS KINDRED. I 21 with Christian in his pilgrimage. This Hope- ful 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 tfrat 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 he was going to the Celestial City, but told them not his name. From Fair-speech ! said Christian : is there any good that. lives there1 ? Yes, said By-ends, I hope. Pray, Sir, what may I call you? said. Christian. By. I am a stranger to you, and you to me: if you be going this way, I shall be glad of your com- pany : if not, I must be content. This town of Fair-speech, said Christian, I have heard of, and, as I remember, they say it is a wealthy place. 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, 1 Prov. xxvi. 23. R 122 CHRISTIAN INQUIRES INTO HIS PRINCIPLES. Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Any-thing ; and the parson of our parish, Mr. Two tongues, was my mother's own brother by father's side : and, to tell you the truth, I am become a gentleman of good quality, yet my great grandfather was but a waterman, looking one way and rowing another, and I got most of my estate by the same occupa- tion. 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 honourable 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 most zealous when Religion goes in his sil- ver slippers ; we love much to walk with him in the street, if the sun shines, and the people applaud him. Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful, saying, It runs in my mind that this is one By-ends of Fair-speech ; and if it be he, we have as very a knave in our company as dwelleth in all these parts. Then said Hopeful, Ask him ; methinks he should not be ashamed of his name. So Christian came up with him again, and said, Sir, you talk as if you knew some- thing more than all the world doth ; and, if I take THEY DISAGREE ABOUT THEIR RELIGION. 123 not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you: is not your name Mr. By-ends, of Fair- speech ? By. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nick -name 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 be- fore 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 judg- ment with the present way of the times, whatever it was ; and my chance was to get thereby. But if things are thus cast upon me, let me count them a blessing; but let not the malicious load me there- fore with reproach. Chr. I thought indeed that you were the man that I heard of; and, to tell you what I think, I fear this name belongs to you more properly than you are willing we should think it doth. By. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it : you will find me a fair company-keeper if you will still 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. I 24 CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL WITHDRAW FROM HIM. 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 farther, 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. Then I saw in my dream that Christian and Hopeful forsook him, and kept their distance be- fore 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 con- gee ; and they also gave him a compliment. The men's names were, Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. Money-love, and Mr. Save-all ; men that Mr. By-ends had' formerly been acquainted with; for in their minority they were school-fellows, and were taught by one Mr. Gripeman, a school-master in Love-gain, which is a market-town in the county of Coveting, in the north. This school-master taught them the art of getting, either by violence, cozenage, flattery, lying, or by putting on a guise of religion ; and these four gentlemen had attained much of the art of their master, so that they could each of them have kept such a school themselves. Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. Money-love said to Mr. By- ends, Who are they upon the road before us? DISCOURSE WITH BY-ENDS ABOUT THE PILGRIMS. I2C for Christian and Hopeful were yet within 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 going on pilgrim- age. By. We are so indeed : but the men before us are sq rigid, and love so much their own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the opinion of others, that let a man be never so godly, yet if he jumps not with them in all things, they thrust him quite out of their company. Save. -That's bad: but we read of some that are righteous over-much, and such men's rigidness pre- vails 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 jour- ney all weathers j 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 no- tions though all other men be against them ; but I am for Religion in what, and so far as, the. times and my safety will bear it. They are for Religion when in rags and contempt; but I am for him when he walks in his golden slippers, in the sun- shine, and with applause. 126 BY-ENDS PROPOSES A QUESTION. Hold. Ay, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends : for my part, I can count him but a fool that having the liberty to keep what he has shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as ser- pents ; it is best to make hay when the sun shines; you see how the bee lieth still in winter, and be- stirs her only when she can have profit with plea- sure. God sends sometimes rain and sometimes sun-shine : if they be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather along with us. For my part, I like that religion best that will stand with the security of God's good blessings unto us : for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, since God has bestowed upon us the good things of this life, but that he would have us keep them for his sake ? Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion. And Job says that a good man " 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 mat- ter, and therefore there needs no more words about it. Money. No, there needs no more words about this matter indeed ; for heo that believes neither scripture nor reason (and you see we have both on our side), neither knows his own liberty, nor seeks his own safety. By. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage, and for our better diversion from things that are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this question : MONEY-LOVE'S ANSWER 127 Suppose a man, a minister or a tradesman, &c. should have an advantage lie before him to °-et 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 ? Money. I see the bottom of your question; and, with these gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavour to shape you an answer. And first, to speak to your question, as it concerns a minister himself. Suppose a minister, a worthy man, possessed but of a very small benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat and plump by far: he has also now an opportunity of getting it, yet so as by being more studious, by preaching more frequently and zealously, and, because the temper of the people requires it, by altering of some of his principles : for my part, I see no reason but a man may do this, provided he has a call, ay, and more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest man. For why f 1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful; this cannot be contradicted, since it is set before him by Providence ; so then he may get it if he can, making no question for conscience' sake. 2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, a more zealous preacher, &c. and so makes him a better man, yea, makes him better improve his parts ; which is according to the mind of God. 128 MONEY-LOVE'S ANSWER APPLAUDED. 3. Now, as for the complying with the temper of his people by deserting, to serve them, some of his principles, this argueth that he is of a self-deny- ing temper, 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 for a great should not, for so doing, be judged as covetous ; but rather, since he is im proved in his parts and industry thereby, be count- ed as one that pursues his call, and the opportunity put into his hand to do good. And now to the second part of the question, which concerns the tradesman you mentioned : sup- pose such an one to have but a poor employ in the world ; but by becoming religious he may mend his market, perhaps get a rich wife, or more and far better customers to his shop. For my part, I see no reason but this may be lawfully done. For why ? 1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever a man becomes so. 2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to my shop. 3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets that which is good, of them that are good, by becoming good himself; so then here is a good wife, and good customers, and good gain, and all these by becoming religious, which is good : therefore, to become religious to get all these is a good and profitable design. This answer, thus made by this Mr. Money- love to Mr. By-ends's question, was highly ap- THEY PROPOSE THE QUESTION TO THE PILGRIMS. I 29 plauded by them all ; wherefore they concluded upon the whole that it was most wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they thought, no man was able to contradict it, and because Chris- tian and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly agreed to assault them with this question as soon as they overtook them ; and the rather be- cause they had opposed Mr. By-ends before. So they called after them, and they stopped and stood still till they came up to them : but they con- cluded, as they went, that not Mr. By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-thetWorld, 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 loaves, as it is John, vi. how much more is it abominable to make of him and religion a stalking-horse to get and en- joy the world ? Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and witches, that are of this opinion. Heathens: for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind to the daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that there were no ways for them to come at s 1 3<3 CHRISTIAN ANSWERS IT SCRIPTURALLY. them, but by becoming circumcised ; they say to their companions, " If every male of us be circum- " cised, as they are circumcised, shall not their " cattle, and their substance, and every beast of " theirs, be ours?" Their daughters and their cat- tle 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, Genesis, xxxiv. 20 — 24. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this re- ligion : long prayers were their pretence ; but to get widows' houses was their intent, and greater damnation was from God their judgment*. Judas the devil was also of this religion: he was religious for the bag, that he might be pos- sessed of what was therein ; but he was lost, a cast-away, 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 accordingly2. Neither will it go out of my mind, but that that man, that takes up religion for the world, will throw away religion for the world ; for so 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 hea- * Luke, xx. 465 47. * Acts, viii. 18— x$> THE HILL LUCRE; A SILVER MINE; AND DEMAS. 131 thenish, hypocritical, and devilish ; and your re- ward will be according to your works. — Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not where- with to answer Christian. Hopeful also ap- proved 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 be- hind, 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 at a delicate plain, called Ease; where they went with much con- tent : 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 brim of the pit, the ground, being deceitful un- der 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 passengers to come and I32 DEMAS TRIES TO ENSNARE THE PILGRIMS. see; who said to Christian and his fellow, Ho! turn aside hither, and I will show you a thing. Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way to see it ? Demas. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it for treasure ; if you will come, with a little pains you may richly provide for yourselves. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see. Not I, said Christian; I have heard of this place before now, and how many have been slain there ; and besides, that treasure is a snare to those that seek it; for it hindereth them in their pilgrim- age. Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is not the place dangerous? hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage ? Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that are careless. — But withal he 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 invitations 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, De1- mas, thou art an enemy to the right ways of the BY-ENDS AND HIS COMPANY FATALLY SEDUCED. I 95 Lord of this way, and hast been already condemn- ed, for thine own turning aside, by one of his Ma- jesty's judges l : and why seekest thou to bring us into the like condemnation ? Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof, and will there put us to shame, where we should stand with boldness before him. Demas cried again that he also was one of their fraternity ; and that if they would tarry a little h« 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 ? Demas. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham. Chr. I know you: Gehazi was your great grandfather, and Judas your father, and you have trod in their steps ; it is but a devilish prank that thou usest : thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest no better reward2. Assure thy- self that when we come to the King we will tell him of this thy behaviour. 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 whe^ ther they went down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the bottom by the damps that com- monly arise, of these things I am not certain ; but » a Tim. iv. 10. a j, Kings, v. 30— zj. Matt. xxvi. 14, ij. zxvii. 3— J, 134 THE MONUMENT; OR LOT'S WIFE. this I observed, that they never were seen again in the way. — Then sang Christian: * By-ends and silver Demas did agree; One calls, the other runs, that he may be A sharer in his lucre ; so these do Take up in this world, and no further go.* Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain, the pilgrims came to a place where stood an old monument hard by the highway side, at the sight of which they were both concerned, because of the strangeness of the form thereof, for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar. Here therefore they stood looking and looking upon it ; but could not for a time tell what they should make thereof: at last Hopeful spied written upon the head thereof a writing in an unusual hand ; but he, being no scholar, called to Christian (for he was learned) to see if he could pick out the meaning : so he came, and after a little laying of the letters to- gether he found the same to be this, " Remember " Lot's wife." So he read it to his fellow; after which they both concluded that this was the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was turned, for look- ing back with a covetous heart when she was go- ing from Sodom for safety1. 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 » Gen. xix. a6. THE PILGRIMS DISCOURSE ABOUT HER. I35 Demas gave us to come over to view the hill Lu- cre ; 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, 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 go see: let grace be adored, and let me be ashamed that ever such a thing should be in mine heart. Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here for our help for time to come : this woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom, yet she was destroyed by another, as we see, she is turned into a pillar of salt. 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 such caution : so Corah, Dathan, and Abiram, with the two hundred and fifty men that perished in their sin,. • did also become a sign or example to beware1. 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 stept one foot out of the way), was turned into a pillar of salt ; especially since the judgment « Numb. xxvi. 9, io. 1%6 FURTHER DISCOURSE ABOUT LOT'S WIFE. 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. Chr. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it ar- gueth that their hearts are grown desperate in that case ; and I cannot tell whom to compare them to so fitly, as to them that pick pockets in the pre- sence 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 heretofore1. 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, who shall sin in the sight, yea and that too in despite, of such examples as are set com tinually before them to caution them to the con- trary, must be partakers of the severest judgments. Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but what a mercy is it, that neither thou, but especially I, am not made myself this example ! This minis- tereth occasion to us to thank God, to fear before him, and always to " remember Lot's wife." I saw then, that they went on their way to a pleasant river, which David the king called " the * Gen. xiii, 10. 1 j. THE RIVER OF THE WATER OF LIFE. I37 "river of God;" but John, "the river of the " water of life1." 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 dis- eases 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 mea- dow they lay down and slept : for here they might lie down safely2. When they awoke, they gathered again of the fruits of the trees, and drank 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 those crystal streams do glide To comfort pilgrims by the highway side. The meadows green, besides the 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. Now I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed far but the river and the way for a time • Ps, lxv. 9. Ezek, xlvii. Rev. xxii. 1. * Ps. xxiii. Isa. xiv. 30. T 138 ROUGH ROAD. BY-PATH MEADOW. parted ; at which they were not a little sorry, yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the waV from the river was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their travels : so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way1. Wherefore still as they went on they wished for better wav. Now a little before them, there was on the left hand of the road a meadow, and a stile to a Tim. ii. 17, 18. WHERE WERE MEN BLINDED BY GIANT DESPAIR. 1 5 I cause they stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could not get out from among them. Then said Christian, What means this? The shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little below these mountains a stile that leads into a meadow on the left hand of this way? They answered, Yes. Then said the shepherds, From that stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant De- spair, 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, be- cause the right way was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting Castle; where, after they had awhile been kept in the dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, where he had left them to wander to this very day, that the saying of the wise man might be fulfilled, " He " that wandereth out of the way of understanding, " shall remain in the congregation of the dead1." 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 an hill, and they opened the door, and bid them look in. They looked in there- 1 Prov. xxi. 16. I£2 THE BY-WAY TO HELL. fore, and saw that within it was very dark and smoky ; they also thought that they heard there a rumbling noise, as of fire, and a cry of some tor- mented ; and that they smelt the scent of brim- stone. Then said Christian, What means this? The shepherds told them, This is a by-way to hell, a way that hypocrites go in at; namely, such as sell their birthright, with Esau ; such as sell their Master, with Judas ; such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alexander; and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias, and Sapphira his wife. 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 ? She p. Yea, 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 ? She p. Some further, and some not so far as these mountains. Then said the pilgrims one to another, We had need to cry to the strong for strength. She p. Ay, and you will have need to use it when you have it, too. By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go for- wards, and the shepherds a desire they should ; so they walked together towards the end of the moun- tains. 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 prospective glass. The pilgrims then lovingly ac- y;,.,.,..;.M> .wjr! (MUM STIAN MOFEFHT1L amd the &HEPME)RP3 IGNORANCE, FROM THE COUNTRY OF CONCEIT. 1 53 cepted the motion : so they had them to the top of an high hill, called Clear, and gave them the glass to look. Then they essayed to look, but the remembrance of that last thing that the shepherds had showed them made their hands shake ; by means of which impediment they could not look steadily through the glass ; yet thought they saw something like the gate, and also some of the glory of the place. Then they went away, and sang this song : * Thus by the shepherds secrets are reveal'd, Which from all other men are kept conceal'd : Come to the shepherds then, if you would see Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be.* When they wTere about to depart, one of the shepherds gave them a note of the way. Another of them bid them bezvare of the flatterer. The third bid them take heed that they sleep, not upon the enchanted ground. And the fourth bid them good speed. So I awoke from my dream. And 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 ? x 1 54 CHRISTIAN'S CONVERSATION WITH HIM. Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there a little on the left hand, and am going to the Celestial City. Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate? for you may find some difficulties there. As other good people do, said he. Chr. But what have you to show at that gate that may cause that gate to be opened to you ? • Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and have been a good liver ; I pay every man his own ; I pray, fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and have left my country for whither I am going. Chr. But thou earnest not in at the Wicket- gate that is at the head of this way ; thou earnest in hither through that same crooked lane, and therefore I fear, however thou mayest think of thy- self, 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 of our country. I cannot think that any men in all our parts do 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 nearest way. TURN-AWAY CARRIED OFF BY DEVILS. 1 55 When Christian saw that the man was wise in his own conceit, he said to Hopeful whisper- ingly, " There is more hope of a fool than of him r :" and said moreover, " When he that is a fool walk- " eth by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and he " saith to every one that he is a fool2." 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 by 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.' He further added, It is not good, I think, to say- 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 him back to the door that they saw on the side of the hill 3. Now good Christian began to tremble, and so did Hopeful his companion: yet as the devils led 1 Prov. xxvi. i». = Eccles. x. 3. * Matt. xii. 45. Pror. v. 22, I $6 CHRISTIAN TELLS HOW LITTLE-FAITH WAS ROBBED. away the man, Christian looked to see if he knew him ; and he thought it might be one Turn- away that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. But he did not perfectly see his face, for he did hang his head like a thief that is found. But being gone past, Hopeful looked after him, and spied on his back a paper with this inscription, ' Wanton pro-' 1 fessor, and damnable apostate.' Then said Chris- tian to his fellow, Now I call to remembrance that which was told me, of a thing that happened to a good man hereabout. The name of the man was Little-faith; but a good man, and he dwelt in the town of Sincere. The thing was this : — at the entering in at this passage, there comes down from Broad-way gate a lane called Dead-man's lane; so called, because of the murders that are commonly done there; and this Little-faith going on pilgrimage, as we do now, chanced to sit down there and slept : now there happened at that time to come down the lane from Broad-way gate three sturdy rogues, and their names were Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, three brothers; and they, spying Lit- tle-faith wrhere he was, came galloping up with speed. Now the good man was just awaked from his sleep, and was getting up to go on his journey. So they came up all to him, and With threatening language bid him stand. At this Little-faith looked as white as a clout, and had neither power to fight nor flee. Then said Faint-heart, * De- ' liver thy purse ;' but he making no haste to do it HIS JEWELS LEFT HIM. 1 57 (for he was loth to lose his money), Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand into his pocket pulled out thence a bag of silver. Then he cried out ' Thieves ! thieves !' With that Guilt, with a great club that was in his hand, struck Little- faith on the head, and with that blow felled him flat to the ground ; where he lay bleeding as one that would bleed to death. All this while the thieves stood by. But at last, they hearing that some were upon the road, and fearing lest it should be one Great-grace, that dwells in the city of Good-confidence, they betook them- selves to their heels, and left this good man to shift for himself; who, 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 ransacked : so those he kept still. But, as I was told, the good man was much afflicted for his loss ; for the thieves got most of his spending mo- ney. That which they got not, as I said, were jew- els ; also he had a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring him to his journey's end ' ; nay, if 1 was not misinformed, he was forced to beg as he went, to keep himself alive (for his jewels he might not sell). But beg and do what he could, 'he ' went,' as we say, ' with many a hungry belly,' the most part of the rest of the way. * 1 Pet. iv. 1 8. fc I58 HE SAVES HIS CERTIFICATE. Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from hirn his certificate, by which he was to receive his admittance at the celestial gate ? Chr. It is a wonder: but they got not that; though they missed it not through any good cun- ning of his; foi; he, being dismayed with their coming upon him, had neither power nor skill to hide any thing, so it was more by good providence than by his endeavour that they missed of that good thing1. 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 who told me the story said that he made but little use of it all the rest of the way ; and that, because of the dis- may that he had in the taking away his money. Indeed he forgot it a great part of the rest of his journey; and besides, when at any time it came into his mind, and he began to be comforted there- .with, then would fresh thoughts of his loss come again upon him, and those thoughts would swal- low up all. Hope. Alas, poor man ! this could not but be a , great grief unto him ! Chr. Grief! ay, a grief indeed. Would it not have been so to any of us, had we been used as he, to be robbed and wounded too, and that in a strange place, as he was? It is a wonder he did * a Tiro. i. 14. a Pet. ii. 9. HIS COMPLAINTS FOR HIS L03S. 1 59 not die with grief, poor heart : I was told that he scattered almost all the rest of the way with no- thing but doleful and bitter complaint : telling also to all who 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 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 wherewith to relieve himself in his journey. Chr. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to this very day: for what should he pawn them ? or to whom should he sell them ? In all that country where he was robbed, his jewels were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief which could from thence be administered to him. Besides, had his jewels been missing at the gate of the Celestial City, he had (and that he knew well enough) been excluded from an inheritance there, and that would have been worse to him than the appearance and villany of ten thousand thieves. Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother? Esau" sold his birthright, and that for a mess of pottage r ; and that birthright 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 them- i Hcb. xii. 1 G, l6o DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LITTLE-FAITH AND ESAU. selves from the chief blessing ; as also that caitiff did : but you must put a difference betwixt Esau and Little-faith, and also betwixt their estates. Esau's birthright was typical, but Little-faith's jewels were not so. Esau's belly was his god, but Little-faith's belly was not so. Esau's want lay in his fleshly appetite, Little-faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could see no further than to the fulfilling of his lust: " For I am at the point " to die," said he, " and what good will this* birtb- " right do me1?" 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 any where that Esau had faith, no not so much as a little ; therefore no marvel, if where the flesh only bears sway (as it will in that man where no faith is, to resist), if 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 away2:" when their minds are set upon their lusts, they will have them, whatever they cost. But Little-faith was of another temper, his mind was on things divine ; his livelihood was upon things that were spiritual and above ; there- fore, to what end should he that is of such a tem- per sell his jewels (had there been any that would have bought them), to fill his mind with empty » Gen. xxv. zq*— 34, ? Jer. ii. 24* HOPEFUL BLAMES LITTLE-FAITH. l6l things ? Will a man give a penny to fill his belly with hay ? or can you persuade the turtle-dove to live upon carrion like the crow ? Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage, or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot, yet they that have faith, saving faith, though but little of it, cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy mistake. Hope. I acknowledge it; but yet your severe reflection had almost made me angry. Chr. Why! I did but compare thee to some of the birds that are of the brisker sort, who will run to and fro in untrodden paths with the shell upon their heads : — but pass by that, and consider the matter under debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee and me. Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my heart, are but a company of cowards : would they have run else, think you, as they did, at the noise of one that was coming on the road? Why did not Little-faith pluck up a greater heart? he might, methinks, have stood one brush with them, and have yielded, wThen 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 j Y I 62 GREAT-GRACE, THE KING'S CHAMPION. 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 bottom- less pit ; who, if need be, will come to their aid himself, and his voice is as the roaring of a lion1. 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 chris- tian to resist, they gave out 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 armour of proof. Ay, 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 appeared; and no marvel, for he is the King's champion : but, I trow, you will put some difference between Lit- tle-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 Go- liah as David did? or that there should be the « i Pet. v. 8. INFLUENCE OF FAINT-HEART AND MISTRUST* I 63 strength of an ox in a wren ? Some are strong, some are weak ; some have great faith, some have little ; this man was one of the weak, and therefore he went to the wall. Hope. I would it had been Great-grAce for his sake. 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 weapon, 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 will go hard but that 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, shall 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." 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, notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly brushed by them. Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could do ; but, though some do say of him that he is the prince of the apostles, they handled him so that they made him at last afraid of a sorry girl. 1 64 THEIR KING WITHIN CALL. HIS TERRIBLE POWER, Besides, their king is at their whistle ; he is never out of hearing ; and if at any time they be put to the worst, he, if possible, comes in to help them : and of him it is said, " the sword of him " that layeth at him cannot hold ; the spear, the " dart, nor the habergeon ; he esteemeth iron as " straw, and brass as rotten wood : the arrow can- " not make him flee, sling-stones are turned, with " him, into stubble ; darts are counted as stubble ; " he laugheth at the shaking of a spear1." 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 a 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 glit- '• tering 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 shoutings2." But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as » Job, xli. 26—29. 2 Job, xxxix. 19—25. THE ONLY SECURITY AGAINST ROBBERS. I 65 if we could do better, when we hear of others that they have been foiled ; nor be tickled at the thought of our own manhood, for such commonly come by the worst when tried. Peter, of whom I made mention before, he would swagger, ay, he would ; he would, as his vain mind prompted him to say, do better, and stand more for his Master than all men : but who so foiled and run down by those villains as he ? When therefore we hear that such robberies are done on the king's highway, two things become us to do : first, to go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield with us ; for it was for want of that that he that laid so lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield ; for, indeed, if that be wanted, he fears us not at all. Therefore he that had skill hath said, " Above all, take the shield of faith, " wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the " fiery darts of the wicked'." It is good also that we desire of the King a con- voy, that he will go with us himself. This made David rejoice when in the valley of the Shadow of death ; and Moses was rather for dying where he stood than to go one step without his God*. O my brother, if he will but go along with us, what need we be afraid of ten thousand that shall set themselves against us? but without him the proud helpers fall under the slain 3. * Eph. vi. 16. 2 Exod. xxxiii. 15. * Ps. ili. £ — S. xzvii. 1—3. I»a. x. 4. 1 66 THE PILGRIMS SEDUCED BY THE FLATTERER: 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 any 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 deliver us from the next uncircumcised Phi- listines. Then sung Christian — ' Poor Little-faith ! hast been among the thieves? Wast robb'd ? remember this, whoso believes, 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 into their way, and seem- ed withal to lie as straight as the way which they should go ; and here they knew not which of the two to take, for both seemed straight before them s therefore here they stood still to consider. And ag they were thinking about the way, behold a man of black flesh, but covered with a very light robe, came to them, and asked them why they stood there ? They answered, They were a going to the Celestial City, but knew not which of these ways to take. ' Follow me,' says 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 from the city that they desired to go to, that in a little time their WHO ENTANGLES THEM IN HIS NET. I 67 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 oft the black man's back : — they then 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 flatterers ? As is the saying of the wise man, so have we found it this day, " A man " that flattcreth his neighbour spreadeth a net for "his feet1." Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our more sure rinding thereof; but herein we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept ourselves from the " paths of the destroyer." Here David was wiser than we ; for saith he, w concerning the works of men, by the word of " thy lips I have kept me from the paths of the " destroyer2." Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they spied a shining one coming towards them with a whip of small cord in his hand. When he was come to the place where they were, he asked them whence they came, and what they did there ? They told him that they were poor pil- grims going to Zion, but were led out of their way by a black man clothed in white, who bid us, said 1 Prov. xxix. 5. * Ps. xvii. 4. 1 68 THEY ARE DELIVERED AND CHASTISED. 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 light1." So he rent the net, and let the men out. Then said he to them, Follow me, that I may set you in the way again: — so he led them back to the way which they had left to follow the flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last night ? They said, With the shepherds upon the Delectable Mountains, He asked them then if they had not a note of direction for the way? They answered, Yes. But did you, said he, when you were at a stand, pluck out and read your note ? They answered, No. He asked them, Why ? They said, they forgot. He asked, 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 he2. Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie down3 ; which when they did, he chas- tised them sore, to teach them the good way wherein they should walk 4-: and, as he chastised them, he said, " As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten ; " be zealous, therefore, and repent5." This done, he bid them go on their way, and take good heed to the other directions of the shepherds. So they thanked him for all his kindness, and went softly along the right way, singing — ' 2 Cor. xi. I }f 14. Dan. xi. 32. 2 Rom. xvi. 17, 18. 3 Deut. xxix. 4 4 2 Chron. vi. a6, 27. 5 Rev. iii. 19. ATHEIST MEETS AND DERIDES THEM. 1 69 * Come hither, you that walk along the way, See how the pilgrims fare that go astray : They catched are in an entangling net, 'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget : 9 'Tis true, they rescu'd were ; but yet, you see, They're scourg'd to boot : — let this your caution be.* Now after a while they perceived, afar off, one coming softly, 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 tp ourselves now, lest he should prove a flatterer also. So he drew nearer and nearer, and at last came up to them. His name was Atheist; and he asked them whither they were going ? Chr. We are going to mount Zion. Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. Chr. What is the meaning of your laughter? Ath. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take upon you so ridiculous 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 no such place as you dream of in all the world. Chr. But there is in the world to come. Ath. When I was at home, in mine own coun- try, I heard as you now affirm, and from that hear- ing went out to see, and have been seeking this z I70 THEY DISREGARD HIS VAIN REASONINGS. city twenty years, but find no more of it than I did the first day I set out1. 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 further 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 com- panion, Is it true which this man hath said ? Hope. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers: remember what it has cost us once already for our hearkening to such kind of fellows. What ! no mount Zion? Did we not see from the Delectable Mountains the gate of the city? Also, are we not now to walk by faith*? Let us go on, said Hope- ful, lest the man with the whip overtake us again. You should have taught me that lesson, which I will round you in the ears withal : " Cease, my son, " to hear the instruction that causeth to err from " the words of knowledge 3 ;" I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us believe to the saving of the soul. Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to thee for that I doubted of the truth of your belief myself, but to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a ' Ecd. x. 15. Jer. xvii. 15. » 2 Cor. v. 7. 3 Prov. xix. 27. Heb. x. 39. HOPEFUL DROWSY ON THE ENCHANTED GROUND. I 7 I fruit of the honesty of thy heart. As for this man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this world. Let thee and I go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth ; and " no lie is of the truth1." Hope. Now I do rejoice in hope of the glory of God. — So they turned away from the man, and he, laughing at them, went his way. I saw then in my dream, that they went till they came into a certain country whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. And here Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy of sleep : wherefore he said unto Christian, I now begin to grow so drowsy, that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes ; let us lie down here, and take one nap. By no means, said the other ; lest, sleeping, we never wake more. Hope. Why, my brother? sleep is sweet to the labouring man ; we may be refreshed if we take a nap. Chr. Do you not remember that one of the shep- herds bid us beware of the Enchanted Ground ? He meant by that, that we should beware of sleep- ing; " wherefore let us not sleep, as do others, " but let us watch, and be sober*." 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 3." Hitherto hath thy company been my mercy; and thou shalt " have * a good reward for thy labour." « I John, ii. %t. » i Thcss. v. 6. 3 Eccl. iv. 9. I72 HOPEFUL'S PAST LIFE, AND FIRST CONVICTIONS. Now then, said Christian, to prevent drowsi- ness in this place, let us fall into good discourse. With all my heart, said the other. Chr. Where shall we begin? Hope. Where God began with us : — but do you begin, if you 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 slumb'ring eyes. Saints' fellowship, if it be manag'd well, Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell.' Then Christian began, and said, I will ask you a question : How came you to think at first of do- ing what 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 con- tinued in them still, drowned me in perdition and destruction. Chr. What things are they? Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world, Also I delighted much in rioting, revelling, drink- ing, swearing, lying, uncleanness, sabbath-breaking, and what not that tended to destroy the soul. But I found, at last, by hearing and considering of things that are divine, which indeed I heard of you, as also HIS INEFFECTUAL RESISTANCE TO THEM. 173 of the 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 disobedience1." 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 endeavoured, 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 carryino- 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 loth to leave it. 3. I could not tell how to part with my old companions, their presence and actions were so desirable unto me. 4. The hours in which convictions were upon me were such troublesome and such heart-affrighting hours, that I could not bear, no, not so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart. Chr. Then, it seems, sometimes you got relief of your trouble ? 1 Rom. Ti. 21—23. Eph. v. 6. I 74 AMENDMENT FAILS TO QUIET HIS CONSCIENCE. 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 ? Hope. Many things : as, if I did but meet a good man in the street ; or if I have heard any read in the Bible ; or if mine head did begin to ache ; or if I were told that some of my neighbours 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 orT 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 do then ? Hope. I thought I must endeavour to mend my life ; for else, thought I, I am sure to be damned. Chr. And did you endeavour to amend ? Hope. Yes ; and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company too, and betook me to religious du- ties, as praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neighbours, &c. These things did I, with many other, too much here to relate. HIS WAV OF ACCOUNTING FOR THIS. I 75 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 reformation. Chr. How came that about, since you were now reformed ? Hope. There were several things brought it upon me j especially such sayings as these — " All our " righteousnesses are as filthy rags:" — " By the " works of the law no man shall be justified :" — k of any of those sweet refreshments, that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and heart-fears that, he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the 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, would rise up again half dead. Hopeful did also endeavour to comfort him, saving, ' Brother, I see the gate, and * men standing by to receive us;' but Christian would answer, * It is you, it is you they wait for ; ' you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you/ And so have you,' said he to Christian. * Ah, ' brother,' said he, * surely if I was right, he would f 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 200 BUT ASSISTED BY HOPEFUL FINDS FIRM GROUND. c 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." e These troubles and distresses that you go through ' in these waters, are no sign that God hath for- * saken you ; but are sent to try you, whether you e will call to mind that which heretofore you have e received of his goodness, and live upon him in f your distresses.' Then I saw in my dream that Christian was in a muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added these words, " Be of good cheer, Jesus " Christ maketh thee whole." And with that Christian brake. out with a loud voice, ' Oh, I ' see him again ! and he tells me, " When thou " passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; " and through the rivers, they shall not overflow "thee1." — Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian therefore presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was but shallow ; but 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 be- ing come out of the river, they saluted them, say- ing, " We are ministering spirits, sent forth to " minister for those that shall be heirs of salva- ' Isa, xliii, %. rauiteJ />r AWitv h JStutn&rs Christian ami Hopeful £a^iyJud^/& uwr art jyvy/rr,/ /y //,, MmiSTERIFG SPIRITS. Zonden. Tub&hed Sept:io*]y6. iy THtptmsloll WwFleet Street. THEIR MORTAL GARMENTS LEFT IN THE RIVER. 201 * tion." Thus they went along towards the gate. — Now you must note that the city stood upon a mighty hill : but the pilgrims went up the hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms: also they had left their mortal garments behind them in the river ; for though they went in with them, they came out without them. They therefore went up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the city was framed was higher than the clouds : they therefore went up through the region of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely got over the river, and had such glorious 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 Jerusa- " lem, the innumerable company of angels, and " the spirits of just men made perfect1." You are going now, said they, to the Paradise of God, wherein you shall see the Tree of life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof: and when you come there you shall have white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity2. There you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death ; " for * » Hcb. xii. ia— 24. » Rev. ii. 7. iii. 4. xxii. 5. D D 202 THEY ARE CONGRATULATED BY ANGELS. " the former things are passed away1." You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Ja- cob, and to the prophets, men that God hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now " resting upon their beds, each one walking " in his righteousness." The men then asked, What must we do in the holy place ? To whom it was answered, You must there receive the com- forts of all your toil, and have joy for all your sor- row ; you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the King by the way2. 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 3." There also you shall serve him continually with praise, with shouting, and thanks- giving, whom you desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, because of the infir- mity of your flesh. There your eyes shall be de- lighted 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 places 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 1 Iga. lxv. 16. J Gal. vi. 7, 8. U John' HI 1. MET AND WELCOMED BY THE HEAVENLY HOST. 203 with him ; and, when he shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you shall sit by him : yea, and when he shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment, because they were his and your enemies. Also when he shall again return to the city, you shall go too with sound of trumpet, and be ever with him1. Now, while they were thus drawing towards the gate, behold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet them ; to whom it was said by the other two shining ones, ' These are the men * that have loved our Lord, when 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 c 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 that are " called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb \" There came out also at this time to meet them several of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who with melodious noises and loud made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the world ; and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet. 1 1 Thess. iv. 13—17. Jude, 14, 15. Dan. vii. 9, 10. 1 Cor. vi. 2, 3 2 Rev. xix. 9. 204 THEIR JOY INEXPRESSIBLY GREAT* This done, they compassed them round on every side ; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left (as it were to guard them through the upper region), 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 was come down to meet them. Thus therefore they walked on together ; and, as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mix- ing their music with looks and gestures, still sig- nify to Christian and his brother how welcome they were into their company, and with what glad- ness 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 city itself 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 giorious 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, " Bless- " ed 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 city1," 1 Rev. xxii« 14. THEY ENTER THE CITY, AND ARE CROWNED. 205 Then I saw in my dream that the shining men bid them call at the gate : the which when they did, some from above looked over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and Eli as, &c. to whom it was said, f 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 unto 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 in1." Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate ; and, lo ! as they entered, they were transfigured ; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them ; the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honour. — Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, " Enter ye into the joy " of your Lord." I also heard the men them- selves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, " Blessing, honour, and glory and power, be to " Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the " Lamb for ever and ever1." — 1 Isa. xx vi. 2, J Rev. v. 13, 14. 206 IGNORANCE FERRIED OVER THE RIVER BY VAIN-HOPE; Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and behold the city- shone like the sun ; the streets also were paved with gold ; and in them walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps, to sing praises withal. There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord." And after that they shut up the gates : which when I had seen, I wished myself among them. Now, while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to look back, and saw Ig- norance come up to the river side: but he soon got over, and that without half that difficulty which the other two men met with. For it hap- pened that there was then in that place one Vain- hope, a ferry-man, that with his boat helped him over: so he, as the other 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 en- couragement. 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 man that looked over the top of the gate, ' Whence come you ? And what would ' you have ?' He answered, * I have eat and drunk * in the presence of the King, and he has taught * in our streets.' Then they asked him for his cer- tificate, that they might go in and show it to the BUT CARRIED BACK THE BY-WAY TO HELL. 20 7 King : — so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Then said they, You have none : 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 con- ducted 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 beheld it was a dream. end of the first part. ^ THE , ) x-.Bit.xy aV a i' *£< • Zech. hi. 7. 2 Jude, 14, 15. 3 Luke, x. 16. 4 Rev. xiv. 13, * Ps. cxxvi. 5, fc. INQUIRIES CONCERNING CHRISTIAN'S FAMILY. 2I3 But pray, Sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you hear anv thing 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 wonderfully with them : so they have packed up, and are also gone after him. Better and better, quoth I : but, what ! wife and children and all ? Sag. It is true : I can give you an account of the matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair. Then, said I, may a man report it for a truth ? Sag. You need not .ear to affirm it : I mean, that they are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman and her four boys. And being we are, as I perceive, going some considerable way together, I will give you an account of the whole matter. This Christiana (for that was her name from the day that she with her children betook them- selves to a pilgrim's life), after her husband was gone over the river ', and she could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work in her mind. First, for that she had lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was ut- 1 Part 1. p. 198 — 200. 214 HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN BECOME PILGRIMS. terly broken betwixt tbem. For you know, said he to me, nature can do noless but entertain the living with many a heavy cogitation, in the remem- brance of the loss of loving relations. This, there- fore, 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 be- haviour 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, un- natural, and ungodly carriage to her dear friend; which also clogged her conscience and did load her with guilt. She was moreover much broken with calling to remembrance the restless groans, the brinish tears, and self-bemoaning 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 any thing 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 light- ning, 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 dole- fully1. Then said she to her children, ' Sons, we are all c undone. I have sinned away your father, and he ' is gone: he would have had us with him, but I 1 Part i. p. 1—3. HER ALARMING AND ENCOURAGING DREAMS. 215 ' would not go myself: I also have hindered you of * life.' With that the boys fell into tears, and cried to go after their father.. f Oh !' said Christiana, ' that it had been but our lots to go with him ; * then it had fared well with us, beyond what it is * like to do now. For, though I formerly foolishly £ imagined concerning the troubles of your father, * that they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, c or for that he was over-run with melancholy * humours ; yet now it will not out of my mind, ' but that they sprang from another cause; to * wit, for that the light of life was given him ■; * by the help of which, as I perceive, he has * escaped the snares of death.' Then they wept all again, and cried out, f Oh, wo worth the day !' The next night Christiana had a dream j and behold, she saw as if a broad parchment was opened before her, in which were recorded the sum4 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 a :" — and the little children heard her. After this, she thought she saw two very ill fa- voured ones standing by her bed-side, and saying, f What shall we do with this woman ? for she cries f out for mercy waking and sleeping: if she be suf- * fered. to go on as she begins, we shall lose her as * we have lost her husband. Wherefore we must, ' by some way, seek to take her off from the « John, viii. ia. a Luke, xviii. 13, 2, I 6 SECRET'S VISIT AND MESSAGE TO CHRISTIANA. 4 thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else all the * world cannot help but she will become a pilgrim.' Now she awoke in a great sweat ; also a trem- bling 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 an harp in his hand, standing and playing upon it before One that sat on 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. Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God, and talked with her children awhile, one knocked hard at the door; to whom«she spake out, saying, * If thou comest in God's name, come in.' So he said, ' Amen ;' and opened the door, and sa- luted her with, " Peace on 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 his errand was to her. So he said unto her, ' My name * is Secret; I dwell with those that are high. ' It is talked of, where I dwell, as if thou hadst a * desire to go thither : also there is a report, that ' thou art aware of the evil thou hast formerly done HE GIVES HER A LETTER FROM THE KING. 217 ' to thy husband, in hardening of thy heart against his ' way, and in keeping of these babes in their igno- ' ranee. Christiana, the Merciful One has sent ' me to tell thee, that he is a God ready to forgive, c and that he taketh delight to multiply 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, e 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 J the sound of thy feet step over thy father's ' threshold.' Christiana at this was greatly abashed in her- self, and bowed her head to the ground. This Vision proceeded, and said, ' Christiana, here is ' also a letter for thee, which I have brought from \ thy husband's King ;' so she took it and opened it, but it smelt after the manner of the best per- fume '. Also it was written in letters of gold. The contents of the letter were these: ' that the King ' would have her do as did Christian her hus- ■ band ; 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 over- come : so she cried out to her visitor, ' Sir, will you 1 Sol. Song, i. 3. F F 2 1 8 CHRISTIANA'S DISCOURSE TO HER SONS. ■ carry me and my children with you, that we may ' also go and worship the King ?' Then said the visitor, 'Christiana, the bitter * is before the sweet' Thou must through trou- bles, as he did that went before thee, enter this ce- lestial city. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy husband: go to the Wicket- gate yonder over the plain ; for that stands in the head of the way up which thou must go, and 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 pilgrim- age t : 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 pro- ceeded, and said, So Christiana called her sons together, and began thus to address herself unto them : c 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 been also much affected with ' the thoughts of mine own estate and yours, which c I verily believe is by nature miserable. My car- ' riage also to your father in his distress is a greal > Ps. cxix, 54. SHE IS VISITED BY TWO NEIGHBOURS: 2IQ ' load to my conscience : for I hardened both my ' heart and yours against him, and refused to go ' with him on pilgrimage. ' The thoughts of these things would now kill c me outright, but for that a dream which I had last ' night, and but that for the encouragement this * stranger has given me this morning. Come, my ' children, It t us pack up, and be gone to the gate * that leads us to that celestial country, that we may e see your father, and be with him and his compa- ' nions 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 the 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 neighbours came up to her house, and knocked at her door. To whom she said as before. At this the women were stunned ; for this kind of language they used not to hear, or to perceive to drop from the lips of Christiana. Yet they came in: but behold, they found the good woman a preparing to be gone from her house. So they began and said, ' Neighbour, 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 220 TO WHOM SHE DECLARES HER INTENTION. of Difficulty, and would have had him gone back for fear of the lions1.) Tim. For what journey, I pray you ? Chr. Even to go after my old husband. — And with that she fell a weeping. Tim. I hope not so, good neighbour; pray, for your poor children'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 heart, what or who has brought you into this mind ! Chr. Oh, neighbour, knew you but as much as I do, 1 doubt not but that you would go along with me. Tim. Pr'ythee, what new knowledge hast thou got, that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that tempteth thee to go nobody knows where ? Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted since my husband's departure from me; but especially since he went over the river. But that which troubieth me most, is my churlish car- riage to him, when he was under his distress. Be- sides, I am now as he was then ; nothing will serve me, but going on pilgrimage. I was a dreaming last night, that I saw him. Oh that my soul was with him ! He dwelleth in the presence of the King of the country ; he sits and eats with him at his table ; he is become a companion of immortals, 1 Fart if p. 46, 47. TIMOROUS DISSUADES HER FROM IT. 221 and has a house now given him to dwell in, to which the best palaces on earth, if compared, seem to me but as a dunghill1. The Prince of the palace has also sent for me, with promises of entertain- ment, if I shall come to him ; his messenger was here even now, and brought me a letter, which in- vites 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 has possessed thee and thy husband ! to run yourselves upon such dif- ficulties ! 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 neighbour Obstinate can yet testify, for he went along with him; yea, and Pliable too, until they, like wise men, were afraid to go any further4. 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. Therefore, though thou shouldst be so rash as to cast away thyself; yet for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep them at home. But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, jny neighbour: I have now a price put into my 1 a Cor. v. 1—4. » Part i. p. 4—9. 222 MERCY INCLINES TO ACCOMPANY HER. hand to get a gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest sort, if I should have no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that you tell me of all these troubles that I am like to meet with in the way, they are so far from being to me a dis- couragement, 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 be gone, and do not disquiet me further. Then Timorous also reviled her, and said to her fellow, * Come, neighbour Mercy, let us leave f her in her own hands, since she scorns our coun- ' sel and company.' But Mercy was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her neigh- bour; and that for a two-fold reason — ist. Her bowels yearned over Christiana. So she said within herself, * If my neighbour will needs be 1 gone, I will go a little way with her, and help c her.' — 2dly. 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, myself with my heart ' shall also go with her.' Wherefore Mercy be- gan thus to reply to her neighbour Timorous. Mer. Neighbour, I did indeed come with you to see Christiana this morning; and, since she is, as you see, a taking her last farewell of the country, I think to walk this sun-shiny morning a TIMOROUS, BATS-EYES, &c. TALK OF CHRISTIANA. 223 little with her, to help her on her 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 fool- ing too ; but take heed in time, and be wise : while we are out of danger, we are oiit ; but, when we are in, we are in. — So Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana betook herself to her journey. But, when Timorous was got home to her house, she sends for some of her neighbours, to wit, Mrs; Bat's-eyes, Mrs. Incon- siderate, 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 — Neighbours, 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 chil- dren. 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 ? 224 THEIR CONVERSATION CONTINUED. Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever come on't ; and methinks I know it by this ; for that which was my great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the troubles she was like to meet with in the way), is one great argument with her, to put her forward on her journey. For she told me in so many words, ' The bitter goes before the sweet : yea, ' and forasmuch as it 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 fantastical 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 unneighbourly, 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 better come in her room : it was never a eood world since these whimsical fools dwelt in it. Then Mrs. Light-mind added as follovveth : Come, put this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at Madam Wanton's % where we were as merry as the maids. For who do you think should be • Part J. p. 81, 82. CHRISTIANA PERSUADES MERCY TO GO WITH HER. 22£ there, but I and Mrs. Love-the-flesh, and three or four more, with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others : so there we had music and dancing, and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And, I dare say, my lady herself is an admirable well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Le- chery is as pretty a fellow. By 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 Chris- tiana, * I take this as an unexpected favour, 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 entertained? Had I this hope from one that can tell, I would make no stick at all, but G G 226 MERCY GRIEVES FOR HER CARNAL RELATIONS. would go, being helped by him that can help, though the way was 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 be content that thou shalt return to thy place ; I also will pay thee for thy kindness which thou showest to me and my children, in the accompany- ing 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 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 Chris- tiana, ' Wherefore weepeth my sister so ?' Alas ! said she, who can but lament, that shall but rightly consider what a state and condition my poor relations are in, that yet remain in our sinful town ? and that which makes my grief the more, is, because they have no instruction, 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 ; THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND WORSE THAN BEFORE. 22 7 and now both I and thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of them. I hope, Mercy, that these tears of thine will not be lost ; for the Truth hath said, that " they that 9 ti ana's tongue, they made haste to her relief. But by that they were got within sight of them, the women were in a very great scuffle : the children also stood crying by. Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the ruffians, saying, ' What ' is that thing you do? Would you make my Lord's ' people to transgress ?' He also attempted to take them ; but they did make their escape over the wall into the garden of the man to whom the great dog belonged : so the dog became their protector. This Reliever then came up to the women, and asked them how they did. So they answered, ' We ' thank thy Prince, pretty well; only we have been ' somewhat affrighted : we thank thee also, that ' thou earnest in to our help, for otherwise we had ' been overcome.' So after a few more words, this Reliever said as followeth : I marvelled much, when you were en- tertained at the gate above, being ye know that ye were but weak women, that you petitioned not the Lord for a conductor: then might you have avoided these troubles and dangers: he would have granted you one. Alas! said Christiana, we were so taken with our present blessing, that dangers to come were forgotten by us: beside, who could have thought, that so near the king's palace there should 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. 240 PILGRIMS SHOULD ASK FOR EVERY NEEDFUL GOOD. 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, that estimate that properly is its due ; and so con- sequently will be hereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a conductor, you would not, neither, so have bewailed that oversight of yours in not ask- ing for one, as now you have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and tend to make you more wary. Chr. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess our folly, and ask one? Rel. Your confession of your folly will I present him with : to go back again, you need not ; for in all places where you shall come you will find no want at all ; for at every of my Lord's lodgings, which he has prepared for the reception of his pil- grims, there is sufficient to furnish them against all attempts whatsoever. But as I said, u he will " be inquired of by them, to do it for them1." And it is 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 sorrow more. Thy innocency, my sister, said Christiana to Mercy, may excuse thee much; but as for me, * Ezek. xxxv i. 37. THEY DRAW NEAR TO THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. ^$t my fault is so much the greater, for that I saw this danger before I came out of the doors, and yet did not provide for it where 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 put 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 the world they could look, stand at my bed's feet, plotting how they might prevent my salvation. I will tell you their very words : they said (it was when I was in my troubles), e What shall we do with this woman ? * for she cries out waking and sleeping for forgive- ' ness : 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 ministered unto us to behold our imper- fections, 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^ Thus now, when they had talked away a little more time, they drew near to an house that stood in the way ; which house was built for the relief of pilgrims j as you will find more fully related in the 1 1 *42 THE DOOR IS OPENED TO THEM. first part of the records of the Pilgrim's Pro- gress1. So they drew on towards the house (the house of the Interpreter) ; and, when they came to the door, they heard a great talk in the house : then they gave ear, and heard, as they thought, Christiana mentioned by name. For you must know, that there went along, even before her, a talk of her and her children going on pilgrimage. And this was the more pleasing to them, because 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 haard the good people within commending her, who they little thought stood at the door. — At last Christiana knocked; as she had done at the gate before. Now, when she had knocked, there came to the door a young damsel, named Innocent, and opened the door, and look- ed, and, behold, two women were there. Then *said the damsel to them, * With whom ' would you speak in this place ?' Christiana answered, We understand thaf. this is a privileged place for those that are become pil- grims, and we now at this door are such : where- fore we pray that we may be partakers of that for which we at this time are come ; for the day, as thou seest, is very far spent, and we are loth to- night to go any further. Dam. Pray what may I call your name, that I may tell it to my Lord within ? Part u p. 27 — 39- CHRISTIANA DISCOVERS HERSELF. 243 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 is also my companion, and is going on pilgrimage too. Then ran Innocent in (for that was her name), and said to those within, ' Can you think who is * at the door? there is Christiana and her chil- * dren, and her companion, all waiting for enter- ' tainment here !' Then they leaped for joy, and went and told their master. So he came to the door, and, looking upon her, he said, c Art thou 4 that Christiana whom Christian the good ' man left behind him, when he betook himself to e a pilgrim's life ?' Chr. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight my husband's troubles, and that left him to go on his journey alone ; and these are his four children ; but now I also am come, for I am convinced that no way is right but this. Inter. Then is fulfilled that which is 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 j " but afterwards repented and went1." Then said Christiana, So be it: Amen. God make it a. true saying upon me, and grant that \ may be found at the last " of him in peace, with' " out spot, and blameless !" > Matt. xxt. 1%, 29. ^44 THEY ARE WELCOMED TO THE HOUSE. Inter. But why standest thou at the door? Come in, thou daughter of Abraham : we were talking of thee but now, for tidings have come to us before, how thou art become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in : come, maiden, come. — 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 another smiled, and they all smiled, for joy that Christiana was be- come a pilgrim : they also looked upon the boys ; they stroked them over their faces with their hands, in token of their kind reception of them : they also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all welcome into their Master's house. After a while, because supper was not ready, the Interpreter took them into his significant rooms, and showed them what Christian, Christi- ana'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 3 together with the rest of those things that were then so profitable to Christian. This done, and, after those things had been somewhat digested by Christiana and her com- pany, the Interpreter takes them apart again, and has them first into a room where was a man THE MV CI RAKE . London FitMshedJune ■[? ';>'"'■ /:r TJ&ptuif&tllFleettft/vet. THE MAN WITH THE MUCK-RAKE. 245 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 neither look up nor regard, but rake to himself the straws, the small sticks, and 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 in 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 do what he says that calls to him from above, with the celestial crown in his hand; it is to show, that heaven is but as a fable to some, and that things here are counted the only things substantial. Now, where- as 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. 0 That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain by till it is almost rusty : " Give me not riches," is scarce the prayer of one of ten thousand1. Straws, ■ Prov. xxx. 8, 346 THE SPIDER ON THE WALL OF THE BEST ROOM. and sticks, and dust, with most are the great things now looked after. With that Mercy and Christiana wept, and said, ' It is, alas ! too true.' When the Interpreter had showed them this, he had them into the very best room in the house (a very brave room it was) : so he bid them look round about, and see if they could find any thing profitable there. Then they looked round and round ; for there was nothing to be seen but a very great spider on the wall : and that they overlooked. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing: but Chris- tiana held her peace. But, said the Interpreter, c Look again:' she therefore looked again, and said, * Here is not any f thing but an ugly spider, who hangs by her hands 4 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, ' Yes, f Lord, there is 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 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 £C kings' palaces." And wherefore is this recorded, but to show you, that how full of the venom of sin THE HEN AND CHICKENS. 247 Soever you be, yet you may, by the hand of faith, lay hold of, and dwell in, the best room that be- longs to the king's house above ? I thought, said Christiana, of something of this ; but I could not imagine it all. I thought, that we were like spiders, and that we looked like ugly creatures, in what fine rooms soever we were ; but. that by this spider, this venomous and ill-fa- voured creature, we were to learn how to act faith, that came not into my thoughts ; that she worketh with hands ; and, as I see, dwells in the best room in the house. — ;God has made nothing in vain. Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the water stood in their eyes : yet they looked one upon an- other, and also bowed before the Interpreter. He had them then into another room, where was 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 doeth, and learn of her to * acknowledge whence your mercies come, by re- ' ceiving 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 me- thod towards her chickens, i. She had a common call, and that she had all the day long. 2. She had a special call, and that she had but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding note. And, 4. She had an out-cry*. 1 Matt, xxiii. 37. I 248 THE PATIENCE OF THE SHEEP. Now, said he, compare this hen to your King> and these chickens to his obedient ones. For, an- swerable to her, himself has his methods, which he walketh in towards his people : by his common call he gives nothing 5 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 out- cry, 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 you are wo- men, and they are easy for you. f And, sir,' said Christiana, c pray let us see * some more.' So he had them into the slaughter- house, where was a butcher killing of sheep : and behold the sheep was quiet, and took her death patiently. c Then,' said the Interpreter, e you 1 must learn of this sheep to suffer, and to put up ( wrongs without murmurings and complaints. Be- ' hold how quietly she takes her death, and, without c objecting, she suffereth her skin to be pulled over ' her ears. — Your King doth call you his sheep.' After this he led them into his garden, where was great variety of flowers : and he said, ' Do you see 'all these?' So Christiana said, ' Yes.' Then said he again, ' Behold the flowers are diverse in c stature, in quality, and colour, and smell, and ' virtue ; and some are better than some ; also where 4 the gardener hath set them, there they stand, and * quarrel not one with another.' Again, he had them into his field, which he hadl sown with wheat and corn : but, when they beheld, the crop* of straw, a robin eating a spider. 24$ the tops of all were cut off, only the straw remain- ed. He said again, * This ground was dunged, * and sowed ; but what shall we do with the crop V 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 spied a robin with a great spider in his mouth : so the Interpreter said, * Look here.' So they look- ed, and Mercy wondered ; but Christiana said, * What a disparagement is it to such a little pretty * bird as the robin-red-breast 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, colour, and carriage ; they seem also to have a very great love for professors that are sincere ; and above all other to desire to sociate with them, and to be in their company ; as if they could live upon the good man's crumbs. They pretend also, that therefore it is that they frequent the house of the godly, and the appointments of the Lord : but when they are by themselves, as the robin, they K K 250 FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. catch and gobble up spiders, they can change their diet, drink and swallow down sin like water. So when they were come again into the house, because supper as yet was not ready, Christiana again desired that the Interpreter would either show or tell some other things that are profitable. Then the Interpreter began, and said: The fatter the sow is, the more she desires the mire ; the fatter the ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; and the more healthy the lusty man is, the more prone is he 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. 'Tis easier watching a night or two, than to sit up a whole year together : so 'tis easier for one to begin to profess well, than to hold out as he should to the end. Every ship-master, when in a storm, will will- ingly cast that overboard that 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 de- stroy 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 here- after, is like him that soweth cockle, and thinks to fill his barn with wheat or barley. THE TREE BEARING LEAVES, BUT ROTTEN WITHIN. 25 1 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 trou- bles, is so loath to be let go by us, what is the life above ? Every body 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 garden 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 c it, to which many may be compared that are in ( the o-arden of God : who with their mouths « speak high in behalf of God, but in deed will do { nothing for him ; whose leaves are fair, but their * heart good for nothing, but to be tinder for the € devil's tinder-box.' Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set on board ; so they sat down and did eat 252 CHRISTIANA DECLARES HOW SHE BECAME A PILGRIM, when one had given- thanks. And the Inter- preter 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 any thing Whereof I stand in need ?* When the song and music were ended, the In- terpreter asked Christiana, what it was that at first did move her thus to betake herself to a pil- grim's life? Christiana answered: First, the loss of my husband came into my mind, at which I was heartily grieved : but all that was but natural affection. Then, after that, came the troubles and pilgrimage of my husband into my. mind, and also how like a churl I had carried it to him as to that. So guilt took hold of my mind, and would have drawn me into the pond ; but that opportunely I had a dream of the well-being of my husband, and a letter sent me by the King of that country where my husband dwells, to come to him. The dream and the letter together so wrought upon my mind, that they forced me to this way. Inter. But met you with no opposition before you set out of doors ? Chr. Yes, a neighbour of mine, one Mrs. Timo- rous (she was kin to him that would have per- suaded my husband to go back, for fear of the lions), she also so befooled me, for, as she called it, my intended desperate adventure j she also urg- •t WHAT BEFEL CHRISTIANA IN THE WAY. 253 ed what she could to dishearten me from it ; the hardship and troubles that my husband met with in the way: but all this I got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of two ill-looked ones, that I thought did plot how to make me miscarry in my journey, that hath troubled me : 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 mis- chief, and to turn me out of my way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would not every body knew 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 f what moved thee to come hither, sweet heart ?' 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 filleth me with fears of coming short at last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams, as my friend Christiana can: nor know I what it is to mourn for my refusing of the counsel of those that were good relations. Inter. What was it then, dear heart, that hath prevailed with thee to do as thou hast done ? .• 2^4 MERCY GIVES A LIKE ACCOUNT OF HERSELF. Mercy. Why, when our friend here was pack- ing up to be gone from our town, I and another went accidentally to see her. So we knocked at the door, and went in. When we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we asked her what she meant ? 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 the bringing him thither, &c. Now methought while she was telling these things unto us my heart burned within me. And I said in my heart, If this be true, I will leave my father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, and will, if I may, go along with Christiana. So I asked her further of the truth of these things, and if she would let me go with her ; for I saw now, that there was no dwelling, but with the danger of ruin, any longer in our town. But yet I came away with a heavy heart ; not for that I was unwilling to come away, but for that so many of my relations were left behind. And I am come with all my heart, and will, if I may, go 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 before. " The Lord re-> BEING ENCOURAGED, THEY PREPARE TO DEPART. 255 i( compense thy work, and a full reward be given " thee or the Lord God of Israel, under whose " wings thou art come to trust1." 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 favour for her. In the morning they arose with the sun, and pre- pared themselves for their departure ; but the In- terpreter would have them tarry awhile ; ' for,' said he, c 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 travel- * ling.' 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 wash- ed, 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. * R»tb, u. 11, 12. 256 THE SEAL, AND THE WHITE RAIMENT. When they were returned out of the garderi 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, where- with they used to be sealed that were washed in his Bath. So the Seal was brought, and he set his mark upon them, that they might be known in the places whither they were yet to go. Now the Seal was the contents and sum of the passover which the children of Israel did eat when they came out of the land of Egypt1 ; 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 coun- tenances more like them of angels. Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that waited upon the 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 5 for that they oould not see that glory each one in herself, which they could see in each other. Now therefore they be- gan to esteem each other better than themselves. f For you are fairer than I am,' said one ; and, 1 You are more comely than I am,' said another. The children also stood amazed, to see into what fashion they were brought. 1 Ezod. xui. 8— 1». THEY DEPART WITH GREAT-HEART TO GUIDE THEM. 257 The Interpreter then called for- a man-ser- vant of his, one Great-heart, and bid him take a sword, and helmet, and shield; { and take these ' my daughters,' said he, ' conduct them to the * house 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 Hath 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.' Now I saw in my dream, that those 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 sepulchre1. Here then they made a pause ; here also they bless- * Part i. p. 39. L h 25S HE EXPLAINS TO THEM PARDON BY DEED. ed 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 par- don by deed, or in the way that it was obtained, Mr. Great-heart, I suppose you know ; which, if you please, let us hear your discourse thereof. Gr.-h. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon ob- tained by some one, for another that hath need thereof: not by the person pardoned, but in c 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 by another ; to wit, by him that let you in at that gate : and he hath obtained it in this double way : he hath performed righteousness to cover you, and spilt blood to wash you in. Chr. But if he parts with his righteousness to us, what will he have for himself? Gr.-h. He has more righteousness than you have need of, or than he needeth himself. Chr. Pray make that appear. Gr.-h. With all my heart : but first I must pre-* mise, that he, of whom we are now about to speak, is one that has not his fellow. He has two natures in one person, plain to be distinguished, impossible to be divided. Unto each of these natures a righ- teousness belongeth, and each righteousness is es- sential to that nature, So that one may as easily HOW CHRIST'S RIGHTEOUSNESS BECOMES OURS. 259 cause the natures to be extinct, as to separate its justice or righteousness from it. Of thefe righteous- nesses, therefore, we are not made partakers, so that they, or any of them, should be put upon us, that we might be made just, and live thereby. Besides these, there is a righteousness which this Person has, as these two natures are joined in one. And this is not the righteousness of the Godhead, as distinguished from the manhood; nor the righte- ousness of the manhood, as distinguished from the Godhead ; but a righteousness which standeth in the union of both natures, and may properly be called the righteousness that is essential to his be- ing prepared of God to the capacity of the media- tory office, which he was entrusted with. If he parts with his first righteousness, he parts with his Godhead : if he parts with his second righteous- ness, he parts with the purity of his manhood: if he parts with his third, he parts with that perfec- tion which capacitates him to the office of media- tion. He has therefore another righteousness, which standeth in performance, or obedience to a revealed will : and that is what he puts upon sin- ners, and that by which their sins are covered. Wherefore he saith, " As by one man's disobe- " dience, many were made sinners : so by the obe- (( dience of one, shall many be made righteous1." Chr. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us? ' Rom. v. 19. ?6o NOT WANTING IT HIMSELF, HE GIVES IT TO US; Gr.-h. Yes : for though they are essential to his natures and office, and cannot be communicated unto another, yet it is by virtue of them that the righteousness that justifies is for that purpose effi- cacious. The righteousness of his Godhead gives virtue to his obedience ; the righteousness of his manhood giveth capability to his obedience to jus- tify ; and the righteousness that standeth in the union of these two natures to his office, giveth au- thority to that righteousness to do the work for which it was ordained. So then here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has no need of; for he is God without it: here is a righteousness that Christ, as man, has no need of to make him so, for he is perfect man without it : again, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God-man, has no need of, for he is perfectly so without it. Here then is a righteous- ness that Christ, as God, and as God-man, has no need of, with reference to himself, and there- fore he can spare it; a justifying righteousness, that he for himself wanteth not, and therefore giv- eth it away. Hence it is called " the gift of righ- " teousr.ess1." — This righteousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has made himself under the law, must be given away; for the law doth not only bind him that is under it, to do justly, but to use charity. Wherefore he must, or ought by the lawt « Rom. v. j 7. EVEN AS HE DIED TO ATONE FOR OUR SINS. z6l 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. 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 course of a righteous law : now from this course we must be justified by way of redemption, a price being paid for the harms we have done ; and this is by the blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead, and died your death for your transgressions. Thus has he ransomed you from your transgressions, by blood, and covered your polluted and deformed souls with righteousness x ; 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 and deed. Good Mercy, let us labour to keep this in mind ; and my children, do you re- member it also. — But, Sir, was not this it that made my good Christian's burden fall from off 1 Rom. via. 34, Gal. iii. 13. 26l THE BLESSED EFFECTS OF LOOKING TO HIS CROSS. his shoulder, and that made him give three leap* for joy? Gr.-h. 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 lightful 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 the more merry and blithe. Gr.-h. There is not only one comfort, and the ease of a burden brought to us, by the sight and consideration of these, but an endeared affection begot in us by it : for who can (if he does but once think that pardon comes not only by promise, but thus), but be affected with the way and means of 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 deserv- est to have me ; thou hast bought me ; thou de« servest to have me all ; thou hast paid for me ten thousand times more than I am worth ! — No mar- vel that this made the water stand in my husband's eyes, and that it made him trudge so nimbly on ; SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND PRESUMPTION HUNG IN CHAINS. 263 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. Gr.-h. You speak now in the warmth of your affections : will it, think you, be always thus with you? Besides, that is not communicated to every one, nor to every one that did see your Jesus bleed. There were that stood by, and that saw the blood run from the heart to the ground, and yet were so far off this, that, instead of lamenting, they laughed at him ; and, instead of becoming his disciples, did harden their hearts against him. So that all that you have, my daughters, you have by peculiar impression made by a divine contem- plating upon what I have spoken to you. Remem- ber that it was told you, that the hen, by her com- mon call, gives no meat to her chickens. This you have therefore by a special grace. Now I saw still in my dream, that they went on 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. ±64 great-heart relates their crimes. Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor, f What are these three men ? and ' for what are they hanged there ?' Gr.-h. These three men were men of bad qua- lities ; they had no mind to be pilgrims themselves,, and whomsoever they could they hindered: they were for sloth and folly themselves, and whom- soever they could persuade, they made so too ; and withal taught them to presume that they should do well at last. They were asleep when Christian went by ; and now you go by they are hanged. Mer. But could they persuade any one to be of their opinion ? Gr.-h. Yes, they turned several out of the way. There was Slow-pace, they persuaded to do as they. They also prevailed with one Short-wind, with one No-heart, with one Linger-after- lust, and with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman, her name was Dull, to turn out of the way and become as they. Besides, they brought up an ill report of your Lord, persuading others that he was a hard task-master. They also brought up an evil report of the good land, saying it was not half so good as some pretended it was. They also began to vilify his servants, and to count the best of them meddlesome, troublesome busy- bodies : further, they would call the bread of God husks ; the comforts of his children, fancies ; the travail and labour of pilgrims, things to no pur- pose. THEIR. CRIMES ENGRAVEN ON A PILLAR. 265 Nay, said Christiana, if they were such, they should never be bewailed by me : they have but What they deserve ; and I think it well that they Stand so near the highway, that others may see and take warning. But had it not been well if their crimes had been engraven on some pillar of iron or brass, and left here where they did their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men ? Gr.-h. So it is, as you may well perceive, if you will go a little to the wall. Mer. No, no; let them hang, and their names tot, and their crimes live for ever against them : I think it is a high favour that they are hanged before we came hither ; who knows else what they might a done to such poor women as we are ? — Then she turned it into a song, saying — ' Now then you three hang there, and be a sign To all that shall against the truth combine. And let him that comes after fear this end, If unto pilgrims he is not a friend. And thou, my soul, of all such men beware, That unto holiness opposers are.' Thus they went on, till they came at the foot of the hill Difficulty, where again their good friend Mr. Great-heart took an occasion to tell them what happened there when Christian him- self went by1. So he had them first to the spring: Lo, saith he, this is the spring that Christian drank of before he went up this hill ; and then it * Part i. p. 44—49. M M 266 THE SPRING FOULED AT THE HILL DIFFICULTY. was clear and good, but now it is dirty with the feet of some, that are not desirous that pilgrims here should quench their thirst1. Thereat Mercy said, A nd 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 companions were compelled to do. They took it up, and put it into an earthen pot, and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom, and then they drank thereof. Next he showed them the two by-ways that were at the foot of the hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy lost themselves. And, said he, these are dangerous paths : two were here cast away when Christian came by. And although you see these ways are since stopped up writh chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there are they that will choose to adventure here, rather than take the pains to go up this hill. Chr. '*" The way of transgressors is hard2:" it is a wonder that they can get into those ways without danger of breaking their necks. Gr.-h. They will venture; yea, if at any time any of the king's servants do happen to see them, and doth call upon them, and tell them, that they are in the wrong ways, and do bid them beware of the danger, then they railingly return them answer, ' Ezek. xxiiv. iS. a Proy. xiii. ij. THE REASONS WHY MEN CHOOSE BY-WAYS. 267 and say, " As for the word that thou hast spoken '* unto us in the name of the King, we will not " hearken unto thee ; but we will certainly do " whatsoever thing goeth out of our mouths1." Nay, if you look a little further, you shall see that these ways are made cautionary enough, not only by these posts, and ditch, and chain, but also by being hedged up ; yet they will choose to go there. 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 sloth- " ful man is as an hedge of thorns*." 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 up 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 little above is the Prince's arbour. Then he took the little boy by the hand, and led him thereto. When they were come to the arbour, they were very willing to sit down, for they were all in pelting heat. Then said Mercy, How sweet rest to them that labours ! And how good is the » Jer. xliv. 16, 17. 2 Prov. xv. ig. ? Matt. xi. a8c 263 GREAT-HEART ENCOURAGES THE BOYS. Prince of pilgrims, to provide such resting-places for them ! Of this arbour I have heard much ; but I never saw it before. But here let us beware of sleeping : for, as I have heard, for that it cost poor Christian dear. Then said Mr. Great-heart to the little ones, Come, my pretty boys, how do you do ? What think you now of going on pilgrimage? Sir, said the least, I was almost beat out of heart : but I thank you for lending me a hand at 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 tp 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 ? For I have here a piece of pomegranate, which Mr. Interpreter put into my hand just when I came out of his doors ; he gave me also a piece of an honey-comb, and a little bottle of spi- rits. c I thought he gave you something,' sai4 Mercy, ' because he called you aside.' l Yes, sq ? he did,' sai4 the other. ' But,' said Christiana, BEING REFRESHED THEY SET FORWARDS. 269 f 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 1 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, f will you do as we ?' But he answered, c 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 go- * ing.' 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, c I think this ' is a losing place. Here Christian lost his roll ; ' and here Christiana left her bottle behind her j f Sir, what is the cause of this ?' So their guide made answer, and said, * The cause is sleep or for- ■ getfulness : some sleep when they should keep f awake ; and some forget when they should re- * member $ and this is the very cause, why often at ' the resting-places some pilgrims in some things f come off losers. Pilgrims should watch and re- ' member what they have already received under t their greatest enjoyments ; but for want of doing f so, oftentimes their rejoicing ends in tears, and f their sun-shine in a cloud : — witness the story of f Christian at this place.' 27O THE PUNISHMENT OF MISTRUST AND TIMOROUS. When they were come to the place where Mis- trust and Timorous met Christian to per- suade him to go back for fear of the lions, they per- ceived as it were a stage, and before it, towards the road, a broad plate, with a copy of verses written thereon, and underneath, the reason of raising up of that stage in that place rendered. The verses were — * Let him that sees that stage, take heed Upon his heart and tongue : Lest if he do not, here he speed As some have long agone.' The words underneath the verses were, ' This c stage was built to punish such upon, who, through ' timoronsness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go further ' on pilgrimage : also on this stage both Mistrust f and Timorous were burnt through the tongue * with a hot iron, for endeavouring to hinder Chris- * tian on his journey.' Then said Mercy, This is much like to the say- ing 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 juniper1." So they went on, till they came within sight of the lions*. Now Mr. Great heart was a strong man, so he was not afraid of a lion : but vet when they were come up to the place where the lions were, the boys that went before were glad to » Ps. cue. 3,4. » Part i. p. 50. THE LIONS BACKED BY GTANT GRIM. 27 1 cringe behind, for they were afraid of the lions ; so they stept 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 ap- * proach, and love to come behind 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 pil- grims in spite of the lions. Then there appeared one, that it sterns had taken upon him to back the lions ; and he said to the pilgrims' guide, ' What * is the cause of your coming hither ?' Now the name of that man was Grim or Bloody-man, be- cause of his slaying of pilgrims j and he was of the race of the giants. Then said the pilgrims' guide, These women and children are going on pilgrimage ; and this is the way they must go, and go it they shall, in spite of thee and the lions. Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go therein. I am come forth to withstand them, and to that end will back the lions. Now, to say the truth, by reason of the fierceness of the lions, and of the grim carriage of him that did back them, this way had of late lain much un- occupied, and was almost all grown over with grass. Then said Christiana, Though the highways have been unoccupied heretofore, and though the travellers have been made in times past to walk 2J2 GREAT-HEART ENCOUNTERS AND SLAYS HIM. through by-paths, it must not be so now I am risen, " Now I am risen a mother in Israel1." Then he swore by the lions, but it should : and therefore bid them turn aside, for they should not have passage there. But 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 ?' Gr.-h. It is the King's highway that we are in, and in this way it is that thou hast placed the lions 5 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 frighted the women ; and yet they Were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now the lions were chained, and so of themselves could do nothing. Wherefore, when old Grim, that in- tended to back them, was dead, Great-heart said to the pilgrims, * Come now, and follow me, * and no hurt shall happen to you from the lions.' They therefore went on, but the women trembled as they passed by them ; the boys also looked as if they would die, but they all got by without further hurt. ' Judg. T. 6, 7. THE PILGRIMS COMMITTED TO WATCHFUL. 273 Now, when they were within sight of the port- er's lodge, they soon came up unto it ; but they made the more haste after this to go thither, be- cause it is dangerous travelling there in the night. So when they were come to the gate, the guide knocked, and the porter cried, ' Who is there V But as soon as the guide had said, c It is I,' he knew his voice, and came down (for the guide had oft before that come thither as a conductor of pil- grims). 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.' Por. Will not you go in, and stay till morning? Gr.-h. No. I will return to my Lord to-night. Chr. Oh, sir, I know not how to be willing you should leave us in our pilgrimage : you have been so faithful and so loving to us, you have fought so stoutly for us, you have been so hearty in counsel- ling of us, that I shall never forget your favour towards us. Then said Mercy, Oh that we might have thy company to our journey's end ! How can such poor N N 274 GREAT-HEART RETURNS. 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 persuaded to go with us and help us, because we are so weak, and the way so dangerous as it is. Gr.-h. I am at my Lord's commandment: if he shall allot me to be your guide quite through, I will willingly wait upon you. But here you failed at first ; for when he bid me come thus far with you, then you should have begged me of him to have gone quite through with you, and he would have granted your request. However, at present I must withdraw; and so good Christiana, Mercy, and my brave children, adieu. Then the porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Chris- ti ana of her country, and of her kindred : and she said, * I came from the city of Destruction; I ' am a widow woman, and my husband is dead ; his * name was Christian, the pilgrim.' 'How!' said the porter, f was he your husband ?' c Yes/ said she, * and these his children ; and this' (point- ing to Mercy) 'is one of my townswomen/ Then the porter rang his bell, as at such time he is wont, and there came to the door one "of the dam- sels, whose name was Humble-mind. And to her the porter said, ' Go tell it within, that Chris- ' tiana, the wife of Christian, and her chil- * dren, 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 ! THE PILGRIMS WELCOMED, AND ENTERTAINED. 275 So they came with haste to the porter, for Chris- tiana 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, understanding 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 fa- mily, c refresh yourselves with a morsel of meat :' for they had prepared for them a lamb,' with the accustomed sauce thereto1. For the porter had heard before of their coming, and had told it to them within. So when they had supped, and ended their prayer with a psalm, they desired they might go to rest. ' But let us,' said Christiana, ' if * we may be so bold as to choose, be in that cham- * ber that was my husband's, when he was here.' * Eiod. xii. 3. 276 MERCY LAUGHING IN A DREAM. So they had them up thither, and they all lay in a room1. When they were at rest, Christiana and Mercy entered into discourse about things that were conyenient. Chr. Little did I think once, when my husband went on pilgrimage, that I should ever have fol- lowed him. Mer. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and in his chamber to rest, as you do now. Chr. And much less did I ever think of seeing his face with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord; the King with him ; and yet now I believe I shall ! Mer. Hark, don't you bear a noise ? Chr. Yes, 'tis, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy that we are here. Mer. Wonderful ! Music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that we are here ! Thus they talked awhile, and then betook them- selves to sleep. So in the morning when they were awaked, Christiana said to Mercy, t What was ' the matter that you did laugh in your sleep to* ' night ? I suppose you was in a dream.' Mer. So I was, and a sweet dream it was; but are you sure I laughed ? Chr. Yes; you laughed heartily : but pr'ythee, Mercy, tell me thy dream- Mer. I was a dreaming that I sat all alone in a solitary place, and was bemoaning of the hardness » John, i. ag, MERCY TELLS CHRISTIANA HER DREAM. 277 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 fool, and some began to thrust me about. With that, methought' I looked up, and 6aw one coming with wings towards me. So he came directly to me, and said, c Mercy, what * aileth thee ?' Now when he had heard me make my complaint, he said, c Peace be to thee :' he also wiped mine eyes with his handkerchief, and clad me in silver and gold. He put a chain upon my neck, and ear-rings in mine ears, and a beautiful crown upon my head1. 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! ay, and 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 bave begun to find the first part true, so you shall find the second at last, " God speaks once, yea » E?ek. xvi. 8 — 13. 2^8 CHRISTIANA'S REMARKS UPON IT. /. CHRIST LOVED MUCH TO DWELL IN THE VALLEY. 299 more of the 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 from the hurryings of this life : all states are full of noise and confusion, only the valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place. Here a man shall not be let and hindered in his contemplation, as in other«places he is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody walks in, but those that love a pilgrim's life. And though Christian had the hard hap to meet with Apollyon, and to enter with him 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 x. Did I say our Lord had here in former days his country house, and that he loved here to walk ? I will add, in this place, and to the people that live and trace these grounds, he has left a yearly re- venue, to be faithfully paid them at certain seasons for their maintenance by the way, and for their fur- ther encouragement to go on 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 thif * valley is large.' 'Hos. ii. 4, 5, 3OO CHRISTIAN MET APOLLYON NEAR FORGETFUL GREEN. Gr-h. Your father had the battle with Apol- lyon, at a place yonder before us, in a narrow passage, just beyond Forgetful Green. And, indeed that place is the most dangerous place in all these parts : for if at any time pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when they forget what favours they have received, and how unworthy they are of them. . This is the place also, where others have been hard put to it. — But more of the place when we are come to it ; for I persuade myself, that to this day there remains either some sign of the battle, or some monument to testify that such a battle there was fought. Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this valley as I have been any where else in all our jour- ney : the place, methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to be in such places where there is no rattling with coaches, nor.rumbling with wheels : methinks, here one may, without much molestation, be think- ing what he is, whence he came, what he has done, and to what the King has called him : here one may think, and break at heart, and melt in one's spirit, until one's eyes become " as the fish-pools -of " Heshbon." They that go rightly through this sc valley of Bacha, make it a well ; the rain," that God sends down from heaven upon them that are here, " also filleth the pools." This valley is that from whence also the King will give to them their vineyards ' ; and they that go through it shall sing as Christian did, for all he met with Apol- LYON. 1 Sol. Song, vii. 4. Ps. kxxiv. 5—7. Hos. ii. 15. MEMORIALS OF HIS CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 3OI It is true, said their guide, I have gone through this valley many a time, and never was better than when here. I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims, and they have confessed the same. " To " this man will I look" (saith the King), " even to " him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and " that trembleth at my word." Now they were come to the place where the aforementioned battfe 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 yqur husband's blood upon these stones to this day : be- hold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon the place some of the shivers of Apollyon's broken darts : see also, how they did beat the ground with their feet as they fought, to make good their places against each other ; how also, with their by- blows, they did split the very stones in pieces ; verily Christian did 'here play the man, and showed himself as stout as 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 victory, to his fame throughout all ages. So because it stood just on the way-side before them, they stepped to it, and read the writing, which word for word was this : 302 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. ' 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 play'd the man, He made the fiend to fly ; Of which a monument I stand, The same to testify.' When they had passed by this place, they came upon the borders of the Shadow of Death, and this valley was longer than the other ; a place also most strangely haunted with evil things, as many are able to testify : but these women and children went the better through it, because they had day- light, and because Mr. Great-heart was their conductor. When they were entered upon this valley, they thought that they heard a groaning, as of dead men ;. a very great groaning. They thought also that they did hear words of lamentation, spoken as of some in extreme torment. These things made the boys to quake, the women also looked pale and wan ; but their guide bid them be of good com- fort. So they went on a little further, and they thought that they felt the ground begin to shake under them, as if some hollow place was there ; they heard also a kind of hissing, as of serpents, but nothing as yet appeared. Then said the boys, ' Are we not yet at s 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. ALARMED BY STRANGE NOISES AND SIGHTS. 303 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 she had given her at the Interpreter's house, and three of the pills that Mr. Skill had prepared; and the boy- began to revive. Thus they went on, till they came to about the middle of the valley ; and then Chris- tiana said, ' Methinks, I see something yonder * upon the road before us ; a thing, of a shape such ' as I have not seen.' Then said Joseph, ' Mother, c 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, Met them * that are most afraid, keep close to me.' So the fiend came on, . and the conductor met it; buj- 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 re- freshed ; but they had not gone far, before Mercy, looking behind her, saw, as she thought, some- thing almost like a lion, and it came a great pad- ding pace after ; and it had a hollow voice of roar- ing ; and at every roar that it gave, it made the valley echo, and all their hearts to ake, save the heart of him that was their guide. So it came up ; and Mr. Great-heart went behind, and put the 3O4 A MIST AND DARKNESS. A PIT ACROSS THE WAY. pilgrims all before him. The lion also came on apace, and Mr. Great-heart addressed himself to give him battle. But when he saw that it was determined that resistance should be made, he also drew back and came no further *. Then they went on again, and their conductor did go before them, till they came at a place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of the way 5 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 ! ' now what shall we do ?' But their guide made an- swer, ' Fear not, stand still, and see what an end '. will be put to this also.' So they staid there, be- cause their path was marred. They then also thought they did hear more apparently the noise and rush- ing of the enemies; the fire also, and smoke of the pit was 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 spoke of it, ■but none tell what the valley of the Shadow of Death should mean until they come in them- selves. " The heart knows its own bitterness ; a " stranger intermeddleth not with its joy." To be here is a fearful thing. • 1 Pet. v. 8, TK.EY PRAY. GOD SENDS LIGHT AND DELIVERANCE. $&§ Gr.h. This is like doing business in great waters, or like going down into the deep $ this is like being in the heart of the sea, and like going down to the bottoms of the mountains ; now it seems as if the earth, with its bars, were about us for ever. " But u 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 3 and have been much harder put to it than I now am i and yet you see I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am not mine own saviour. But I trust we shall have a good deliverance. Come, pray for lieht to Him that can lighten our darkness, and that tan rebuke, not only these, but all the" Satans in hell. So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and deliverance ; for there was now no let in their way, no not there where but now they were stopt with a pit. Yet they were not got through the val- ley : so they went on still, and beheld great stinks and loathsome smells to the great annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to Christiana, * There * is not such pleasant being here as at the gate, or s at the Interpreter's, or at the house where we ' lay last.' ' O but/ said one of the boys, ' it is not so bad c to go through here, as it is to abide here always ; * and, for aught I know, one reason why we must f go this way to the house prepared for us is, that * our home might be made the sweeter to us.' R R 306 HEEDLESS SLAIN, AND TAKE-HEED PRESERVED. ' Well said, Samuel,' quoth the guide, * thou * hast now spoke like a man.' ' Why, if ever I get 4 out here again,' said the boy, ' I think I shall prize * light and good way, better than ever I did in all 5 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 of this valley as yet ?' Then said the guide, ' Look to your feet, for we shall pre- ' sently be among snares.' So they looked to their feet, and went on ; but were troubled much with the snares. — Now when they were come among the snares, they spied 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 great while. There was one Take-heed with him when he was taken and slain, but he escaped their hands. You cannot imagine how many are killed here- abouts, and yet men are so foolishly venturous, as to set out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come witl> out 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 of his own, or else he could never have done it l, i Now they drew towards the end of the way \ and just there, where Christian had seen the cave when he went by, out thence came forth Maul a giant. This Maul did use to spoil young pilgrims » Part i. p. 76. GIANT MAUL ASSAULTS GREAT-HEART. 307 with sophistry; and he called Great-heart by his name, and said unto him, c How many times * have vou been forbidden to do these things ?' Then said Mr. Great-heart, * What things?' ■ What things !' quoth trie 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 hot what to do.) Quoth the giant, ' You rob ' the country, and rob it with the worst of thieves.' ' These are but 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 earnest them into a strange country, to the weakening of my master's kingdom. — But now Great-heart replied, I am a servant of the God of heaven ; my business is to persuade sinners to repentance ; I am commanded to do my endea- vour to turn men, women, and children, " from " darkness to light, and from the power of Satan " to God 5" 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 GREAT-HEART KILLS HIM, AND ERECTS A PILLAR. children cried: so Mr. Great-heart, recovering himself, laid about him in a full lusty manner, and gave the giant a wound in his arm ; that 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 sat down to rest them, but Mr. Great-heart betook himself to prayer; also the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle did last. When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it again; and Mr. Great-heart with a 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 scull with his club. Mr. Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit, and pierced him under the fifth rib ; with that the giant began to faint, and could hold up his club no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart seconded his blow, and smote the head of the giant from his shoulders. — Then the women and children rejoiced, and Mr. Great- heart also praised God for the deliverance he had wrought. When this was done, they among them erected a pillar, and fastened the giant's head thereon, and wrote under it in letters that passengers might read; CONVERSATION ABOUT THE BATTLE AND VICTORY. 309 * 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.' Now I saw that they went to the ascent, that was a little way off cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims (that was the place from whence Chris- tian had the first sight of Faithful, his bro- ther1). Wherefore here they sat down and rested ; they also here did eat and drink, and make merry, for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if be had got no hurt in the battle? Then said Mr. Great- heart, No, save a iittle 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 Mas- ter and you, and shall be a means, by grace, to in- crease my reward at last. Chr. But was you not afraid, good sir, when you saw him come with his club ? It is my duty, said he, to distrust my own ability, that I may have reliance on Him that is stronger than all1. Chr. But what did you think, when he fetched you down to the ground at the first blow ? ■ Part i. p. 78. » a Cor. iv. 310 THEY FIND OLD HONEST, OF THE TOWN STUPIDITY. Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my Master himself was served, and yet he it was that con- quered at last. Mat. When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been wonderful good unto us, both in bringing us out of this valley, and in delivering us out of the hand of this enemy; for my part, I see no reason why we should distrust our God any more, since he has now, and in such a place as this, given us such testimony of his love as this. Then they got up and went forward. — Now a little before them stood an oak : and under it, when they came to it, they found an old pilgrim fast asleep : they knew that he was a pilgrim by his clothes, and his staff, and his girdle. So the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him ; and the old gentleman, as he lifted up his eyes, cried out, ' What's the matter ? Who are you ? and * what is your business here ?' Gr.-h. Come, man, be not so hot, here is none but friends. — Yet the old man gets up, and stands upon his guard, and will know of them what they were. 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. THEIR CONVERSATION. 3 I I Gr.-h. Why, what would or could you have done, or helped yourself, if we indeed had been of that company ? Hon. Done! why I would have fought as long as breath had been in me ; and had I so done, I am sure you could never have given me the worst on't ; for a christian can never be overcome, unless he should yield himself. Well said, father Honest, quoth the guide ; for by this I know thou art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth. Hon. And by this also I know that thou knovvest what true pilgrimage is: for all others do think, that we are the soonest overcome of any. Gr.-h. Well, now we are happily met, let me crave your name, and the name of the place you came from ? Hon. My name I cannot: but I came from the town of Stupidity ; it lieth about four degrees beyond the city of Destruction. Gr.-h. Oh! are you that countryman then? I deem I have half a guess of you : your name is old Honesty, is it not? — So the old gentleman blushed, and said, Not Honesty in the abstract: but Honest is my name, and I wish that my na- ture 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 ? Gr.-h. I have heard of you before, by my Mas- ter ; for he knows all things that are done on the 3 12 rflS AFFECTIONATE BEHAVOUR TO THE PILGRIMS. 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 was a man in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness will arise upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw. And thus it has been with me. Gr.-H. I believe it, father Honest, I believe its for I know the thing is true. Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a holy kiss of charity ; and asked them of their names, and how they had fared since they had set out on their pilgrimage. Then said Christiana, My name, I suppose; you have heard of; good Christian was my hus- band, and these four were his children. — 'But can you think how the old gentleman was taken, when she told him who she was ! He skipped, he smiled, and blessed them with a thousand good wishes ; saying, I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars, which he underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of your husband rings all over these parts of the world ; his faith, his courage, his enduring, and his sincerity under all, has made his name famous. Then he turned him to the boys, and asked of them their names, which they told him. And then said he unto them — Matthew, be thou like Matthew the publican, not in vice but in virtue. Samuel , saith he, be thou like Samuel the prophet, a man MR. GREAT-HEART INQUIRES ABOUT FEARING. 3 I f of faith and prayer. Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flees from temptation. And James, be thou like James the Just, and like James the brother of our Lord l. Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her town and her kindrecf to come along with Christiana and with her sons. At that the old honest man said, Mercy is thy name : by mercy shalt thou be sus- tained, and carried through all those difficulties that shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither, where thou shalt look the fountain of mercy in the face with comfort. All this while the guide, Mr. Great-heart, was very well pleased, and smiled upon his com- panions. Now, as they walked together, the guide asked the old gentleman \c he ^j^ noj. know one Mr. Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out of his parts ? Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that had the root of the matter in him ; but he was one of the most troublesome pilgrims that I ever met with in all my days. Gr.-h. I perceive you knew him; for you have given a very right character of him. Hon. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his : I was with him most an end 3 when he first began to think of what would come upon us here- after, I was with him. ' Matt. x. 3. Ps. xcix. 6. Gen, xxxix. Act», i. 13, 14. S S 5 14 THE TROUBLESOME PILGRIMAGE OF FEARING. Gr.-h. I was his guide from my master's house to the gate of the celestial city. Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one. Gr.-h. I did so ; but I could very well bear it ; for men of my calling are oftentimes entrusted with the conduct of such as he was. Hon. Well then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he managed himself under your conduct. Gr.-h. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short whither he had a desire to go. Every thing frighted him that he heard any body speak of, that had but the least appearance of opposition in it. I hear that he lay roaring at the slough of Despond, for above a month together ; nor durst he, for all he saw several go over before him, venture, though they many of them offered to lend him their hand. He would not go back again neither. The celestial city ! he said, he should die if he came not to it ; and yet was dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw that any body cast in his way. — Well, after he had lain at the slough of Despond a great while, as I have told you, one sun-shine morning, I don't know how, he ventured, and so got over : but when he was over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, a slough of despond in his mind, a slough that he carried every where 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 HrS BEHAVIOUR AT THE PLACES HE CAME TO. 315 head of this way ; and there also he stood a good while, before he would venture to knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back, and give place to others, and say, that he was not worthy : 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 at the gate m 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, * Thou trembling one, what wantest thou ?' With that he fell to the ground. He that spake to him, wondered to see him so faint. He said to him, ' Peace to thee ; up, for I have set open the door '• to thee ; come in, for thou art blessed.' With that he got up, and went in trembling ; and when that he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, after he had been entertained there awhile (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 till he came to our house : but as he be- haved himself at the gate, so he did at my master the Interpreter's door. He lay thereabout in the cold a good while, before he would venture 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 3 I 6 ENCOURAGED AT THE HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 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, though he saw several others for knocking got in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last, I think, I 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 we showed the things to our Lord : so he sent me out again to intreat him to come in ; but, I dare say, 1 had hard work to do it. At last he came in ; and, I will say that for my Lord, he carried it wonder- ful 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 comforted. 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 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 GLAD AT THE CROSS; WILLING TO BE MEAN1. 3 I 7 comfortable things to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went before him \ but the man was but of few words, only he would sigh aloud. When we were come to 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. There I con- fess he desired to stay a little to look, and he seemed for a while after to be a little comforted. When we came at 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 accept- ance at last. I got him in at the house Beautiful, I think, before he was willing ; also when he was in, I brought him acquainted with the damsels that were of the place, but he was ashamed to make himself much for company: he desired much to be alone, yet he always loved good talk, and often would get behind the screen to hear it : he also loved much to see ancient things, and to be pon- dering them in his mind. He told me afterward, 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 Beauti- ful, down the hill, into the valley of Humilia- tion, he went down as well as ever I saw a man in my life ; for he cared not how mean he was, so he 3 1 8 MORE AFRAID OF TEMPTATION THAN PERSECUTION. might be happy at last. Yea, I think there was a kind of sympathy betwixt that valley and him ; for I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage, than he was in that valley. Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss the very flowers that grew in this valley x. 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 that he had in- clination to go back (that he always abhorred), but he was ready to die tor fear. ' Oh, the hobgoblins * will have me, the hobgoblins will have me !' cried he ; and J could not beat him out on't. He made such a noise, and such an outcry here, that, had they but heard him, it was enough to encourage them to come and fall upon us. But this I took very great notice of, that this valley 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 was 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 Vanity Fair, I thought he would have fought with all the men in the fair: I feared there we should both have been knocked on the head, so hot was he against their fooleries. * Lam, iii. 47—29. ALARMED AT DEATH; YET DYING TRIUMPHANT. 319 Upon the enchanted ground, he also was very- wakeful. But, when he was come at the river where was no bridge, there again he was in a heavy case : c Now, now,' he said, ' he should be ' drowned for ever, and so never see that face with ' comfort, that he had come so many miles to be- ' hold.' 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, Mr. Great-heart began to take his leave of him, and to wish him a good reception above ; so he said, c I shall, I shall:' then parted we asunder, and I saw him no more. Hon. Then, it seems, he was well at last? Gr.-h. Yes, yes, I never had doubt about him ; he was a man of a choice spirit : only he was al- ways kept very low, and that made his life so bur- densome to himself, and so very troublesome to others1. He was, above many, tender of sin; he was so afraid of doing injuries to others, that he would often deny himself of that which was law- ful, because he would not offend 2. Hon. But what should be the reason that such a good man should be all his days so much in the dark? Gr.-h. There are two sorts of reasons for it ; one is, The wise God will have it so ; some must pipe, and some must weep 3: now Mr. Fearing was .» Pa. lxxxviii. * Rom. xiv. 21. i Cor. viii. 13. 3 Mat xi. 16, i8» 320 REMARKS ON FEARING'S CHARACTER. one that played upon the bass. He and his fellows sound the sackbut, whose notes are more doleful than notes of other music are: though indeed, some 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 imperfec- tion 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 com- pared to a company of musicians, that play upon their trumpets and harps, and sing their songs be- fore the throne1.] Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by what relation you have given of him. Dif- ficulties, 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. Gr.-h. You^say right; those were the things that were his troubles ; and they, as you have well observed, arose from the weakness of his mind thereabout, not from weakness of spirit, as to the practical part of a pilgrim's life. I dare believe, ' Rev. viii. xiv. *, 3. A^COMMENDATION OF GODLY FEAR. 321 that, as the proverb is, ' He could have bit a fire- * brand, had it stood in his way :' but those things, with which he was oppressed, no man ever yet could shake off with 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 sem- blance betwixt this good man and I : only we differ in two things : his troubles were 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 entertain- ment ; but my troubles were always such, as made me knock the louder. Mer. If I might also speak my mind, 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 at the loss of other things. O ! 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 that 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. t T 3 22 THE CHARACTER OF SELF-WILL. Gr.-h. 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 beginning have neither middle nor end. But we will here conclude our discourse of Mr. Fearing, after we have sent after him his farewel. « Whilst, master Fearing, thou didst fear Thy God, and wast afraid Of doing any thing, while here, That would have thee betray'd : And didst the u 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 all went on in their talk ; for, after' Mr. Great-heart had made an end with Mr. Fearing, Mr. Honest began to tell them of another, but his name was Mr. Self- will. He pretended himself 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. Gr#h. Had you ever any talk with him about it? Hon. Yes, more than once or twice : but he would always be like himself, self-willed. He nei- ther cared for man, nor argument, nor example ; what his mind prompted him to, that he would do ; and nothing else could he be got to. Gr.-h. Pray what principles did he hold' for I suppose you can tell. HIS PRINCIPLES AND DETESTABLE OPINIONS. 323 Hon. He held, that a man might follow the vices as well as the virtues of the pilgrims ; and that if he did both, he should be certainly saved. Gr.-h. How ! if he had said, it is possible for the best to be guilty of the vices, as well as par- take of the virtues of 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 that opinion, that it was allowable so to be. Hon. Ay, ay, so I mean; and so he believed and practised. Gr.-h. But what grounds had he for so saying? Hon. Why, he said he had the scripture for his warrant. Gr.-h. Pr'ythee, Mr. Honest, present us with a few particulars. 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 thino- that Solomon practised; and therefore he could do it. He said, that Sarah and the godly mid- wives of Egypt lied, and so did Rahab; and therefore he could do it. He said, that the dis- ciples went, at the bidding of their Master, and took away the owner's ass ; and therefore he could do so too. He said, that Jacob got the inherit- 324 FURTHER DISCOURSE CONCERNING THEM. ance of his father in a way of guile and dissimula- tion ; and therefore he could do so too. Gr.-h. High base, indeed ! and are you sure he was of this opinion ? Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring scrip- ture for it, bring arguments for it, &c. Gr.-h. An opinion that is not fit to be with any allowance in the world ! Hon. You must understand me rightly: he did not say that any man might do this ; but that those, that had the virtues of those that did such things, might also do the same. Gr.-h. But what more false than such a conclu- sion ? for this is as much as to say, that, because good men heretofore have sinned of infirmity, there- fore he had allowance to do it of a presumptuous mind : or if, because a child, by the blast of wind, or for that it stumbled at a stone, fell down, and defiled itself in mire, therefore he might wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar 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 stumbled at the word, " being disobedient ; whereunto also they were ap- " pointed1." 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. It is just as if the dog should say, * I have, or may « Pet. ii. 8» THEIR DISCOURSE STILL CONTINUED. 32^ ' have, the qualities of a child, because I lick up * its stinking excrements.' " To eat up the sin of * God's people1," is no sign of one that is pos- sessed with their virtues. Nor can I believe, that one that is of this opinion, can at present have faith or love in him. — But I know you have made strong objections against him -} pr'ythee what can he say for himself? Hon. Why, he says, to do this by way of opinion, seems abundance more honest than to do it and yet hold contrary to it in opinion. Gr.-h. A very wicked answer; for, though to let loose the bridle to lusts, while our opinions are against such things, is bad ; yet to sin, and plead a toleration so to do, is worse : the one stumbles beholders accidentally, the other leads them into 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. Gr.-h. You have said the truth, and it is to be lamented ; but he that feareth the King of Para- dise shall come out of them all. Chr. There are strange opinions in the worlds I know one that said it was time enough to repent when he came to die. Gr.-h. Such are not over-wise : that man would have been loath, might he have had a week to run > Hot. ir. 8« 326 OBSERVATIONS ON OTHER FAULTY CHARACTERS. twenty miles for his life, to have deferred that jour- ney to the last hour of that week. Hon. You say right; and yet the generality of them that count themselves pilgrims do indeed do thus. I am, as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller in this road many a day 5 and I have taken notice of many things. I have seen some, that set out as if they would drive all the world afore them, who yet have, in few days, died as they in the wilderness, and so never got sight of the promised land.— I have seen some, that have promised nothing, at first setting 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 forward, that again have, after a little time, run as fast just back again. — I have seen some who have spoken very well of a pilgrim's life at first, that after a while, 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, f 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 in their way, there came one running to meet them, and said, ' Gentlemen, ' and you of the weaker sort, if you love life, shift c for yourselves, for the robbers are before you.' THE PILGRIMS STOP AT GATUS'S INN. 327 Then said Mr. Great-heart, They be the three that set upon Little-faith heretofore. Well, said he, we are ready for them. So they went on their way. Now they looked at every turning, when they should have met with the vil- lains; but, whether they heard of Mr. Great- heart, or whether they had some other game, they came not up to the pilgrims. Christiana then wished for an inn for herself and her children, because they were weary. Then said Mr. Honest, ' There is one a little before us, * where a very honourable disciple, one Gaius, c dwells1.' So they all concluded to turn in thither; and the rather, because the old gentleman gave him so good a report. — So when they came to the door, they went in, not knocking ; for folks use not to knock at the door of an inn. Then they called for the master of the house, and he came to them. So they asked if they might lie there that night ? Gai. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men, for my house is for none but pilgrims. Then was Chris- tiana, Mercy, and the boys, more glad, for that the inn-keeper was a lover of pilgrims. So they call- ed for rooms, and he showed them one for Chris- tiana 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. ' Rom. xvi. 23. 328 GAIUS INQUIRES CONCERNING CHRISTIANA. It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently go out to seek food, but such as I have you shall be welcome to, if that will content you. Gr.-h. 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 conve- nient. 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 ; and while supper is making ready, if you please, let us enter- tain one another with some good discourse : to they all said, Content. Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged ma- tron ? and whose daughter is this young damsel ? Gr.-h. The woman is the wife of one Chris- tian, a pilgrim in former times ; and these are his four children. The maid is one of her acquaint- ance ; one that she hath 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 hath 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 GAIUS ENUMERATES CHRISTIAN'S PROGENITORS. 329 have been good of this. stock j their ancestors first dwelt at Antioch1. Christian's progenitors (I suppose you have heard your husband talk of them) were very worthy men. They have, above any that I knowj 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 the first of the family from whence your husband sprang, was knocked on the head with stones2. James, another of this generation, was slain with the edge of the sword*. To say nothing of Paul and Peter, men anciently of the family from whence your husband .came, there was Igna- tius, who was cast to the lions ; Romanus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from his bones ; and Poly- carp, that 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 him into the sea'to be drowned. It would be impossible utterly to count up all that family, that 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. 9 * Acts, xi. a6. 3 Acts, vii. 59, 60. » Acts, xii. 2. U U I 330 GAIUS CONVERSES WTTH HIS GUESTS. Gr.-h. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads: they seem to choose heartily their father's ways. Gai. That is what I said; wherefore Chris- tian's family is like still to spread abroad upon the face of the ground, and yet to be numerous upon the face of the earth: wherefore let Chris- tiana look out some damsels for her sons, to whom they may be betrothed, Sic. that the name of their father and the house of his progenitors may never be forgotten in the world. Hon. It is pity his family should fall and be ex- tinct. Gai. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may: but let Christiana take my advice, and that's the way to uphold it. And, Christiana, said this inn-keeper, I am glad to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here, a lovely couple. And may I advise, Take Mercy into a nearer relation to thee: if she will, let her -be given to Matthew, thy eldest son: it is the way to preserve a posterity in the earth. — So this match was concluded, and in process of time they were married : but more of that hereafter. Gai us also proceeded, and said, I will now speak on the behalf of women, to. take away their reproach. For as death and the curse came into the world by a woman, so also did life and health ; " God sent forth his Son, made of a woman1." Yea3 > Gen. iii. Gal. iv. 4. THE PILGRIMS SIT DOWN TO SUPPER. 33 1 to show how much those that came after did abhor the act of the mother, this sex in the Old Testa- ment coveted children, if happily this or that wo- man 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 '. I read not, ever man did give unto Christ so much as one groat: but the wo- men followed him, and ministered to him of their substance. It was a woman that washed his feet wTith tears, and a woman that anointed his body to the burial. They were women that wept, when he was going to the cross ; and women that fol- lowed him from the cross, and that sat by his se- pulchre when he was buried. They were women that were, first with him at his resurrection morn ; and women that brought tidings first to his disci- ples, that he was risen from the dead1. Women therefore are highly favoured, and show by these things, that they are sharers with us in the grace of life. 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. Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of this fore-runner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater appetite to my food than I had before. Gai. So let all ministering doctrines to thee, in this life, beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the • Luke, ii. 2 Luke, vii. 37 — 50. viii. 2, 3. xxiii. 27. xxiv. 22, 23. John, ii. 3. xi. 2. Matt, xxvii. 55,56— 61. 332- THE SEVERAL DISHES SET BEFORE THEM. 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 God1. 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 eat heartily thereof. The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, as red as blood. So Gaius said to them, Drink freely, this is the true juice of the vine, that makes glad the heart of God and man. So they drank and were merry2. — The next was a dish of milk well crumbled: but Gaius said, Let the boys have that, that they may " grow thereby s." — Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and honey. Then said Gaius, Eat freely of this, for this is good to cheer up and strengthen your judg- ments and understandings. This was our Lord's dish when he was a child : " Butter and honey " shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the evil, " and choose the good 4\" — Then they brought him • Lev. vii. 32 — 34. x. 14, 15. Ps. xxv. 1. Heb. xiii. 15. 2 Deut. xxxji. 14, Judg. is. y. John, xv. 5. 3 1 Pet. ii. 1, z. 4 Isaiah, vii 1$. THEIR CONVERSATION AT SUPPER. 333 up a dish of apples, and they were very good tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, 'May we eat ' apples, since they were such, by and with which 1 the serpent beguiled our first mother V Then said Gaius, ' Apples were they, with which we were beguil'd ; Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defil'd : 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 are sick of love.' Then said Matthew, I made the scruple, be- cause, awhile since, I was sick with eating of fruit, Gai. Forbidden fruit will make you sick, but not what our Lord has tolerated. While they were thus talking, they were pre- sented with another dish, and it was a dish of nuts r. Then said some at the table, < Nuts spoil tender • teeth, especially the teeth of the children.' Which when Gaius heard, he said, ? Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters), Whose shells do keep the kernels from the eaters : Open then the shells, and you shall have the meat ; They here are brought for you to crack and eat,1 Then they were very merry, and sat at the table a long time, talking of many things. Then said the old gentleman, My good landlord, while ye are cracking your nuts, if you please, do you open this riddle : ■ ' Sol. Song, v», 11. 334 MATTHEW AND MERCY ARE MARRIED. ' 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 awhile, and then thus replied : * He who thus 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 experi- ence : I have learned of my Lord to be kind ; and have found by experience, that I have gained there- by. on 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 honourable. 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 happenelh to way- faring men : sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul, sometimes up hill, sometimes down hill ; we are seldom at a certainty : the wind is not always GREAT-HEART RELATES THEIR ADVENTURES. 35 I on our backs, nor is every one a friend that we meet with in the way. We have met with some notable rubs already : and what are yet behind we know not ; but, for the most part, we find it true that has been talked of old, — ' A good man must ' suffer trouble.* Contr. You talk of rubs : — what rubs have you met withal ? Hon. Nay, ask Mr. Great-heart, our guide, for he can give the best account of that. Gr.-h. We have been beset three or four times already. First, Christiana and her children were beset with two ruffians, that they feared would take away their lives. We were beset with giant Bloody-man, giant Maul, and giant Slay- good. Indeed we did rather beset the last, than were beset of him. And thus it was : after we had been some time at the house of Gaius, " mine " host, and of the whole church," we were mind- ed upon a time to take our weapons with us, and so go see if we could light upon any of those that were enemies to pilgrims ; for we heard that there was a notable one thereabouts. Now Gaius knew his haunt better than I, because he dwelt there- about ; so we looked and looked, till at last we discerned the mouth of his cave ; then were we 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 3 £2 THEIR FURTHER CONVERSATION. him to his end. But when he saw us, supposing, as we thought, he had another prey ; he left the poor man in his house, and came out. So we fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid about him ; but in conclusion, he was brought down to the ground, and his head cut off, and set up by the way-side, for a terror to such as should after practise such ungodliness. That I tell you the truth, here is the man himself to affirm it, who was as a lamb taken out of the mouth of the lion. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, I 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. Holyman, 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. Then said Mr. Love-saint, I hope this caution is not needful among you : but truly there are many that go upon the road, that rather declare them- selves strangers to pilgrimage, than strangers and pilgrims in the earth. Then said Mr. Dare-not-lie, It is true they neither have the pilgrim's weed, nor the pilgrim's courage: they go not uprightly, but all awry with THEY HEAR OF A MONSTER IN THOSE PARTS ; 353 their feet : one shoe goeth inward, another outward, and their hosen out behind ; 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 pilgrim'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. Uxito which they went, and refreshed their weary bodies ; so they went to rest. Now they stayed in the fair a great while, at the house of Mr. Mnason, who, in pro- cess of time, gave his daughter Grace unto Sa- muel, Christiana's son, and his daughter Mar- tha to Joseph. The time, as I said, that they lay 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 ser- vice they could. Mercy, as she was wont, labour- ed 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 Christian's name, as was 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 z z 3,54 WHICH THEY REPEATEDLY ATTACK WITH SUCCESS. 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 men fled when they heard of the noise of his com- ing. The monster was like unto no one beast upon the earth : its body was " like a dragon, and it had " seven heads and ten horns I." It made great havock 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. Now Mr. Great-heart, together with these, 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. Holyman, 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 belaboured 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 : also these seasons did these valiant worthies watch him l Rev. xii. 3. THEY DEPART FROM THE HOUSE OF MNASON. 355 in, and did continually assault him; insomuch that in process of time he became not only wounded, but lame ; also he had not made the havock 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 here. True, there were some of the baser sort, that could see no more than a mole, nor under- stand no more than a beast ; these had no rever- ence for these men, nor took they notice of their valour and adventures. 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 con- ferred 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 neces- sary1. Then they set forward on their way; and their friends accompanying them so far as was con- venient, they again committed each other to tha protection of their King, and departed. 1 Acts, xxvjii. 10. 356 THEY CONTINUE THEIR JOURNEY; They, therefore, that were of the pilgrims' com- pany, went on, and Mr. Great-heart went be- fore them ; now the women and children being weakly, they were forced to go as they could bear ; by this means Mr. Ready-to-halt and Mr. Fee- ble-mind had more to sympathize with their con- dition. When they were gone from the townsmen, and when their friends had bid them farewel, they quickly came to the place were 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 he was. They went on, therefore, after this a good way further, talking of Christian and Faithful ; and how Hopeful joined him- self to Christian, after that Faithful was dead S 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 con- sidered 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 lake1, they mar- velled, as did Christian before, that men of that knowledge and ripeness of wit, as they were, should » Part i. p. i JO. 2 Part i. p. 133. AND ARRIVE AT THE RIVER OF THE WATER OF LIFE. 357 be so blind as to turn aside here. Only they con- sidered again, that nature is not affected with the harms that others have met with, especially if that o thing, upon which they look, has an attracting virtue upon the foolish eye. I saw now that they went on till they came to the river that was on this side of the Delectable Mountains1 — to the river where the fine trees grow on both sides ; and whose leaves, if taken in- wardly, are good against surfeits \ where the meadows are green all the year long, and where they might lie down safely. 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 those women that go on pilgrimage. Also there was here one that was entrusted 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 young3. Now to the care of this man Christiana admonished her four daughters to commit their little ones, that by these waters they might be housed, harboured, succoured, and nourished, 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 4. Here they will never want meat, drink, and cloth- » Part i. p. 137. * Ps. xxiii. 3 Heb. v. 2. ha IxiiL -» Jer. xxiii. 4. Ezek. xxxiv. 11 — 16. 3 $8 HOSPITAL FOR YOUNG CHILDREN AND ORPHANS. ing ; here they will be kept from thieves and rob- bers ; 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 admo- nition ; and shall be taught to walk in right paths ; and that, you know, is a favour of no small account. Also here, as you see, are delicate waters, plea- sant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and such as bear wholesome fruit : fruit not like that which Matthew eat of, that fell over the wall out of Beelzebub's garden; but fruit that pro- cureth health where there is none, and that con- tinueth and increaseth 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, for that all this was to be at the charge of the King ; and so was an hospital to 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 fur- ther1. So one said one thing, and another said to the » Part i, p. 141 — 147. THEY DETERMINE TO ATTACK GIANT DESPAIR. 359 contrary. — One questioned if it was lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground ; another said they might, provided their end was good. But Mr. Great-heart said, Though that assertion offered last cannot be universally true, yet I have a com- mandment 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 Doubt- ing Castle. Then said he, ' Who will go with 'me?' Then said old Honest, '/will.' 'And ' so we will too,' said Christiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel, James, and Joseph: for they were young men and strong1. 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 little child might lead them \" 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. With that the old giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his wife fol- lows. Then said he, ' Who and what is he that is * so hardy, as after this manner to molest the giant « 1 John, ii. 13, 14. a Isaiah, xi. 6. 360 AFTER A SEVERE CONFLICT THEY KILL 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 e 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 con- ' quest 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 breast-plate 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 loth 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 shoul- ders. Then they' fell to demolishing Doubting Cas- tle; and that, you know-, might with ease be done, since giant Despair was dead. They were seven days in destroying of that : and in it, of pil- grims, they found one Mr. Despondency, almost starved to death, and one Much-afraid his THE PILGRIMS' JOY ON THEIR VICTORY. 361 daughter ; these two they saved alive. But it would have made you have wondered 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. De- spondency, and his daughter Much-afraid, into their protection ; for they were honest people, though they were prisoners in Doubting Castle, to that 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 merry disposed, she played them a lesson, and Ready- to-halt would dance. So he took Desponden- cy'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 dan- cing for that he was almost starved. So Chris- 3 A 362 THEY ARRIVE AT THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS; tiana gave him some of her bottle of spirits, for present relief, and then prepared him something to eat i 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 a pillar that Christian erected for a caution to pilgrims that came after, to fake heed of entering into his grounds. Then he writ under it, upon a marble stone, these verses following: ' This is the head t)f him, whose name only, In former time, 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. 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 deliverance.' When those men had thus bravely showed them- selves 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 them- selves with the varieties of the place. They also acquainted themselves with the shepherds there, who welcomed them, as they had done Chris- tian before, unto the Delectable Mountains. AND ARE WELCOMED BY THE SHEPHERDS. $6$ 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 ?' Gr.'H. 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 willing was not to be left behind. Despondency, good man, is coming after, And so also is Much-afraid his daughter. May we have entertainment here, or must ,^y We further 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 for the strong.: our Prince has an eye to what is done to the least of these r : therefore in- firmity must not be a block to our entertainment. ■ — So they had them to the palace doors, and then said unto them, 'Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind -y ' come in, Mr. Ready-to-halt ; come in, Mr. * Despondency, and Mrs. Much-afraid h'is ' daughter.' ' These, Mr. Great-heart,' said the shepherds to the guide, ' we call in by name, for e that they are most subject to draw back ; but as ' for you, and the rest that are strong, we leave you * to your wonted liberty.' Then said Mr. Great- » Matt. xxv. 40. 364 MOUNT MARVEL. heart, f This day I see that grace doth shine in, * your faces, and that you are my Lord's shepherds ' indeed ; for that you have • not pushed these dis- ' eased neither with side nor shoulder, but have * rather strewed their way into the paiace with c flowers as you should1.' So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Great- heart a,nd the rest did follow. When they were also sat down, the shepherds said to those of the wTeaker sort, What is that you would have ? For, said they, all things must be managed here to the supporting of the weak, as well as the warning of the unruly. ' So they^made them a feast of things easy of di- gestion, 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, be- cause 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 ra- rities ; therefore, after they were ready, and had refreshed themselves, the shepherds took them out into the fields, and showed them first what they had showed to Christian before2. Then they had them to some new places. The first was mount Marvel, where they looked, and behold a man at a distance, that tumbled the hilk about with words. Then they asked the shepherd^ * Ezek. xxxiv. it. * Part i. p. 148— ija. MOUNT INNOCENCE AND MOUNT CHARITY. 365 what that should mean ? So they told them, that that 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 there to teach pilgrims how to believe -down, or to tumble out of their ways, what difficulties they should meet with, by faith *. Then said Mr. Great- heart, * I know him ; he is a man above many.' Then they had them to another place, called mount Innocence: aad there they saw a man clothed all in white ; and two men, Prejudice 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 gar- ment 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 the 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 lives truly innocently in the world. Whoever they be that would make such men dirty, they labour 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 noon-day. Then they took them, and had them to mount Charity, where they showed them a man that * Mark, xi. *3, 24. 366 TOOL AND WANT-WIT r THE BY-WAY. 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 said they, What should this be ? This is, said the shepherds, to show you, that he that has a heart to give of his labour 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 ever the less in her barrel. They had them also to the place, where they saw one Fool, and one Want-wit, washing of 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 that should mean ? So they told them, saying, Thus shall it be with the vile person ; all means used to get such a one a good name, shall in conclusion tend but to make him more abominable. 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, I would, if it might be, see the hole in the hill, or that commonly. called the By-way to hell. So her mother brake her mind to the shepherds r*. Then they went to the door (it was on the side of an hill) 5 and they opened it, and. bid Mercy hearken awhile. So she heark- ened, and heard one saying, ' Cursed be my father, ' for holding of my feet back from the way of peace J Part i. p. 152. THE LOOKING-GLASS OF GOD'S WORD j 367 ' and life :' And another said, ' O 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 V 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 is delivered from this place.' Now when the shepherds had shown them all these things, then they had them back to the pa- lace, and entertained them with what the house would afford: but Mercy being a young and breeding 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 mo- ther, 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 shep- herds if they are willing to sell it. Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present a man, one way, with his own features ex- actly ; and turn it but another way, and it would show one the very face and similitude of the Prince of the pilgrims himself. Yes, I have talked with 368 THE SHEPHERDS GIVE PRESENTS TO THE PILGRIMS, 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 excellency 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 heaven ; whether in a state of humiliation, or in his exaltation ; whether com- ing to suffer, oncoming to reign1. Christiana therefore went to the shepherds apart (now the names of the shepherds were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere1), and said unto them, There is one of my daughters, a breeding 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. Ex per. 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 con- sent it was given her. Then she bowed her head, and gave thanks, and said, By this I know that I have obtained favour in your eyes. They also gave to the other young women such things as they desired, and to their husbands great commendations, for that they had joined with Mr. * James, 1. 23—25. 1 Cor. siii. 12. 2 Cor. iii. 18. * Part i. p. 149. WHO LEAVE THEM, AND GO ON THEIR JOURNEY. 369 Great-heart, to the slaying of giant Despair, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. — About Christiana's neck the shepherds put a bracelet, and so they did about the necks of her four daughters ; also they put ear-rings 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 cer- tain cautions which before were given to Chris- tian, and his companion. The reason was, for that these had Great-heart to be their guide, who was one that was well acquainted with things, and so could give them their cautions more season- able ; to wit, even then when the danger was nigh the approaching. What cautions Christian and his companion had received 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 stables set For their relief that pilgrims are become, And how they us receive without one let, That make the other life the 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.' 1 Part i. p. 15.3. % 3B 370 THEY OVERTAKE VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH. When 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 rebellion at his back. And this I have to say concerning this man ; — he would heark- en to no counsel, but, once a-falling, persuasion could not stop him. When he came to the place where the cross and the sepulchre was, he did meet with one that did bid him look there, but he gnash- ed 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 despite 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 formerly was robbed, there stood a man with his swor4 drawn, and his face all bloody. Then said Mr. Great-heart, What 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. Now, as I was in my way, there were three men that did beset me, and propounded unto me these three things ; — ; Part i. p. 155. HE OVERCOMES THREE DARING ASSAILANTS. 37 1 Whether I would become 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 n6w should cast in my lot with thieves1. Then they demanded what I would say to the second. So I told them the place from whence I came, had I not found incommodity there, I had not forsaken it at all ; but rinding it altogether unsuitable to me, and very unprofitable for me, I forsook it for this way. Then they asked me what I said to the third ? And I told them, My life cost more dear far, than Jthat I should lightly give it away: Besides, you have nothing to do to put things to my choice ; wherefore 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 three hours. They have left upon me, as you see, some of the marks of their valour, 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. Gr.-h. But here was great odds, three against one. Val. 'Tis true ; but little or more are nothing to him that has the truth on his side : " Though a» * Prov. i. 10 — 19. 372 GREAT-HEART INQUIRES CONCERNING THE FIGHT. " host should encamp against me," said one, " my " heart shall 'not fear : though war shall rise against " me, in this will I be confident," &c. Besides, said h<*, I have read in some records, that one man has fought an army : and how many did Sampson slay with the jaw-bone of an ass ? Then said the guide, Why did you not cry out, that some might have come in for your succour ? 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 rne 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 Jeru- salem 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. Gr.-h. 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 run through my fingers, then I fought with most courage. Gr.-h. Thou hast done well ; thou hast " resist- " ed unto blood, striving against sin •" thou shalt HE INFORMS THEM HE CAME FROM DARK-LAND. 373 abide by us, come in and go out with us, for we are thy companions. Then they took him, and washed his wounds, and o-ave 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 because there were in company them that were feeble and weak, therefore he ques- tioned with him about many things ; as first, what countryman 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? Val. Yes, it doth. Now that which caused me to come on pilgrimage, was this : we had Mr. Tell-true came 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 had killed 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 to all his Lord's lodg- ings, especially when he came to the gates of the celestial city ; for there, said the man, he was re- ceived with sound of trumpet, by a company of shining ones. He told it also, how all the bells in the city did ring for joy at his reception, and what 374 VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH REJOICES OVER CHRISTIANA, 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 heat 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. Gr.-h. 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 got- ten thereby, is spread abroad far and near. Val. Why, is this Christian's wife? Gr.-h. Yes, that it is; and these are also her four sons. Val. What ! and going on pilgrimage too? Gr.-h. Yes, verily, they are following after. Val. It glads me at heart ; good man, how joy- ful will he be, when he shall see them, that would not go with him, to enter before him in at the gates into the celestial city ! Gr.-h. 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 chil- dren. Val. But, 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. CARNAL OBJECTIONS TO GOING ON PILGRIMAGE. ^7 5 Gr.-h. Do they think they shall know them- selves then, or that they shall rejoice to see them- selves in that bliss ? and if they think they shall know and do these, why not know others, and re- joice in their welfare also? Again, since relations are our second self, though that state will be dis- solved, 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 ? Gr.-h. Yes : was 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. • Gr.-h. What could they say against it ? .Val. They said, it was an idle life; and, if I myself were not inclined to sloth and laziness, I would never countenance a pilgrim's condition. Gr.-h. And what did they say else? Val. Why, they told me that it was a dan- gerous way : Yea, the most dangerous way in the world, say they, is that which the pilgrims go. . Gr.-h. Did they show you wherein this way is dangerous ? Val. Yes; and that in many particulars. Gr.-h. 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 376 THE FURTHER DIFFICULTIES STATED. Beelzebub Castle, to shoot them who should knock at the Wicket-gate for entrance. They told me also of the wood and dark mountains, of the hill Difficulty, of the lions : and also of the three giants Bloody-man, Maul, and Slay- good: they said, moreover, that there was a foul fiend haunted the valley of Humiliation ; and that Christian was by him almost bereft of life. Besides, said they, you must go over the valley of the Shadow of Death, where the hobgoblins are, where the light is darkness, where the way is full of snares, pits, traps, and gins. — They told me also of giant Despair, of Doubting Castle, and of the ruin that the pilgrims met with there. Fur- ther, they said I must go over the Enchanted Ground, which was dangerous. And that after all this I should find a river over which I should find no bridge ; and that that river did lie betwixt me and the celestial country. Gr.-h. 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 their path. Gr.-h. But how did they make that out ? Val. They told me that Mr. Worldly-wise- man did lie there in wait to deceive. They also said, that there was Formality and Hypocrisy continually on the road. They said also, that By- ends, Talkative, or Demas, would go near to gather me up: that the Flatterer would catch me in his net 5 or that, with green-headed Igno- SCEPTICAL AND INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 377 rance, 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. Gr.-h. I promise you, this was enough to discourage thee. But did they make an end there ? Val. No, stay. They told me also of many that tried that way of old, and that had gone a great way therein, to see if they could find some- thing of the glory then, that so many had so much talked of from time to time ; and how thev came back again, and befooled themselves for setting a foot out of doors in that path, — to the satisfac- tion of the country. And they .named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pliable, Mis- trust 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 found so much advantage by going, as amounted to the weight of a feather. Gr.-h. Said they any thing more to discourage you ? Val. Yes ; they told me of one Mr. Fearing, who was a pilgrim ; and hew he found his way so solitary, that he never had a comfortable hour therein: also that Mr. Despondency had like to have been starved therein, yea, and also (which I had almost forgot), Christian himself, about whom there has been such a noise, after all his 3 c 378 FAITH ANSWERS AND OVERCOMES ALL. ventures for a celestial crown, was certainly drown- ed in the black river, and never went a foot further* however it was smothered up. Gr.-h. And did none of these things discourage you ? Val. No ^ they seemed as so many nothings to me. Gr.-h. How came that about ? Val. Why, I still believed what Mr. Tell-true had said, and that carried me beyond them all. Gr.-h. 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 valour 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 avow'd intent To be a pilgrim. Whoso beset him round With dismal stories, Do but themselves confound, His strength the more is. No lion can him fright j He'll with a giant fight, But he will have a right To be a pilgrim. 1 } THSY ARRIVE AT THE ENCHANTED GROUND. 379 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 labour night and day To be a pilgrim.' } By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, where the air naturally tended to make one drowsy1 : and that place was all grown over with briers and thorns, excepting. here and there, where was an enchanted arbour, upon which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, 'tis 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; and Mr. Great-iIeart went before, for that* he was the guide, and Mr. Valiant-for-truth came behind, being rear- guard ; for fear lest peradventure some fiend, or dragon, or giant, or thief, should fall upon their rear, and so do mischief. They went on here, each man with his sword drawn in his hand, for they knew it was a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another, as well 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 » Part i. p. 171 — 195. 580 DIFFICULTIES THERE ENCOUNTERED BY THEM. scarce, for a great while, one see the other ; where- fore 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 7 but how much the worse was it for the women and chil- dren, who both of feet and heart also were but tender ! Yet nevertheless so it was, that through the encouraging words of him that led in the front> and of him that brought them up behmd, they made a pretty good shift to wag along. The way was also here very wearisome, through dirt and slabbiness. Nor was there, on all this ground, so much as one inn or victualling-house, therein to refresh the feebler sort. Here therefore 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 fast hold on * me, I think I cannot get away from them.' Then they came to an arbour, warm, and pro- mising much refreshing to the pilgrims : for it wras finely wrought above-head, beautified with greens, furnished with benches and settles. It had in it a soft couch, where the weary might lean. This, you must think, all things considered, was tempt- ing ; 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 GREAT-HEART CONSULTS HIS MAP. 38 1 stop there. Yea, for ought 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.. — The arbour was called the Slothful's Friend, -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 their solitary ground, till they came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way. Now, though when it was light, their guide could well enough 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 ; wherefore he struck a light (for he never goes also without 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 here been careful to look in his map, they had in all probability 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 destroy 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. 382 HEEDLESS AND TOCBOLD ASLEEP IN AN ARBOUR. Thev went on, then, in this Enchanted Ground, till they came to where there was another arbour, and it was built by the highway- side. And in that arbour 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 pil- grims 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, whe- ther 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 themselves did not sit down nor embrace the offered benefit of that arbour. So they went in, and spake to the men, and called each by his name (for the guide, it seems, did know them), but there was no voice, nor an- swer. Then the guide did shake them, and do what he .could to disturb them. Then said one of them, f I will pay you when I take my money.' At which the guide shook his head. * I will fight so * long as I can hold my sword in my hand,' said fhe other. At that, one of the children laughed. Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this? Then the guide said, They talk in their sleep; if you do strike them, or beat them, or whatever else you do unto them, they will answer you after this fashion : or, as one of them said in Sleepers ©m tiie enchanted gr'otjnp., / ndon FubUthed SepTajf^ijgG /•; /://, great favourites of the vul- < gar, are composed in a style enlivened like that of Homer, « by a proper mixture of the dramatic and narrative ; and, « upon that account chiefly, have been translated into several ' European languages/ To this we subscribe with several limitations. The Pilgrim's Progress and Robinson Crusoe belong to quite different classes of writing : the former a religious allegory, the latter a romance, though founded upon fact. No proper comparison can be drawn between the genius of Komer and that of Bunyan ; both, it is true, copied nature with great exactness j but the latter possessed nothing of the poetic sublimity of the former ; for though he made many attempts to rhime, none of them are suf- ficient to rank, him in the class of even uneducated poets : I cannot therefore subscribe to the notion of Mr Grainger, and some other literary men, that Bunyan would by any education have been made a Spenser. He might have been more likely to succeed as a dramatic writer, or a novelist ; but at present he possesses the greater honour of having in- vented a species of writing of which he had no model, and in which he has never been equalled, and in very few in- stances, imitated with success *. Dr. Johnson greatly commends " the Pilgrim's Progress" as a work of original genius ; and reckons it one of the very few books which every reader wishes had been longer 2. Considered in a religious view, this work ranks still higher. Mr. Grainger, already cited, observes, the « pilgrim's » «' Honest John Bunyan is the first I know of (says Dr. Franklin J who has mingled narrative and dialogue together; a mode of writing very en- gaging to the reader, who, in the most interesting passages, finds himself admitted, as it were, into the company, and present at the conversation. Defoe has imitated him with successj and Richardson has done the same." — Priv Life of Franklin. * Piozzi's Anecd. of Johnson. KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 405 < Progress gives us a clear and distinct idea of Calvinistic ' divinity. The allegory is admirably carried on, and the « characters justly drawn, and uniformly supported V The late ingenious Mr. Toplady considers this as * the « finest allegorical book extant : describing every stage of a ' believer's experience, from conversion to glorification, in * the most artless simplicity of language ; yet peculiarly rich * with spiritual unction, and glowing with the most vivid, f just, and well-conducted machinery throughout. It is, in 4 short, a master-piece of piety and genius ; and will, we « doubt not, be of standing use to the people of God, so « long as the sun and moon endure. It has been affirmed, 1 and I believe with trurh, that no book in the English « tongue has gone through so many editions, the Bible and * Common Prayer-book alone excepted V The last-mentioned writer conjectured that Mr. Bunyan might take < the first idea of his Pilgrim's Progress and « Holy War,' from an ingenious piece of allegory written by the Rev. Richard Bernard, rector of Batcombe, in Somer- setshire, and published early in the 17th century, under this title : « The Isle of Man : or the legal Proceeding in « Man-shire, against Sinne.' The eighth edition of this, tract was printed at London, A. D. 1632. This supposition has perhaps more probability, as it refers to the Holy War, than to the Pilgrim's Progress, which was written in prison, where, we are told, his whole library consisted of the Bible and the Book of Martyrs 3 : from these, it is very evident, he has borrowed very freely, and with the best effect. It seems, however, highly probable, though Mr. Toplady has not observed it, that there was an intercommunity of ideas 1 Biog. Hist of Eng. vol. iii. 2 Gospel Mag. 1776. p. 478. Rev. of Christian Memoirs, well known la be written by Mr. T. * Grainger's Biog. Hist. 406 KEY TO THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS. between Mr. Barnard and Mr. Phineas Fletcher (cousin to John Fletcher the dramatic poet), who published about the same period, an allegorical poem under the title of « The « Purple Island,' highly commended by Mr. Hcrvey l, and who is allowed to be ' an author whose fame is not equal to * his merit V It may be worthy of observation, that about the same time that Bunyan wrote his Pilgrim's Progress, the learned and excellent bishop Patrick wrote a small quarto volume, entitled, ' The Parable of the Pilgrim ;' and one should be tempted, from the similitude of the titles, to suppose the bi- shop had heard of the attempt of Bunyan ; it is pretty evi- dent, however, that he had never seen it, and he professes to have followed a very different model 3 : nor is there the least reason for supposing that the layman borrowed a single idea from the prelate. The latter wrote his Pilgrim be- tween 1663 and 1665, while the former was in prison, and probably engaged in his celebrated allegory. Comparing them, Mr. Toplady 4 observes, ' Whoever 1 has patience to wade through ten pages of the bishop's 1 Parable, must be fully convinced that his lordship's limp- * ing and unwieldy Pilgrim will never be able, with all his *. hobbling, to overtake, or even to get within sight of John ' Bunyan, by many a thousand mile : a striking proof, that ' the greatest men, when they over-step their proper line, ap- ' pear to the greatest disadvantage j and that exquisite na- ' tural ability casts a brighter and more captivating lustre « than the deepest acquired parts, where that is wanting. < Genius can shift tolerably well without much erudition ; ' but erudition makes no very attracting figure, unless it be ' grafted on genius.' 1 Letters, No. 13 1. 2 Biog. Dram. vol. i, p. 166. 3 Baker's San eta Sophia. * Gos. Mag. ut sup. KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 407 As a practical work, there are very few books, if any, be- side the Bible, that have been so extensively useful.* The author of a * Discourse concerning Ridicule and Irony* / (printed 1729), asserted that « Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress ! ' had infinitely outdone the Tale of a Tub; which, perhaps, * had not made one convert to infidelity, whereas the Pil- * grim's Progress had converted many sinners to Christ «." It has been said with equal truth and shrewdness, that Patrick's Pilgrim was but a pedlar, compared with Bunyan's. For instead of the scriptures we have scraps of the philo- sophers, and allusions to the heathen mythology, which ill accord with the nature of his work. He does not begin his journey till chapter xxv. and then parts immediately with his guide ; whereas one would think the use of a guide was to accompany him. This guide indeed talks a deal of Jerufalem and the way thither, yet leaves him, at last, only talking and considering of his journey. Having spoken thus generally of Bunyan and his favour- ite works, the remaining object of these pages is to give the reader, in a very brief form, a general insight into the nature and design of his allegory ; to p >int out his principal characters ; to explain and illustrate the darker passages ; and direct his attention to some of its more latent beauties. It has been remarked that Bunyan's having had some ex- traordinary dreams during the time of his conviction, was probably the cause of his throwing his Pilgrim's Progress into this form : it is more certain that his situation at the time of writing it, namely, Bedford jail, is alluded to as the den in which he slept and dreamed. One cannot forbear remarking here, how much better our author was employed in prison than were his enemies and persecutors ; and we may ask triumphantly, which of the learned and dignified 1 Biog. Brit. Note (4). 408 KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. churchmen then living at their ease has produced a work of equal, or even comparable merit ? Bunyan's principal and leading character is Christian, in whose experience he gives many traits of his own j but tempered with great judgment, so as to represent the expe- rience of most real Christians, who generally, in the early stage of their conversion, feel more or less of those terrors or convictions attributed to our Pilgrim. It ought not, however, to be omitted, that there are some instances of early conversion, in which the subjects of grace are drawn so gently by * the cords of love ;' so powerfully attracted with the charms of divine truth, and a believing view of the character of the Redeemer, that there has been no room for those terrors of the law, which Bunyan and his Pilgrim felt. This observation is inserted to prevent the discourage* ment of those who have been led by divine grace in a man- ner somewhat different from what our author here de- scribes, If we have been * persuaded and enabled to era- « brace Jesus Christ,' as he is exhibited in the gospel, we have certainly seen the evil and danger of sin : the means and manner in which we have been led to these views is a matter of much inferior consequence. But, generally speaking, Bunyan's Christian is a very faithful copy of the feelings of young converts ; especially of such as have not been favoured with a religious education ; but are called at once from a profane and vicious life, with little or no previous acquaintance with religious truth, and with the word of God. Ragged garments are so familiar an allegory for an immo- ral life, that it needs no elucidation ; and I hope none of my readers need be told that the book which this poor man held in his hand is the Bible, emphatically called * The * word of God.' KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 409 The great burden upon his back represents the oppression «F a guilty conscience, very properly called, in the service of the church of England, a * burden' that is « intolerable.' The behaviour of Christian, in this situation, and the treatment he met with from his family and from the world is perfectly natural, and finely painted. The circumstances mentioned are such as frequently occur, and many of which accord with those related in the author's life. Chris- tian's conduct, however, may appear somewhat harsh in his treatment of his wife and children : for it is certain that Christianity inculcates all the duties of social and do- mestic life. But then it must be considered, when the dearest relations we have stand in opposition to our duty towards God, we must renounce either him or them, so far as they oppose each other. This is certainly the mean- ing of those words of our divine Master, « If a man hate * not his father, and mother, wife, and children, &c. he * cannot be my disciple V The charge of insanity, so often alleged in these cases seems to merit a more particular attention. The wise man hath said, < The spirit of a man may sus- « tain his infirmity,' whether it be the weakness of disease, or the agony of pain : « but a wounded spirit who can * bear 2 ?' This indeed requires a supernatural and divine support. The true reason why the language and conduct of such an one appears to the world extravagant and unaccount- able is, because they are unacquainted with his feelings. They may have been accustomed to talk of repentance and forgiveness, without affixing determinate ideas to either ; but they neither know the nature of the one nor the im- portance of the other. In our natural estate, many sins are pleasing and agreeable; and while they gratify our ' Luke, xiv. 26. 2 Frov. xviii. 14. 3c 4IO KEY TO THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS. pride, or minister to our pleasure, we think little of their contrariety to the divine will. And when we cannot deny, or wholly overlook this, we think lightly of their guilt, while they do not injure society, nor violate human laws. Murder, robbery, and a few other crimes, strike us with horror proportionable to their enormity : but neglect and forgetfulness of God, with the omission, and careless observ- ance, of religious duties, appear trifling and inconsiderable faults, which we readily attribute to the weakness of our natures, and think God will not observe them. Nothing is more certain, however, than that the omission of religious worship is a robbery of God x ; and that a perseverance in sin, after the profession of Christianity, is « crucifying the * Son of God afresh,' and ' putting him to an open shame z* Now when things are seen in this light, when sin appears « exceeding sinful 3,' it is, surely, not wonderful that the mind should be distressed ; especially as the same light which discovers this, shews also the purity, holiness, and justice of the Deity. It is true, that the provisions of mercy in the Gospel, are so free and infinitely rich, that they leave no room for discouragement or despair : but then we are so prone to extremes, that we are as hard to believe this as the magnitude of our own guilt : and in the interim between the conviction of sin, and a discovery of the fulness of grace in Jesus Christ, our spiritual enemy often works up our terrors to an appearance of insanity j so far am I from won- dering at this, that I am well convinced nothing but the grace of God is sufficient to preserve a sinner from distrac- tion, under a due conviction of the enormity of sin. It has been said that religion drives people mad ; but this is a mistake, arising from the want of discrimination : any distressing subject, too long and constantly impressed « Mai. iii. 8. * Hcb. vi. 6. 3 Rom. viL 13. KEY TO THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS. 4I I upon a weak mind, may easily disorder it ; and it is a mercy, considering the present state of human nature, that we are not more frequently overcome. But then are we not to think at all, lest we should think too much ? Because too close an attachment to business, or too strong an affection for a particular object, may sometimes over- power our reason, must we pay no regard to business, or re- nounce all the softer passions which humanize our nature ? Surely not. Neither then should we renounce or despise religion, because improper views of it may have done injury to a few individuals. We know it was the complaint of a good man in his ad- dresses to God, ' While I suffer thy terrors 1 am distract- < ed l :' but there is nothing more irrational than the con- duct of the world in such cases : they direct the poor con- vinced sinner to a repetition of the very things that distress him, the vain and vicious amusements of the age, in order to his comfort j they recommend the repetition of the cause by way of cure ; which is just as rational as heating diet for a burning fever, or a cold bath for the ague. How much more rational, as well as scriptural, is the di- rection of Evangelist, who exhorts to 'flee from the wrath ' to come' by the method of salvation provided in the Gos- pel. The additional circumstances of- the little wicket-gate, and the shining light, are both beautiful and important. The 'gate' is Christ, and the 'light' divine reve'ation ; as may be seen by referring to the texts our author has placed in the margin, which are generally worth consulting, especially by those who have but a slight acquaintance with the scrip- tures. It may be observed, as we proceed, that when Christ is compared to a gate or a door, it is not to the portal of a • Psalm Ixxxviii. 15. " 412 KEY TO THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS. mansion, but to a small wicket-gate, like the entrance of a sheep-fold ; for « strait is the gate and narrow is the way < that leads to life, and few there be that find it/ The incident of Christian's neighbours, Obstinate and Fliable, following him, the latter as far as the Slough of Despond, is happily imagined, and the dialogue well written to the characters. But the most interesting and instructive part of this scene is the different methods by which Chris- tian and Pliable get out of the slough, that is, a state of distress and despondency ; it is of the utmost importance, that we get out on the side next the wicket-gate ; that is, by seeking to Christ, and not to the world, in tribulatioa. Our author's remarks on the attempts to mend the Slough of Despond, by good advice and « wholesome instructions,* are very shrewd and just. The steps through the midst of the slough intend those general promises of pardon and ac- ceptance to penitent and inquiring souls which abound in the holy scriptures. Mr. Wokldly-wiseman is sufficiently characterized in his name. His object was to recommend to Christian a more rational, easy, and reputable kind of religion than that of the Bible : he directed him to salvation by his own good works, the works of the law, here represented by Mount Sinai, whence the law was given. And the error of our Pilgrim is a very common one in the early part of the Christian's life. Evangelist is a faithful minister of the Gospel, whose object is to recommend Christ, and him alone, as the Savi- our. If there is any thing exceptionable in this part of the work, it is the formal manner in which Evangelist reproves and advises Christian, which has more the form of a sermon than of conversation. This, however, may be well ex- cused, when we recollect that the speaker is a preacher, and therefore used to sermonize. KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 413 The conversation with Good-will at the gate, is natural and instructive ; but Christian's reception and entertain- ment at the Interpreter's house, is one of the most pleasing and instructive parts of the work. All the allego- ries here introduced are not of equal beauty and propriety. The first is the least interesting and most defective. The characters of Passion and Patience are extremely well drawn. The swept room and the Muck-raker, and the inextinguishable fire, are beautiful allegories, but are sufficiently explained by the Interpreter. The Man in the IRON cage is an awful picture taken partly from the author's own experience, and partly from observation. Though the man is represented in despair, it does not fol- low that his case was really hopeless: there may be a way of deliverance when we cannot see it. The dream is an evident copy of one of Bunyan's about the time of his con- version. . By the Interpreter is doubtless intended the Holy Spirit, whose office it is to reveal the deep things of God, and lead the believer gradually into all the truths of the Gospel, taking the things of Christ, and shewing them to us. The next scene brings us to the cross and the sepul- chre, where Christian happily loses the burden from off his back. It may be thought that this should have taken place immediately on his entering the Wicket-gate ; and it is true, that a sinner is justified immediately as he believes in Christ; yet as there is frequently a considerable interval between a sinner's justification and his own knowledge of tfes happy event, this incident is with propriety deferred till now, when he loses that painful sense of guilt which hitherto- had attended him, and obtains an evidence of his interest m saving mercy, which is here intended by the sealed roll ; as is the acceptance and justification of his 4-T4 KEY TO THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS, person by the change of garments, and the salutation Of the SHINING ONES. In works of imagination, the genius of a writer appears, chiefly, in the invention and support of character : and in these respects, Bunyan was particularly happy. Characters, now, multiply upon us, in great variety. Those of Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, are finely discriminated, and strongly marked, in the few words they are made to utter ; as are also those of Timorous and Mistrust. For- mality and Hypocrisy are judiciously yoked together, and made to say the same things ; and their joining to laugh at Christian when he talked of his experience, is perfectly na- tural, and well imagined. The circumstance of Christian sleeping and losing his roll in the pleasant arbour, forms an instructive incident, the moral of which is, that we should be guarded in our use of indulgences, which are even innocent and lawful 5 and that there is danger in being too well pleased with our own religious frames and feelings. The passage by the lions points to religious persecution, of the horrors of which (God be praised !) we only know by hearsay. But Bunyan, who had now been for several years a prisoner for conscience sake, must have written feel- ingly on this subject. He found, however, the lions chain- ed ; so that, though they roared and terrified him, they could do him no hurt. On the contrary, Bunyan's im- prisonment gave opportunity and occasion for a work thats has done incalculable good, as well as procured its author an immortal name. Little did the enemies of Bunyan, and of the Gospel, think that Bedford jail would have produced a Pilgrim's Progress ! The entertainment of Christian at the house Beautiful, resembles that which he met with at the house of the In~> KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 41- terpreter, and, therefore, so far, loses the charm of novelty. The conversation of Discretion seems not very interest- ing and appropriate ; but that of Prudence, PIETy, and Charity, makes ample amends, and ,is in every view ex- cellent. Mr. Bunyan's commentators seem agreed, that the house Beautiful represents a visible church of Christ; that is according to the author's sentiments, an independent con' gregation of professing Christians 5 and the conversation of the maid Discretion, and the other virgin before supper is supposed to refer to the previous examination of mem- bers; the supper itself to represent the Lord's supper, and the subsequent conversation to represent the advantages of church communion. The conflict between Christian and Apollyon is very properly introduced in the Valley of Humiliation, which seems here not so properly to intend that disposition ofmmd we call humility, but those circumstances of hu- miliation, affliction, and distress, into which Christians are often brought; as were Job, David, and many other emi- nent believers recorded in the scriptures. Thus humbled in their circumstances, and dejected in their minds they are often assaulted by the tempter; but it is our mercy to be fore-warned and fore-armed, as was our Pilgrim, espc daily with the shield of faith, which not only repels, but quenches, all the fiery darts of Satan. The critics have determined, that a degree of obscurity is an essential ingredient in the terrific sublime. Without knoivmg any thing of the rule, Bunvan has, in more in stances than one, conformed to it. A less judicious writer would have described the monster more minutely, in ail his parts and features ; but our author has mentioned only the capital features, and by mentioning the smoke and fire out 416 KEY TO THE PILGRIM^ PROGRESS. of his belly, has thrown such an obscurity over the whole* as greatly increases the terror of the description. The Valley of the Shadow of Death seems a master* piece in this class of writing, and would not suffer by a comparison with any thing written by Milton, Spenser, of any of our poets. The introduction to this scene by the return of the two men who had been terrified by a glimpse of it, is particularly judicious and striking, and forms an interesting part of the description ; the whole of which is perfectly scriptural, and consistent with experience ; and in particular with the experience of the author himself. The circumstance of Christian's not distinguishing his own voice, brings to our recollection that dreadful temptation which. Bunyan mistook (as many sincere souls do) for the consent of his own heart to part with Christ his Saviour. The comfort he received from hearing the voice of one before him, and the reasons of his comfort, are introduced with no less judgment and propriety ; but there is no end to the noting of beauties in an author that is so full of them. Before we proceed, I know not how to forbear making some remarks upon Bunyan's frequent introduction of in- fernal agents, which many consider, in the present age, as the chimeras of imagination, and the mere personification of evil principles. But our author's opinion coincided (whe- ther he knew it or not) with that of the more celebrated Milton, that ' Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth * Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.' The malignant part of these, knowing the weakness of our frame, and ever ready to take the advantage of it, watch their opportunity, and the advantage of melancholy tern- 1 KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 417 pers and weak nerves, to harass the mind with ideal images, sometimes even to distraction. Say not, < Where * then is the power and goodness of God ?' because in this case, it is no more to be impeached, than in the sufferance of accidents to our frame, or those disorders merely bodily : all these cases are under the immediate control of God, who says to these as to the raging seas, { Hitherto shalt * thou come, but no farther ; and here shall thy proud « waves be stayed :' and who, with respect to his own people, will not suffer them to be tempted beyond what they are able to bear j but who, with every temptation, makes a way for their escape. The description of the cave of Pope and Pagan at the end of this valley is picturesque and striking, as well as just. Paganism is indeed no more, and Popery so weakened in its power of doing mischief, that pilgrims may pass here at pre- sent with little danger. Still, however, it is no less true than formerly, that those who live godly in Christ Jesus must suffer persecution in one form or another ; as we may have further occasion to remark. When Christian overtakes Faithful, our author, in the conversation between them, finds an opportunity to describe some of the varieties of Christian experience, where the work of grace is essentially the same. Faithful escaped the Slough of Despond, but he had a dangerous encounter with Mrs. Wanton : he also escaped Apollyon, but had a hard conflict with Shame. Faithful on the whole is re- presented as stronger in grace than Christian j wherefore he is said to enjoy the sunshine all through, not only the valley of Humiliation, but that of the Shadow of Death : this latter circumstance appears to me however an incon- sistency, since darkness is implied in the very name of that dreary valley. 3H 418 KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. The reason why Faithful made no stop at the house on the hill (called Beautiful), is mystically expressed, and has puzzled some of the commentators on this book, namely, be- cause he had so much of the day before him. I apprehend this designed to intimate that some faithful persons are afraid of attaching themselves to any particular church or party of Christians, lest this should too much take off their attention from the more important concerns of the divine life. Our author hints, indeed, that this is a mistake, when he puts a wish into Christian's mouth that his companion had stopped there j and assures him that it would rather have been a help, than a hindrance, in his journey. This passage has been cited as a beautiful example of our author's candour ; it is certainly a proof that he was not the bigot which some of his biographers have pretended. The character of Talkative is admirably drawn, and the succeeding talk for some time well supported ; but the side conversation between the two pilgrims, wherein Christian discovers his character to Faithful, is too long and parti- cular to be natural : also the subsequent dialogue between the latter and Talkative has too much the appearance of captiousness, and a defect of Christian charity ; this perhaps is however more in appearance than in reality; since Talk- ative is certainly a dangerous character, and the sentiments of Faithful are just, and judiciously expressed, though with some severity. "We novy hasten to Vanity-fair, and the interesting view, there given, cf persecution for a good conscience. The trial of Faithful is too just a picture of those of many of the nonconformists of the last age ; and the character of my lord Hate good is such an exact picture of the infamous judge Jeffereys as to strike everJ|$Cader acquainted with th§ history of those times. ±J$fr' KEY TO THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS, • 419 Bunyan, whose invention was inexhaustible, has given expressive names to each of the jury, and sentiments appro- priate to their names, The indictment exhibited against these Pilgrims contains the charges which will always be ex- hibited against good men by those who are their enemies for the sake of their religion. ' Master, in thus saying thou ' reproachest us also I' The world itself is meant by Vanity-fair. It £ is a large c and populous town, whose numerous inhabitants are con- nected, as self-interest dictates. When their interests ap- * pear to coincide, they are friends, brothers, and kind ac- quaintance; when their interests jar, they are enemies. * From the monarchs who rule, down through all the depart- ' ments of life, to the cottager who labours ; all are actuated « by the same motive-, each moves in his sphere, in the same ' manner : for as face ansnvereth to face in the water, so doth the ' heart of man to man. Men's interests have different modifica- tions, which arise from difference of inclination, taste, educa- « tion, or prejudice ; these modifications take their forms and ( names from the three aggregates of all that is in the world, < the lust of thefesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, and < are denominated fame, honour, glory, love, wealth, and « what not ! but the life and soul of all these is one and the « same thing, self-interest or gratification. The world is « called the town of Vanity, because the dispositions of all * the children of the world are lighter than vanity : and be- ' cause all the business and cares which occupy their minds, « are vanity : the eagerness and diligence of their pursuits con- < stitute the idea of the bustle of zfair, and the constancy of < those pursuits that of " a fair kept all the year." < If you look over the list of the commodities of this fair, « you will find that some of them are in themselves lawful, 1 if lawfully pursued and used: nevertheless they are vanity, * Lulse, xi. 45. 420 • KEY TO THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS. « when compared with heavenly things ; and must, if called * for, be sacrificed and forsaken for the celestial crown. If < the lawful things of the world are vanity, what are the un- ' lawful ? — Not only vanity, but vexation of spirit. ' The entrance of sin into the world, was the origin of this « fair. The conducting and government of the world, as n (fairt has ever since been managed by Satan, who is called ' the god of this world, and the ruler of its darkness. Infinite < Wisdom, for the best purposes, no doubt, has ordained that ' his children should pass through this horrid scene of vanity, < confusion, and wickedness. * There is such a contrast betwixt the faithful disciples of < the Lord, and the men of this world ; that they appear, as ( they really are, strangers, and of different countries. In e places where the Gospel has been a while established, and < the novelty of it and its effects a little worn off, the < wonder of the men of the world has ceased j and, without « a grain more of love to Christ or his people, they return to < their own affairs, and let the disciples alone : but whenever, * and wherever, the Gospel has made its first appearance, or * there has been a revival of it in spirit and power, after a < long time of lukewarmness and formality, the consequences * have always been similar to those described by our author, < concerning his pilgrims at Vanity-fair 1.i This long and excellent quotation supersedes the necessity of any farther remarks on this part of the work. Only I would add, that this scene of persecution is very properly in- troduced by the premonition of Evangelist ; and that while Faithful is carried up, like Elijah, in a fiery chariot to the skies, Christian is happily extricated from his confinement, with a pious and sensible remark on the superintendance of divine providence. * A Key to the Pilgrim's Progress, by Ar.dronUus. p. 180—185. KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 421 Christian, thus deprived of his companion, seems now left to pursue his journey in solitude and silence; but our author very judiciously raises him a companion in Hopeful, who had been converted by the martyrdom of Faithful—thus exemplifying the Christian proverb, that < the blood of the < martyrs is the seed of the church.' A judicious writer hath observed that < the nature of an 'allegory rendered it impracticable to introduce the new « convert, as beginning his pilgrimage from the same place, ' or going through the same scenes as Christian had done: « neither could Faithful, for the same reason, be repre- * sented as passing the river afterwards mentioned.' Strict theological propriety must sometimes give way in composi- tions of this nature ; since it is impossible to make every cir- cumstance answer, without spoiling the beauty of the imagery, and the consistency of the narrative. It must be confessed that Bunyan introduces his new Pilgrim to us rather suddenly and abruptly; but perhaps there is a beau- ty in leaving something to the reader's imagination to supply which is always better than to satiate the attention with too* many particulars. In the sequel, however, we shall see the apparent defect supplied, and the conversion of Hopefui in- troduced with all the art and judgment of an epic writer The subsequent conversation between Christian and By- ends, and his companions, contains a mixture of argument and satire, equally instructive and entertaining; and withal so simple and easy to be understood, that any attempt to explain it might rather render it obscure. The incidents of Demas and the silver mine, and pillar of salt, arc well introduced, and properly improved ; but neither do these need any comment. The pleasant river with which our Pilgrims were re- freshed, evidently intends those consolations which the Lord's people are sometimes favoured with in their journey 422 KEY TO THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS. to the celestial Canaan, but which cannot be expected throughout all the passage. It is a mercy if we may enjoy these comforts in our way ; nor must we murmur, or be sur- prised, as if ( some strange thing befel us,' when this river and our path shall part again. Let us beware of Bye- path Meadow ; that is, of leaving the direct way of our duty, on account of its difficulty and unpleasantness, which is the sure road to distress and ruin. < The way of duty is « the way of safety.' Though Bunyan perhaps never read any of our old ro- mances, and knew nothing of giants and enchanted castles, but by vulgar tradition ; no writer has made so good a use of these popular absurdities. Giant Despair is sketched •with a bold and masterly hand. His language and his man- ners impress us with more terror than any minute description of gigantic form could possibly have done. In a theological view this part of the work is yet more admirable ; as it describes the causes, progress, and cure of religious melancholy. The cause appears in the departure of the Pilgrims from the king's high-way, the way of holiness j for in that Despair had no .jurisdiction. The progress of their distress is natural, till they are even tempted to destroy themselves •, and the reasoning of Christian and Hopeful on this subject is very appropriate and beautiful. Nor is less so the account of their deliverance by means of the key of promise i from which we may learn, that however we may be brought into distress of soul, our continuance therein arises from neglect of the divine promises, which when properly understood and applied are answerable to every case of doubt and distress ; or,\ as our author says, < will open any < lock in Doubting Castle.' The scene of the delectable Mountains forms a pro- per contrast to the preceding. Here our Pilgrims are con- ducted to mount Error, where they are taught the dan- KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 423 gerous nature and tendency of heretical opinions. It is called a hilly because it is by ambition to be « wise above what « is written,' than men become « vain in their imaginations ;' and they much more frequently imbibe dangerous and de- structive errors thus, than by simple ignorance, or want of religious information. Our author's modesty in this place is also to be observed and commended; in that, while, with the Apostle, he represents some errors as dangerous and fatal (contrary to the fashionable opinion of the present day), yet he does not chuse to instance in any of those condemned iperely by the church and by fallible divines ; but in one ex- pressly branded by the pen of inspiration, that of* Hymeneus « and Philetus.' They are next led to mount Caution, to see the dangers they had escaped, when they were delivered from the Giant's hands. And the view they had of the « blind among the ' tombs,' was to teach them and us, that the tendency of despair, when men are wholly given up to it, is to darken the understanding and to render the heart insensible. Ex- clude hope totally from the human mind, and you destroy every spring of virtuous action. No being can love God when totally rejected of him ; nor obey him, when every ex- pectation of acceptance is finally cut off. A view of the hypocrite's Bye-way to Hell so awakened the fears of our Pilgrims, that it was with much trembling they ascended the third hill, called Clear, and looked through the prospect-glass of faith to the gates of the celes- tial city ; yet, with all their weakness, and notwithstanding the distance of the view, still they thought they saw « some- f what of the glory of the place.' We now journey onward with our travellers, and overtake Ignorance, but pass him for the present, as we shall have some reason to notice him again presently. The robbery of £ittle-faith is an interesting episode. * Precious faith,* 424 KEY TO THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS. and the graces of God's Spirit, are evidently the jewels of which this poor man could not be deprived •, though he lost much of his present comfort and enjoyments, intended by his spending MONEY. This character is contrasted with that of Turn-away the apostate, in order to shew that though mere ' wanton professors' may often turn back into the world, and become seven-fold more the children of Satan than before they made profession ; yet where there is true faith, though it be but weak and little, its possessor shall hold on his way, and finally gain admission to the«celestial city. As to the little misunderstanding between our Pilgrims, I confess I much admire the management of our author, who by this means has thrown a degree of life and novelty into the conversation ; and at the same time exhibited a fine moral lesson of candour and forbearance hetween Christian brethren. Our travellers had been cautioned at the Delectable Moun- tains against the artifices of the Flatterer ; yet when the black man in a white robe (a very proper description of a hypocritical false teacher) met them, so fair was his appear- ance, and so plausible his speech, that they did not imagine « that this fine-spoken man had been he.' Thus were they led into the snare of error, signified by a net, till the Lord < sent his angel and delivered them,' and set them in their right way ; rejoicing as they went, though smarting for their folly, and determined to listen to the Flatterer no more, < No prophet or dreamer of dreams, ' No ma9ter of plausible speech, ' To live like an angel, who seems, * Or like an apostle to preach, * Should meet with a moment's regard, * But rather be boldly withstood, 'If any thing easy, or hard, * He teach, save the Lamb and his blood.' Hart* KEY TO THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS." 425 The next character introduced is that of Atheist, which is short, but drawn with admirable skill ; and the subsequent conversation of the Pilgrims is very pertinent. The Enchanted Ground represents a state of worldly prosperity, always dangerous to Christians, as it has a tend- ency to render them supine and sleepy ; the great care our Pilgrims took to avoid this danger, shews the advantages that often arise to good men, by the consequences of one miscarriage preserving them from the dangers of another. The remembrance of what they suffered by the Flatterer brings to recollection also the other caution of the shepherds, to * beware of the enchanted ground,' by which means they are guarded against, and escape, its dangers. The experience of Hopeful, before omitted, is now intro- duced with excellent effect, to divert their attention, and pre- serve them from slumber, to which the air of the country strongly disposed them. The reader will be naturally struck, on comparing this with the life of Bunyan, to observe its similarity ; and it merits particular attention in a theological view, as giving a very just and scriptural account of the doc- trine of divine acceptance, and the justification of a sinner. We are now again introduced to Ignorance, a charac- ter intended to describe, not the merely uninformed sinner, but such whose hearts are hardened against divine instruction, and rebellious against the truth of God. But the discourse of Christian is so plain and faithful, as to leave no necessity for farther explication or enlargement. The history of Temporary, which follows, exhibits another awful character of apostacy, varied from those we have met with, and shew- ing very particularly and fully, the reasons of their declension, and the steps by which they return back unto perdition. These are displayed, it may be, with too much systematic regularity ; but this was not the fault of Bunyan, but the fashion of the times. 31 426 KEY TO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.