THE 
 
 PILGRIM'S 
 PROGRESS 
 
 BUNYAN 
 
GIFT OF 
 A. P. Morrison 
 
 ' 
 
 A 
 
JOHN BWYAK. 
 
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS 
 TO COME: DELIVERED UNDER THE SI- 
 MILITUDE OF A DREAM : WHEREIN IS DIS- 
 COVERED THE MANNER OF HIS SETTING 
 OUT, HIS DANGEROUS JOURNEY, AND 
 SAFE ARRIVAL AT THE DESIRED 
 COUNTRY, BY 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 WITH A PREFACE BY CHARLES KINGSLEY 
 
 AND 118 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 CHARLES H. BENNETT 
 
 LONDON 
 
 G1BBINGS <JNT> COMTJNT, LIMITED 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
 
 1897 
 

 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Edition, Longmans, 1860 (iu.) 
 &<TOH^ Edition, Bradbury, 1868 (zu.) 
 
A SERIES of illustrations worthy of the great Puritan 
 mystery has been as yet a desideratum. The eighteenth 
 century could not be expected to produce one. The 
 nineteenth has not produced one as yet, in spite of the 
 great advance in the art of rendering thought into form, 
 which is due to the influence of German designers. The 
 reasons of this want are simple enough. The Puritan 
 bodies, to whom John Bunyan belongs, have not sufficiently 
 lost their hereditary dislike of the fine arts, to produce 
 from their own ranks artists capable of so great a work. 
 The religious artists of the Church of England have 
 employed their pencils rather on Scriptural and Mediaeval 
 subjects. Whether the author of these designs, by trying 
 to imagine for himself Bunyan's thoughts, rather from a 
 simply human, than from a sectarian point of view, has 
 done aught to supply the want, the Public must judge. 
 If he has in some things failed, sensible persons at least 
 will find excuses for him in the great difficulty of the 
 undertaking. 
 
 To be a faithful illustrator of any book is no light 
 task. For no illustration can be considered true which 
 
 vii 
 
 M103475 
 
viii THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 does not project on paper the very image which was 
 projected upon the author's brain. Every poet (and 
 Bunyan was a poet) thinks in pictures : to guess what 
 each picture was, and set it down, is the whole of the 
 illustrator's duty. But this requires a dramatic faculty, 
 a power of standing in another man's place, and seeing 
 with his eyes, which falls to the lot of few ; and which 
 in the case of Bunyan, whose strength lies in his know- 
 ledge of human character, falls to the lot of very few indeed. 
 His men and women are living persons, no two of them 
 alike ; not mere abstractions of a vice or a virtue, but 
 English men and women of his own time, whose natural 
 peculiarities of countenance, language, gesture, have been 
 moulded in the course of years, by obedience to some 
 one overruling defect or virtue. I say of one ; for of 
 those complexities and contradictions of the human heart, 
 which we are now so fond of trying to unravel, Bunyan 
 takes little note. The distinction between the children 
 of light and those of darkness was too strongly marked, 
 both in his religious system, and (as he believed) in the 
 two English parties of the day, for him to conceive those 
 double characters which Shakespeare, from a wider and 
 clearer point of view, saw round him, and drew so well. 
 Was the man regenerate or unregenerate ? A child of 
 God or of the Devil ? A good man and true, or a bad 
 man and false ? is his only criterion. In his regenerate 
 characters, indeed, such as Christian and Hopeful, he intro- 
 duces this self-contradiction, the image of that inward 
 conflict between 'the spirit and the flesh,' which he had 
 
"PREFACE 
 
 IX 
 
 felt in himself: but in the unregenerate ones he allows 
 of no such conflict. They are self-contentedly c dead in 
 trespasses and sins,' the slaves of some one bad habit, 
 which has moulded gradually their whole personality. In 
 this conception, narrow as it seems at first sight, he is 
 not altogether wrong. It is a patent fact, that in pro- 
 portion as any man is shut up in self, and insensible of 
 the higher aims of life, his character narrows to one 
 overruling idea, and becomes absorbed by one overruling 
 passion, till, like the madman, he becomes unconscious 
 of the whole universe, save at the one fixed point at 
 which it seems to touch his own selfish nature. Shake- 
 speare, when he draws (as he very seldom does) thoroughly 
 bad men, finds it necessary to narrow their sphere of 
 thought and feeling, till they would become (under less 
 skilful hands than his) mere impersonations of some special 
 vice. Edmund, Shylock, and lago have that horrible 
 consistency of aim, that concentration of mind and heart 
 upon one paltry purpose, which Bunyan has extended to 
 the whole 'unregenerate' world. The vast middle mass 
 (as yet unclassified in any system) which lies between 
 'saints' and 'sinners,' and in which our modern poet, 
 dramatist, novelist, work as their proper sphere of subject 
 matter, he simply could not see. That there were even 
 among saints self-contradictory characters in plenty, like 
 By-ends and Demas, his knowledge of fact taught him ; 
 but his system commanded him to pronounce them, too, 
 ' unregenerate ' and ' false brethren,' not to be numbered 
 among the elect. 
 
x THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Fettered by so narrow and partial a conception of 
 humanity, Bunyan's genius must indeed have been great 
 to enable him to represent each personage in his book 
 as a separate individual, differing, even in the minutiae of 
 manner and language, each from the other; and yet 
 having those very minutiae tinged by the ruling passion : 
 and all the more difficult must be the task of the 
 illustrator, who undertakes to reproduce the very human 
 faces which Bunyan saw in his vision which he had 
 seen, perhaps, in the church and in the market-place, 
 and studied by such instincts or rules of physiognomy 
 as he had, before he transferred them to his story. 
 
 For that Bunyan drew mostly from life there can be 
 little doubt. He may have been now and then, like all 
 true poets, an idealiser, out of several personages com- 
 pounding one. But the very narrowness of his characters, 
 when considered together with their strong individuality, 
 makes it more probable that he accepted certain persons 
 whom he actually knew in life, as fair types of the fault 
 which he was exposing. 
 
 On this method, therefore, Mr. Bennett has constructed 
 the great majority of his ideal portraits. Believing that 
 the ideal is best seen in the actual, the universal in the 
 particular, he has boldly drawn, as far as he could, from 
 life. I say boldly ; for to do this is to do no less than 
 to run his knowledge of human nature against Bunyan's. 
 But by no other method, surely, was success attainable ; 
 and if he has fallen short, he has fallen short on the 
 right road. For Bunyan's men are not merely life- 
 
"PREFACE xi 
 
 portraits, but English Portraits ; men of the solid, practical, 
 unimpassioned midland race. In no other country in 
 Europe did Puritanism develop itself in a form of which 
 The Pilgrim's Progress would have been the true 
 exponent. The mystic element, always so strong in 
 Germany, is altogether wanting ; and the calmness of its 
 tone, conceived as it was amid war and persecution, con- 
 trasts and most favourably with the virulence and 
 ferocity which stained both Scotch and French Puritanism. 
 Midland English John Bunyan is wholly ; and seeing that 
 the character of midland men seems to have changed, since 
 his time, as little as their surnames, the truest types of 
 his creations are still to be looked for in the country 
 where he wrote. 
 
 All attempt to ennoble the subject by introducing a 
 Classic or Scriptural type of feature and figure, as some 
 have done, is absurd. The book represents the life- 
 thoughts not of Greeks, nor of Jews, but of English 
 yeomen and tradesmen ; and as such should its person- 
 ages be drawn. Half-naked figures in violent postures 
 were not in John Bunyan's brain as he wrote ; but quiet 
 folk going about Bedford town in slop-breeches, bands, 
 and steeple hats ; and even the ' three shining ones ' who 
 met Christian at the foot of the cross, are, perhaps, none 
 other than the three poor women who sat at a door in 
 the sun in Bedford town, and talked with him of heavenly 
 things, ere he had yet learnt the c way to heaven.' To 
 him it would have been blasphemy to suppose that even 
 old Jews were nearer the spiritual world than Bedford 
 
xii THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 tradesmen ; or that the sacredness of his figures could 
 be increased by putting them into the flowing garments 
 of another country and age. To him, as to all true 
 Puritans, God was here, living, working, present, even 
 more mightily (unless c Gospel privileges ' were below those 
 of 'the Law') than in the days of patriarchs and pro- 
 phets ; and the same intense sense of the divine presence 
 which made, in his eyes, all forms and ceremonies, all 
 beauty of art and poetry, as worthless as the picture is 
 beside the living reality, would have made him content 
 to clothe his figures as he saw folks clothed around him ; 
 even (could he have sympathised with Catholics) to under- 
 stand why the old painters represented Bible personages 
 in the dress of mediaeval Italy, and introduced portraits of 
 men still living into pictures of Bible stories. Heaven 
 and hell had again drawn near to earth, and mingled 
 themselves with the common works and ways of men, 
 even as in the time of Luther or of Dante. And in 
 their light, celestial -infernal, the modern and the com- 
 monplace became awful and sacred. While all souls were 
 naked before the judgment-seat of God, what matter for 
 the clothes their bodies wore ? 
 
 It is thus that in every age, intense and true faith ex- 
 presses itself in the most everyday and the most modern 
 forms ; while in ages of half belief and of dying creeds, 
 the artist and the public alike try to keep up in their 
 own minds the tradition of a sacredness which they feel 
 is vanishing away, by thrusting their conceptions back 
 into the grand mist of past ages, and dressing up the 
 
TREFACE xiii 
 
 ghosts of their heroes in the guise of mediaeval saints or 
 eastern Jews. It is c reverent,* it is ' ecclesiastical ' ; or 
 it is c sacred,' and c scriptural ' : but to the observant eye 
 it means this that men see a gulf between their own 
 hearts and those of the men of old time, which requires 
 a proper difference in their speech, gesture, dress, when 
 they are to be depicted : a gulf of which Bunyan was not 
 aware ; for to him By-ends and Talkative his neighbour 
 were in intimate relation to the same devil as were 
 Hymenaeus and Philetus ; and he himself, as Christian, 
 was as surely guided by the Eternal God as Abraham 
 when he left his father's house. 
 
 To render Bunyan, then, honestly, the dress, the very 
 fashion, of his day, ought to be carefully followed ; and 
 all representations of the undraped human figure, even of 
 those attitudes which display it theatrically, should be 
 carefully avoided. The undraped pictures and statues 
 which were (wrongly or rightly, no matter here) the 
 fashion in Charles's court, would have been to him c the 
 abominations of the heathen,' 'vanities from which he 
 must pray that his eyes might be turned away ' ; and 
 even in his description of Vanity Fair, or of Madam 
 Bubble, where most poetical imaginations would have 
 thought it but part of their duty to hint, at least, at 
 luxurious imagery, Bunyan is silent on the point : not 
 from prudery for he uses very plain old English words 
 but simply because such images never occurred to him. 
 
 For the same reasons, it seems to me, Mr. Bennett 
 has been right in choosing for his manner one formed on 
 
xiv THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 the study of Diirer and Holbein, and the other Teutonic 
 draughtsmen who had little or no acquaintance with 
 Greek and Italian art. A certain homeliness and hardi- 
 hood (I had almost said coarseness) of outline, will best 
 express the features which Bunyan's imagination or 
 memory pictured to him. For the very history of paint- 
 ing proves, that till it has been saturated with Greek art, 
 and, as it were, learnt to see through Greek eyes, the 
 Teutonic mind is at least unconscious of that element of 
 physical beauty which seems to consist in a secret but 
 perpetual tendency toward mathematical curve and pro- 
 portion in outlines. As the standard of beauty is the 
 same in both races, we must believe that the Teuton is 
 influenced by this element as much as the Greek was. 
 But the Greek alone analysed and consciously reproduced 
 it; and therefore it is to be employed in illustrating 
 English books, only in proportion to the degree in which 
 the author has been brought under the influence of Greek 
 art. An illustrator of Spenser, for example, would be 
 well repaid by a thorough study of the great Italian 
 draughtsmen from 1500 to 1590 even more so, perhaps, 
 than by studying Greek statuary, for it was with Italian 
 eyes that Spenser learnt to see ; while for the actual 
 work of the burin, Marc Antonio, not Albert Durer, 
 should be his master. But for The Pilgrim's Progress 
 Marc Antonio would teach nothing, and Albert Diirer 
 be the best master ; to the exclusion, of course, of all 
 conventional archaisms and unnecessary uglinesses things 
 always and in all men detestable and dishonest. 
 
TREFACE xv 
 
 In like manner, all ambitious attempts at landscape 
 drawing would be utterly out of place with regard to 
 "The Pilgrim's Progress. In one illustrated edition which 
 I have seen, fantastic mountain and forest scenery, and 
 grotesque and horrible combinations of it with demons 
 and monsters, form a large part of the drawings. But 
 such are no illustrations of Bunyan. They may be very 
 pretty in themselves ; but there is no evidence from the 
 book that such pictures ever presented themselves to him. 
 The poverty of his descriptive powers, the absence of 
 anything like our modern 'word-painting,' is characteristic 
 of the man. Born and bred in the monotonous midland, 
 he has no natural images beyond the pastures and brooks, 
 the towns and country houses, which he saw about him. 
 He is as thoroughly ' naturalist ' in them as in his charac- 
 ters : but when he requires images of a grander kind, he 
 goes to Scripture for them ; and his Delectable Moun- 
 tains, ' beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all kind, 
 flowers also,' are merely formed with that common reper- 
 tory of the Puritans, without individuality of any kind. 
 Why should they be ? Bunyan had probably never seen 
 a mountain in his life ; and was much too honest a man 
 to indulge his fancy without warrant of fact. The Bible 
 supplied him with ideal imagery enough to suit him j to 
 the Bible he went for it, and even to that modestly and 
 sparingly enough, as may be seen by comparing his quasi- 
 idyllic account of the Shepherds and their country with 
 Solomon's Song. His Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
 in like wise, he describes, not objectively, for the sake of 
 
xvi THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 the grand and terrible, but subjectively, for the sake of 
 the man who passes through it, naming merely, and that 
 without an epithet, all its satyrs and hobgoblins, snares, 
 gins, and pitfalls. 
 
 There is, in fact, in Bunyan, the same insensibility to 
 the beautiful and the awful in nature, which is noticeable 
 in the early Christians, the mediaeval monks, and perhaps 
 in all persons under strong religious excitement. Where 
 the unseen world is all in all, the visible world is only 
 important in as far as it bears on the soul within ; while 
 to point out that bearing, the most conventional forms 
 are sufficient. 
 
 To have heaped up, in the background of these illustra- 
 tions, detailed natural scenes, would have been to mistake 
 the difference between it and Spenser's Fairy Queen. In 
 that the great allegory of the anti-Puritan party, man is 
 considered as striving to do noble work in this world, not 
 merely, as in The Pilgrim's Progress, to pass through 
 it on his journey to some better world; in the former, 
 therefore, the proper background is the world itself, in 
 all its forms, whether natural or artificial ; in the latter, 
 the world is renounced, and the only background is the 
 heaven toward which man is journeying. 
 
 This difference, of course, makes The Pilgrims Pro- 
 gress a far narrower field for the artist than The Fairy 
 Queen a book which, perhaps, offers more noble and 
 more varied subjects for the pencil than any othei, book 
 in the world : one would, for Bunyan's sake, that this 
 were the only point of contrast. 
 
TREFACE xvii 
 
 But it must be confessed, that Bunyan is inferior to 
 Spenser in ethic, as well as in artistic beauty. As was 
 to be expected from his idea of man's life, as an escape 
 from hell, the virtues on which he insists are chiefly, if 
 not altogether, those which have been named 'the selfish 
 virtues ' prudence, sound self-interest, and enduring 
 determination ; all good, but not exclusively ' Christian 
 graces.' These, with a truly English honesty and plain- 
 ness of speech, and a hearty and simple gratitude to his 
 Divine Deliverer, constitute Bunyan's ' Christian ' : but 
 of those more godlike elements of character on which 
 Spenser chiefly dwells, the elements which are called out 
 by man's actual work in the world on behalf of others, 
 not merely on behalf of himself, of these Bunyan says 
 but little. Of justice and faithfulness between man and 
 man ; of generosity, pity, chivalry, self-sacrifice, and that 
 fire of divine love which drives forth alike strong men 
 and weak women to dare and suffer all things for their 
 fellow-men, we read little or nought in his pages. His 
 'saints' are not St. Elizabeths or St. Vincent Pauls, 
 Howards or Nightingales. True, certain of them delight, 
 kindly enough, in showing hospitality : but it is to ' pil- 
 grims ' in plain words, to those who agree with their 
 opinions. The likeness of our Father in heaven, the 
 perfect virtue which causes its sun to shine on the evil 
 and /an the good, and its rain to fall on the just and on 
 the njust, and is perfect in this, that it is good to the 
 unthankful and the evil, John Bunyan, if he had seen, 
 does not describe. His eyes are clearly fixed on a heaven 
 
 b 
 
xviii THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 beyond the grave : but on this side of the grave, and 
 among mortal flesh and blood, there is a loftier heaven 
 than he has told of in his book. And for that very 
 reason, his story offers the artist none of those passages 
 of humanity which are most noble or most pathetic ; and 
 confines him, on the whole, to the delineation of one, 
 and that an insular, type of humanity ; his ideal must be 
 the shrewd plain-spoken Englishman of the middle class, 
 with his power (the power which has colonised the world) 
 of fixing his eye steadily upon one object, and of com- 
 passing that object by inflexible determination and courage. 
 All the vices of which he speaks, again, must be considered 
 as deflections from this ideal ; as different types of weak- 
 ness ; whether they take the form of sensuality, or of 
 inconsistency, or of self-deception, they are alike in the 
 inability to see what is to be done, and do it and nothing 
 else. In his power of drawing these characters lies Bunyan's 
 strength ; by these his book will live as long as the English 
 language lives. His Interpreters, his damsels who arm 
 the pilgrim, and all the rest which he has borrowed, 
 whether from Spenser, or some English translation of the 
 old mediaeval Pelerinage de I'Homme all these are the 
 merest shadows by the side of Spenser's detailed and intense 
 ideal portraitures : but his men and women are living 
 flesh and blood, interesting to all Englishmen for ever. 
 His scheme of human life, narrow and exceptional at first, 
 is utterly untrue now, when the Puritan, instead of re- 
 nouncing the unbelieving world, and fleeing from the City 
 of Destruction, in expectation of an immediate day of 
 
 
TREFACE xix 
 
 judgment, is born and bred in his own prosperous sect, 
 among all the means of grace ; and finds, as he grows 
 up, c Religion walking in her silver slippers,' profession 
 the surest road to prosperity, himself in high esteem and 
 political power in the streets of Vanity Fair, and the 
 maxims of that great mart (in those commercial matters 
 in which alone he comes in contact with it) coinciding 
 exactly with his own : but Obstinate and Pliable, By-ends 
 and Legality, still live, and will live for ever, and, let us 
 trust, Faithful and Hopeful with them ; and the man who 
 translates them out of the pages of Bunyan into human 
 forms and countenances, will have done good service by 
 increasing our knowledge of types of humanity which are 
 permanent, however partial. 
 
 C. KINGSLEY. 
 1860. 
 
 ALAS ! the grave now covers the cunning hand and brain 
 which wrought these illustrations. The spirit which 
 created them may be now doing nobler work, in a nobler 
 world, in which they have already attained, and have no 
 fear of dying worn out in the weary toil of attaining, 
 as my friend Charles Bennett died. 
 
 C. KINGSLEY. 
 1868. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN, .. . . . . Frontispiece 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 VIGNETTE, ....... XXIX 
 
 PART I 
 
 HALF-TITLE, ....... XXXI 
 
 CHRISTIAN, ....... 10 
 
 ' I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my 
 back.' 
 
 VIGNETTE, ....... II 
 
 ' So I saw in my dream that the man began to run.' 
 
 EVANGELIST, . . . . . . .15 
 
 1 A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honourable person." 
 
 OBSTINATE, . . . . . . 1 6 
 
 1 Be ruled by me and go back.' 
 
 PLIABLE, ....... 19 
 
 ' Well, Neighbour Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin to come to a point.' 
 
 HELP, ........ 22 
 
 1 And set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way.' 
 
 MR. WORLDLY-WISEMAN, . . . . .25 
 
 ' Therefore he always goes to the town of Morality to church.' 
 
 xxi 
 
xxii THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 PAGE 
 LEGALITY, ....... 29 
 
 4 A man of a very good name, that has skill to help men off with such 
 burdens as thine is from their shoulders." 
 
 CIVILITY, ....... 30 
 
 ' And for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but 
 a hypocrite, and cannot help thee.' 
 
 THE INTERPRETER, ...... 41 
 
 ' He knocked over and over. At last one came to the door.' 
 
 BIBLE AND CROWN, ...... 42 
 
 ' He is sure in the world that comes next to have glory for his reward.' 
 
 BROOM AND WATER, ...... 43 
 
 c He that began to sweep at first, is the law ; but she that brought water, 
 and did sprinkle it, is the gospel.' 
 
 PASSION AND PATIENCE, ..... 45 
 
 ' Passion seemed to be much discontented, but Patience was very quiet.' 
 
 OIL AND WATER, ...... 47 
 
 ' This is Christ, who continually maintains the work already begun in the 
 heart, notwithstanding what the Devil can do.' 
 
 SWORD AND HELMET, ...... 48 
 
 ' He cut his way through them all.' 
 
 THE MAN IN THE CAGE, ..... 49 
 
 ' I have so hardened my heart that I cannot repent. ' 
 
 THE EYE, ....... 51 
 
 'And as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me.' 
 
 SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND PRESUMPTION, .... 55 
 
 ' Where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters 
 upon their heels.' 
 
 FORMALIST, ...... 57 
 
 1 If we are in, we are in.' 
 
 HYPOCRISY, ....... 59 
 
 ' We also are in the way, that came tumbling over the wall.' 
 
 TIMOROUS, ...... 63 
 
 ' The farther we go, the more danger we meet with ; wherefore we turned, 
 and are going back again. ' 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xxiii 
 
 PAGE 
 MISTRUST, ....... 65 
 
 ' For just before us lie a couple of lions in the way, whether sleeping or 
 waking we know not.' 
 
 WATCHFUL THE PORTER, ..... 67 
 
 ' Saying, Fear not the lions, for they are chained.' 
 
 DISCRETION, ....... 71 
 
 ' A grave and beautiful damsel. ' 
 
 PRUDENCE, ...... -73 
 
 ' Do you not think sometimes of the country from whence you came?' 
 
 PIETY, ....... 75 
 
 ' I am glad that you are so well disposed.' 
 
 CHARITY, ....... 77 
 
 'CHR. I have a wife and four small children.' 
 
 ' CHA. And why did you not bring them along with you ? ' 
 
 CHRISTIAN'S ARMOUR, ..... 81 
 
 ' Which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, 
 breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out.' 
 
 MOSES 1 ROD, ....... 8l 
 
 THE HAMMER AND NAIL, . . . ... 82 
 
 With which Jael slew Sisera. 
 
 PITCHER, TRUMPET, AND LAMP OF GIDEON, ... 82 
 
 SHAMGAR'S ox GOAD, ...... 82 
 
 SAMSON'S JAW-BONE, ... 83 
 
 DAVID'S SLING, . .83 
 
 A HAND WITH SOME LEAVES, . . . . . 91 
 
 Of the Tree of Life. 
 
 THE MOUTH OF THE PIT, ..... 94 
 
 ' One of the wicked ones got behind him, and stepped up softly to him, 
 and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, 
 which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind.' 
 
 POPE, ....... 96 
 
 ' By whose power and tyranny the men whose bones, blood, ashes, etc., 
 lay there, were cruelly put to death.' 
 
xxiv THE TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 FAITHFUL, ... ... 99 
 
 ' My honoured and well-beloved brother. ' 
 
 WANTON, ....... 103 
 
 ' You cannot think (but that you know something) what a flattering tongue 
 she had.' 
 
 THE LUST OF THE FLESH, ...... 104 
 
 THE OLD ADAM, ...... 105 
 
 ' He said his name was Adam the First, and that he dwelt in the town of 
 Deceit. 1 
 
 THE LUST OF THE EYES .... 106 
 
 THE PRIDE OF LIFE, . . 107 
 
 DISCONTENT, . . . . . . m 
 
 ' His reason was, for that the valley was altogether without honour.' 
 
 PRIDE, .... . . 131 
 
 ARROGANCY, . . .115 
 
 SELF-CONCEIT, . . uj 
 
 WORLDLY-GLORY, . .119 
 
 SHAME, .... 121 
 
 ' But indeed this Shame was a bold villain. ' 
 
 TALKATIVE, . . . . . . .123 
 
 ' I have heard of you that you are a man whose religion lies in talk.' 
 
 VANITY FAIR, . . . . . .136 
 
 Fools, Cheats, Murders ; Shams, Jugglers. 
 
 VANITY FAIR, . . . . . .137 
 
 Titles, Countries and Kingdoms, Servants ; Trades, Houses and Lands, 
 Brutalities. 
 
 VANITY FAIR, . . . . . .138 
 
 Lives, Scandals ; Games, Husbands and Wives, Games. 
 
 VANITY FAIR, ...... 139 
 
 Philosophies ; Preferments, False Swearers, Places. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xxv 
 
 PAGE 
 
 VANITY FAIR, 14 
 
 Apes ; The True Carnival. 
 
 LORD HATEGOOD, . . H5 
 
 'An ungodly villain.' 
 
 ENVY, SUPERSTITION, AND PICKTHANK, . 14-7 
 
 ' Hast thou heard what these honest gentlemen have witnessed against 
 thee?' 
 
 HIS HONOURABLE FRIENDS, . . I4- 8 
 
 ' Whose names are the Lord Oldman, the Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord 
 Luxurious, the Lord Desire-of-Vain-Glory, my Old Lord Lechery, 
 and Sir Having Greedy.' 
 
 THE JURY, ...... 151 
 
 ' Then went the jury out, whose names were : Mr. Blindman, Mr. No- 
 good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. 
 High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, 
 and Mr. Implacable.' 
 
 HOPEFUL, ...... 153 
 
 ' Being made so by the beholding of Christian and Faithful.' 
 
 MY LORD TURN-ABOUT, . . . . T 55 
 
 MY LORD TIME-SERVER, . . . 156 
 
 MY LADY FEIGNING'S DAUGHTER, . 157 
 
 ' And is arrived to such a pitch of breeding that she knows how to carry 
 it to all, even to prince and peasant.' 
 
 MY LORD FAIR-SPEECH, . . . . .158 
 
 ' From whose ancestors that town first took its name.' 
 
 MR. SMOOTH-MAN, ..... 1 59 
 
 MR. FACING-BOTH-WAYS, . . . . . 1 60 
 
 MR. ANYTHING, ...... l6l 
 
 MR. TWO-TONGUES, . . . . . .162 
 
 ' And the parson of our parish, Mr. Two-tongues.' 
 
 MR. GRIPE-MAN, ...... 163 
 
 ' A schoolmaster in Love-gain, which is a market-town in the county of 
 Coveting, in the North : he taught them the art of getting.' 
 
xxvi THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MR. HOLD-THE-WORLD AND MR. BY-ENDS, . . .165 
 
 'Old Mr. Hold-the- World.' 
 
 ' I had always the luck to jump in my judgment with the present way of 
 the times, whatever it was, and my chance was to get thereby.' 
 
 MR. SAVE-ALL AND MR. MONEY-LOVE, . . . 176 
 
 ' Men that Mr. By-ends had formerly been acquainted with, for in their 
 minority they were schoolfellows.' 
 
 LOT'S WIFE, ....... 174 
 
 ' She only looked back, and I had a desire to go see.' 
 
 VAIN-CONFIDENCE, . . . . . .179 
 
 1 Not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on pur- 
 pose there made by the Prince of those grounds, to catch vain-glorious 
 fools withal.' 
 
 KNIFE, HALTER, POISON, . . . . .182 
 
 'So when morning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner, as 
 before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had 
 given them the day before, he told them, that since they were never 
 likely to come out of that place, their only way would be, forthwith 
 to make an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison.' 
 
 THE KEY CALLED PROMISE, ..... l86 
 
 ' And began to try at the dungeon door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, 
 gave back, and the door flew open with ease.' 
 
 THE PILLAR, ....... 187 
 
 ' So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side 
 thereof this sentence.' 
 
 KNOWLEDGE, ....... 189 
 
 'The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, 
 Watchful, and Sincere, took them by the hand.' 
 
 EXPERIENCE, ..... 191 
 
 WATCHFUL, ....... 193 
 
 SINCERE, . ... 195 
 
 THE PERSPECTIVE GLASS, ..... 196 
 
 ' Yet they thought they saw something like the gate, and also some of the 
 glory of the place.' 
 
 THE FOUR SCROLLS, ...... 197 
 
 A note of the way ; Beware of the flatterer; Take heed, etc. ; God speed. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xxvii 
 
 PAGE 
 IGNORANCE, ....... 199 
 
 1 There is more hopes of a fool than of him.' 
 
 GUILT, MISTRUST, AND FAINT-HEART, . . . 2OI 
 
 'Now there happened to come down that lane from Broadway Gate, 
 three sturdy rogues, and their names were Faint-heart, Mistrust, and 
 Guilt.' 
 
 THE FLATTERER, .... .211 
 
 ' Behold a man black of flesh, but covered with a very light robe.' 
 
 ONE TEMPORARY, ...... 232 
 
 ' You are pretty near the business, for the bottom of all is, for want of a 
 change in their mind and will.' 
 
 VIGNETTE, ....... 245 
 
 ' And after that they shut up the gates ; which when I had seen, I wished 
 myself among them. ' 
 
 PART II 
 
 HALF-TITLE, ....... 247 
 
 CHRISTIANA, ....... 258 
 
 ' After her husband was gone over the river, and she could hear of him no 
 more, her thoughts began to work in her mind.' 
 
 FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY, ..... 259 
 
 MRS. TIMOROUS, ...... 268 
 
 ' Wherefore, though thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself, yet, 
 for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep thou at home.' 
 
 MERCY, ...... 271 
 
 ' Then said young Mercy (for she was but young).' 
 
 MRS. BAT'S-EYES AND MRS. KNOW-NOTHING, . . . 273 
 
 ' Oh this blind and foolish woman, said she. ' 
 
 ' Then said Mrs. Know-nothing, And what ! do you think she will go?' 
 
 MRS. INCONSIDERATE, . . . 274 
 
 ' Away with such fantastical fools from the town.' 
 
 MRS. LIGHT-MIND, ...... 275 
 
 ' I was yesterday at Madam Wanton's, where we were as merry as the 
 maids.' 
 
xxviii THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 THE DEVIL S FRUIT, ...... 286 
 
 ' And being mellow, they that found them did gather them up, and oft eat 
 of them to their hurt.' 
 
 THE MUCK-RAKE, ...... 293 
 
 ' Then said Christiana : O deliver me from this muck-rake ! ' 
 
 THE SPIDER, ....... 225 
 
 ' Here is not anything but an ugly spider.' 
 
 THE CHICKEN DRINKING, ..... 295 
 
 ' See, said he, what this little chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge 
 whence your mercies come, by receiving them with looking up.' 
 
 THE SWORD AND CROOK, ..... 296 
 
 ' Behold how quietly she takes her death, and without objecting. Your 
 King doth call you his sheep. 1 
 
 THE SCYTHE AND HOUR-GLASS, .... 296 
 
 ' Fruit, you see, is that thing you look for, and for want of that you con- 
 demn it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of men.' 
 
 THE ROBIN AND SPIDER, ..... 297 
 
 ' But when they are by themselves, as the robin, they can catch and 
 gobble up spiders, they can change their diet, drink iniquity, and 
 swallow down sin like water.' 
 
 GREAT-HEART, ...... 305 
 
 ' 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." 
 
 MR. BRISK, ....... 327 
 
 ' Did I not tell thee that Mr. Brisk would soon forsake thee?' 
 
 THE SHEPHERD'S BOY, ..... 341 
 
 ' I will dare to say that this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more of 
 that herb called heart' s-ease in his bosom, than he that is clad in silk 
 and velvet.' 
 
 OLD HONEST, ....... 353 
 
 ' Come, man, be not so hot ; here is none but friends.' 
 
 MR. FEARING, ...... 357 
 
 ' Everything frightened him that he heard anybody speak of, that had but 
 the least appearance of opposition in it.' 
 
 MR. SELF-WILL, ...... 364 
 
 'What his mind prompted him to, that he would do, and nothing else 
 could he be got to.' 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 MR. FEEBLE-MIND, 
 
 ' I thought I should never be well at home ; so I betook myself to a 
 pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither from the town of Uncertain, 
 where I and my father were born. I am a man of no strength at all. 
 of body, nor yet of mind.' 
 
 MR. READY-TO-HALT, ...... 
 
 ' I am come to thee in the name of Him whom thou hast loved and 
 followed, though upon crutches.' 
 
 MR. DESPONDENCY, ...... 
 
 'For, to be plain with you, they are ghosts, the which we entertained 
 when we first began to be pilgrims, and could never shake them off 
 after ; and they will walk about. ' 
 
 MADAM BUBBLE, ...... 
 
 1 Is she not a tall, comely dame, somewhat of a swarthy complexion ? ' 
 
 VIGNETTE, 
 
 XXIX 
 
 PAGE 
 
 379 
 
 384 
 398 
 
 421 
 434 
 
THE 
 
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK 
 
 WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand 
 Thus for to write, I did not understand 
 That I at all should make a little book 
 In such a mode; nay, I had undertook 
 To make another ; which when almost done, 
 Before I was aware I this begun. 
 
 And thus it was : I writing of the way 
 And race of saints, in this our gospel day, 
 Fell suddenly into an_ajlgory 
 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 '11 put you by yourselves, lest you at last 
 Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out 
 The book that I already am about. 
 
 Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think 
 To show to all the world my pen and ink 
 In such a mode ; I only thought to make 
 I knew not what : nor did I undertake 
 Thereby to please my neighbour : no, not I ; 
 I did it mine own self to gratify. 
 A 
 
THE AUTHOR'S ^POLOGT 
 
 Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
 In this my scribble ; nor did I intend 
 But to divert myself in doing this 
 From worser thoughts, which make me do amiss. 
 
 Thus I set pen to paper with delight, 
 And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. 
 For having now my method by the end, 
 Still as I pull'd, it came ; and so I penn'd 
 It down, until at last it came to be 
 For length and breadth the bigness which you see. 
 
 Well, when I had thus put mine ends together, 
 I show'd them others, that I might see whether 
 They would condemn them, or them justify : 
 And some said, Let them live ; some, Let them 
 
 die; 
 
 Some said, John, print it ; others said, Not so ; 
 Some said, It might do good ; others said, No. 
 
 Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
 Which was the best thing to be done by me : 
 At last I thought, Since you are thus divided, 
 I print it will, and so the case decided. 
 
 For, thought I, Some, I see, would have it done, 
 Though others in that channel do not run. 
 To prove, then, who advised for the best, 
 Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. 
 
 I further thought, if now I did deny 
 Those that would have it thus, to gratify ; 
 I did not know but hinder them I might 
 Of that which would to them be great delight. 
 
 For those that were not for its coming forth, 
 I said to them, Offend you I am loth, 
 Yet since your brethren pleased with it be, 
 Forbear to judge, till you do further see. 
 
 If that thou wilt not read, let it alone ; 
 Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone : 
 
Yea, that I might them better palliate, 
 I did too with them thus expostulate : 
 
 May I not write in such a style as this ? 
 In such a method too, and yet not miss 
 My end, thy good ? Why may it not be done ? 
 Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring 
 
 none. 
 
 Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops 
 Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops, 
 Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either, 
 But treasures up the fruit they yield together ; 
 Yea, so commixes both, that in her fruit 
 None can distinguish this from that : they suit 
 Her well, when hungry ; but if she be full, 
 She spues out both, and makes their blessings null. 
 
 You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
 To catch the sh ; what engines doth he make ! 
 Behold how he engageth all his wits ; 
 Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets : 
 Yet fish there be, that neither hook, nor line, 
 Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine ; 
 They must be groped for, and be tickled too, 
 Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do. 
 
 How doth 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 ; 
 Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss. 
 
 If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, 
 And may be found too in an oyster-shell ; 
 If things that promise nothing do contain 
 What better is than gold ; who will disdain, 
 
THE AUTHOR'S JPOLOGT 
 
 That have an inkling of it, there to look, 
 That they may find it ? Now my little book 
 (Though void of all those paintings that may make 
 It with this or the other man to take) 
 Is not without those things that do excel 
 What do in brave, but empty notions dwell. 
 
 Well, yet I am not fully satisfied, 
 That this your book will stand, when soundly tried. 
 
 Why, what 's the matter ? It is dark. What 
 
 tho' ? 
 
 But it is feigned : What of that, I trow ? 
 Some men, by feigning words as dark as mine, 
 Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine. 
 
 But they want solidness. Speak man thy mind. 
 They drown'd the weak ; metaphors make us blind. 
 
 Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
 Of him that writeth things divine to men ; 
 But must I needs want solidness, because 
 By metaphors I speak ? Were not God's laws, 
 His gospel laws, in olden time held forth 
 By types, shadows, and metaphors ? Yet loth 
 Will any sober man be to find fault 
 With them, lest he be found for to assault 
 The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops, 
 And seeks to find out what by pins and loops, 
 By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams, 
 By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, 
 God speaketh to him. And happy is he 
 That finds the light and grace that in them be. 
 
 Be jiot too forward, therefore, to conclude 
 That I want solidness, that I am rude : 
 All things solid in show, not solid be ; 
 All things in parables despise not we, 
 Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, 
 And things that good are of our souls bereave. 
 
FOl^HIS 
 
 My dark and cloudy words they do but hold 
 The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold. 
 
 The prophets used much by metaphors 
 To set forth truth ; yea, whoso considers 
 Christ, His apostles too, shall plainly see 
 That truths to this day in such mantles be. 
 
 Am I afraid to say that holy writ, 
 Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit, 
 Is everywhere so full of all these things- 
 Dark figures, allegories ? Yet there springs 
 From that same book that lustre, and those rays 
 Of light, that turns our darkest nights to days. 
 
 Come, let my carper to his life now look, 
 And find there darker lines than in my book 
 He findeth any ; yea, and let him know, 
 That in his best things there are worse lines too. 
 
 May we but stand before impartial men, 
 To his poor one I dare adventure ten, 
 That they will take my meaning in these lines 
 Far better than his lies in silver shrines. 
 Come, truth, .although, in swaddling-clouts, I find, 
 Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind, 
 Pleases the understanding, makes the will 
 Submit ; the memory too it doth fill 
 With what doth our imagination please ; 
 Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. 
 
 Sound words I know Timothy is to use, 
 And old wives' fables he is to refuse; 
 But yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbid 
 The use of parables ; in which lay hid 
 That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that 
 
 were 
 Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. 
 
 Let me add one word more, O man of God ! 
 Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had 
 
THE AUTHOR'S JPOLOGT 
 
 Put forth my matter in another dress, 
 Or that I had in things been more express ? 
 Three things let me propound, then I submit 
 To those that are my betters, as is fit. 
 
 1. I find not that I am denied the use 
 Of this my method, so I no abuse 
 
 Put on the words, things, readers ; or be rude 
 In handling figure or similitude, 
 In application ; but, all that I may, 
 Seek the advance of truth this or that way. 
 Denied, did I say ? Nay, I have leave 
 (Example too, and that from them that have 
 God better pleased by their words or ways, 
 Than any man that breatheth now-a-days) 
 Thus to express my mind, thus to declare 
 Things unto thee, that excellentest are. 
 
 2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write 
 Dialogue-wise ; yet no man doth them slight 
 For writing so : indeed if they abuse 
 
 Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use 
 
 To that intent ; but yet let Truth be free 
 
 To make her sallies upon thee and me, 
 
 Which way it pleases God. For who knows 
 
 how, 
 
 Better than He that taught us first to plough, 
 To guide our mind and pens for His design ? 
 And He makes base things usher in divine. 
 
 3. I find that holy writ, in many places, 
 
 Hath semblance with this method, where the cases 
 Do call for one thing, to set forth another : 
 Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother 
 Truth's golden beams ; nay, by this method may 
 Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. 
 
 And now, before I do put up my pen, 
 I '11 show the profit of my book, and then 
 
Commit both thee and it unto that Hand 
 
 That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. 
 
 This book, it chalketh out before thine eyes 
 The man that seeks the everlasting prize : 
 ft shows you whence he comes, whither he goes, 
 What he leaves undone, also what he does : 
 It also shows you how he runs, and runs 
 Till he unto the gate of glory comes. 
 
 It shows, too, who set out for life amain, 
 As if the lasting crown they would attain ; 
 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 by 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 ? 
 Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable ? 
 Art thou forgetful ? Wouldest thou remember 
 From New-year's day to the last of December ? 
 Then read my fancies, they will stick like burrs, 
 And may be, to the helpless, comforters. 
 
 This book is writ in such a dialect 
 As may the minds of listless men affect : 
 It seems a novelty, and yet contains 
 Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. 
 
 Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ? 
 Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ? 
 Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation ? 
 Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ? 
 Dost thou love picking meat ? Or wouldst thou 
 
 see 
 A man i' th' clouds, and hear him speak to thee ? 
 
THE AUTHOR'S ^POLOGT 
 
 Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? 
 
 Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep ? 
 
 Wouldest thou lose thyself, and catch no harm, 
 
 And find thyself again without a charm ? 
 
 Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know'st not what, 
 
 And yet know whether thou art blest or not, 
 
 By reading the same lines ? O then come hither, 
 
 And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
CHRISTIAN. 
 
IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 
 
 THE FIRST PART 
 
 As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted 
 on a certain place where was a den, and I laid me down in 
 that place to sleep : and. as I slept, I dreamed 
 
 The Gaol. 
 
 a dream. I dreamed, and, behold, I saw a man 
 clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his 
 face from his own house, a book in his hand, and isa. 64. 6. 
 a great burden upon his back. I looked, and saw PS. 38. 4- 
 him open the book, and read therein ; and, as he Acts' 16. 3 'i. 
 read, he wept and trembled ; and not being able longer to 
 contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, HIS outcry, 
 saying, < What shall I do ? ' Acts 2 ' 37/ 
 
 In this plight therefore he went home, and refrained 
 himself as long as he could, that his wife and children 
 should not perceive his distress ; but he could not be silent 
 long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at 
 length he brake his mind to his wife and children ; and 
 thus he began to talk to them : O my dear wife, said 
 
 he, and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, 
 
 11 
 
12 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 am in myself undone, by reason of a burden that lieth hard 
 
 This world Upon me ' moreover 3 I am f r certain informed 
 
 that this our city will be burnt with fire from 
 
 heaven ; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee 
 
 my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to 
 
 ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape 
 
 can be found, whereby we may be delivered. At 
 
 He knew no , , J J 
 
 >*ay of escape ,t|ii9 his relations were sore amazed ; not for that 
 th'ey believed that what he had said to them was 
 jtrjie^ fyi'f a because they thought that some frenzy distemper 
 'had got intb his head ; therefore, it drawing towards night, 
 and they hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with all 
 haste they got him to bed. But the night was as trouble- 
 some to him as the day ; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he 
 spent it in sighs and tears. So, when the morning was 
 come, they would know how he did j he told them, Worse 
 and worse. He also set to talking to them again ; but 
 they began to be hardened. They also thought 
 physic for to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly 
 
 a sick soul. . , . . i i i i 
 
 carnages to him ; sometimes they would deride, 
 sometimes they would chide, and sometimes they would 
 quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire him- 
 self to his chamber to pray for and pity them, and also 
 to condole his own misery ; he would also walk solitarily 
 in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying : 
 and thus for some days he spent his time. 
 
 Now I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the 
 fields, that he was, as he was wont, reading in his book, 
 and greatly distressed in his mind ; and as he read, he burst 
 
 out, as he had done before, crying, c What shall 
 
 Acts 16. 30, 3 x. , ' . ., 
 
 1 do to be saved r 
 
 I saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if he 
 would run j yet he stood still, because, as I perceived, he 
 
Isa. 30. 33. 
 
 E7ANGELIST 13 
 
 could not tell which way to go. I looked then, and saw a 
 man named Evangelist coming to him, 1 and asked, Where- 
 fore dost thou cry ? He answered, Sir, I perceive by the 
 book in my hand that I am condemned to die, Heb. 9. 27. 
 and after that to come to judgment ; and I find Ezek. . 14. 
 that I am not willing to do the first, nor able to do the 
 second. 
 
 Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since this 
 life is attended with so many evils ? The man answered, 
 Because I fear that this burden that is upon my back will 
 sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall into 
 Tophet. And, sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, 
 I am not fit, I am sure, to go to judgment, and from thence 
 to execution; and the thoughts of these things make me cry. 
 
 Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why 
 standest thou still ? He answered, Because I know not 
 whither to go. Then he gave him a parchment conviction of 
 roll, and there was written within, 'Fly from offly?n| ssity 
 the wrath to come.' Matt - 3- 7- 
 
 The man therefore read it, and looking upon Evangelist 
 very carefully, said, Whither must I fly? Then said Evan- 
 gelist, pointing with his finger over a very wide Matt. 7.13, 14. 
 field, Do you see yonder Wicket-gate? The 2pe"*. J i9!" 
 man said, No. Then said the other, Do you see yonder 
 shining light ? He said, I think I do. Then said Christ and the 
 Evangelist, Keep that light in your eve, and go can^ be m 
 
 ,. , ill/ I found without 
 
 up directly thereto : so shalt thou see the gate ; the Word. 
 at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what 
 thou shalt do. 
 
 1 Christian no sooner leaves the world but meets 
 Evangelist, who lovingly him greets 
 With tidings of another ; and doth show 
 Him how to mount to that from this below. 
 
14 'THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 return ; 
 Luke i 4 . 26. but the man put his fingers in his ears, and 
 Gen. 19. i 7 . ran Qn ^ cr ying, Life I life ! eternal life ! 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 
 
 They that . , r , . 
 
 fly from the cried after him to return ; and among those that 
 come are a did so, there were two that were resolved to fetch 
 
 gazing-stock , . . _ _,. r . 
 
 to the world, him back by force. 1 he name or the one was 
 Obstinate, and the name of the other Pliable. 
 
 Now, by this time, the man was got a good distance from 
 them : but, however, they were resolved to pur- 
 
 Obstinateand / , , , i - i - i i 
 
 Pliable follow sue him, which they did, and in a little time they 
 overtook him. Then said the man, Neighbours, 
 wherefore are you come ? They said, To persuade you to 
 go back with us. But he said, That can by no means be ; 
 you dwell, said he, in the City of Destruction, the place 
 also where I was born : I see it to be so ; and, dying there, 
 sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave, into a 
 place that burns with fire and brimstone : be content, good 
 neighbours, and go along with me. 
 
 OBST. What ! said Obstinate, and leave our 
 friends and our comforts behind us ? 
 CHR. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), because 
 Christian. tnat a ^ which you shall forsake is not worthy to 
 2 Cor. 4 . IB. b e com p are d with a little of that that I am seek- 
 ing to enjoy ; and if you will go along with me, and hold 
 it, you shall fare as I myself; for there where I 
 go, is enough and to spare. Come away, and 
 prove my words. 
 
EVANGELIST. 
 
OBSTINATE 
 
OBSTINATE AND TLIABLE 17 
 
 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 heaven, and safe there, to be bestowed at the time 
 appointed, on them that diligently seek it. Read 
 
 ... . . , 1 Heb.ii.x6. 
 
 it so, if you will, in my book. 
 
 OBST. Tush, said Obstinate, away with your book ; will 
 you go back with us, or no ? 
 
 CHR. No, not I, said the other ; because I 
 have laid my hand to the plough. 
 
 OBST. Come, then, Neighbour Pliable, let us turn again, 
 and go home without him ; there is a company of these 
 crazed-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. 
 
 PLI. 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 me, Neighbour 
 Pliable ; there are such things to be had which I Christian 
 
 ' . i i j -rr andObstin- 
 
 spoke or, and many more glories besides. lr you ate pu ii for 
 
 believe not me, read here in this book ; and for soul. 
 
 the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, all 21 ' 
 
 is confirmed by the blood of Him that made it. 2J ap 
 
 PLI. Well, Neighbour Obstinate, said 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 chnstlan - 
 way to this desired place ? 
 
 a 
 
i3 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 instruction about the way. 
 
 PLI. Come, then, good neighbour, let us be going. 
 
 Then they went both together. 
 
 OBST. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate ; I 
 Obstinate will be no companion of such misled, fantastical 
 
 goes railing 
 
 back. felloWS. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was 
 Talk gone back, Christian and Pliable went talking 
 
 over tne pl am j an d thus they began their dis- 
 
 and Pliable. CO urSe : 
 
 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 is none but 
 us two here, tell me now further, what the things are, and 
 how to be enjoyed, whither we are going ? 
 
 CHR. I can better conceive of them with my mind than 
 God's things s P ea ^ ^' them with my tongue : but yet, since 
 unspeakable. vou are desirous to know, I will read of them 
 in my book. 
 
 PLI. And do you think that the words of your book are 
 certainly true ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that cannot 
 lie. 
 
 PLI. Well said : what things are they ? 
 
 CHR. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and 
 isa. 45. 17. everlasting life to be given us, that we may 
 
 John 10. 27, .... . . . , - 
 
 28, 29. inhabit that kingdom for ever. 
 
 PLI. Well said ; and what else ? 
 
PLIABLE. 
 
20 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 CHR. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and 
 2 Tim. 4. 8. garments that will make us shine like the sun in 
 
 Rev. 3. 4. , _ 
 
 Matt. 13. 43. the firmament of heaven. 
 
 PLI. This is excellent ; and what else ? 
 CHR. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow ; for 
 He that is owner of the place will wipe all tears 
 
 Isa. 25. 8. 
 
 Rev. 7 . 16,17. from our eyes. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 i Thess.4.i6, . . e /^> j 
 
 17- every one walking in the sight or (jod, and 
 
 standing in His presence with acceptance for 
 
 ever. In a word, there we shall see the elders with their 
 
 ev. 4 . 4 . golden crowns ; there we shall see the holy 
 
 Chap. 14.1-5. v i r g ms w i tn 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 
 2 Cor. 5. 2, well, and clothed with immortality as with a 
 
 garment. 
 
 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 that country, hath 
 
 recorded that in this book ; the substance of 
 John 7 . 37. which is, If we be truly willing to have it, he 
 Rev. 2i.' 6. will bestow it upon us freely. 
 
 Chap. 22. 17. -p. TTr .. . . . T 
 
 PLI. Well, my good companion, glad am I 
 to hear of these things : Come on, let us mend our 
 pace. 
 
THE SLOUGH OF RESPOND 21 
 
 CHR. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this 
 burden that is upon my back. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended 
 this talk, they drew near to a very miry slough, that was 
 in the midst of the plain ; and they being heed- Th SIough 
 less, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The ^ P ond. 
 name of the slough was Despond. Here therefore they 
 wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the 
 dirt ; and Christian, because of the burden that was on his 
 back, began to sink in the mire. 
 
 PLI. Then said Pliable, Ah, Neighbour Christian, where 
 are you now ? 
 
 CHR. Truly, said Christian, I do not know. 
 
 PLI. 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 
 
 9 15 TI/T T It is not 
 
 and our lourney s end r May 1 get out again enough to 
 
 ' i-r u 11 v. u bepltable. 
 
 with my life, you shall possess the brave country 
 alone for me. And with that he gave a desperate struggle 
 or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the slough 
 which was next to his own house. So away he went, and 
 Christian saw him no more. 
 
 Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough 
 of Despond alone : but still he endeavoured to struggle to 
 that side of the slough that was still farther from Christ;an> 
 his own house, and next to the Wicket-gate; s 
 the which he did, but could not get out, because fr 
 of the burden that was upon his back. But I house - 
 beheld in my dream that a man came to him, whose name 
 was Help, and asked him what he did there. 
 
 CHR. Sir, said Christian, I was bid go this way by a 
 man called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder 
 
1ELP. 
 
HELP 23 
 
 gate, that I might escape the wrath to come ; and as I was 
 going thither, I fell in here. 
 
 HELP. But why did not you 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 Help lifts him 
 him upon sound ground, and bid him go on p^o. 2< 
 his way. 
 
 Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, 
 Sir, wherefore (since over this place is the way from the 
 City of Destruction to yonder gate), is it that this plat is 
 not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with 
 more security? And he said unto me, This miry slough 
 is such a place as cannot be mended j it is the descent 
 whither the scum and filth that attends convic- 
 
 r i i .11 i , /- What makes 
 
 tion for sin doth continually run, and therefore it the siough of 
 is called the Slough of Despond ; for still as the 
 sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there ariseth in 
 his soul many fears, and doubts, and discouraging appre- 
 hensions, 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 the 
 direction of His Majesty's surveyors, been for 
 above this sixteen hundred years employed about this patch 
 of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended : yea, and 
 to my knowledge, said he, here hath been swallowed up at 
 least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions of whole- 
 some 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 ground 
 of the place), if so be it might have been mended, but it 
 
24 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 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 Lawgiver, certain 
 The promises g^ anc ^ substantial steps, placed even through 
 ne s f s r a s nd e ac- tne Vei 7 midst of this slough j but at such time 
 jiff by faith as tn i pl ace doth much spue out its filth, as 
 in Christ. j.j. doth against change of weather, these steps 
 are hardly seen j or if they be, men, through the dizziness 
 of their heads, step besides j and then they are bemired 
 to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there ; but the 
 i Sam 12 2 g roun d is good, when they are once got in at 
 the gate. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was 
 got home to his house again. So his neighbours came to 
 Pliable got visit him; and some of them called him wise 
 Sed a of his man for coming back, and some called him fool 
 neighbours. for hazarding himself with Christian: others, 
 again, did mock at his cowardliness ; saying, Surely, since 
 you began to venture, I would not have been so base to 
 His enter- have given out for a few difficulties. So Pliable 
 theTIt'his 7 sat sneaking among them. But at last he got 
 more confidence, and then they all turned their 
 tails, and began to deride poor Christian behind his back. 
 And thus much concerning Pliable. 
 
 Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he 
 espied one afar off" come crossing over the field to meet 
 Mr. Worldly- mm > anc ^ tne i r na P was to meet just as they 
 meets m with were crossing the way of each other. The 
 Christian. gentleman's name that met him was Mr. Worldly- 
 Wiseman : he dwelt in the town of Carnal- Policy, a very 
 great town, and also hard by from whence Christian came. 
 This man then meeting with Christian, and having some 
 inkling of him, for Christian's setting forth from the City 
 
M- R WORLDLY WISEMAN 
 
26 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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, Master Worldly- Wiseman, 
 therefore, having some guess of him, by beholding his 
 laborious going, by observing his sighs and groans, and 
 the like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian. 
 WORLD. How now, good fellow, whither away 
 
 Talk betwixt r ,.,,,' 6 , 7 
 
 Mr. worldly- after this burdened manner r 
 and Chris- CHR. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I 
 think poor creature had. And whereas you ask 
 me, Whither away ? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder 
 Wicket-gate before me; for there, as I am informed, I 
 shall be put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden. 
 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 : 
 
 i Cor. 7. 29. I i T /- T i j 
 
 methmks I am as if I had none. 
 
 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 
 Mr. worldly- speed get thyself rid of thy burden ; for thou 
 coi s nsuo s W ^ never be settled in thy mind till then ; nor 
 Christian. canst tnou en j ov t h e benefits of the blessing 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 a 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 thee go this way to be rid of thy 
 burden ? 
 
*7 
 
 CHR. A man that appeared to me to be a very great 
 and honourable person ; his name, as I remember, is 
 Evangelist. 
 
 WORLD. I 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 j and 
 that thou shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by Wiseman 
 
 . . . _,. / . . i / condemned 
 
 his counsel. 1 hou hast met with something (as Evangelist's 
 I perceive) already ; for I see the dirt of the 
 Slough of Despond is upon thee j 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, in the way which thou goest, 
 wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, 
 sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, death, 
 and what not ? These things are certainly true, having 
 been confirmed by many testimonies. And why should 
 a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving heed to 
 a stranger ? 
 
 CHR. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more 
 terrible to me than are all these things which Theframeof 
 you have mentioned ; nay, methinks I care the hea " . f 
 
 t '* young Chns- 
 
 not what I meet with in the way, so be I can tians - 
 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 is happened unto thee as 
 to other weak men, who, meddling with things 
 too high for them, do suddenly fall into thyj 
 distractions ; which distractions do not only \ 
 unman men (as thine I perceive has done thee), 
 but they run them upon desperate ventures, to 
 obtain they know not what. 
 
28 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 CHR. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease for 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 direct thee 
 
 Whether Mr. r ' 
 
 worldly pre- to the obtaining of what thou desirest, without 
 
 fers Morality 
 
 before the the dangers that thou in this way wilt run thy- 
 
 S trait Gate. .... * f 
 
 self into -, yea, and the remedy is at hand. 
 Besides, I will add, that instead of those dangers, thou shalt 
 meet with much safety, friendship, and content. 
 
 CHR. Pray, sir, open this secret to me. 
 
 WORLD. Why, in yonder village (the village is named 
 Morality) there dwells a gentleman, whose name is 
 Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very good 
 name, that has skill to help men off with such burdens as 
 thine are, from their shoulders : yea, to my knowledge he 
 hath done a great deal of good this way ; ay, 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 j 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 reasonable rates ; 
 provision is there also cheap and good ; and that which 
 will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure there 
 thou shalt live by honest neighbours, in credit and good 
 fashion. 
 
LEGALITY. 
 
CIVILITY. 
 
seman's 
 
 EVANGELIST AGAI3^ 31 
 
 Now was Christian somewhat at a stand, but presently 
 he concluded : if this be true which this gentle- Christian 
 
 . snared by 
 
 man hath said, my wisest course is to take his Mr. 
 
 i 1-11 i i c i Wis 
 
 advice : and with that he thus further spoke : words. 
 CHR. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house ? 
 WORLD. Do you see yonder high hill ? 
 
 J J Mount Sinai. 
 
 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 wayside did hang so mucfy over, that Christian was 
 afraid to venture farther, lest the hilf sKould fall 
 on his head j wherefore there he stood still, and he afraid that m 
 
 . 1*11-11 i Mount Sinai 
 
 wot not what to do. Also his burden, now, seemed would fail on 
 heavier to him than while he was in his way. Exod. 19. 18. 
 There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, 
 that made Christian afraid that he should be burned. Here 
 therefore he sweat, and did quake for fear. And 
 
 11 i iiiitujr Heb. 12. 21. 
 
 now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. 
 Worldly- Wiseman's counsel. And with that he saw Evan- 
 gelist coming to meet him ; at the sight also of E 
 whom he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist 
 drew nearer and nearer ; and coming up to him, he ghfa? and" 1 * 
 looked upon him with a severe and dreadful coun- |.^]y 
 tenance, and thus began to reason with Christian : U P D hun - 
 
 EVAN. What doest thou here, Christian ? said he : at 
 which words Christian knew not what to answer : Evangelist 
 wherefore at present he stood speechless before JJresh with 
 him. Then said Evangelist further, Art not c hristian - 
 thou the man that I found crying without the walls of the 
 City of Destruction ? 
 
32 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 CHR. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 
 
 EVAN. Did not I direct thee the way to the little 
 Wicket-gate ? 
 
 CHR. 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 loaden with the burden that is on my 
 back that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly. 
 
 EVAN. And what said he then ? 
 
 CHR. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden ; and 
 I told him 'twas ease that I sought. And said I, I am 
 therefore going to yonder gate, to receive further direction 
 how I may get to the place of deliverance. So he said that 
 he would show me a better way, and short, not so attended 
 with difficulties as the way, sir, that you set me ; which 
 way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that 
 hath 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 
 
THE TERRORS OF SINAI 33 
 
 this place, and beheld things as they are, I stopped for 
 fear (as I said) of danger : but I now know not what 
 to do. 
 
 EVAN. Then, said Evangelist, stand still a little, that I 
 may show thee the words of God. So he stood trembling. 
 Then said Evangelist, 'See that ye refuse not 
 him that speaketh ; for if they escaped not who 
 refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we 
 escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from 
 heaven.' He said moreover, c Now the just shall 
 
 ,..-.,, ... , . . Evangelist 
 
 live by faith; but if any man draws back, my convinces 
 soul shall have no pleasure in him.' He also his error. 
 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 perdition. 
 
 Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead, crying, 
 Woe is me, for I am undone ! At the sight of which, 
 Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, Matt T2 3I 
 All manner of sin and blasphemies shall be for- Mark 3> 28 - 
 given 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 Mr World i y . 
 was also to whom he sent thee. The man that Bribed by 
 met thee is one Worldly- Wiseman, and rightly is Evan s elist - 
 he so called : partly, because he savoureth only the doctrine 
 of this world (therefore he always goes to the jjohn^ s . 
 town of Morality to church) ; and partly, because GaL 6 ' I2 ' 
 he loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him from the 
 
34 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Cross. And because he is of this carnal temper, therefore 
 he seeketh to pervert my ways, though right. 
 
 Evangelist . . ? 
 
 discovers the Now there are three things in this man s counsel 
 
 deceit of Mr. f 
 
 Worldly- that thou must utterly abhor : 
 
 Wiseman. T . 
 
 I. rlis turning thee out or the way. 
 2. His labouring to render the Cross odious to 
 thee. <- 
 
 3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto 
 the administration of death. 1 
 
 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 
 
 Worldly- Wiseman. The JLo.rcl j>ays, 'Strive to 
 
 enter in at the strait gate,' the gate_tq which I 
 
 sent thee ; for, c strait is the gate that leadeth unto life, 
 
 Matt. 7 . 13, an< ^ f W tnere be that find it.' From this 
 I4> 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 
 Heb. xi. 25, tne treasures in Egypt.' Besides, the King of 
 Mark 8. 3S . Glory hath told thee, that c he that will save his 
 
 Mau.'io.^. life sna ^ l se * t?: an( * <ne tnat comes after him, 
 Luke 14. 26. an( j h ates not his father, and mother, and wife, 
 
 and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his 
 own life also, he cannot be my disciple.' I say there- 
 
 1 When Christians unto carnal men give ear, 
 Out of their way they go, and pay for 't dear ; 
 For Master Worldly-Wiseman can but show 
 A saint the way to bondage and to woe. 
 
EVANGELISTS WARNING 35 
 
 fore, 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. 
 
 Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the 
 way that Ipad^fh to the ministration of death. And for 
 this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and also 
 how unable that person was to deliver thee from thy 
 burden. 
 
 He to whom thou wast sent for ease being by name 
 Legality, is the son of the bond-woman which now is, and 
 
 is in bondage with her children; and is, in a 
 
 . . . . The bond- 
 
 mystery, this Mount Sinai, which thou hast woman. 
 
 feared will fall on thy head. Now if she with 
 her children are in bondage, how canst thou expect by 
 them to be made free ? This Legality therefore is not able 
 to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever 
 rid of his burden by him, no, nor ever is like to be ; ye cannot 
 be justified by the works of the law ; for by the deeds of the 
 law no man living can be rid of his burden ; therefore, Mr. 
 Worldly- Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality is 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 I had set 
 thee. After this Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for 
 confirmation of what he had said; and with that there 
 came words and fire out of the mountain under which poor 
 Christian stood, that made the hair of his flesh stand up. 
 The words were thus pronounced, c As many as 
 
 r i i f i i i Gal. 3. 10. 
 
 are or the works or the law are under the curse ; 
 
 for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not 
 
36 THE TILG RIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 in all things which are written in the book of the law to 
 do them.' 
 
 Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began 
 to cry out lamentably, even cursing the time in which he 
 met with Mr. Worldly- Wiseman, still calling 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 that prevalency 
 with him as to cause him to forsake the right way. This 
 done, he applied himself again to Evangelist in words and 
 sense as follows : 
 
 CHR. Sir, what think you ? is there hopes ? may I now 
 Christian g back and go up to the Wicket-gate ? Shall 
 h n e q mly d y l f t * not be abandoned for this, and sent back from 
 be happy. thence ashamed ? I am sorry I have hearkened 
 to this man's counsel : but may my sin be forgiven ? 
 
 EVAN. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very 
 great, for by it thou hast committed two evils : thou hast 
 forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden paths ; 
 Evangelist 7 et w ^ tne man at tne Gate receive thee, for he 
 
 h?m. f rts has g 00 ^ wi ^ f r men > on ty> saic * he 3 take heec * 
 p s . 2. last. t j lat t j lou turn not ^de a g a i n? < l es t thou perish 
 
 from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little.' 
 Then did Christian address himself to go back ; and 
 Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, 
 and bid him God-speed. So he went on with haste, neither 
 spake he to any man by the way ; nor if any asked him, 
 would he vouchsafe them an answer. He went like one 
 that was all the while treading on forbidden ground, and 
 could by no means think himself safe, till again he was got 
 into the way which he left to follow Mr. Worldly- Wise- 
 man's counsel. So in process of time Christian got up to 
 the gate. Now over the gate there was written, ' Knock 
 
THE WICKET-^ATE 37 
 
 and it shall be opened unto you.' He knocked therefore 
 more than once or twice, 1 saying : Matt. 7. 8. 
 
 May I now enter here ? Will he within 
 Open to sorry me, though I have been 
 An undeserving rebel ? Then shall I 
 Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high. 
 
 At last there came a grave person to the gate named 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. 
 
 GOOD- WILL. I am willing; with all my heart, 
 
 IT 1-t.ii j i Thegatewill 
 
 said he ; and with that he opened the gate. be opened 
 
 n ^ > ' i i to broken- 
 
 OO when Christian was stepping m, the other hearted 
 
 sinners. 
 
 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 Satan 
 
 Beelzebub is the captain; from thence both he 
 
 and them that are with him shoot arrows at those Strait Gate - 
 
 that come up to this gate, if haply they may die before they 
 
 can enter in. Then said Christian, I rejoice and 
 
 i /- Christian 
 
 tremble. So when he was got in, the man of the entered the 
 gate asked him who directed him thither. and trem- 
 
 CHR. Evangelist bid me come hither and 
 knock (as I did) ; and he said that you, sir, would tell me 
 what I must do. 
 
 1 He that will enter in must first without 
 Stand knocking at the gate, nor need he doubt 
 That is a knocker but to enter in ; 
 For God can love him, and forgive his sin. 
 
38 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 GOOD-WILL. An open door is set before thee, and no 
 man can shut it. 
 Talk between CHR. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my 
 
 Good-will hoT-arrk 
 
 and Chris- nazards. 
 
 tian. GOOD- WILL. But how is it that you came alone ? 
 
 CHR. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger, 
 as I saw mine. 
 
 GOOD-WILL. 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 j 
 but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my 
 way. 
 
 GOOD-WILL. 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, Obstinate went railing 
 back, but Pliable came with me a little way. 
 
 GOOD-WILL. But why did he not come through ? 
 
 CHR. We indeed came both together, until we came at 
 
 the Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly 
 
 fell. And then was my neighbour Pliable dis- 
 
 A man may J , 
 
 have com- couragcd, and would not adventure further. 
 he sets out Wherefore getting; out again on that side next 
 
 for heaven, .. IITIII i 
 
 and yet go to his own house, he told me 1 should possess the 
 
 thitheralone. . r . . , , . 
 
 brave country alone for him ; so he went his 
 way, and I came mine : he after Obstinate, and I to this 
 gate. 
 
 GOOD-WILL. 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 hazards of a few 
 difficulties to obtain it ? 
 
 CHR. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of 
 
qOOD-WILL'S INSTRUCTIONS 39 
 
 Pliable -, and if I should also say all the truth of myself, 
 it will appear there is no betterment 'twixt him and 
 myself. 'Tis true, he went back to his own 
 
 i i T i 1-1 -i Christian ac- 
 
 nouse, but 1 also turned aside to go in the way cusethhim- 
 
 self before 
 
 of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal the man at 
 arguments of one Mr. Worldly- Wiseman. 
 
 GOOD-WILL. Oh, did he light upon you ? What ! he 
 would have had you a sought for ease at the hands of Mr. 
 Legality. They are both of them a very cheat ; 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-WILL. That mountain has been the death of many, 
 and will be the death of many more ; 'tis well you escaped 
 being by it dashed in pieces. 
 
 CHR. Why, truly I do not know what had become of 
 me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again, as I 
 was musing in the midst of my dumps : but 'twas God's 
 mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come 
 hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, more 
 fit indeed for death by that mountain than thus to stand 
 talking with my Lord ; but oh, what a favour is this to 
 me, that yet I am admitted entrance here ! 
 
 GOOD- WILL. We make no objections against any, not- 
 withstanding all that they have done before they Christian 
 come hither, they in no wise are cast out ; and l^* ted 
 therefore, good Christian, come a little way with John 6 - 37> 
 me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. 
 Look before thee j dost thou see this narrow way ? Christian 
 
 ry-., . i , - directed yet 
 
 1 nat is the way thou must go ; it was cast on his way. 
 up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ, and his apostles ; 
 
40 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 and it is as straight as a rule can make it : This is the 
 way thou must go. 
 
 Christian CHR. But, said Christian, are there no turnings 
 
 losing his nor windings by which a stranger may lose the 
 way - way? 
 
 GOOD-WILL. Yes, there are many ways butt down 
 upon this, and they are crooked, and wide ; but thus thou 
 mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, 
 The right only being straight and narrow. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that Christian asked him 
 Christian further if he could not help him off with his 
 burden. burden that was upon his back ; for as yet he had 
 not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off 
 without help. 
 T , . He told him, As to thy burden, be content to 
 
 There is no ' 
 
 fronTSS 106 k ear it? until thou comest to the place of deliver- 
 guiit and ance : for there it will fall from thy back itself. 
 
 burden of sm * 
 
 tut by the Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and 
 
 blood oi to address himself to his journey. So the other 
 toto-him that by that he was gone some distance 
 from the gate, he would come at the house of the Inter- 
 preter, at whose door he should knock, and he would show 
 him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of 
 his friend, and he again bid him God-speed. 
 Christian Then he went on till he came at the house or the 
 
 hous? of the Interpreter, where he knocked over and over ; at last 
 
 Interpreter. 
 
 CHR. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaint- 
 ance 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. 
 
 CHR. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come 
 
THE INTERPRETER 
 
Illumination. 
 
 42 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 from the City of Destruction, and am going to the Mount 
 He is enter- ^ on j an( ^ I was to ^ by the man that stands at 
 tained. t h e 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. 
 
 INTER. Then said the Interpreter, Come in, I will show 
 thee that which will be profitable to thee. So 
 he commanded his man to light the candle, and 
 bid Christian follow him : so he had him into a private 
 room, and bid his man open a door ; the which when he 
 had done, Christian saw the picture of a very 
 
 Christian sees . , , . 
 
 a brave pic- grave person hang up against the wall ; and this 
 
 Thefashion was the fashion of it : It had eyes lifted up to 
 
 heaven, the best of books in his hand, the law of 
 
 truth was written upon his lips, the world was behind his 
 
 back ; it stood as if it pleaded 
 with men, and a crown of gold 
 did hang over its head. 
 
 CHR. Then said Christian, 
 What means this ? 
 
 INTER. The man whose pic- 
 ture this is, is one of a thousand; 
 he can beget children, 
 
 1 Cor. 4. 15. ... . . . . . 
 
 Gal. 4 . 19. travail in birth with 
 
 2 Thess. 2. 7. .... , 
 
 children, and nurse 
 BIBLE AND CROWN them himself when they are 
 
 born. And whereas thou seest 
 
 him with his eyes lift up to heaven, the best of books in his 
 hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips, it is to show thee 
 that his work is to know and unfold dark things to sinners ; 
 The meaning even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded 
 ture. ep with men; And whereas thou scesf Tfre"World as 
 cast behind him, and that a crown hangs over his head, 
 
THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 
 
 43 
 
 that is to show thee that slighting and despising the things 
 that are present, for the love that he hath to his Master's 
 service, he is sure in the world that comes next to have 
 glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have 
 showed thee this picture first, because the man whyhe 
 whose picture this is, is the only man whom the jje picture* 
 Lord of the place whither thou art going hath first< 
 authorised to be thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest 
 meet with in the way ; wherefore take good heed to what I 
 have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast 
 seen, lest in thy journey thou meet with some that pretend 
 to lead thee right, but their way goes down to death. 
 
 Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very 
 large parlour that was full of 
 dust, because never swept ; the 
 which, after he had reviewed a 
 little while, the Interpreter called 
 for a man to sweep. Now when 
 he began to sweep, the dust be- 
 gan so abundantly to fly about, 
 that Christian had almost there- 
 with been choked. Then said 
 the Interpreter to a damsel that 
 stood by, Bring hither the water, 
 and sprinkle the room ; the which 
 when she had done, it was swept 
 and cleansed with pleasure. 
 
 CHR. Then said Christian, 
 What means this ? 
 
 INTER. The Interpreter answered, This pn,r1r> 1ir i g fhp 
 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 
 
 BROOM AND WATER 
 
44 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 
 i Cor. 15. 56. the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, 
 
 Rom. 5. 20. . / . i . . . 
 
 put strength into, and increase it in the soul, 
 even as it doth discover and forbid it, but doth not give 
 power to subdue. 
 
 Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with 
 water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure ; this is to 
 show thee that when the gospel comes in the sweet and 
 precious influences thereof to the heart, then I say, even as 
 thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor 
 John 15. 3 . ^h water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and 
 A?tsi 5 s. 9^' t ^ le SOU ^ ma de clean, through the faith of it, and 
 Rom. 16. 25, consequently fit for the King of Glory to inhabit. 
 John 15. 13. j 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. 
 He showed The name of the eldest was Passion, and the 
 him Passion name Q f the other p at i ence . Passion seemed to 
 Patience. fe much discontent ; but Patience was very 
 quiet. Then Christian asked, What is the reason of the dis- 
 passion will content of Passion ? The Interpreter answered, 
 have ail now. The g overnor o f them would have him stay for 
 his best things till the beginning of the next year ; but 
 Patience is ne w ^ nave ^ now , tut Patience is willing to 
 
 for waiting. -wait. 
 
 Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him 
 Passion has a ^ a g ^ treasure, and poured it down at his feet, 
 his desire. ^ wn ich he took up and rejoiced therein j and 
 
TASSION AND TATIENCE 45 
 
 withal, laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a 
 while, and he had lavished all away, and had And quickly 
 
 , .' , f . . , /3 lavishes all 
 
 nothing left him but rags. away. 
 
 CHR. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound 
 this matter more fully to me. 
 
 INTER. So he said, These two lads are figures : Passion, 
 of the men of this world ; and Patience, of the men of that 
 
 PASSION AND PATIENCE 
 
 which is to come ; for as here thou seest, Passion will have 
 alL now, this year, that is to say, in this world; The matter 
 so are the men of this world : they must have ex P unded - 
 all their good things now, they cannot stay till next year, 
 that is, until the next world, for their portion T he worldly 
 of good. That proverb, <A bird in the hand is Si 
 worth two in the bush,' is of more authority with hand> 
 
46 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 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. 
 
 CHR. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has 
 
 the best wisdom, and that upon many accounts. 
 had the best (i) Because he stays for the best things 3 (2) and 
 
 also because he will have the glory of his, when 
 the other hath nothing but rags. 
 
 INTER. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of 
 the next world will never wear out ; but these are suddenly 
 gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason to laugh 
 at Patience, because he had his good things first, as Patience 
 Things that w iU nave to laugh at Passion, because he had his 
 gi^piaST' best things l ast 5 f r fi rs t must gi ye pl ace to last, 
 that'arefast because last must have his time to come : but last 
 are lasting. gi ve s 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 
 
 l ast j must nave it lastingly. Therefore it is 
 
 said of Dives > ' In th 7 lifetime thou receivedst 
 things first, ^y good things, and likewise Lazarus evil 
 things ; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.' 
 CHR. Then I perceive 'tis not, hpst tn rnypf- things thg* 
 are now^but to waitjbr things to come. 
 
 INTER. You say truth : c For the things that are seen 
 
 are temporal -, but the things that are not seen 
 
 2 Cor. 4. 18. i T i i 1-1 ~ 
 
 The first are eternal. But though this be so, yet since 
 buTfem- re 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 
 
OIL AND WATER 
 
 47 
 
 9 
 
 suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued 
 between the second. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took 
 Christian by the hand and led him into a place where was 
 a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it always, 
 casting much water upon it, to quench it ; yet did the fire 
 burn higher and hotter. 
 
 Then said Christian, What means this ? 
 
 The Interpreter answered, This firejs the work of grace 
 that is wrought in the heart ; 
 he that casts water upon it, to 
 extinguish and put it out, is 
 the devil -, but in that thou seest 
 the fire notwithstanding burn 
 higher and hotter, thou shalt 
 also see the reason of that. So 
 he had him about to the back- 
 side of the wall, where he saw 
 a man with a vessel of oil in his 
 hand, of the which he did also 
 continually cast, but secretly, 
 into the fire. 
 
 Then said Christian, What means this ? The Interpreter 
 answered, This is Christ, who continually, with the oil of 
 His grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart : 
 by the means of which, notwithstanding what the devil 
 can do, the souls of His people prove gracious 
 still. 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 
 
 OIL AND WATER 
 
 2 Cor. 12. 9. 
 
48 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 palace, beautiful to behold ; at the sight of which Christian 
 was greatly delighted. He saw also upon the top there- 
 of 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 to- 
 ward 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 doorway stood many men in armour to keep it, being 
 resolved to do to the men that will 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 
 The valiant countenance come up to the man that sat there 
 to write, saying, Set down my name, sir: the 
 which when he had done, he saw the man draw his sword, 
 and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door 
 upon the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force ; 
 but the man, not at all discouraged, fell to cutting and 
 hacking most fiercely. So, after he had received and given 
 many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, 
 he cut his way through them all, and pressed 
 forward into the palace ; at which there was 
 a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, 
 
 SWORD AND HELMET 
 
 ActS 14. 22. 
 
THE fMAN IN 
 
 49 
 
 even of those that walked upon the top of the palace, 
 saying, 
 
 Come in, come in j 
 
 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 D es pairiike 
 took him by the hand again, and led him into a anironca s e - 
 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. 
 
 CHR. Then said Christian to 
 the man, What art thou? The 
 man answered, I am what I was 
 not once. 
 
 CHR. What wast thou once ? 
 
 MAN. The man said, I was 
 once a fair and flourish- 
 ing 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 thither. 
 
 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 ; Oh, now I cannot. 
 
 D 
 
 Luke 8. 13. 
 
 THE MAN IN THE CAGE 
 
50 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 CHR. But how earnest thou in this condition ? 
 
 MAN. I leftjjffjto watch and be sober ; I laid the reins 
 upon the neck of my Tusts; T "sinned against the light of 
 the Word, and the goodness of God ; I have grieved the 
 Spirit, and he is gone ; I tempted the devil, and he is come 
 to me ; I have provoked God to anger, and he has left me ; 
 I have so hardened my heart, that I cannot repent. 
 
 Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no 
 hopes for such a man as this ? Ask him, said the Interpreter. 
 
 CHR. 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 
 Heb. 6. 6. despised his person, I have despised his righteous- 
 Luke 19. 14. ness ^ j naye counte( j n i s blood an unholy thing ; 
 
 I have done despite to the Spirit of Grace : therefore ^ 
 Heb. 10. 28, nave s ^ ut m yself out of all the promises, and 
 29> there now remains to me nothing but threaten- 
 
 ings, dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings of certain 
 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 promise myself much 
 delight ; but now every one of those things also bite me, 
 and gnaw me like a burning worm. 
 
 CHR. But canst thou not now repent and turn ? 
 
 MAN. God hath denied me repentance : his Word gives 
 me no encouragement to believe ; yea, himself hath shut 
 me up in this iron cage ; nor can all the men in the world 
 let me out. O eternity ! eternity ! how shall I grapple 
 with the misery that I must meet with in eternity ! 
 
THE <DAT OF JVDGMENT 51 
 
 INTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this 
 .man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an everlasting 
 caution to thee. 
 
 CHR. 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. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and 
 then thou shalt go on thy way. 
 
 So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into 
 a chamber, where there was one 
 rising out of bed ; and as he put on 
 his raiment, he shook and trembled. 
 Then said Christian, Why doth this 
 man thus tremble ? The Interpreter 
 then bid him tell to Christian the 
 reason of his so doing. So he began 
 and said, This night, as I was in my 
 sleep, I dreamed, and behold the 
 heavens grew exceeding black ; also 
 it thundered and lightened in most 
 fearful wise, that it put me into 
 an agony. So I looked up in my 
 dream, and saw the clouds racked 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 j. Cor I5 
 heaven : they were all in flaming fire ; also the - lhess- 4- 
 
 Jude 15. 
 
 heavens were on a burning flame. I heard then 
 a voice saying, ' Arise, ye dead, and come to ^ v< 20 - "' 
 judgment'; and with that the rocks rent, the w^^ 
 graves opened, and the dead that were therein I7> 
 came forth. Some of them were exceeding glad, and 
 
52 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 looked upward ; and some sought to hide themselves under 
 PS. 95. i- 3 . tne mountains. Then I saw the man that sat 
 Dan. 10. 7 . U p on the cloud open the book, and bid the 
 world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce 
 flame that issued out and came from before him, a con- 
 venient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the 
 Mai. 3 . 2, 3 . j u dg e an d the prisoners at the bar. I heard it 
 Dan. 7 . 9, 10. a j so p roc l a i me d to them that attended on the 
 man that sat on the cloud, c Gather together the tares, the 
 
 Matt 12 > anc * stubble, and cast them into the burning 
 
 Chap. 13. 3 o. lake.' And with that, the bottomless pit opened, 
 just whereabout I stood ; out of the mouth of 
 which there came in an abundant manner smoke, and coals 
 of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to 
 the same persons, ' Gather my wheat into the 
 garner.' And with that I saw many catched up and carried 
 i Thess 4 . away into the clouds, but I was left behind. I 
 l6> I7> also sought to hide myself, but I could not, for 
 
 the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon 
 me : my sins also came into my mind ; and my conscience 
 Rom. 2. 14, did accuse me on every side. 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 conscience, 
 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 con- 
 sidered all these things ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. 
 
 INTER. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they 
 
THE CROSS JNT> THE SEPULCHRE 53 
 
 may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the 
 way thou must go. Then Christian began to gird up his 
 loins, and to address himself to his journey. Then said the 
 Interpreter, The Comforter be always with thee, good 
 Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the city. 
 So Christian went on his way, saying, 
 
 Here I have seen things rare, and profitable 5 
 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 showed me was, 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 is called Salvation. Up this way 
 therefore did burdened Christian run, but not 
 without great difficulty, because of the load on his back. 
 
 He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending, 
 and upon that place stood a Cross, and a little below in the 
 bottom, a Sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as 
 Christian came up with the Cross his burden loosed from 
 off his shoulders, and fell from off his back ; and began to 
 tumble, and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth 
 of the Sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more. 1 
 
 Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and 
 
 . , . , TT i i When God 
 
 said with a merry heart, rle hath given me rest releases us 
 by his sorrow, and life by his death. Then he LdTufden, 
 stood still a while, to look and wonder ; for it those that 
 
 i_ i , . , ,- leap for joy. 
 
 was very surprising to him, that the sight of 
 
 the Cross should thus ease him of his burden. He looked 
 
 1 Who 's this ? the Pilgrim. How ! 'tis very true, 
 Old things are pass'd away, all 's become new. 
 Strange ! he 's another man, upon my word, 
 They be fine feathers that make a fine bird. 
 
54 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that 
 
 Zech Were * n k* s k ea d sent t ^ ie waters down his cheeks. 
 
 Now as he stood looking and weeping, behold 
 three Shining Ones came to him and saluted him with 
 Mark ' Peace be to thee.' So the first said to him, c Thy 
 
 Zech. 3 ! 4 ! sins be forgiven ' : the second stripped him of his 
 
 Eph. i. 13. 11111- -11 f 
 
 rags, and clothed him with change of raiment ; 
 the third also set a mark in his forehead, and gave him a 
 roll with a seal upon it, which he bid him look on as he 
 ran, and that he should give it in at the Celestial Gate. 
 So they went their way. Then Christian gave three leaps 
 for joy, and went on singing, 
 
 A Christian Thus far did I come loaden with my sin ; 
 
 a?one in 5hf N F C uld au ht ease the S rief that * was in > 
 God doth Till I came hither : What a place is this ! 
 
 foy'of his the Must here be the beginning of my bliss ? 
 
 heart. Must here the burden fall from off my back ? 
 
 Must here the strings that bound it to me, crack ? 
 Blest Cross ! blest Sepulchre ! blest rather be 
 The Man that there was put to shame for me. 
 
 I saw then in my dream that he went on thus, even 
 until he came at a bottom, where he saw, a little out of the 
 simple, wa 7> tnree men f ast asleep, with fetters upon their 
 Pres^'mp? heels. The name of the one was Simple, another 
 tion - Sloth, and the third Presumption. 
 
 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 mast, for the 
 
 Dead Sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom. Awake 
 
 therefore and come away ; be willing also, and I will help 
 
 you off with your irons. He also told them, If 
 
 he that goeth about like a roaring lion comes by, 
 
 you will certainly become a prey to his teeth. With that 
 
SIMPLE, SLOTH, JNT> TRESVMPTIO^ 55 
 
 they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort : 
 Simple said, I see no danger ; Sloth said, Yet a There is no 
 
 persuasion 
 
 little more sleep ; and Presumption said, Every win do, if 
 
 7 , . * j God openeth 
 
 vat must stand upon his own bottom. And so nottheeyes. 
 they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on his 
 way. 
 
 SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND PRESUMPTION 
 
 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 awakening of them, coun- 
 selling of them, and proffering to help them off with their 
 irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied two 
 men come tumbling over the wall, on the left hand of the 
 narrow way ; and they made up apace to him. The name 
 
56 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 of the one was Formalist, and the name of the other 
 
 Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who 
 thus entered with them into discourse : 
 
 CHR. Gentlemen, whence came you, and 
 
 Christian . ' * > 
 
 talked with Whither QO yOU gO I 
 
 FORM, and HYP. We were born in the land of 
 Vain-glory, and are going for praise to Mount Zion. 
 
 CHR. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth 
 
 at the beginning of the way ? Know you not that it is 
 
 written, that 'He that cometh not in by the 
 
 John 10. i. . . . ' 
 
 door, but climbeth up some other way, the same 
 is a thief and a robber ' ? 
 
 FORM, and HYP. They said, that to go to the gate for 
 entrance was by all their countrymen counted too far 
 about ; and that therefore their usual way was to make a 
 short cut of it, and to climb over the wall, as they had 
 done. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 FORM, and HYP. They told him, that as for that, he 
 
 needed not to trouble his head thereabout ; for 
 
 come into what they did they had custom for : and could 
 
 the way, but ^ 7 . ' 
 
 not by the produce, if need were, testimony that would 
 
 door, think . '. ' ' 
 
 that they can witness it for more than a thousand years. 
 
 say some- ~ _. . _^ . MI 
 
 thin ? in CHR. But, said Christian, will your practice 
 
 vindication . -11^ 
 
 of their own stand a trial at law r 
 
 FORM, and HYP. They told him, that custom, 
 it being of so long a standing as above a thousand years, 
 would doubtless now be admitted as a thing legal, by an 
 impartial judge; and besides, said they, if we 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 we perceive, came 
 
58 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 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 him but little answer ; only they bid 
 him look to himself. Then I saw that they went on every 
 man in his way, without much conference one with an- 
 other ; 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 naked- 
 ness. 
 
 CHR. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, 
 since you came not in by the door. And as for 
 
 Gal. 2. 16. . J 11- 
 
 this coat that is on my back, it was given me by 
 the Lord of the place whither I go ; and that, as you say, 
 to cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a token of 
 his kindness to me, for I had nothing but rags before. And 
 
 besides, thus I comfort myself as I go : Surely, 
 
 Christian ' J > i /- 
 
 has got his think I, when I come to the gate of the City, 
 on his back, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since 
 
 and is com- i 
 
 forted there- I have his coat on my back -, a coat that he gave 
 
 with ; he is ... . . . , . . - 
 
 comforted me freely in the day that he stripped me of my 
 
 also with his T . . . r i i 
 
 mark and his rags. 1 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 
 
HYPOCRISY 
 
60 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell 
 you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll sealed to 
 comfort me by reading, as I go on in the way ; I was also 
 bid to give it in at the Celestial Gate, in token of my 
 certain going in after it : all which things I doubt you 
 want, and want them because you came not in at the 
 gate. 
 
 To these things they gave him no answer; only they 
 
 looked upon each other and laughed. Then I saw that 
 
 they went on all, save that Christian kept before, 
 
 has talk with who had no more talk but with himself, and that 
 
 himself. . . , . . , . y 
 
 sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably ; 
 also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the 
 Shining Ones gave him, by which he was refreshed. 
 
 I beheld then that they all went on till they came to 
 the foot of the Hill Difficulty, at the bottom of 
 
 He comes . . . . ,_,, . . 
 
 to the Hill which was a spring. 1 here was also in the same 
 
 Difficulty. , , i'ii 1-1 
 
 place two other ways besides that which came 
 straight from the gate ; one turned to the left hand, and 
 the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill ; but the 
 narrow way lay right up the hill (and the name of the 
 
 going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty). 
 
 Christian now went to the spring, and drank 
 thereof to refresh himself, 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 j 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. But 
 when they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that 
 
61 
 
 there were two other ways to go j and supposing also that 
 these two ways might meet again with that up which 
 Christian went, on the other side of the hill ; therefore they 
 were resolved to go in those ways. (Now the name of 
 one of those ways was Danger, and the name The danger 
 of the other Destruction.) So the one took ^ t tu 7JJf 
 the way which is called Danger, which led him way- 
 into a great wood j and the other took directly up the 
 way to Destruction, which led him into a wide field full 
 of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose 
 
 no more. 1 
 
 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 Awardof 
 by the Lord of the hill for the refreshing of grace - 
 weary travellers. Thither therefore Christian got, where 
 also he sat down to rest him. Then he pulled his roll out 
 of his bosom, and read therein to his comfort ; he also now 
 began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that 
 was given him as he stood by the Cross. Thus pleasing 
 himself a while, he at last fell into a slumber, 
 and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him sleeps is 
 in that place until it was almost night ; and in 
 his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now as he was 
 sleeping, there came one to him, and awaked 
 
 ,. J . c ~ . Prov. 6. 6. 
 
 him, saying, ' Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; 
 
 consider her ways, and be wise.' And with that Christian 
 
 1 Shall they who wrong begin yet rightly end ? 
 Shall they at all have safety for their friend ? 
 No, no 5 in headstrong manner they set out, 
 And headlong will they fall at last no doubt. 
 
6z THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 against him amain ; the name of 
 Christian tne one was Timorous, and the other Mistrust ; 
 MlstruYt^and to whom Christian said, Sirs, what 's the matter 
 Timorous. vou run t j le wron g wa y ? Timorous answered 
 that they were going to the City of Zion, and had got up 
 that difficult place j but, said he, the farther we go, the 
 more danger we meet with ; wherefore we turned, and are 
 going back again. 
 
 Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of lions 
 in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know not ; and 
 we could not think, if we came within reach, but they 
 would presently pull us in pieces. 
 
 CHR. Then said Christian, You make me afraid, but 
 whither shall I fly to be safe ? If I go back to mine own 
 country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall 
 certainly perish there. If I can get to the Celestial City, 
 I am sure to be in safety there. I must venture : to go 
 back is nothing but death ; to go forward is fear 
 shakes off oT cleath, arid life everlasting beyond it. I will 
 
 fear. tQKmwm r VMoMM*M* l * l YPM4|M'*P | M |l **ffMHBWIpnHR 9 * v '" 
 
 yet go forward, oo Mistrust and 1 imorous ran 
 
 down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But think- 
 
 ing again of what he heard from the men, he felt 
 
 Christian . , . , r i 11 i i i t 
 
 missed his m his bosom for his roll, that he might read 
 he used to therein and be comforted ; but he felt, and found 
 it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and 
 knew not what to do ; for he wanted that which used to 
 relieve him, and that which should have been his 
 pass into the Celestial City. Here therefore he 
 
 began to be much perplexed, and knew not what 
 to do. At last he bethought himself that he had slept in 
 
TIMOROVS. 
 
64 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 the arbour that is on the side of the hill : and falling down 
 upon his knees, he asked God forgiveness for that his 
 foolish fact, and then went back to look for his roll. But 
 all the way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth 
 the sorrow of Christian's heart ? Sometimes he sighed, 
 sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for 
 being so foolish to fall asleep in that place which was 
 erected only for a little refreshment for his weariness. 
 Thus therefore he went back, carefully looking on this 
 side and on that, all the way as he went, if haply he might 
 find his roll, that had been his comfort so many times in 
 his journey. He went thus till he came again within sight 
 of the arbour where he sat and slept ; but that sight re- 
 newed his sorrow the more, by bringing again, even afresh, 
 
 his evil of sleeping: into his mind. Thus there- 
 Christian . . 
 bewails his fore he now went on bewailing his sinful sleep, 
 
 foolish . ^^ . i_ T ITIII 
 
 sleeping. saying, U wretched man that 1 am, that 1 should 
 i Thess. 5 s. sleep in the daytime ! that I should sleep in the 
 midst of difficulty ! that I should so indulge the 
 flesh as to use that rest for ease to my flesh, which the 
 Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the 
 spirits of pilgrims ! How many steps have I 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 not 
 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 was come to the arbour again, 
 where for a while he sat down and wept ; but at last (as 
 
MISTRV5T, 
 
66 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Christian would have it), looking sorrowfully down under 
 the settle, there he espied his roll ; the which he with 
 Christian trembling and haste catched up, and put it into 
 roil wherl s he his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man 
 lost it. waSj w hen he had "gotten his roll again ! for this 
 
 roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance at the 
 desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave 
 thalilcs to God for directing his eye to the place where it 
 lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again to his 
 journey. But oh, how nimbly now did he go up the rest 
 of the hill ! Yet before he got up, the sun went down 
 upon Christian j 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 the sun, darkness must cover the path of 
 my feet, and I must hear the noise of doleful creatures, 
 because of my sinful sleep. Now also he remembered the 
 story that Mistrust and Timorous told him of, how they 
 were 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 his way, but 
 while he was thus bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he 
 lift up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace 
 before him, the name of which was Beautiful ; and it stood 
 just 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 off of the porter's 
 lodge ; and, looking very narrowly before him as he went, 
 
trjTCHFVL THE TORTE^ 67 
 
 he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see 
 the dangers that Mistrust 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 
 
 WATCHFUL THE PORTER 
 
 Mark 13. 34. 
 
 him : but the porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, 
 perceiving that Christian made a halt, as if he 
 would go back, cried unto him, saying, Is thy 
 strength so small ? Fear not the lions, for they are 
 chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where 
 
68 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 it is, and for discovery of those that have none : keep 
 in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto 
 thee. 1 
 
 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 
 clapt 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. The porter also asked whence 
 he was, and whither he was going ? 
 
 CHR. I am come from the City of Destruction, and am 
 going to Mount Zion ; but because the sun is now set, I 
 desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. 
 
 POR. What is your name ? 
 
 CHR. My name is now Christian, but my name at the 
 first was Graceless ; I came of the race of 
 Japheth, whom God will persuade to dwell in 
 the tents of Shem. 
 
 POR. But how doth it happen 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 j 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 
 
 1 Difficulty's behind, fear is before, 
 Though he 's got on the hill, the lions roar ; 
 A Christian man is never long at ease, 
 When one fright's gone, another doth him seize, 
 
THE TALACE <BEAVTIFVL 69 
 
 back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I found it, 
 and now I am come. 
 
 FOR. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this 
 place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the 
 rest of the family, according to the rules of the house. So 
 Watchful the porter rang a bell, at the sound of which 
 came out at the door of the house a grave and beauti- 
 ful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was 
 called. 
 
 The porter answered, This man is in a journey from the 
 City of Destruction to Mount Zion, but being weary and 
 benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to-night ; 
 so I told him I would call for thee, who, after discourse 
 had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, even 
 according to the law of the house. 
 
 Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he 
 was going ; and he told her. She asked him also, how he 
 got into the way ; and he told her. Then she asked him 
 what he had seen and met with in the way ; and he told 
 her. And 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 discourse with him, had him into the family ; 
 and many of them, meeting him at the threshold of the 
 house, said, Come in, thou blessed of the Lord ; this house 
 was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to entertain 
 such pilgrims in. Then he bowed his head, and followed 
 them into the house. So when he was come in and set 
 
70 THE "PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 down, they gave him something to drink, and consented 
 together that, until supper was ready, some of them should 
 have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best 
 improvement of time ; and they appointed Piety, and 
 Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him ; and thus 
 they began : 
 
 PIETY. Come, good Christian, since we have been so 
 Piety dis- loving to you, to receive you into our house this 
 courses him. night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves 
 thereby, talk with you of all things that have happened to 
 you in your pilgrimage. 
 
 CHR. With a very good will, and I am glad that you 
 are so well disposed. 
 
 PIETY. What moved you at first to betake yourself to 
 a pilgrim's life ? 
 
 CHR. I was driven out of my native country 
 
 How Chris- / J 
 
 tian was by a dreadful sound that was in mine ears : to 
 
 driven out of '. .1,11 i i i 
 
 his own wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me, 
 
 if I abode in that place where I was. 
 PIETY. But how did it happen that you came out of 
 your country this way ? 
 
 <CHR. It was as God would have it ; for when I was 
 under the fears of destruction, I did not know whither to 
 go ; but by chance there came a man, even to me (as I 
 was trembling; and weeping), whose name is 
 
 How he got i- j i i- i TIT- i 
 
 into the way 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 
 Jiouse. 
 
 PIETY. But did you not come by the house of the 
 Interpreter ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, and did see such things there, the remem- 
 brance of which will stick by me as long as I live ; specially 
 
DISCRETION. 
 
72 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 three things : to wit, How Christ, in despite of Satan, 
 A rehearsal maintains his work of grace in the heart; how 
 sa^tn the 6 tne man nac * sinned himself quite out of hopes of 
 God's mercy; and also the dream of him that 
 thought in his sleep the day of judgment was come. 
 
 PIETY. 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. 
 
 PIETY. Was that all you saw at the house of the Inter- 
 preter ? 
 
 CHR. No ; he took me and had me where he showed 
 me a stately palace, and how the people were clad in gold 
 that were in it ; and how there came a venturous man and 
 cut his way through the armed men that stood in the door 
 to keep him out, and how he was bid to come in, and 
 win eternal glory. Methought those things did ravish my 
 heart; I would have stayed at that good man's house a 
 twelvemonth, but that I knew I had farther to go. 
 
 PIETY. And what saw you else in the way ? 
 
 CHR. Saw ! Why, I went but a little farther, and I 
 saw One, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon 
 the 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. 'Twas a strange thing 
 to me, for I never saw such a thing before ; yea, and while 
 I stood looking up (for then I could not forbear looking), 
 three Shining Ones came to me. One of them testified 
 that my sins were forgiven me ; another stripped me of my 
 rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see ; and 
 the third set the mark which you see, in my forehead, and 
 gave me this sealed roll (and with that he plucked it out of 
 his bosom). 
 
PRUDENCE. 
 
74 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 PIETY. But you saw more than this, did you not ? 
 
 CHR. The things that I have told you were the best ; 
 yet some other matters I saw, as, namely, I saw three men, 
 Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep a little out of the 
 way as I came, with irons upon their heels ; but do you 
 think I could awake them ! I also saw Formality and 
 Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pre- 
 tended, 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' mouth ; 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. 
 discourses PRUD. Do vou not think sometimes of the 
 
 him. r u a 
 
 country from whence you came r 
 
 CHR. Yes, but with much shame and detestation : Truly, 
 Christian's ^ I nac * been mindful of that country from 
 his n!te f wnence I came out > I might have had oppor- 
 Heb 1 ^' 15 tunity to nave returned ; but now I desire a 
 l6 - better country, that is, a heavenly. 
 
 PRUD. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the 
 things that then you were conversant withal ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, but greatly against my will ; especially my 
 Christian inward and carnal cogitations, with which all my 
 iSslniai countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted ; 
 cogitations, but now all those things are my grief: and might 
 I but choose mine own things, I would choose never to 
 Christian's think of those things more ; but when I would 
 Rom.%. 21. be doing of that which is best, that which is 
 worst is with me. 
 
76 THE T1LGR1M*S PROGRESS 
 
 PRUD. 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 
 Christian's golden hours in which such things happen to me. 
 golden hours. PRUD. Can you remember by what means you 
 find your annoyances at times, as if they were vanquished ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, when I think what I saw at the Cross, that 
 HOW Chris- will do it ; and when I look upon my broidered 
 
 tian gets 
 
 power coat, that will do it : also when I look into the 
 
 against his - i T i i MI i 
 
 corruptions, roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it ; 
 and when my thoughts wax warm about whither I am 
 going, that will do it. 
 
 PRUD. 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 
 Why Chris, dead on the Cross ; and there I hope to be rid of 
 be at W Mount a ll those things that to this day are in me an 
 fsa. n 2 5 . s. annoyance to me ; there they say there is no 
 Rev. 21. 4 . death, and there I shall dwell with such company 
 as I like best. For to tell you 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 
 c Holy, holy, holy.' 
 
 Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family ? 
 Charity dis- Are 7 OU a married man ? 
 
 courses him. Q HR> J have a wife an( J Qur sma U children. 
 
 CHAR. And why did you not bring them along with 
 you ? 
 
 Christian's CHR. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh how 
 wife 'and' 5 willingly would I have done it, but they were all 
 children. o f them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage. 
 
 CHAR. But you should have talked to them, and have 
 
CHARITY. 
 
78 THE TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 endeavoured to have shown them the danger of being 
 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 not. 
 
 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 sorrow, and 
 fear of destruction ? for I suppose that destruction was 
 visible enough to you ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also 
 Christian's see my fears in my countenance, in my tears, 
 
 fears of , / . '., , > t 
 
 perishing and also in my trembling under the apprehension 
 reali in his of the judgment 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, 
 The cause anc ^ m 7 cm ^ren were given to the foolish de- 
 wife aid lights of youth : so what by one thing, and what 
 not'g^with* by another, they left me to wander in this manner 
 him. 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 
 
CHARITY ^DISCOURSES 79 
 
 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 Christian's 
 this very thing, they would tell me I was too * 
 precise, and that I denied myself of things (for Jjfe 1 ^ 18 
 their sakes) in which they saw no evil. Nay, I <* ildren - 
 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. 
 
 CHAR. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, because his own 
 works were evil, and his brother's righteous ; , Joh n 3 . 12 . 
 and if thy wife and children have been offended Se? r S o?their 
 with thee for this, they thereby show themselves ^ r ? d h- if they 
 to be implacable to good, and thou hast delivered ^ zekl 3> I9> 
 thy soul from their blood. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking 
 together until supper was ready. So when they had made 
 ready, they sat down to meat. Now the table What 
 was furnished with fat things, and with wine Sffo^ 
 that was well refined ; and all their talk at the su PP er - 
 table was about the Lord of the hill j as, namely, about 
 what he had done, and wherefore he did what Their talk at 
 he did, and why he had builded that house : and, supper-time. 
 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 Heb 2 X4> 
 himself, which made me love him the more. I5 ' 
 
 For, as they said, and as I believe (said Christian), he did 
 it with the loss of much blood 3 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 that said, they had seen and spoke with him 
 
8o THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 since he did die on the cross ; and they have attested, that 
 they had it from his own lips, that he is such a lover of 
 poor pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east 
 to the west. 
 
 They moreover gave an instance of what they affirmed, 
 
 and that was, He had stripped himself of his glory that he 
 
 might do this for the poor ; and that they heard him say 
 
 and affirm, That he would not dwell in the Mountain of 
 
 Zion alone. They said moreover, That he had 
 
 Christ makes ... 
 
 princes of made many pilgrims princes, though by nature 
 i Sam. 2. s. they were beggars born, and their original had 
 been the dunghill. 
 
 Thus they discoursed together till late at night, and 
 after they had committed themselves to their Lord for 
 protection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim 
 
 . . they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window 
 
 Christian's J . . , 
 
 bed- 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 
 
 Christian i r i 
 
 had into the records or the greatest antiquitv ; in which, as I 
 
 study, and i , - r 
 
 what he saw remember my dream, they showed him first the 
 
 pedigree of the Lord of the hill, that he was the 
 
 son of the Ancient of Days, and came by an eternal 
 
 generation. Here also was more fully recorded the acts 
 
CHRISTIAN 
 
 STUDT 
 
 81 
 
 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, obtain- 
 ed promises, Heb . . 33> 
 stopped the 34> 
 mouths of lions, 
 quenched the violence 
 of fire, escaped the edge 
 of the sword ; out of 
 weakness were made 
 strong, waxed valiant 
 in fight, and turned 
 to flight the armies of the aliens. 
 
 Then they read again in another part of the records of 
 
 CHRISTIAN S ARMOUR 
 
 MOSES ROD 
 
 the house, where it was showed how willing their Lord 
 was to receive into his favour any, even any, though they 
 
82 
 
 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 : to- 
 gether with prophecies and 
 predictions of things that 
 have their certain accom- 
 plishment, 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 
 
 HAMMER AND NAIL 
 
 PITCHER, TRUMPET, AND LAMP OF GIDEON 
 
 SHAMGAR S OX GOAD 
 
 armoury, where they showed him all manner of furniture, 
 Christian which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, 
 
 had into the i i i i i i i 11 
 
 armoury. as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, 
 and shoes that would not wear out. And there was 
 
CHRISTIAN 
 
 ARMQURT 
 
 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. Christian is 
 They showed him Moses' rod, the hammer and ^ see 
 nail with which Jael slew Sisera, the pitchers, things - 
 trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight 
 the armies of Midian. Then 
 they showed him the ox's goad 
 wherewith Shamgar slew six 
 hundred men. They showed 
 him also the jaw-bone with 
 which Samson did such mighty 
 feats : they showed him more- 
 over the sling and stone with 
 which David slew Goliath of 
 Gath j 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 Chri stian 
 be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains, gStlbfc 
 which, they said, would yet further add to his com- Mountains - 
 fort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the 
 
 SAMSON'S JAW-BONE 
 
 DAVID S SLING 
 
84 THE TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 place where at present he was : so he consented and stayed. 
 When the morning was up, they had him to the top of the 
 isa. 33 . 16, house, and bid him look south ; so he did ; and 
 behold, at a great distance he saw a most pleasant 
 mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, 
 fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, 
 very delectable to behold. Then he asked the name of the 
 country : they said it was ImmanueFs Land ; and it is as 
 common, said they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. 
 And when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see 
 to the gate of the Celestial City, as the shepherds that live 
 there will make appear. 
 
 Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they 
 
 Christian were willing he should. But first, said they, 
 
 sets forward. j et us g O a g a { n m t o 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 
 
 Christian u 1-1 TT i 
 
 sent away should meet with assaults in the way. rle being 
 therefore thus accoutred walketh out with his 
 friends to the gate, and there he asked the porter if 
 he saw any pilgrims pass by. 1 Then the porter answered, 
 Yes. 
 
 CHR. Pray did you know him ? said he. 
 
 POR. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful. 
 
 CHR. Oh, said Christian, I know him ; he is my 
 townsman, my near neighbour, he comes from the place 
 where I was born : how far do you think he may be 
 before ? 
 
 POR. He is got by this time below the hill. 
 
 1 Whilst Christian is among his godly friends, 
 Their golden mouths make him sufficient 'mends 
 For all his griefs ; and when they let him go, 
 He 's clad with northern steel from top to toe. 
 
THE PALLET OF HUMILIATION 85 
 
 CHR. Well, said Christian, good porter, the Lord be 
 with thee, and add to all thy blessings much H ow chris- 
 increase, for the kindness that thou hast showed pJ r n te ? n ? d reS e 
 to me. at P" 1 * 
 
 Then he began to go forward, but Discretion, Piety, 
 Charity, and Prudence would accompany him down to the 
 foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating 
 their former discourses till they came to go down the hill. 
 Then said Christian, As it was difficult coming up, so (so 
 far as I can see) it is dangerous going down. Yes, said 
 Prudence, so it is ; for it is a hard matter for a 
 man to go down into the Valley of Humiliation, ofHumiiia- 
 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 companions, 
 when Christian was gone down to the bottom of the hill, 
 gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of 
 raisins > and then he went on his way. 
 
 But now in this Valley of Humiliation poor Christian 
 was hard put to it, for he had gone but a little way before 
 he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him ; 
 his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be 
 afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back, 
 
 ... i r i i Christian no 
 
 or to stand his ground. iJut he considered again, armour for 
 
 , , , , ,. , his back. 
 
 that he had no armour for his back, and there- 
 fore thought that to turn the back to him, might give him 
 greater advantage with ease to pierce him with Christian's 
 his darts; therefore he resolved to venture, and Sflpproad" 
 stand his ground. For, thought he, had I no ofA P oll y n - 
 more in mine eye than the saving of my life, 'twould 
 be the best way to stand. 
 
86 THE "PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 come you ? and whither are you bound ? 
 CHR. I am come from the City of Destruction. 
 
 Discourse 
 
 betwixt which is the place of all evil, and am ffoinsr to 
 
 Christian 5 
 
 and the City of Zion. 
 
 Apollyon. J , . 
 
 APOL. By this I perceive thou art one of my 
 subjects, for all that country is mine j and I am the prince 
 and god of it. How is it then that thou hast run away 
 from thy king ? Were it not that I hope thou mayest 
 do me more service, I would strike thee now at one blow 
 to the ground. 
 
 CHR. I was born indeed in your dominions, but your 
 
 service was hard, and your wages such as a man could not 
 
 live on, for the wages of sin is death ; therefore 
 
 Rom. 6. 23. T T i i 
 
 when I was come to years, I did as other con- 
 siderate 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 
 Apoiiyon's complainest of thy service and wages, be content 
 flattery. to g O b^k . w hat 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, 
 
ENCOUNTER WITH APOLLTO^ 87 
 
 changed a bad for a worse j but it is ordinary for those 
 that have professed themselves his servants, after Ap oiiyon 
 a while to give him the slip, and return again chrfs7s alues 
 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 fo me, and yet I am will- 
 ins: to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again Apoiiyon 
 
 , , , J pretends to 
 
 and gO back. be merciful. 
 
 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 mej yea, and to pardon also 
 what I did as to my compliance with thee : and besides 
 (O thou destroying Apoiiyon), to speak truth, I like his 
 service, his wages, his servants, his government, his com- 
 pany, and country better than thine; and therefore leave 
 off to persuade me further, I am his servant, and I will 
 follow him. 
 
 APOL. Consider again when thou art in cool blood, what 
 thou art like to meet with in the way that thou 
 goest. Thou knowest that for the most part, 
 his servants come to an ill end, because they are Christians 
 transgressors against me and my ways. How chriSr?* 
 many of them have been put to shameful deaths ! sj^^ his 
 and besides, thou countest his service better than way< 
 mine, whereas he never came yet from the place where he 
 is, to deliver any that served him out of our 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 
 
88 THE TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 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 Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to 
 him ? 
 
 APOL. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou 
 wast almost choked in the Gulf of Despond ; 
 
 Apollyon 
 
 pleads thou di dst attempt wrong wavs to be rid of thv 
 
 Christian's i , 1-1 
 
 infirmities burden, whereas thou shouldest have stayed till 
 
 ia.inst him. 
 
 thy Prince had taken it off; thou didst sinfully 
 sleep and lose thy choice thing ; thou wast also almost 
 persuaded to go back at the sight of the lions ; and when 
 thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast heard 
 and seen, thou art inwardly desirous of vainglory in all that 
 thou sayest or doest. 
 
 CHR. All this is true, and much more, which thou hast 
 left out 5 but the Prince whom I serve and honour is 
 merciful, and ready to forgive ; but besides, these infirmities 
 possessed me in thy country, for there I sucked them in, 
 and I have groaned under them, been sorry for them, and 
 have obtained pardon of my Prince. 
 
 Apollyon APOL. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous 
 
 fails u a pon ra g e j sa y m gj I am an enemy to this Prince ; I 
 Christian. j^g j^ p ersori) fa s laws, and people ; I am come 
 
 out on purpose to withstand thee. 
 
 CHR. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in fhe 
 King's highway, the way of holiness, therefore take heed to 
 yourself. 
 
^POLLTON rANQUISHEV 89 
 
 APOL. 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 farther ; here will I spill thy soul. 
 
 And with that he threw a flaming 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 draw, for he saw 'twas time to bestir 
 him ; and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as 
 thick as hail ; by the which, notwithstanding all that 
 Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in 
 his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian 
 give a little back ; Apollyon, therefore, followed wounded in 
 
 , ~? . J . . his under- 
 
 his work amain, and Christian again took courage, standing, 
 and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore conversa- 
 combat lasted for above half a day, even till 
 Christian was almost quite spent. For you must know 
 that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow 
 weaker and weaker. 
 
 Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather 
 up close to Christian, and wrestling with him 
 gave him a dreadful fall j and with that Christian's casteth 
 sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, the Around 
 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 of his last blow, thereby to make a full end of 
 this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his 
 hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, c Re- 
 joice not against me, O mine enemy ! when I fall, I shall 
 arise ' ; and with that gave him a deadly thrust, Christian's 
 which made him give back, as one that had Apollyon. 
 received his mortal wound, Christian perceiving that, made 
 
90 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 at him Again, saying, 'Nay, in all these things we are 
 more than conquerors, through him that loved 
 us.' And with that Apollyon spread forth his 
 
 dragon's wings, and sped him away, that Christian saw him 
 no more. 1 
 
 James 4. 7. . 
 
 In this combat no man can imagine, unless he 
 had seen and heard as I did, what yelling, and hideous 
 A brief roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight, 
 relation of he spake like a dragon ; and on the other side % 
 
 the combat , 
 
 by the what sighs and groans burst from Christian's 
 
 spectator. , r . . ,. 
 
 heart. I never saw him all the while give so 
 much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded 
 Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then indeed he did 
 smile, and look upward > but 'twas the dreadfullest sight 
 that ever I saw. 
 
 So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will here 
 Christian g^ ve thanks to him that hath delivered me out of 
 Sanks*for tne mou th of the lion i to him that did help me 
 deliverance. a g amst Apollyon : and so he did, saying, 
 
 Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, 
 Design'd my ruin j therefore to this end 
 He sent him harness'd out, and he with rage 
 That hellish was, did fiercely me engage : 
 But blessed Michael helped me, and I, 
 By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly ; 
 Therefore to him let me give lasting praise, 
 And thank and bless his holy name always. 
 
 Then there came to him a hand, with some of the leaves 
 of the tree of life, the which Christian took, and applied to 
 
 1 A more unequal match can hardly be : 
 Christian must fight an angel ; but you see 
 The valiant man by handling sword and shield, 
 Doth make him, tho' a dragon, quit the field. 
 
THE PALLET OF THE SHADOW 91 
 
 the wounds that he had received in the battle, and was 
 
 healed immediately. He also sat down in that place to eat 
 
 bread, and to drink of the bottle 
 
 that was given him a little 
 
 before; so being re- Christian 
 
 freshed, he addressed 
 
 himself to his journey, 
 
 with his sword drawn his hand - 
 
 in his hand, for he said, I 
 
 know not but some other enemy 
 
 may be at hand. But he met 
 
 with no other affront from 
 
 Apollyon, quite through this 
 
 valley. 
 
 Now at the end of this 
 
 valley Was another, The VaUey < A HAND WITH SOMS LEAVES OF 
 
 called the Valley of shadow of THE TREE OF LIFE ' 
 
 the Shadow of Death, Death - 
 
 and Christian must needs go through it, because the way 
 
 to the Celestial City lay through the midst of it. Now 
 
 this valley is a very solitary place. The prophet Jeremiah 
 
 thus describes it : ' A wilderness, a land of deserts 
 
 and of pits, a land oT drought, and of the shadow 
 
 of death; a land that no man' (but a Christian) ' passeth 
 
 through, and where no man dwelt/ 
 
 Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his 
 fight with Apollyon, as by the sequel you shall see. 
 
 I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was 
 got to the borders of the Shadow of Death, The children 
 there met him two men, children of them that go'bfck" 65 
 brought up an evil report of the good land, Numb - I3- 
 making haste to go back ; to whom Christian spake as 
 follows : 
 
92 THE TILGRUVTS TROGRESS 
 
 CHR. Whither are you going ? 
 
 MEN. They said, Back, back ; and we would have you 
 to do so too, if either life or peace is prized by you. 
 
 CHR. Why, what 's the matter ? said Christian. 
 
 MEN. Matter ! said they ; we were going that way as 
 you are going, and went as far as we durst ; and indeed we 
 were almost past coming back, for had we gone a little 
 further, we had not been here to bring the news to thee. 
 
 CHR. But what have you met with ? said Christian. 
 
 MEN. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the 
 PS. 44. 19. Shadow of Death, but that by good hap we looked 
 PS. 107. 10. before us, and saw the danger before we came to it. 
 
 CHR. 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 a people under unutterable misery, who 
 there sat bound in affliction and irons ; and over that valley 
 job 3 . s . hang the discouraging clouds of confusion, death 
 Chap. 10. 22. a j so doth always spread his wings over it : in a 
 word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly without order. 
 
 CHR. Then said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what 
 you have said, but that this is my way to the 
 
 Jer. 2. 6. J . J J 
 
 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 this valley reached, 
 
 there was on the right hand a very deep ditch ; 
 
 that ditch is it into which the blind have led the 
 blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished. 
 Again, behold on the left hand, there was a very dangerous 
 
THE PALLET OF THE SHADOW 93 
 
 quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he can find no 
 bottom for his foot to stand on. Into that quag King 
 David once did fall, and had no doubt therein been smothered, 
 had not he that is able plucked him out. 
 
 The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and there- 
 fore 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 dangers 
 mentioned above, the pathway was here so dark, that oft- 
 times when he lift up his foot to set forward, he knew not 
 where, or upon what he should set it next. 1 
 
 About the midst of this valley, I perceived the mouth of 
 hell to be, and it stood also hard by the wayside. Now 
 thought Christian, what shall I do ? And ever and anon 
 the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance, 
 with sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for 
 Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that he was 
 forced to put up his sword, and betake himself 
 
 i 11 i A 11 i -i Eph. 6. 18. 
 
 to another weapon, called All-prayer, so he cried 
 
 in my hearing, c O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my 
 
 soul.' Thus he went on a great while, yet still 
 
 the flames would be reaching towards him : also 
 
 he heard doleful voices, and rushings to and fro, so that 
 
 sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces, or 
 
 trodden down like mire in the streets. This frightful sight 
 
 was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard by him for 
 
 1 Poor man ! where art thou now ? thy day is night. 
 Good man, be not cast down, thou yet art right : 
 Thy way to heaven lies by the gates of hell ; 
 Cheer up, hold out, with thee it shall go well. 
 
94 
 
 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 several miles together : and coming to a place where he 
 thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to 
 meet him, he stopped, and began to muse what 
 he had best to do. Sometimes he had half a 
 thought to go back. Then again he thought he 
 might be half way through the valley ; he remembered also 
 
 Christian 
 put to a 
 stand, but 
 for a while. 
 
 THE MOUTH OF THE PIT 
 
 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 vehe- 
 ment voice, c I will walk in the strength of the Lord God ' ; 
 so they gave back, and came no further. 
 
 One thing I would not let slip, I took notice that now 
 
THE Y ALLEY OF THE SHADOW 95 
 
 poor Christian was so confounded, that he did not know his 
 own voice. And thus I perceived it : Just when he was 
 come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the 
 wicked ones got behind him, and stepped up softly to him, 
 and whisper in gly suggested many grievous bias- Christian 
 phemies to him, which he verily thought had made believe 
 
 ' . . Jf . . that he spake 
 
 proceeded from his own mind. This put Christian blasphemies, 
 
 when 'twas 
 
 more to it than anything that he had met with Satan that 
 before, even to think that he should now them into 
 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 neither to stop his ears, nor 
 to know from whence those blasphemies came. 
 
 When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate con- 
 dition 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 none ill, for thou art with me.' 
 
 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 himself. 
 
 Secondly, For that he perceived God was with them, 
 though in that dark and dismal state ; and why not, thought 
 he, with me, though by reason of the impediment 
 
 , , . i -r . . . , Job 9. 10. 
 
 that attends this place, I cannot perceive it r 
 
 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 Chr i s tian 
 and by the day broke; then said Christian, c He f[ a d d 4' break 
 hath turned the shadow of death into the morning.' Amos 5< 8 - 
 
 Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of 
 desire to return, but to see, by the light of the day, what 
 
9 6 
 
 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw 
 
 more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the 
 
 quag that was on the other ; also how narrow the way 
 
 was which led betwixt them both : also now he saw the 
 
 hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar 
 
 off ; for after break of day they came not nigh j yet they 
 
 were discovered to him, according to that which 
 
 is written, * He ^iscovereth deep things out of 
 
 darkness, and bringeth out to light the. shadow of death.' 
 
 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 con- 
 spicuous to him. And about 
 this time the sun was rising, 
 and this was another mercy 
 to Christian ; for you must 
 note, that though the first 
 part of the Valley of the 
 Shadow of Death was dan- 
 The second gerous, yet this 
 
 Sey^ Secon ^ P art which 
 dangerous. L. 
 
 was, if possible, far more dan- 
 gerous : for from the place 
 POPE where he now stood, even 
 
 to the end of the valley, the 
 
 way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets 
 here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings 
 down there, that had it now been dark, as it was when he 
 
TOPE ANT> TAGAW^ 97 
 
 came the first part of the way, had he had a thousand 
 souls, they had in reason been cast away ; but as I said, 
 just now the sun was rising. Then said he, c His candle 
 shineth on my head, and by his light I go through 
 darkness.' 
 
 In this light therefore, he came to the end of the valley. 
 Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of this valley lay 
 blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even of 
 pilgrims that had gone this way formerly : And while I 
 was musing what should be the reason, I espied a little 
 before me a cave, where two giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt 
 in old time, by whose power and tyranny the men whose 
 bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay there, were cruelly put to 
 death. But by this place Christian went without much 
 danger, whereat I somewhat wondered -, but I have learnt 
 since, that Pagan has been dead many a day ; and as for the 
 other, though he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, and 
 also of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in his 
 younger days, grown so crazy, and stiff in his joints, that 
 he can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth, 
 grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails, 
 because he cannot come at them. 
 
 So I saw that Christian went on his way, yet at the 
 sight of the old man that sat in the mouth of the cave, 
 he could not tell what to think, specially because he spake 
 to him, though he could not go after him, saying, You will 
 never mend, till more of you be burned : but he held his 
 peace, and . set a good face on 't ; and so went by and 
 catched no hurt. Then sang Christian : 
 
 O world of wonders ! (I can say no less) 
 That I should be preserved in that distress 
 That I have met with here ! O blessed be 
 That hand that from it hath deliver'd me ! 
 G 
 
98 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin, 
 
 Did compass me, while I this vale was in : 
 
 Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie 
 
 My path about, that worthless silly I 
 
 Might have been catch'd, entangled, and cast down : 
 
 But since I live, let JESUS wear the crown. 
 
 Now as Christian went on his way, he came to a little 
 ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might 
 see before them. Up there therefore Christian went, and 
 looking forward, he saw Faithful before him, upon his 
 journey. Then said Christian aloud, Ho, ho, so-ho ; stay, 
 and I will be your companion. At that Faithful looked 
 behind him ; to whom Christian cried again, Stay, stay, 
 till I come up to you : But Faithful answered, No, I am 
 upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me. 
 At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting to 
 
 . . all his strength, he quickly got up with Faith- 
 overtakes fuL and did also overrun him. so the last was 
 
 Faithful. ' . . i i -i 
 
 nrst. 1 hen did Christian vamgloriously smile, 
 because he had gotten the start of his brother ; but not 
 taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and 
 fell, and could not rise again, until Faithful came up to 
 help him. 
 
 Christian's Then I saw in my dream, they went very 
 Faithful 65 lovingly on together, and had sweet discourse of 
 and he go ^[\ things that had happened to them in their 
 together. pilgrimage ; and thus Christian began : 
 
 CHR. My honoured and well-beloved brother Faithful, 
 I am glad that I have overtaken you j and that God has 
 so tempered our spirits, that we can walk as companions 
 in this so pleasant a path. 
 
 FAITH. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your 
 company quite from our town, but you did get the start 
 
FAIWVL 
 
ioo THE TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 of me ; wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the 
 way alone. 
 
 CHR. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction 
 before you set out after me on your pilgrimage ? 
 
 FAITH. Till I could stay no longer ; for there 
 
 Their talk .. . / 
 
 about the was great talk presently after you were gone out, 
 
 country from . i i i i r /- 
 
 whence they that our city would in short time with nre from 
 heaven be burned down to the ground. 
 
 CHR. What ! did your neighbours talk so ? 
 
 FAITH. Yes, 'twas for a while in everybody's mouth. 
 
 CHR. What, and did no more of them but you come out 
 to escape the danger ? 
 
 FAITH. Though there was, as I said, a great talk there- 
 about, yet I do not think they did firmly believe it. For 
 in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them deridingly 
 speak of you, and of your desperate journey (for so they 
 called this your pilgrimage), but I did believe, and do still, 
 that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone 
 from above ; and therefore I have made mine escape. 
 
 CHR. Did you hear no talk of Neighbour Pliable ? 
 
 FAITH. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till 
 he came at the Slough of Despond, where, as some said, he 
 fell in ; but he would not be known to have so done : but I 
 am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt. 
 
 CHR. And what said the neighbours to him ? 
 
 FAITH. He hath, since his going back, been 
 Pliable was had greatly in derision, and that among all sorts 
 Sn he got of people \ some do mock and despise him, and 
 scarce will any set him on work. He is now 
 seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the 
 city. 
 
 CHR. But why should they be so set against him, since 
 they also despise the way that he forsook ? 
 
FAITHFUL'S EXPERIENCES K-I 
 
 FAITH. Oh, they say, Hang him, he is a turncoat, he 
 was not true to his profession : I think God has Jer 29 lg> 
 stirred up even his enemies to hiss at him, and J 9- 
 make him a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way. 
 
 CHR. Had you no talk with him before you came out ? 
 
 FAITH. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away 
 on the other side, as one ashamed of what he had done ; so 
 I spake not to him. 
 
 CHR. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that 
 man ; but now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of 
 the city, for it is happened to him according to the 
 true proverb, 'The dog; is turned to his vomit 
 
 . * The dog and 
 
 again; and the sow that was washed to her sow. 
 
 6 ' . . 2 Pet. 2. 22. 
 
 wallowing in the mire. 
 
 FAITH. They are my fears of him too : But who can 
 hinder that which will be ? 
 
 CHR. Well, Neighbour Faithful, said Christian, let us 
 leave him, and talk of things that more immediately con- 
 cern ourselves. Tell me now, what you have met with in 
 the way as you came ; for I know you have met with some 
 things, or else it may be writ for a wonder. 
 
 FAITH. I escaped the slough that I perceived you fell 
 into, and got up to the gate without that danger ; only 
 I met with one whose name was Wanton, that . 
 had like to have done me a mischief. assaulted 
 
 ~ ,_, . . _ . by Wanton. 
 
 CHR. Twas well you escaped her net ; Joseph Gen. 39- 
 was hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as 
 you did ; but it had like to have cost him his life. But 
 what did she do to you ? 
 
 FAITH. You cannot think (but that you know some- 
 thing) what a flattering tongue she had ; she lay at me 
 hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner of 
 content. 
 
,i.o TH TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 CHR. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a 
 good conscience. 
 
 FAITH. You know what I mean, all carnal and fleshly 
 content. 
 
 CHR. Thank God you have escaped her : The abhorred 
 of the Lord shall fall into her ditch. 
 
 FAITH. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly 
 escape her, or no. 
 
 CHR. Why, I trow you did not consent to her de- 
 sires ? 
 
 FAITH. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an 
 
 Prov. 5 . 5 . ld writing that I had seen, which saith, * Her 
 job. 3 i. i. ste p s ^1^ h^ O f heJL' g i snut mme eveS) 
 
 because I would not be bewitched with her looks : then 
 she railed on me, and I went my way. 
 
 CHR. Did you meet with no other assault as you came ? 
 
 FAITH. When I came to the foot of the hill called 
 Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me 
 He is what I was, and whither bound. I told him that 
 
 byTdlm I was a pilgrim, g in g to the Celestial City, 
 the First. T hen said the old man, Thou lookest like an 
 honest fellow ; wilt thou be content to dwell with me for 
 the wages that I shall give thee ? Then I asked him his 
 name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam 
 the First, and that he dwelt in the town of 
 Deceit. I asked him then what was his work, 
 and what the wages that he would give. He told me that 
 his work was many delights : and his wages, that I should 
 be his heir at last. I further asked him what house he 
 kept, and what other servants he had. So he told me that 
 his house was maintained with all the dainties in the world ; 
 and that his servants were those of his own begetting. 
 Then I asked how many children he had. He said that 
 
"WANTON. 
 
104 
 
 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 he had but three daughters : c The Lust of the Flesh, the 
 Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life,' and 
 that I should marry them if I would. Then 
 
 I asked how long time he would have me live with him. 
 
 And he told me, As long as he lived himself. 
 
 THE LUST OF THE FLESH 
 
 CHR. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and 
 you to, at last ? 
 
 FAITH. Why, at first, I found myself somewhat inclin- 
 able to go with the man, for I thought he spake very fair j 
 but, looking in his forehead as I talked with him, I saw. 
 there written, c Put off the old man with his deeds. 1 
 
THE OLD /\DMA. 
 
io6 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 CHR. And how then ? 
 
 FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, what- 
 ever he said, and however he flattered, when he got me 
 home to his house, he would sell me for a slave. So I bid 
 
 THE LUST OF THE EYES 
 
 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 ; but just 
 as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hold of 
 my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that I 
 
FAITHFUL'S EXPERIENCES 107 
 
 thought he had pulled part of me after himself. This 
 made me cry, c O wretched man ! ' So I went Rom ^ ^ 
 on my way up the hill. 
 
 Now when I had got about half way up, I looked behind 
 
 THE PRIDE OF LIFE 
 
 me, and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind ; so he 
 overtook me just about the place where the settle stands. 
 
 CHR. 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 
 
io8 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 the man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow ; for 
 down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But when I 
 was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore 
 he served me so. He said, Because of my secret inclining 
 to Adam the First ; and with that he struck me another 
 deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward, 
 so I lay at his foot as dead as before. So when I came to 
 myself again, I cried him mercy ; but he said, I know not 
 how to show mercy ; and with that knocked me down 
 again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that One 
 came by, and bid him forbear. 
 
 CHR. Who was that, 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. That man that overtook you was Moses : he 
 The temper spareth none, neither knoweth he how to show 
 of Moses. 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. 'Twas 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 stayed there. 
 
 CHR. But did you not see the house that stood there on 
 the top of that hill, on the side of which Moses met you ? 
 
 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 ? 
 
FAITHFUL'S EXPERIENCES 109 
 
 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 
 
 TT J Faithful as- 
 
 without honour. He told me moreover, that sauitedby 
 
 . . i- i 11 Discontent. 
 
 there to go, was the way to disobey 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 
 
 _ . J . T / ... Faithful's 
 
 flesh), yet since 1 became a pilgrim they have answer to 
 
 j TIT. i i_ Discontent. 
 
 disowned me, as 1 also have rejected them ; and 
 therefore they were to me now no more than if they had 
 never been of my lineage. I told him, moreover, that as 
 to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing ; for 
 c before honour is humility,' and * a haughty spirit before 
 a fall.' Therefore, said I, 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 
 affections. 
 
 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 assaulted 
 
 ., c |. ! / i with Shame. 
 
 said nay, after a little argumentation (and some- 
 what else), but this 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 
 
no THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 them- 
 selves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. He 
 i Cor. i. 2 6. objected also. That but few of the mighty, rich, 
 Chap. 3 . is. or w j se were ever O f mv opinion ; nor any of 
 
 them, before they were persuaded to be fools, and to be of 
 Phil. 3 . 7 , s. a voluntary fondness to venture the loss of all, for 
 John 7 . 4 8. nobody else knows what. He moreover objected 
 the base and low estate and condition of those that were 
 chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived ; also 
 their ignorance and want of understanding in all natural 
 science. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also, about 
 a great many more things than here I relate ; as, that it 
 was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, 
 and a shame to come sighing and groaning home ; that it 
 was a shame to ask my neighbour forgiveness for petty 
 faults, or to make restitution where I had taken from any. 
 He said also that religion made a man grow strange to the 
 great, because of a few vices (which he called by finer 
 names), and made him own and respect the base, because 
 of the same religious fraternity. And is not this, said he, 
 a shame ? 
 
 CHR. And what did you say to him ? 
 
 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 God.' And I thought again, 
 
 This Shame tells me what men are, but it tells me nothing 
 
 what God, or the Word of God, is. And I thought, 
 
DISCONTENT. 
 
U2 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 indeed is best, 
 though all the men in the world are against it. Seeing 
 then that God prefers his religion, seeing God prefers a 
 tender conscience, seeing they that make themselves fools 
 for the kingdom of heaven are wisest ; and that the poor 
 man that loveth Christ is richer than the greatest man in 
 the world that hates him ; Shame, depart, thou art an 
 enemy to my salvation : shall I entertain thee against my 
 sovereign Lord ? How then shall I look him in the face at 
 his coming ? Should I now be ashamed of his 
 
 MarkS. 38. 111.5 
 
 ways and servants, how can I expect the blessing r 
 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, 'Twas but in vain to attempt further in 
 this business ; for those things that he disdained, in those 
 did I see most glory : and so at last I got past this im- 
 portunate one. And when I had shaken him off, then I 
 began to sing : 
 
 The trials that those men do meet withal 
 That are obedient to the heavenly call, 
 Are manifold, and suited to the flesh, 
 And come, and come, and come again afresh : 
 That now, or sometime else, we by them may 
 Be taken, overcome, and cast away. 
 Oh, let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then, 
 Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men. 
 
 CHR. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand 
 this villain so bravely ; for of all, as thou sayest, I think he 
 
PRIDE 
 
 H 
 
ii4 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 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 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. c The wise shall inherit glory,' said Solomon, 
 ' but shame shall be the promotion of fools.' 
 
 FAITH. I think we must cry to him for help against 
 Shame, that would have us to be valiant for truth upon the 
 earth. 
 
 CHR. You say true ; but did you meet nobody else in 
 that valley ? 
 
 FAITH. No, not I ; for I had sunshine all the rest of 
 the way through that, and also through the Valley of the 
 Shadow of Death. 
 
 CHR. 'Twas well for you ; I am sure it fared far other- 
 wise with me. I had for a long season, as soon almost as I 
 entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that foul 
 fiend Apollyon ; yea, I thought verily he would have killed 
 me, especially when he got me down, and crushed me 
 under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces. For 
 as he threw me, my sword flew out of my hand ; nay, he 
 told me he was sure of me : but I cried to God, and he 
 heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles. Then 
 I entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had 
 no light for almost half the way through it. I thought I 
 should have been killed there, over and over ; but at last 
 day 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 
 
ARROSANCY. 
 
ii6 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 them (for in this place, there was room enough for them all 
 Talkative to walk). He was a tall man, and something 
 described. mO re comely at a distance than at hand. To 
 this man Faithful addressed himself in this manner : 
 
 FAITH. Friend, whither away ? Are you going to the 
 heavenly country ? 
 
 TALK. I am going to the same place. 
 
 FAITH. That 's 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 
 Faithful and us spend our time in discoursing of things that 
 2?d 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 te 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 
 
 Talkative's - . r 11-111 
 
 dislike of bad of things to no profit ; and this hath been a 
 
 discourse. , , 
 
 trouble to me. 
 
 FAITH. That is indeed a thing to be lamented ; for 
 what things so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth 
 of men on earth, as are the things of the God of heaven ? 
 
 TALK. I like you wonderful well, for your sayings are 
 full of conviction ; and I will add, What thing is so pleasant, 
 and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God ? 
 
 What things so pleasant ? (that is, if a man hath any 
 delight in things that are wonderful) for instance : If a 
 man doth delight to talk of the history or the mystery of 
 things ; or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, 
 or signs, where shall he find things recorded so delightful, 
 and so sweetly penned, as in the holy Scripture ? 
 
SLLF CONCEIT. 
 
ii8 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 FAITH. That 's true ; but to be profited by such things 
 in our talk should be that which we design. 
 
 TALK. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things 
 is most profitable ; for, by so doing, a man may get know- 
 ledge of many things ; as of the vanity of earthly things, 
 and the benefit of things above (thus in general ) : 
 
 Talkative's . -111,. , 
 
 finedis- but more particularly, by this a man may learn 
 
 course. . . - , . . , . . J, . 
 
 the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency 
 of our works, the need of Christ's righteousness, etc. 
 Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent, to 
 believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like ; by this, also, a man 
 may learn what are the great promises and consolations of 
 the gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this a man 
 may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, 
 and also to instruct the ignorant. 
 
 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 necessity of a work of 
 grace in their souls, in order to eternal life ; but ignorantly 
 live in the works of the law, by which a man can by no 
 means obtain the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 FAITH. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these 
 is the gift of God ; no man attaineth to them by human 
 industry, or only by the talk of them. 
 
 TALK. All this I know very well, for a man can receive 
 o brave nothing except it be given him from heaven ; all 
 Talkative. j s o f g ra ce, not of works : I could give you a 
 hundred Scriptures for the confirmation of this. 
 
 FAITH. 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 heavenly, 
 
WORLDLY GLQRT, 
 
120 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 or things earthly ; things moral, or things evangelical ; 
 o brave things sacred, or things profane ; things past, or 
 Talkative. things to come ; things foreign, or things at 
 home ; things more essential, or things circumstantial ; 
 provided that all be done to our profit. 
 
 FAITH. Now did Faithful begin to wonder ; and step- 
 
 ping to Christian (for he walked all this while 
 
 beguiled by by himself), he said to him (but softly), What 
 
 Talkative. J . . to, 
 
 a brave companion have we got ! Surely this 
 man will make a very excellent pilgrim. 
 
 CHR. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This 
 man with whom you are so taken will beguile with this 
 
 tongue of his twenty of them that know him not. 
 
 Christian *? / . 
 
 FAITH. Do you know him, then ? 
 
 Talkative, CHR. Know him ! Yes, better than he knows 
 
 telling . ... 
 
 Faithful himself. 
 
 who he was. ^ -r, 1-11 
 
 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 con- 
 sider that our town is large. 
 
 FAITH. Whose son is he ? And whereabout doth he 
 dwell ? 
 
 CHR. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in 
 Prating Row, and he 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 thorough acquaint- 
 ance 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. 
 
SHAME 
 
122 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 FAITH. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because 
 you smiled. 
 
 CHR. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) in 
 this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely ; I will give 
 you a further discovery of him : This man is for any com- 
 pany, and for any talk ; as he talketh now with you, so will 
 he talk when he is on the ale-bench : and the more drink 
 he hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in 
 his mouth : Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, 
 or conversation ; all he hath, lieth in his tongue, and his 
 religion is to make a noise therewith. 
 
 FAITH. Say you so ! Then am I in this man greatly 
 deceived. 
 
 CHR. Deceived ! you may be sure of it. Remember 
 
 Matt. 23. 3 . tne proverb, * They say, and do not ' ; but ' the 
 
 i Cor. 4 . 20. kingdom O f God is not in word, but in power.' 
 
 He talketh of prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the 
 
 new birth ; but he knows but only to talk of 
 
 Talkative T ...-./ 
 
 talks, but them. I have been in his family, and have 
 observed him both at home and abroad ; and I 
 
 know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as 
 empty of religion as the white of an egg is of 
 
 His house rrM. i i i . 
 
 is empty of savour, i here is there, neither prayer nor sign 
 
 religion. _ - . '.*.. 4 
 
 of repentance for sm ; yea, the brute in his kind 
 serves God far better than he. He is the very stain, re- 
 proach, and shame of religion to all that know 
 stain to him ; it can hardly have a good word in. all that 
 Rom!2.'24, end of the town where he dwells, through him. 
 Thus say the common people that know him : 
 Ajsaint abroad, and a devil at home : His poor family finds 
 The pro- it so \ he is such 3. churl, such a railer at, and 
 goes of him. so unreasonable with his servants, that they 
 neither know how to do for or speak to him. Men that 
 
TALKATIVE. 
 
124 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 have any dealings with him, say it is better to deal with 
 a Turk than with him, for fairer dealing they 
 
 M^nshun . . 
 
 to deal with shall have at their hands. This Talkative, if 
 it be possible, will go beyond them, defraud, 
 beguile, and over-reach them. Besides, he brings up his 
 sons to follow his steps ; and if he findeth in any of them 
 a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first appearance 
 of a tender conscience) he calls them fools and blockheads ; 
 and by no means will employ them in much, or speak to 
 their commendations before others. For my part I am of 
 opinion, that he has by his wicked life caused many to 
 stumble and fall ; and will be, if God prevent not, the ruin 
 of many more. 
 
 FAITH. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you, 
 not only because you say you know him, but also because 
 like a Christian you make your reports of men. For I 
 cannot think that you speak these things of ill-will, but 
 because it is even so as you say. 
 
 CHR. Had I known him no more than you, I might 
 perhaps have thought of him as at the first you did : yea, 
 had he received this report at their hands only that are 
 enemies to religion, I should have thought it had been a 
 slander : (A lot that often falls from bad men's mouths 
 upon good men's names and professions :) But all these 
 things, yea, and a great many more as bad, of my own 
 knowledge I can prove him guilty of. Besides, good men 
 are ashamed of him j they can neither call him brother nor 
 friend ; the very naming of him among them makes them 
 blush if they know him. 
 
 FAITH. Well, I see that saying and doing are two 
 things, and hereafter I shall better observe this distinc- 
 tion. 
 
 CHR. They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse 
 
<DOERS JN<D TALKERS 125 
 
 as are the soul and the body ; for, as the body without 
 the soul is but a dead carcass, so saying, if it be Thecarcass 
 alone, is but a dead carcass also. The soul of ofreli g>n. 
 religion is the practick part : c Pure religion and undefiled, 
 before God and the Father, is this, To visit the 
 fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to See ver. 22 - 
 keep himself unspotted from the world.' This, 
 Talkative is not aware of; he thinks that hearing and 
 saying will make a good Christian, and thus he deceiveth 
 his own soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed ; 
 talking is not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the 
 heart and life ; and let us assure ourselves, that at the day 
 of doom, men shall be judged according to their fruits. 
 It will not be said then, Did you believe? but, seeMatt.i 3 . 
 Were you doers, or talkers only? and accordingly and cha P . 2 5. 
 shall they be judged. The end of the world is compared 
 to our harvest, and you know men at harvest regard 
 nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be accepted 
 that is not of faith : But I speak this to show you how 
 insignificant the profession of Talkative will be at that day. 
 
 FAITH. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by 
 which he describeth the beast that is clean. He Lev IT 
 is such an one that parteth the hoof, and cheweth Deut ' I4> 
 the cud ; not that parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth 
 the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but Faithful con- 
 yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. KSLof he 
 And this truly resembleth Talkative : he cheweth Talkative - 
 the cud, he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the 
 word ; but he divideth not the hoof, he parteth not with 
 the way of sinners; but, as the hare, he retaineth the 
 foot of a dog, or bear, and therefore is unclean. 
 
 CHR. You have spoken, for ought I know, the true 
 gospel sense of those texts, and I will add another thing. 
 
126 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 Paul calleth some men, yea and those great talkers too, 
 i Cor. i 3 . i- 3 . sounding brass, and tinkling cymbals ; that is, as 
 Chap. i 4 . 7 . j^ ex p 0un( i s them in another place, c things 
 without life, giving sound.' Things without life ; that 
 Talkative ^ S 5 without the true faith and grace of the gospel ; 
 lh\Vsou h nd SS and consequently, things that shall never be 
 without life. pi ace( j m tne kingdom of heaven among those 
 that are the children of life : Though their sound, by their 
 talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice of an angel. 
 
 FAITH. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but 
 I am sick of it now. What shall we do to be rid of him ? 
 
 CHR. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you 
 shall find that he will soon be sick of your company 
 too, except God shall touch his heart and turn it. 
 
 FAITH. What would you have me to do ? 
 
 CHR. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious 
 discourse about the power of religion : And ask him plainly 
 (when he has approved of it, for that he will), whether 
 this thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation. 
 
 FAITH. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said 
 to Talkative : Come, what cheer ? how is it now ? 
 
 TALK. Thank you, well. I thought we should have 
 had a great deal of talk by this time. 
 
 FAITH. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now ; and 
 since you left it with me to state the question, let it be 
 this : How doth the saving grace of God discover itself, 
 when it is in the heart of man ? 
 
 TALK. I perceive then that our talk must be about the 
 power of things ; Well, 'tis a very good question, and 
 Taikative's ^ s ^ a ^ ^ e w ^ un g to answer you. And take 
 cover di ofa m Y answer m brief thus i First, where the grace 
 work of grace. o f Q OC [ j s j n tne heart, it causeth there a great 
 outcry against sin. Secondly 
 
THE SIGNS OF qRACE 127 
 
 FAITH. Nay hold, let us consider of one at once : 
 I think you should rather say, It shows itself by inclining 
 the soul to abhor its sin ? 
 
 TALK. Why, what difference is there between crying 
 out against, and abhorring of sin ? 
 
 FAITH. Oh ! a great deal $ a man may cry out against 
 sin, of policy ; but he cannot abhor it, but by To cry out 
 virtue of a godly antipathy against it : I have ^Tsign of"' 
 heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who grace * 
 yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and 
 conversation. Joseph's mistress cried out with a loud 
 voice, as if she had been very holy ; but she would will- 
 ingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness 
 with him. Some cry out against sin, even as the mother 
 cries out against her child in her lap, when she calleth it slut 
 and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it. 
 
 TALK. You lie at the catch, I perceive. 
 
 FAITH. No, not I ; I am only for setting things right. 
 But what is the second thing whereby you would prove a 
 discovery of a work of grace in the heart ? 
 
 TALK. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries. 
 
 FAITH. This sign should have been first ; but, first 
 or last, it is also false ; for knowledge, great Great know . 
 knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of o f d f r e a sisn 
 the gospel, and yet no work of grace in the soul. x Cor ' I3> 
 Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, 
 and so consequently be no child of God. When Christ 
 said, Do you know all these things ? and the disciples had 
 answered, Yes ; he addeth, Blessed are ye if ye do them. 
 He doth not lay the blessing in the knowing of them, 
 but in the doing of them. For there is a knowledge that is 
 not attended with doing : He that knoweth his Master's 
 will, and doth it not. A man may know like an angel, 
 
iz8 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 and yet be no Christian ; therefore your sign of it is not 
 true. Indeed to know, is a thing that pleaseth talkers and 
 boasters ; but to do, is that which pleaseth God. Not 
 that the heart can be good without knowledge ; for without 
 that the heart is naught. There is therefore 
 and know- knowledge and knowledge. Knowledge that 
 
 ledge. i i i i . r i i 
 
 restetn in the bare speculation or things, and 
 knowledge that is accompanied with the grace of faith and 
 love, which puts a man upon doing even the will of God 
 
 from the heart : the first of these will serve the 
 ledge at- talker j but without the other the true Christian 
 
 tended with . _^ . 11- IT 
 
 endeavours, is not content. ' Lrive me understanding, and 1 
 shall keep thy law ; yea, I shall observe it with 
 my whole heart.' 
 
 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. 
 
 One good FAITH. A work of grace in the soul dis- 
 
 sign of grace. COV ereth itself, either to him that hath it, or 
 to standers by. 
 
 To Jiim_that-,hth--it, thus : It gives him conviction of 
 John 16. 8. Sm 5 especially of the defilement of his nature, 
 jdSVe. 9 4 .' and the sin of unbelief (for the sake of which he 
 p" 3 Vi8. 16 ' is sure to be damned, if he findeth not mercy at 
 ciil\'S' God's hand by faith in Jesus Christ). This sight 
 Matt. 4 *"'. anc * sense f things worketh in him sorrow and 
 Rev. 21. 6. shame for sin ; he findeth moreover revealed 
 in him the Saviour of the world, and the absolute necessity 
 
THE SIGNS OF CfRACE 129 
 
 of closing with him for life, at the which he findeth 
 hungerings and thirstings after him, to which hungerings, 
 etc., the promise is made. Now according to the strength 
 or weakness of his faith in his Saviour, so is his joy and 
 peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to know 
 him more, and also to serve him in this world. But though 
 I say it discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom 
 that he is able to conclude that this is a work of grace, 
 because his corruptions now, and his abused reason, make his 
 mind to misjudge in this matter ; therefore in him that hath 
 this work, there is required a very sound judgment, before he 
 can with steadiness conclude that this is a work of grace. 
 
 To others it is thus discovered : 
 
 i. By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ. 
 2. By a life answerable to that confession ; to 
 wit, a life of holiness ; heart-holiness, family- Phii.'i. 27. ' 
 holiness (if he hath a family), and by conversa- johnV- ^5'. 
 tion-holiness in the world ; which in the general job^z'. 5%. 
 teacheth him, inwardly to abhor his sin, and 
 himself for that in secret, to suppress it in his family, and 
 to promote holiness in the world ; not by talk only, as an 
 hypocrite or talkative person may do : but by a practical 
 subjection in faith and love to the power of the word : 
 And now, Sir, as to this brief description of the work of 
 grace, and also the discovery of it, if you have aught to 
 object, object ; if not, then give me leave to 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 the first part of 
 this description of it ? and doth your life and Another 
 
 r i a i , good sign 
 
 conversation testify the same r or standetn your of grace, 
 religion in word or in tongue, and not in deed and truth ? 
 
 i 
 
130 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 Pray, if you incline to answer me in this, say no more 
 than you know the God above will say Amen to ; and 
 also, nothing but what your conscience can justify you 
 in : For, * not he that commendeth himself is approved, 
 but whom the Lord commendeth.' Besides, to say I am 
 thus, and thus, when my conversation, and all my neigh- 
 bours tell me I lie, is great wickedness. 
 
 TALK. Then Talkative at first began to blush, but re- 
 covering: himself, thus he replied : You come 
 
 Talkative . . , ^ 
 
 not pleased now to experience, to conscience, and (jod : and 
 
 with Faith- . . . c . . r r . 
 
 fui's ques- to appeal to him for justification of what is 
 spoken : This kind of discourse I did not expect, 
 nor am I disposed to give an answer to such questions, 
 because, I count not myself bound thereto, unless you take 
 upon you to be a catechiser ; 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. 
 
 why Faith- Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have heard of 
 
 ful put to , , ,..,..- 
 
 him that y u > tnat you are a man whose religion lies m 
 talk, and that your conversation gives this your 
 mouth-profession the lie. They say You are a spot among 
 Faithful's Christians, and that religion fareth the worse for 
 Fng'wilh 11 " y our ungodly conversation, that some already 
 Talkative. } iave stumbled at your wicked ways, and that 
 more are in danger of being destroyed thereby ; your 
 religion, and an ale-house, and covetousness, and unclean- 
 ness, and swearing, and lying, and vain company-keeping, 
 etc., will stand together. The proverb is true of you 
 which is said of a whore, to wit, That she is a shame to 
 all women ; so you are a shame to all professors. 
 
 TALK. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to 
 
TALKATIVE FLINGS jfWAY 131 
 
 judge so rashly as you do ; I cannot but conclude you are 
 some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to be Talkative 
 discoursed with j and so adieu. S^SSf. 
 
 CHR. Then came up Christian, and said to his ful> 
 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 A good 
 trouble of going from him ; for he continuing riddance - 
 (as I suppose he will do) as he is, he would have been but a 
 blot in our company : besides, the apostle says, c From such 
 withdraw thyself.' 
 
 FAITH. But I am glad we had this little discourse with 
 him, it may happen that he will think of it again ; how- 
 ever, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of his 
 blood, if he perisheth. 
 
 CHR. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did, 
 there is but little of this faithful dealing with men nowa- 
 days, and that makes religion to stink so in the nostrils of 
 many as it doth ; for they are these talkative fools whose 
 religion is only in word, and are debauched and vain in 
 their conversation, that (being so much admitted into the 
 fellowship of the godly) do puzzle the world, blemish Chris- 
 tianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish that all men would 
 deal with such as you have done, then should they either 
 be made more conformable 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. 
 
132 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Thus they went on talking of what they had seen by 
 the way, and so made that way easy, which would other- 
 wise, 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 
 espied one coming after them, and he knew him. Oh ! 
 said Faithful to his brother, who comes yonder ? Then 
 Christian looked, and said, It is my good friend Evangelist. 
 Ay, and my good friend too, said Faithful; for 'twas he 
 that set me the way to the gate. Now was 
 
 Evangelist _, .. i i i i j 
 
 overtakes .Lvangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted 
 
 them again. . 
 
 them : 
 
 EVAN. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and peace be 
 to your helpers. 
 
 CHR. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist, the sight 
 
 of thy countenance brings to my remembrance 
 
 g iad y at r the thy ancient kindness, and unwearied labouring 
 
 sight of him. r i . t 
 
 for my eternal good. 
 
 FAITH. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faith- 
 ful ; Thy company, O sweet Evangelist, how desirable is 
 it to us, poor pilgrims ! 
 
 EVAN. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared with 
 you, my friends, since the time of our last parting ? what 
 have you met with, and how have you behaved yourselves ? 
 
 Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that 
 had happened to them in the way ; and how, and with 
 what difficulty they had arrived to that place. 
 
 EVAN. Right glad am I, said Evangelist ; not that you 
 have met with trials, but that you have been 
 tation to victors ; and for that you have (notwithstand- 
 ing many weaknesses) continued in the way 
 to this very day. 
 
EVANGELIST ONCE MORE 133 
 
 I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine 
 own sake and yours j I have sowed, and you have reaped ; 
 and the day is coming, when both he that sowed 
 and they that reaped shall rejoice together ; that 
 is, if you hold out ; for in due time ye shall reap if you 
 faint not. The crown is before you. and it is an 
 
 J Gal. 6. 9. 
 
 incorruptible one - y so run, that you may obtain i Cor. 9 . 24. 
 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 
 
 11 -*7 Rev. 3. ii. 
 
 have, let no man take your crown. You are not 
 yet out of the gun-shot of the devil j you have not resisted 
 unto blood, striving against sin j let the kingdom be always 
 before you, and believe steadfastly concerning things that 
 are invisible. Let nothing that is on this side the other 
 world get within you ; and above all, look well to your 
 own hearts, and to the lusts thereof, for they are deceitful 
 above all things, and desperately wicked ; set your faces 
 like a flint ; you have all power in heaven and earth on 
 your side. 
 
 CHR. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation, 
 but told him withal, that they would have him Theydo 
 speak further to them for their help, the rest of S^m 
 the way ; and the rather, for that they well knew hortation - 
 that he was a prophet, and could tell them of things that 
 might happen unto them ; and also how they might resist 
 and overcome them. To which request Faithful also con- 
 sented. So Evangelist began as followeth : 
 
 EVAN. My sons, you have heard in the words of the 
 truth of the gospel, that you must through many tribu- 
 lations enter into the kingdom of heaven. And again, 
 that in every city bonds and afflictions abide in you ; 
 and therefore you cannot expect that you should go long 
 
134 T HE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 on your pilgrimage without them, in some sort or other. 
 He predict- You have found something of the truth of these 
 troubles' testimonies upon you already, and more will 
 meet with in immediately follow : for now, as you see, you 
 Ind encour- r> are almost out of this wilderness, and therefore 
 to steadfast- 7 OU w ^ soonV come into a town that you will by 
 ness - and by see before you : and in that town you will 
 
 be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but they 
 will kill you : and be you sure that one or both of you 
 must seal the testimony which you hold, with blood ; but 
 be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you a 
 crown of life. He that shall die there, although his death 
 will be unnatural, and his pain perhaps great, he 
 lot it win will yet have the better of his fellow j not only 
 suffer, will because he will be arrived at the Celestial City 
 
 have the i *ii 
 
 better of soonest, but because he will escape many miseries 
 that the other will meet with in the rest of his 
 journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall 
 find fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your 
 friend, and quit yourselves like men ; and commit the keep- 
 ing of your souls to God in well-doing, as unto a faithful 
 Creator. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out 
 
 of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, 
 
 and the name of that town is Vanity j and at the town 
 
 there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all the 
 
 year long, it beareth the name of Vanity Fair 
 
 EccL i. X because the town where 'tis kept is lighter than 
 
 Chap. 2 . n, vanity ; and also because all that is there sold, or 
 
 that cometh thither, is vanity. As is the saying 
 
 of the wise, All that cometh is vanity. 
 
 This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of 
 ancient standing ; I will show you the original of it. 
 
APPROACHING VANITY FAI^ 1 3 5 
 
 Almost five thousand years agone, there were pilgrims 
 walking to the Celestial City, as these two 
 honest persons are : and Beelzebub. Apollyon, quity of 
 
 , T . -11- this fair. 
 
 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 of all sorts 
 of vanity, and that it should last all the year long. There- 
 fore at this fair are all such merchandise sold, as 
 houses, lands, trades, places, honours, preferments, chandise of 
 
 . , . . . , , , this fair. 
 
 titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures and 
 delights of all sorts, as whores, bawds, wives, husbands, 
 children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, 
 gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not. 
 
 And moreover, at this fair there 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 the 
 several rows and streets, under their proper names, where 
 such and such wares are vended j so here likewise, you have 
 the proper places, rows, streets (viz., countries and king- 
 doms), where the wares of this fair are soonest to be found : 
 Here is the Britain Row, the French Row, the Thestreets 
 Italian Row, the Spanish Row, the German Row, ofthisfair - 
 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 
 promoted 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 
 
i 3 6 
 
 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 through this town, where this lusty fair is kept; and he 
 that will go to the city, and yet not go through 
 this town, must needs 'go out of the world.' 
 
 The Prince of princes himself, when here, went through 
 this town to his own country, and that upon a 
 
 Christ went r . . _.. . T i i TI 
 
 through this fair-day too : Yea, and as 1 think, it was rseelze- 
 
 Matt 4 . s. bub, 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, Beelzebub had him from street "to 
 street, and showed him all the kingdoms pf the world in 
 
AT yjNITT FAIT^ 137 
 
 a little time, that he might (if possible) allure that Blessed 
 One, to cheapen and buy some of his vanities. Christ 
 But he had no mind to the merchandise, and JjoJhlngin 
 therefore left the town, without laying out so much this fair - 
 
 as one farthing upon these vanities. This fair -therefore, is 
 an ancient thing, of long standing, and a very great fair. 
 
 Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through 
 this fair. Well, so they did ; but behold even The pii- 
 as they entered into the fair, all the people in the fhS." 161 
 fair were moved, and the town itself as it were The fair in 
 
 a hubbub 
 
 in a hubbub about them j and that for several about them. 
 reasons for- 
 
138 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 
 i Cor. 2. 7 , s. the a j r mac j e a great gazing upon them : Some 
 
 The first 
 cause of the 
 hubbub. 
 
 said they were fools, some they were bedlams, and some 
 they are 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 
 
 cause of the 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. 
 
AT VANITY 
 
 139 
 
 Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the 
 
 merchandisers, was. that these pilgrims set Third cause 
 .. . . of the hub- 
 
 very light by all their wares, they cared not bub. 
 
 so much as to look upon them 5 and if they called upon 
 
 them to buy, they would put their ringers in their ears, 
 and cry, 'Turn away mine eyes from beholding Ps 37 
 vanity,' and look upwards, signifying that their Phllt 3> I9> 20f 
 trade and traffic was in heaven. 
 
 One chanced mockingly, beholding the car- Fourth 
 riages of the men, to say unto them, What will ye cause of the 
 
 hubbub. 
 
 buy ? But they, looking gravely upon him, said, Prov> 23< 23> 
 4 We buy the truth.' At that, there was an occasion taken 
 
140 
 
 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 to despise the men the more ; some mocking, some taunt- 
 Theyare ing, some speaking reproachfully, and some call- 
 The^ltin ing upon others to smite them. At last things 
 a hubbub. came to a hubbub and great stir in the fair, 
 insomuch that all order was confounded. Now was 
 
 word presently brought to the great one of the fair, who 
 quickly came down, and deputed some of his most trusty 
 
 friends to take these men into examination, about whom 
 tne ^ a ^ r 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 
 
 They are 
 
 examined. 
 
HI 
 
 men told them that they were pilgrims and strangers 
 in the world, and that they were going to their They tell 
 own country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem ; ^d 2i2?' 
 and that they had given no occasion to the men He. c ^ e i 3 . 
 of the town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus l6 ' 
 to abuse them, and to let them in their journey. Except 
 it was, for that, when one asked them what they would 
 buy, they said they would c buy the truth.' But they that 
 were appointed to examine them did not believe They are not 
 them to be any other than Bedlams and mad, or belleved - 
 else such as came to put all things into a confusion in the 
 fair. Therefore they took them and beat them, and 
 besmeared them with dirt, and then put them They are put 
 into the cage, that they might be made a intheca s e - 
 spectacle to all the men of the fair. There therefore they 
 lay for some time, and were made the objects of any man's 
 sport, or malice, or revenge, the great one of the fair 
 laughing still at all that befell them. But the men being 
 patient, and not rendering railing for railing, but 
 contrary wise blessing, and giving; good words for haviour in 
 
 U J J 1 J r J C thecage. 
 
 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 
 
 . - . . . , The men of 
 
 baser sort for their continual abuses done by the fair do 
 
 i i rn, i f fall out 
 
 them to the men : They therefore in angry among them- 
 
 j n . . . i selves about 
 
 manner let fly at them again, counting them as these two 
 bad as the men in the cage, and telling them that 
 they seemed confederates, and should be made partakers of 
 their misfortunes. 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 
 
142 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 
 
 They are 
 
 made the were these two poor men brought before their 
 
 authors of * 
 
 this disturb- 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 
 They are led them, and led them in chains up and down the 
 the a fat1n wn ^ air 5 f r an example and a terror to others, lest 
 tereOT S to r a an 7 snou ld speak in their behalf, or join them- 
 others. selves unto them. But Christian and Faithful 
 behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the 
 ignominy and shame that was cast upon them, with so 
 Some of the mu ch meekness and patience, that it won to their 
 Jafr n won h to side (though but few in comparison of the rest) 
 them. 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. 1 Where- 
 
 Their adver- 
 
 saries resolve fore they threatened that the 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 
 
 again put into they put them in, and made their feet fast in 
 
 the cage, , . 
 
 the stocks. 
 
 Here therefore they called again to mind what they had 
 heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and were the 
 
 1 Behold Vanity Fair ! the Pilgrims there 
 Are chain'd, and stand beside j 
 Even so it was, our Lord pass'd here, 
 And on Mount Calvary died. 
 
VANITY FJI^ 143 
 
 more confirmed in their way and sufferings, by what he 
 told them would happen to them. They also now com- 
 forted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, even he 
 should have the best on 't ; therefore each man secretly 
 wished that he might have that preferment : but commit- 
 ting themselves to the All-wise dispose of him that ruleth 
 all things, with much content they abode in the condition in 
 which they were, until they should be otherwise disposed of. 
 Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought 
 them forth to their trial in order to their con- 
 
 TTT1 alld a tei> 
 
 demnation. When the time was come, they brought to 
 
 trill 
 
 were brought before their enemies and arraigned. 
 The judge's name was Lord Hate-good. Their indictment 
 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 ; r i n . 
 the town, and had won a party to their own dictment - 
 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, answer for 
 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 innocence, and they are only 
 turned from the worse to the better. And as to the king 
 you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our Lord, 
 I defy him and all his angels. 1 
 
 1 Now Faithful, play the man, speak for thy God : 
 Fear not the wicked's malice, nor their rod : 
 Speak boldly, man, the truth is on thy side ; 
 Die for it, and to life in triumph ride. 
 
144 ^HE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught 
 to say for their lord the king against the prisoner at the 
 bar, should forthwith appear and give in their evidence. 
 So there came in three witnesses, to wit, Envy, Superstition, 
 and Pickthank. They were then asked, If they knew the 
 prisoner at the bar? and what they had to say for their 
 lord the king against him. 
 
 Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect : My 
 lord, I have known this man a Ion? time, and 
 
 Envy begins. . , , . 
 
 will attest upon my oath before this honourable 
 bench, That he is 
 
 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 : but 
 doth all that he can to possess all men with certain of his 
 disloyal notions, which he in the general calls principles of 
 faith and holiness. And in particular, I heard him once 
 myself affirm, That Christianity and the customs of our 
 town of Vanity were diametrically opposite, and could not 
 be reconciled. By which saying, my lord, he doth at 
 once not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in 
 the doing of them. 
 
 JUDGE. Then did the judge say to him, Hast thou any 
 more to say ? 
 
 ENVY. My lord, I could say much more, only I would 
 not be tedious to the court. Yet if need be, when the other 
 gentlemen have given in their evidence, rather than any- 
 thing shall be wanting that will despatch him, I will enlarge 
 my testimony against him. So he was bid 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 : 
 
LORD HRTE-GOOD. 
 
 K. 
 
146 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 SUPER. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with this 
 Superstition mar *5 nor do I desire to have further knowledge 
 of him; However this I know, that he is a 
 very pestilent fellow, from some discourse that the other 
 day I had with him in this town ; for then talking with 
 him, I heard him say, That our religion was naught, and 
 such by which a man could by no means please God : 
 which sayings of his, my lord, your lordship very well 
 knows, what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, That 
 we still do worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally 
 shall be damned ; and this is that which I have to say. 
 
 Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew, in 
 behalf of their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar. 
 
 PICK. My lord, and you gentlemen all, This fellow I 
 pickthank's nave known of a long time, and have heard him 
 testimony. 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 Oldman, the Lord Carnal Delight, 
 lords and the Lord Luxurious, the Lord Desire-of- Vain- 
 Glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, 
 with all the rest of our nobility ; and he hath said more- 
 over, that if all men were of his mind, if possible, there is 
 not one of these noble men 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 Pickthank had told his tale, the judge 
 directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying : 
 Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard what 
 these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee ? 
 
DiYY 
 
 PICKTHMIK 
 
148 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 FAITH. May I speak a few words in my own de- 
 fence ? 
 JUDGE. Sirrah, Sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, 
 
 HIS HONOURABLE FRIENDS ' 
 
 but to be slain immediately upon the place ; yet that all 
 men may see our gentleness towards thee, let us hear what 
 thou, vile runagate, hast to say. 
 
THE TRIAL 149 
 
 FAITH. I. I say then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath 
 spoken. I never said aught but this, That what 
 
 . ' n -Faithful's 
 
 rule, or laws, or custom, or people, were nat defence of 
 against the Word of God, are diametrically op- 
 posite to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this, convince 
 me of my error, and I am ready here before you to make 
 my recantation. 
 
 2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and his 
 charge against me, I said only this, That in the worship of 
 God there is required a divine faith; but there can beno 
 divine faith without a divine revelation of the will of God : 
 therefore whatever is thrust into the worship of God, that 
 is not agreeable to divine revelation, cannot be done but by 
 a human faith ; which faith will not be profitable to eternal 
 life. 
 
 3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding 
 terms, as that I am said to rail, and the like) That the 
 prince of this town, with all the rabblement his attendants, 
 by this gentleman named, are more fit for a being in hell 
 than in this town and country : and so the Lord have 
 mercy upon me. 
 
 Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while 
 stood by, to hear and observe) : Gentlemen of 
 
 T r i The judge 
 
 the J ury, you see this man about whom so great his speech 
 an uproar hath been made in this town : you 
 have also heard what these worthy gentlemen have wit- 
 nessed against him; also you have heard his reply and 
 confession : It lieth now in your breasts to hang him, or 
 save his life; But yet I think meet to instruct you into 
 our law. 
 
 There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the 
 Great, servant to our prince, That lest those Exod. i. 
 of a contrary religion should multiply and grow too 
 
150 THE T1LGRIWS TROGRESS 
 
 strong for him, their males should be thrown into the river. 
 
 There was also an act made ,in the days of Nebuchadnezzar 
 the Great, another of his servants, that whoever 
 would not fall down and worship his golden 
 
 image, should be thrown into a fiery furnace. There was 
 also an act made in the days of Darius. That 
 
 Dan. 6. . / . ^ . 
 
 whoso, tor some time, called upon any Lrod 
 but him, should be cast into the lions' den. Now 
 the substance of these laws this rebel has broken, not 
 only in thought (which is not to be borne) but also 
 in word and deed ; which must therefore needs be in- 
 tolerable. 
 
 For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a sup- 
 position, to prevent mischief, no crime being yet apparent ; 
 but here is a crime apparent. For the second and 
 third, you see he disputeth against our religion ; and 
 for the treason he hath confessed, he deserveth to die 
 the death. 
 
 Then went the jury out, whose names were : Mr. Blind- 
 The jury and man > Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, 
 their names. Mr> Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, 
 Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and 
 Mr. Implacable, who every one gave in his private verdict 
 against him among themselves, and afterwards 
 
 Every one's . 111 i M 
 
 private ver- 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 
 such a fellow from the earth. Ay, said Mr. Malice, for I 
 hate the very looks of him. Then said Mr. Love-lust, I 
 could never endure him. Nor I, said Mr. Live-loose, for 
 he would always be condemning my way. Hang him, 
 hang him, said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr. High- 
 
THE JVRY, 
 
152 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 mind. My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity. 
 He is a rogue, said Mr. Liar. Hanging is too good for 
 him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let's despatch him out of the 
 way, said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, 
 Might I have all the world given me, I could not be 
 reconciled to him ; therefore let us forthwith bring him in 
 guilty of death. And so they did; therefore he was 
 presently condemned, To be had from the place 
 
 They con- r r 
 
 elude to where he was, to the place from whence he 
 
 bring him 
 
 in guilty of came, and there to be put to the most cruel 
 
 death that could be invented. 
 
 They therefore brought him out, to do with him ac- 
 cording to their law ; and first they scourged 
 
 death of him, then they buffeted him, then they lanced 
 
 Faithful. ! n i_ , i r i_ i i_ 
 
 his flesh with knives ; after that, they stoned him 
 with stones, then pricked him with their swords ; and last 
 of all they burned him to ashes at the stake. 1 Thus came 
 
 Faithful to his end. Now, I saw that there 
 and horses stood behind the multitude, a chariot and a 
 take away couple of horses, waiting for Faithful, who (so 
 
 Faithful. , . , . , , , IJV-N 
 
 soon as his adversaries had despatched him) was 
 taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through 
 the clouds, with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the 
 Christian is Celestial Gate. But as for Christian, he had 
 still alive. SO me respite, and was remanded back to prison, 
 so he there remained for a space : But he that overrules all 
 things, having the power of their rage in his own hand, 
 so wrought it about, that Christian for that time escaped 
 them, and went his way. 
 
 1 Brave Faithful, bravely done in word and deed ; 
 Judge, witnesses, and jury, have instead 
 Of overcoming thee, but shown their rage : 
 When they arc dead, thou 'It live, from age to age. 
 
KOPEFVL 
 
154 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 And as he went he sang, saying : 
 
 The song Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest 
 
 S made*' Unt th 7 L rd : with wh m th U shalt be blest 5 
 
 of Faithful When faithless ones, with all their vain delights. 
 
 after his n . , , . . ... . .. , 
 
 death. Are crying out under their hellish plights, 
 
 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, for there was one whose name was Hopeful 
 
 has another (being made so by the beholding of Christian and 
 
 companion. ,-, . . r . . . . . . . . . . , . 
 
 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 testi- 
 
 Thereare . 
 
 more of the mony to the truth, and another rises out of his 
 
 men of the . . . . . _, . . . , . 
 
 fair will ashes to be a companion with Christian in his 
 pilgrimage. This Hopeful also told Christian 
 that there were many more of the men in the fair that 
 would take their time and follow after. 
 
 So I saw that quickly after they were got out of the 
 They over- &* r tne 7 overtook one that was going before 
 take By-ends. t h eni) w hose 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 
 
 Prov. 26. 25. 111. , 
 
 any good that lives there r 
 BY-ENDS. Yes, said By-ends, I hope. 
 CHR. Pray, Sir, what may I call you ? said Christian. 
 By-ends loth BY-ENDS. I am a stranger to you, and you to 
 
 to tell his . . & T i 11 i i J r 
 
 name. me ; if you be going this way, I shall be glad of 
 
 your company j if not, I must be content. 
 
CHR. This town of Fair-speech I have heard of, and, 
 as I remember, they say it 's a wealthy place. 
 
 BY-ENDS. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have 
 very many rich kindred there. 
 
 MY LORD TURN-ABOUT 
 
 CHR. Pray, who are your kindred there, if a man may 
 be so bold ? 
 
 BY-ENDS. Almost the whole town ; and, in particular, 
 my Lord Turn-about, my Lord Time-server, my Lord 
 Fair-speech (from whose ancestors that town first took 
 its name) : also Mr. Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, 
 
156 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 Mr. Anything ; and the parson of our parish, Mr. Two- 
 tongues, was my mother's own brother, by father's side ; 
 and to tell you the truth, I am become a gentleman of 
 good quality j yet my great-grandfather was but a water- 
 man, looking one way and rowing another ; and I got 
 most of my estate by the same occupation. 
 
 MY LORD TIME-SERVER 
 
 CHR. Are you a married man ? 
 
 BY-ENDS. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, 
 The wife the daughter of a virtuous woman : She was my 
 ofBy-ends. Lady Feigning's daughter, therefore she came 
 of a very honourable family, and is arrived to such a 
 
MY IRDY 
 
I 5 8 
 
 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 pitch of breeding that she knows how to carry it to all, 
 Where By- even to P r i nce an d peasant. 'Tis true, we some- 
 
 from pJhers Wnat Differ ' m re lig ion from thoSC of the Stricter 
 in religion. sort) y et J 3ut { n two sma ll points I First, WC 
 
 never strive against wind and tide : Secondly, we are always 
 
 MY LORD FAIR-SPEECH 
 
 most zealous when Religion goes in his silver slippers ; we 
 love much to walk with him in the street, if the sun shines, 
 and the people applaud him. 
 
 Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hope- 
 ful, saying, It runs in my mind that this is one By-ends of 
 
<BT-ENDS 
 
 '59 
 
 Fair-speech, and if it be he, we have as very a knave in our 
 company as dwelleth in all these parts. Then said Hopeful, 
 Ask him ; methinks he should not be ashamed of his name. 
 So Christian came up with him again, and said, Sir, you 
 talk as if you knew something more than all the world 
 
 MR. SMOOTH-MAN 
 
 doth, and if I take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half 
 a guess of you : Is not your name Mr. By-ends of Fair- 
 speech ? 
 
 BY-ENDS. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nick- 
 name that is given me by some that cannot abide me ; and 
 
i6o THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 I must be content to bear it as a reproach, as other good 
 men have borne theirs before me. 
 
 CHR. But did you never give an occasion to men to call 
 you by this name ? 
 
 MR. FACING-BOTH-WAYS 
 
 BY-ENDS. Never, never ! the worst that ever I did to 
 
 give them an occasion to give me this name was, 
 
 ends got his That I had always the luck to jump in my judg- 
 
 name. -11 r i i 
 
 ment with the present way or the times, what- 
 ever it was, and my chance was to get thereby ; but if 
 things are thus cast upon me, let me count them a blessing, 
 but let not the malicious load me therefore with reproach, 
 
<BT-ENDS 
 
 161 
 
 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. 
 
 MR. ANYTHING 
 
 BY-ENDS. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help 
 it. You shall find me a fair company-keeper, if 
 
 .,,.,,,. . J ' He desires 
 
 you will still admit me your associate. to keep 
 
 CHR. If you will go with us, you must go wTh P chns- 
 against wind and tide, the which I perceive, is 
 against your opinion : You must also own Religion in his 
 
 L 
 
162 THE "PILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 rags, as well as when in his silver slippers, and stand by 
 him too, when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh 
 the streets with applause. 
 
 BY-ENDS. You must not impose, nor lord it over my 
 faith ; leave me to my liberty, and let me go with you. 
 
 MR. TWO-TONGUES 
 
 CHR. Not a step further, unless you will do in what I 
 propound, as we. 
 
 Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old principles, 
 since they are harmless and profitable. If I may not go 
 with you, I must do as I did before you overtook me, even 
 
<BT-ENDS dND OTHERS 163 
 
 go by myself, until some overtake me that will be glad of 
 my company. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful 
 forsook him, and kept their distance before By-ends 
 him ; but one of them looking back, saw three tian parti 
 
 MR. GRIPE-MANT 
 
 men following Mr. By-ends, and behold, as they came 
 up with him, he made them a very low conge y and they 
 also gave him a compliment. The men's He has new- 
 names were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. Money- Companions. 
 love, and Mr. Save-all ; men that Mr. By-ends had formerly 
 
164 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 been acquainted with ; for in their minority they were 
 school-fellows, and were taught by one Mr. Gripe-man, 
 a schoolmaster in Love-gain, which is a market-town in 
 the county of Coveting, in the north. This schoolmaster 
 taught them the art of getting, either by violence, cozen- 
 age, flattery, lying, or by putting on a guise of religion ; 
 and these four gentlemen had attained much of the art of 
 their master, so that they could each of them have kept 
 such a school themselves. 
 
 Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, 
 Mr. Money-love said to Mr. By-ends, Who are they upon 
 the road before us ? (For Christian and Hopeful were yet 
 within view.) 
 
 BY-ENDS. They are a couple of far countrymen, that 
 
 after their mode are going on pilgrimage. 
 character of MONEY-LOVE. Alas ! why did not they stay, 
 that we might have had their good company ? 
 for they, and we, and you, Sir, I hope, are all going on a 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 BY-ENDS. We are so indeed, but the men before us are 
 so rigid, and love so much their own notions, and do also 
 so lightly esteem the opinions of others, that let a man be 
 never so godly, yet if he jumps not with them in all things, 
 they thrust him quite out of their company. 
 
 SAVE-ALL. That 's bad ; but we read of some, that are 
 righteous overmuch ; and such men's rigidness prevails with 
 them to judge and condemn all but themselves. But I 
 pray, what, and how many, were the things wherein you 
 differed ? 
 
 BY-ENDS. Why they, after their headstrong manner, 
 conclude that it is duty to rush on their journey all 
 weathers, and I am for waiting for wind and tide. They 
 are for hazarding all for God at a clap, and I am for taking 
 
M*. HOLD-IKE- WOULD - ' M! BY-ENDS 
 
i66 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 all advantages to secure my life and estate. They are for 
 holding their notions, though all other men be against 
 them; but I am for religion in what, and so far as, the 
 times and my safety will bear it. They are for religion 
 when in rags and contempt ; but I am for him when he 
 walks in his golden slippers, in the sunshine, and with 
 applause. 
 
 HOLD-THE-WORLD. Ay, and hold you there still, good 
 Mr. By-ends ; for, for my part, I can count him but a fool, 
 that, having the liberty to keep what he has, shall be so 
 unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents ; 'tis. best 
 to make hay when the sun shines ; you see how the bee 
 lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only when she can have 
 profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain, and some- 
 times sunshine ; if they be such fools to go through the 
 first, yet let us be content to take fair weather along with 
 us. For my part, I like that religion best that will stand 
 with the security of God's good blessings unto us ; for who 
 can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, since God has 
 bestowed upon us the good things of this life, but that he 
 would have us keep them for his sake ? Abraham and 
 Solomon grew rich in religion. And Job says, that a 
 good man 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-ALL. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, 
 and therefore there needs no more words about it. 
 
 MONEY-LOVE. No, there needs no more words about 
 this matter indeed ; for he that believes neither Scripture 
 nor reason (and you see we have both on our side) neither 
 knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety. 
 
 BY-ENDS. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all 
 on pilgrimage ; and for our better diversion from things 
 
S AYE-ALL -LM* HONEY- LOVE. 
 
i68 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 that are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this 
 question : 
 
 Suppose a man, a minister or a tradesman, etc., should 
 have an advantage lie before him to get the good blessings 
 of this life, yet so as that he can by no means come by 
 them, except, in appearance at least, he becomes extra- 
 ordinary 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-LOVE. 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 of 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, 
 
 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, etc., and so makes him 
 a better man; yea, makes him better improve his parts, 
 which is according to the mind of God. 
 
 3. Now as for his complying with the temper of his 
 people, by dissenting, to serve them, some of his principles, 
 this argueth, I. That he is of a self-denying temper; 
 
JND OTHERS 169 
 
 2. Of a sweet and winning deportment ; 3. 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 improved in his 
 parts and industry thereby, be counted as one that pur- 
 sues 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 : Suppose such 
 an one to have but a poor employ in the world, but by 
 becoming religious, he may mend his market, perhaps 
 get a rich wife, or more and far better customers to his 
 shop ; for my part I see no reason but this may be lawfully 
 done. For why, 
 
 1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means 
 soever a man becomes so. 
 
 2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom 
 to my shop. 
 
 3. Besides, the man that 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' question, was highly applauded by them all ; 
 wherefore they concluded upon the whole, that it was 
 most wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they 
 thought, no man was able to contradict it, and because 
 Christian and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly 
 agreed to assault them with the question as soon as they 
 overtook them, and the rather because they had opposed 
 
170 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Mr. By-ends before. So they called after them, and they 
 stopped, and stood still till they came up to them ; but they 
 concluded as they went, that not Mr. By-ends, but old 
 Mr. Hold-the-world, should propound the question to them, 
 because, as they supposed, their answer to him would be 
 without the remainder of that heat that was kindled 
 betwixt Mr. By-ends and them, at their parting a little 
 before. 
 
 So they came up to each other, and after a short salu- 
 tation, Mr. Hold-the-world propounded the question to 
 Christian and his fellow, and bid them to answer it if they 
 could. 
 
 CHR. 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, 
 
 now much more abominable is it to make of him and 
 
 religion a stalking-horse, to get and enjoy the world ? 
 
 Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, 
 
 and witches, that are of this opinion. 
 
 1. Heathens : for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind 
 to the daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that there was 
 
 -no ways for them to come at them but by becoming 
 circumcised, they say to their companions : If every male 
 of us be circumcised, as they are circumcised, shall not 
 their cattle, and their substance, and every beast of theirs, 
 be ours ? Their daughter and their cattle were that which 
 Gen 4 20- tne Y sought to obtain, and their religion the 
 23> stalking-horse they made use of to come at 
 
 them. Read the whole story. 
 
 2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion ; 
 Luke 20 4 6 ^ on P ra 7 ers were their pretence, but to get 
 47- widows' houses was their intent ; and greater 
 damnation was from God their judgment. 
 
THE HILL LUCRE 171 
 
 3. Judas the devil was also of this religion ; he was 
 religious for the bag, that he might be possessed of what 
 was therein ; but he was lost, cast away, and the very son 
 of perdition. 
 
 4. Simon the witch was of this religion too : for he 
 would have had the Holy Ghost, that he might have got 
 money therewith, and his sentence from Peter's 
 
 J :. Acts 8. 19-22. 
 
 mouth was according. 
 
 5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man 
 that takes up religion for the world, will throw away 
 religion for the world ; for so surely as Judas designed the 
 world in becoming religious, so surely did he also sell 
 religion and his Master for the same. To answer the 
 question therefore affirmatively, as I perceive you have 
 done, and to accept of as authentic such answer, is both 
 heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish, and your reward will 
 be according to your works. Then they stood staring one 
 upon another, but had not wherewith to answer Christian. 
 Hopeful also approved of the soundness of Christian's 
 answer j so there was a great silence among them. 
 Mr. By-ends and his company also staggered and kept 
 behind, that Christian and Hopeful might outgo 
 them. Then said Christian to his fellow, If these 
 men cannot stand before the sentence of men, what will 
 they do with the sentence of God ? And if they are 
 mute when dealt with by vessels of clay, what will they 
 do when they shall be rebuked by the flames of a de- 
 vouring fire ? 
 
 Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and 
 went till they came at a delicate plain called The ease 
 
 _ , that pilgrims 
 
 JLase, where they went with much content ; have is but 
 
 m i . i , little in 
 
 but that plain was but narrow, so they were this life, 
 quickly got over it. Now at the further side of that 
 
172 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 plain was a little hill called Lucre, and in that hill a silver 
 mine, which some of them that had formerly 
 
 Lucre Hill a ' 
 
 dangerous gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had 
 turned aside to see ; but going too near the 
 brink of the pit, the ground being deceitful under them, 
 broke, and they were slain ; some also had been maimed 
 there, and could not to their dying day be their own men 
 again. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road, over 
 Demas at the against the silver mine, stood Demas (gentleman- 
 Hiii Lucre, ]fc e j tQ ca jj to p assen g ers to CO me and see ; who 
 
 said to Christian and his fellow, Ho, turn aside hither, and 
 I will show you a thing;. 
 
 He calls to J & 
 
 Christian CHR. What thing so deserving, as to turn us 
 
 and Hope- . & . &5 
 
 fuitocome out or the way to see it r 
 
 to him. _ TT M i 
 
 LJEMAS. 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. 
 Hopeful HOPE. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see. 
 
 CHR - Not ! 5 said Christian ; I have heard of 
 tn i s P^ce before now, and how many have there 
 back. been s j a j n . an( j 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 
 
 Hos. 4. 18. , . y 
 
 their pilgrimage r 
 
 DEMAS. Not very dangerous, except to those that are 
 careless ; but withal, he blushed as he spake. 
 
 CHR. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir a 
 step, but still keep on our way. 
 
 HOPE. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if 
 he hath the same invitation as we, he will turn in thither 
 to see. 
 
<DEMAS JND THE SIL^ET^IMINE 173 
 
 CHR. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that 
 way, and a hundred to one but he dies there. 
 
 DEMAS. Then Demas called again, saying, But will you 
 not come over and see ? 
 
 CHR. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, 
 Thou art an enemy to the right ways of the Christian 
 Lord of this way, and hast been already con- d a e s ; hup 
 demned for thine own turning aside, by one of 2 Tim - 4 - I0> 
 His Majesty's judges ; and why seekest thou to bring us 
 into the like condemnation ? Besides, if we at all turn 
 aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof, and 
 will there put us to shame, where we would stand with 
 boldness before him. 
 
 Demas cried again, That he also was one of their 
 fraternity ; and that if they would tarry a little, he also 
 himself would walk with them. 
 
 CHR. 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 their 2 KIngs s-20> 
 steps. It is but a devilish prank that thou Matt. 26. 14, 
 usest; thy father was hanged for a traitor, and Cha P- 2 7-i-s- 
 thou deservest no better reward. Assure thyself, that 
 when we come to the King, we will do him word 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 goes over 
 into the pit by looking over the brink thereof, or 
 whether they went down to dig, or whether they were 
 smothered in the bottom, by the damps that commonly 
 
'74 
 
 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 arise, of these things I am not certain ; But this I observed, 
 that they never were seen again in the way. Then sang 
 Christian : 
 
 By-ends and Silver-Demas both agree j 
 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 
 The see P^g r i ms came to a place, where stood an old 
 a strange monument, hard by the highway-side, at the sight 
 
 monument. r i i i 11 
 
 of which they were both concerned, because of 
 the strangeness of the form thereof; for it seemed to them 
 as if it had been a woman transformed into the shape of a 
 pillar : here therefore they stood looking, and looking upon 
 it, but could not for a time tell what they should make 
 
 thereof. At last Hopeful espied 
 written above upon the head 
 thereof, a writing in an unusual 
 hand j but he being no scholar, 
 called to Christian (for he was 
 learned) to see if he could pick 
 out the meaning ; so he came, 
 and after a little laying of letters 
 together, he found the same to 
 be this, c Remember Lot's wife.' 
 So he read it to his fellow ; after 
 which they both concluded that 
 that was the pillar of salt into 
 which Lot's wife was turned, 
 for her looking back with a 
 
 covetous heart, when she was going from Sodom for 
 Gen. 19. 26. safety. Which sudden and amazing sight gave 
 them occasion of this discourse, 
 
 LOT S WIFE 
 
REMEMBER LOT'S WIFE 175 
 
 CHR. Ah, my brother, this is a seasonable sight ; it 
 came opportunely to us after the invitation which Demas 
 gave us to come over to view the Hill Lucre ; and had we 
 gone over as he desired us, and as thou wast inclining 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 'twixt 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 pre- 
 vented by this caution : so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, 
 with the two hundred and fifty men that perished in their 
 sin, did also become a sign or example to others Num 26 
 to beware : but above all, I muse at one thing, I0 - 
 to wit, how Demas and his fellows can stand so confidently 
 yonder to look for that treasure, which this woman, but 
 for looking behind her, after (for we read not that she 
 stepped one foot out of the way) was turned into a pillar 
 of salt ; specially since the judgment which overtook her, 
 did make her an example, within sight of where they are : 
 for they cannot choose but see her, did they but lift up 
 their eyes. 
 
176 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 CHR. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth 
 that their hearts are grown desperate in the case; and I 
 cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly, as to them 
 that pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or that will 
 cut purses under the gallows. It is said of the men of 
 Sodom, c that they were sinners exceedingly ,' 
 
 Gen. 13.13. , } . 6 /> 
 
 because they were sinners c before the Lord ; 
 that is, in his eyesight ; and notwithstanding the kind- 
 nesses that he had shown them, for the land of Sodom was 
 now like the garden of Eden heretofore. This 
 therefore provoked him the more to jealousy, 
 and made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out 
 of heaven could make it. And it is most rationally to be 
 concluded, that such, even such as these are, that shall 
 sin in the sight, yea, and that too in despite of such 
 examples that are set continually before them, to caution 
 them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest 
 judgments. 
 
 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 ministereth occasion to us 
 to thank God, to fear before him, and always to remember 
 Lot's wife. 
 
 I saw then, that they went on their way to a pleasant 
 A river. river, which David the king called the * river of 
 Rev 6S 22?' God,' but John, the c river of the water of life.' 
 Ezek. 47. 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 
 Trees by the spirits: besides, on the banks of this river on 
 river. either side were green trees, that bore all manner 
 
 of fruit ; and the leaves of the trees were good for medi- 
 
MEADOW 177 
 
 cine ; with the fruit of these trees they were also much 
 delighted : and the leaves they ate to prevent 
 
 .. -i The fruit 
 
 surfeits, and other diseases that are incident to and leaves 
 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. Al neadowin 
 In this meadow they lay down and slept, for here ^JdoJnlo 
 they might lie down safely. When they awoke, g^ 2 
 they gathered again of the fruit of the trees, and Isa - *4- 3- 
 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 these crystal streams do glide 
 (To comfort pilgrims) by the highway-side ; 
 The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell, 
 Yield dainties for them ; And he that can tell 
 What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield, 
 Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field. 
 
 So when they were disposed to go on (for they were 
 not, as yet, at their journey's end) they ate and drank, 
 and departed. 
 
 Now I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed 
 far, but the river and the way, for a time, parted ; at which 
 they were not a little sorry, yet they durst not go out of 
 the way. Now the way from the river was rough, and 
 their feet tender by reason of their travels ; so 
 the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged 
 because of the way : Wherefore still as they went on, they 
 wished for better way. Now a little before them, there 
 was on the left hand of the road a meadow, and a stile to 
 go over into it, and that meadow is called By- By-path 
 path Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, Meadow - 
 If this meadow lieth along by our way-side, let 's go over 
 
 M 
 
178 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 into it. Then he went to the stile to see, and behold a 
 One temp- P atn ty along by the way on the other side of 
 Sak e n way s the fence - ' Tis according to my wish, said 
 for another. Christian, here is the easiest going ; come, good 
 Hopeful, and let us go over. 
 
 HOPE. But how if this path should lead us out of the 
 way ? 
 
 CHR. That 's not like, said the other ; look, doth it not 
 Strong g along by the way-side ? So Hopeful, being 
 persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the 
 St ^ e> When they were gone over, and were got 
 way - into the path, they found it very easy for their 
 
 feet : and withal, they looking before them, espied a man 
 walking as they did, (and his name was Vain-confidence) 
 so they called after him, and asked him whither that way 
 led ? he said, To the Celestial Gate. Look, said 
 
 See what it -^ . . 
 
 is too sud- Christian, did not 1 tell you so r by this you may 
 
 denlytofall . n i r 11 i 11 
 
 in with see we are right, bo they followed, and he went 
 before them. But behold the night came on, 
 
 and it grew very dark, so that they that were behind lost 
 
 the sight of him that went before. 
 
 He therefore that went before (Vain-confidence by name) 
 not seeing; the way before him. fell into a deep 
 
 A pit to . , , 
 
 catch pit, which was on purpose there made by the 
 
 the vain- {7? / u 1 
 
 glorious in. rrmce or those grounds, to catch vain-glorious 
 fools withal, and was dashed in pieces with 
 his fall. 
 
 Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they 
 called, to know the matter, but there was none to answer, 
 Reasoning only they heard a groaning. Then said Hopeful, 
 clStlan Where are we now ? Then was his fellow 
 and Hopeful. S il en t 5 a s mistrusting that he had led him out 
 of the way ; and now it began to rain, and thunder, and 
 
<BT-TJTH MEADOW 179 
 
 lighten in a very dreadful manner, and the water rose 
 amain. 
 
 Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh that I had 
 kept on my way ! 
 
 VAIN-CONFIDENCE 
 
 CHR. Who would have thought that this path should 
 have led us out of the way ? 
 
 HOPE. I was afraid on 5 t at the very first, and therefore 
 gave you that gentle caution. I would have spoke plainer, 
 but that you are older than I. 
 
 CHR. Good brother, be not offended ; I am sorry I have 
 
i8o THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 brought thee out of the way, and that I have put thee 
 Christian's mto sucn imminent danger; pray, my brother, 
 for leading forgive me, I did not do it of an evil intent. 
 bSer out HOPE. Be comforted, my brother, for I for- 
 of the way. gj ve tne e ; and believe too that this shall be 
 for our good. 
 
 CHR. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother ; But 
 we must not stand thus, let J s try to go back again. 
 
 HOPE. But, good brother, let me go before. 
 
 CHR. No, if you please, let me go first ; that, if there 
 be any danger, I may be first therein, because by my means 
 we are both gone out of the way. 
 
 HOPE. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first ; for your 
 
 mind being troubled, may lead you out of the way again. 
 
 Then for their encouragement, they heard the voice of one 
 
 saying, 'Set thine heart towards the highway, 
 
 even the way that thou wentest ; turn again.' 
 
 But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of 
 
 which the way of going back was very dangerous. 
 
 They are in T i , i 
 
 danger of ( 1 hen 1 thought that it is easier going out of the 
 
 drowning . 
 
 as they go way when we are in, than going in when we are 
 out.) Yet they adventured to go back ; but it 
 was so dark, and the flood was so high, that in their going 
 back, they had like to have been drowned nine or ten times. 
 The siee Neither could they, with all the skill they had, 
 
 in the get again to the stile that night. Wherefore, at 
 
 grounds of f ,. . . , 1-1,1 
 
 Giant De- last, lighting under a little shelter, they sat down 
 
 here till the day brake ; but, being weary, they fell 
 
 asleep. 1 Now there was, not far from the place where 
 
 1 The Pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh, 
 Will seek its ease ; but oh ! how they afresh 
 Do thereby plunge themselves new griefs into ! 
 Who seek to please the flesh, themselves undo. 
 
<DOUBTINq CASTLE 181 
 
 they lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner 
 whereof was Giant Despair, and it was in his grounds they 
 now were sleeping : wherefore he getting up in the 
 morning early, and walking up and down in his fields, 
 caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his He finds 
 grounds. Then with a grim and surly voice he f^d, and 
 bid them awake, and asked them whence they ^D^ing 
 were, and what they did in his grounds. They Castle - 
 told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their 
 way. Then said the giant, You have this night trespassed 
 on me, by trampling in and lying on my grounds, and 
 therefore you must go along with me. So they were forced 
 to go, because he was stronger than they. They also had 
 but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The 
 giant therefore drove them before him, and put them into 
 his castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty and T1?e 
 stinking to the spirits of these two men : here i^Sf 8 
 then they lay, from Wednesday morning till P risonment - 
 Saturday night, without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, 
 or light, or any to ask how they did. They were 
 therefore here in evil case, and were far from 
 friends and acquaintance. Now in this place, Christian 
 had double sorrow, because 'twas through his unadvised 
 counsel that they were brought into this distress. 
 
 Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was 
 Diffidence. So when he was gone to bed, he told his 
 wife what he had done, to wit, that he had taken a couple 
 of prisoners, and cast them into his dungeon, for trespassing 
 on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best 
 to do further to them. So she asked him what they were, 
 whence they came, and whither they were bound ; and he 
 told her. Then she counselled him, that when he arose 
 in the morning he should beat them, without mercy. So 
 
i8z THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, 
 and goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first 
 falls to rating of them as if they were dogs, although they 
 gave him never a word of distaste. Then he falls upon 
 On Thurs- them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort, that 
 D^pS^beats tne 7 were not able to help themselves, or to turn 
 
 his prisoners. them upQn thfi floQn Thig donCj he w i tn draWS 
 
 and leaves them, there to condole their misery, and to 
 mourn under their distress : so all that day they spent the 
 time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The 
 next night, she, talking with her husband about them 
 further, and understanding that they were yet alive, did 
 advise him to counsel them to make away themselves. So 
 when morning was come, he goes to them in a 
 Giant De-' surly manner as before, and perceiving; them to 
 
 spair counsels , J . . , 
 
 them to kill be very sore with the stripes that he had given 
 
 themselves. i i i r i t > 
 
 them the day before, he told them, that since 
 they were never like to come out of that place, their only 
 
 way would be, forthwith to make an end of themselves, 
 either with knife, halter, or poison : For why, said he, 
 should you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much 
 bitterness ? But they desired him to let them go. With 
 that he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them had 
 
183 
 
 doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell into 
 one of his fits (for he sometimes in sunshiny 
 weather fell into fits), and lost (for a time) the sometimes 
 use of his hand ; wherefore he withdrew, and left 
 them (as before), to consider what to do. Then did the 
 prisoners consult between themselves, whether 'twas best to 
 take his counsel or no ; and thus they began to discourse : 
 CHR. Brother, said Christian, what shall we Christian 
 do? The life that we now live is miserable: crusbed - 
 for my part I know not whether is best, to live thus, or to 
 die out of hand. ' My soul chooseth strangling 
 
 Job 7. 15. 
 
 rather than life,' and the grave is more easy for 
 
 me than this dungeon : Shall we be ruled by the giant ? 
 
 HOPE. Indeed our present condition is dreadful, and 
 death would be far more welcome to me than thus for ever 
 to abide : But yet let us consider, the Lord of the country 
 to which we are going hath said, Thou shalt do no murder, 
 no, not to another man's person ; much more then are we 
 forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he 
 that kills another, can but commit murder upon his body ; 
 but for one to kill himself, is to kill body and soul at once. 
 And moreover, my brother, thou talkest of ease 
 in the grave ; but hast thou forgotten the hell, comforts 
 whither for certain the murderers go ? for ' no 
 murderer hath eternal life,' etc. And, let us consider, 
 again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair : 
 Others, so far as I can understand, have been taken by him 
 as well as we ; and yet have escaped out of his hand : 
 Who knows, but that God that made the world, may 
 cause that Giant Despair may die ; or that at some time 
 or other he may forget to lock us in ; or but he may in 
 a short time have another of his fits before us, and may 
 lose the use of his limbs ; and if ever that should come to 
 
1 84 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 pass again, for my part I am resolved to pluck up the heart 
 of a man, and to try my utmost to get from under his 
 han ' I was a fool that I did not try to ,do it before ; but 
 however, my brother, let *s be patient, and endure a while : 
 the time may come that may give us a happy release ; but 
 let us not be our own murderers. With these words 
 Hopeful at present did moderate the mind of his brother ; 
 so they continued together (in the dark) that day, in their 
 sad and doleful condition. 
 
 Well, towards evening the giant goes down into the 
 dungeon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his 
 counsel ; but when he came there, he found them alive, 
 and truly, alive was all ; for now, what for want of bread 
 and water, and by reason of the wounds they received when 
 he beat them, they could do little but breathe : But, I say, 
 he found them alive ; at which he fell into a grievous rage, 
 and told them, that seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, 
 it should be worse with them than if they had never been 
 born. 
 
 At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian 
 fell into a swoon ; but coming a little to himself again, 
 they renewed their discourse about the giant's counsel, and 
 Christian still whether yet they had best to take it or no. 
 Now Christian again seemed to be for doing it, 
 but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth : 
 Hopeful HOPE. My brother, said he, rememberest thou 
 
 agdn , r by hirn n <* how valiant thou hast been heretofore? 
 
 Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all 
 membrance. t j iat tnou ^idst ^ear, or see, or feel in the 
 Valley of the Shadow of Death ; what hardship, terror, and 
 amazement hast thou already gone through, and art thou 
 now nothing but fear ? Thou seest that I am in the 
 dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than 
 
VESPJIR'S <DUNGEO3^ 185 
 
 thou art : Also this giant has wounded me as well as 
 thee, and hath also cut off the bread and water from my 
 mouth ; and with thee I mourn without the light. But 
 let's exercise a little more patience. Remember how thou 
 playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of 
 the chain nor cage ; nor yet of bloody death : wherefore 
 let us (at least to avoid the shame, that becomes not a 
 Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as well as 
 we can. 
 
 Now night being come again, and the giant and his 
 wife being in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, 
 and if they had taken his counsel. To which he replied, 
 They are sturdy rogues, they choose rather to bear all 
 hardship, than to make away themselves. Then said she, 
 Take them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them 
 the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already de- 
 spatched, and make them believe, ere a week comes to an 
 end, thou also wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done 
 their fellows before them. 
 
 So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them 
 again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them 
 as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were pilgrims as 
 you are, once, and they trespassed in my grounds, as you 
 have done : and when I thought fit, I tore them 
 
 , ... . T MI i On Saturday 
 
 in pieces, and so within ten days 1 will do you. the Giant 
 
 r^ , . . '', threatened 
 
 Go, get you down to your den again j and with that shortly 
 that he beat them all the way thither. They puiithemin 
 lay therefore all day on Saturday in lamentable l 
 case, as before. Now when night was come, and when 
 Mrs. Diffidence and her husband the giant were got to 
 bed, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners ; 
 and withal, the old giant wondered, that he could neither 
 by his blows, nor counsel, bring them to an end. And 
 
i86 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 with that his wife replied, I fear, said she, that they live in 
 hope that some will come to relieve them, or that they 
 have pick-locks about them, by the means of which they 
 hope to escape. And, sayest thou so, my dear ? said the 
 giant, I will therefore search them in the morning. 
 
 Well, on Saturday about midnight they began to pray, 
 and continued in prayer till almost break of day. 
 
 Now a little before it was day, good Christian, as one 
 half amazed, brake out in this passionate speech : What a 
 fool, quoth he, am I thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, 
 A key in when I may as well walk at liberty ! I have a 
 key in my bosom called Promise, that will, I am 
 persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. 
 Doubting Then said Hopeful, That 's good news j good 
 Castle. brother, pluck it out of thy bosom and try. 
 
 Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to 
 try at the dungeon door, whose bolt (as 
 he turned the key) gave back, and the 
 door flew open with ease, and Christian 
 and Hopeful both came out. Then he 
 went to the outward door that leads 
 into the castle -yard, and with his 
 key opened that door also. After he 
 went to the iron gate, for that must 
 THE KEY CALLED PROMISE be opened too, but that lock went 
 damnable hard, yet the key did open 
 it ; then they thrust open the gate to make their escape 
 with speed, but that gate, as it opened, made such a creak- 
 ing, that it waked Giant Despair, who hastily rising to 
 pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took 
 him again, so that he could by no means go after them. 
 Then they went on, and came to the King's highway, and 
 so were safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction, 
 
THE SIGNPOST 
 
 187 
 
 Now when they were gone over the stile, they began to 
 contrive with themselves what they should do at that stile, 
 to prevent those that should come after from falling into 
 
 THE PILLAR 
 
 the hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect 
 there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side 
 
 /- i . , ^ A pillar 
 
 thereof this sentence, ' Over this stile is the way erected by 
 
 TA i - /"i i i i i i /--> Christian 
 
 to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant and his 
 Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial 
 Country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims.' Many 
 therefore that followed after, read what was written, and 
 escaped the danger. This done, they sang as follows : 
 
 Out of the way we went, and then we found 
 What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground j 
 
i88 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 And let them that come after have a care, 
 
 Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare : 
 
 Lest they, for trespassing, his prisoners are, 
 
 Whose Castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair. 
 
 They went then, till they came to the Delectable 
 
 Mountains, 1 which mountains belong to the Lord 
 able Moun- of that hill, of which we have spoken before ; so 
 
 they went up to the mountains, to behold the 
 gardens and orchards, the vineyards, and fountains of water ; 
 They are v/here also they drank, and washed themselves, 
 the e moun. in and && freely eat of the vineyards. Now there 
 
 were on the tops of these mountains Shepherds 
 feeding their flocks, and they stood by the highway-side. 
 The pilgrims therefore went to them, and leaning upon 
 their staves (as is common with weary pilgrims, when they 
 
 stand to talk with any by the way) they asked, 
 the shep- Whose Delectable Mountains are these ? and 
 
 herds. 
 
 whose be the sheep that feed upon them ? 
 SHEP. These mountains are Immanuel's Land, and they 
 are within sight of his city; and the sheep also 
 are his, and he laid down his life for them. 
 CHR. Is this the way to the Celestial City ? 
 SHEP. You are just in your way. 
 CHR. How far is it thither ? 
 
 SHEP. Too far for any, but those that shall get thither 
 indeed. 
 
 CHR. Is the way safe, or dangerous ? 
 SHEP. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe, 
 but transgressors shall fall therein. 
 
 1 Mountains Delectable they now ascend, 
 Where Shepherds be, which to them do commend 
 Alluring things, and things that cautious are, 
 Pilgrims arc steady kept by faith and fear. 
 
KNOWLEDGE 
 
Heb. 
 
 13. I, 2. 
 
 190 THE PILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 CHR. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that 
 are weary and faint in the way ? 
 
 SHEP. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a 
 charge not to be forgetful to entertain strangers ; 
 therefore the good of the place is before you. 
 
 I saw also in my dream, that when the Shepherds 
 perceived that they were wayfaring men, they also put 
 questions to them (to which they made answer as in other 
 places), as, Whence came you ? and, How got you into the 
 way ? and, By what means have you so persevered therein ? 
 For but few of them that begin to come hither, do show 
 their face on these mountains. But when the Shepherds 
 The She h ear d tne i r answers, being pleased therewith, 
 herds wei- they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, 
 
 come them. J J 6 / r . 
 
 Welcome to the Delectable Mountains. 
 The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, 
 Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them 
 
 The names r ' i i i , , 
 
 oftheShep- by the hand, and had them to their tents, and 
 made them partake of that which was ready at 
 present. They said moreover, We would that you should 
 stay here a while, to be acquainted with us, and yet more 
 to solace yourselves with the good of these Delectable 
 Mountains. They then told them that they were content 
 to stay ; and so they went to their rest that night, because 
 it was very late. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning, the 
 
 Shepherds called up Christian and Hopeful to walk with 
 
 them upon the mountains : So they went forth with them, 
 
 and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect on every 
 
 side Then said the Shepherds one to another, 
 
 shown Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders ? 
 
 So when they had concluded to do it, they had 
 
 them first to the top of a hill called Error, which was very 
 
EXPERIENCE 
 
192 THE TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 steep on the furthest side, and bid them look down to the 
 bottom. So Christian and Hopeful looked down, 
 Mountain and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to 
 pieces by a fall that they had from the top. 
 Then said Christian, What meaneth this ? The Shepherds 
 answered, Have you not heard of them that were made to 
 err, by hearkening to Hymenaeus and Philetus, as concern- 
 2 Tim. 2. 17, i n g tne f a i tn f tne resurrection of the body ? 
 l8 - They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, 
 
 Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at the bottom of 
 this mountain are they ; and they have continued to this 
 day unburied (as you see) for an example to others to take 
 heed how they clamber too high, or how they come too 
 near the brink of this mountain. 
 
 Then I saw that they had them to the top of another 
 Mount mountain, and the name of that is Caution, and 
 Caution. bid them i^k afar Q ff . wn i cn wnen they did, 
 
 they perceived, as they thought, several men walking up 
 and down among the tombs that were there. And they 
 perceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled 
 sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could not get 
 out from among them. Then said Christian, What means 
 this ? 
 
 The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little 
 below these mountains a stile that led into a meadow on 
 the left hand of this way ? They answered, Yes. Then 
 said the Shepherds, From that stile there goes a path that 
 leads directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant 
 Despair ; and these men (pointing to them among the 
 tombs) came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even till 
 they came to that same stile. And because the right way 
 was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it into 
 that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair, and 
 
WATCHFVL 
 
 N 
 
I 9 4 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 cast into Doubting Castle ; where, after they had been a 
 while kept in the dungeon, he at last did put out their 
 eyes, and led them among those tombs, where he has left 
 them to wander to this very day ; that the saying of the 
 wise man might be fulfilled, ' He that wandereth 
 
 Prov. 21. 16. - . /-i i- i 11 
 
 out of the way of understanding shall remain in 
 the congregation of the dead.' Then Christian and Hopeful 
 looked upon one another, with tears gushing out, but yet 
 said nothing to the Shepherds. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them 
 to another place, in a bottom, where was a door in the side 
 of a hill ; and they opened the door, and bid them look in. 
 They looked in therefore, and saw that within it was very 
 dark, and smoky ; they also thought that they heard there 
 a rumbling noise as of fire, and a cry of some tormented, 
 and that they smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said 
 Christian, What means this ? The Shepherds told them, 
 A by-way to 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. 
 
 HOPE. Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive 
 that these had on them, even every one, a show of pilgrim- 
 age, as we have now ; had they not ? 
 
 SHEP. Yes, and held it a long time too. 
 
 HOPE. How far might they go on pilgrimage in their 
 day, since they notwithstanding were thus miserably cast 
 away ? 
 
 SHEP. Some further, and some not so far as these moun- 
 tains. 
 
 Then said the pilgrims one to another, We had need to 
 cry to the Strong for strength. 
 
SINCERE. 
 
196 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 SHEP. Ay, and you will have need to use it when you 
 have it too. 
 
 By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forwards, 
 and the Shepherds a desire they should ; so they walked 
 together towards the end of the moun- 
 tains. Then said the Shepherds one to 
 another, Let us here show to the pilgrims 
 The Shep- tne g ates f tne Celestial City, if 
 s P e e r c d tir~ the 7 have ski11 to look through 
 our perspective glass. The pil- 
 grims then lovingly accepted the motion : 
 The Hill So they had them to the top of 
 CUM - * high hill, called Clear, and 
 
 gave them their glass to look. 
 
 Then they essayed to look, but the remembrance of that 
 last thing that the Shepherds had showed them, made their 
 hands shake, by means of which impediment they could 
 The fruits of not ^ ook steadily through the glass ; yet they 
 servile fear, 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 were about to depart, one of the Shepherds 
 gave them a note of the way. Another of them bid them 
 A two-fold beware of the Flatterer. The third bid them 
 caution. ta k e heed that tn ey s l ee p not U p On t h e Enchanted 
 
 Ground. And the fourth bid them God-speed. So I 
 awoke from my dream. 
 
 And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two 
 
IGNORANCE 
 
 197 
 
 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 tryofCon- 
 
 in which the pilgrims walked a little crooked which came 
 
 lane. Here therefore they met with a very brisk 
 
 lad, that came out of that country, and his name was 
 
 THE FOUR SCROLLS 
 
 Ignorance. So Christian asked him from what parts he 
 came, and whither he was going. Christian 
 
 IGNOR. Sir, I was born in the country that ^SST 
 lieth off there, a little on the left hand; and I * ometalk - 
 am going to the Celestial City. 
 
198 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 CHR. But how do you think to get in at the gate, for 
 you may find some difficulty there ? 
 
 IGNOR. As other good people do, said he. 
 
 CHR. But what have you to show at that gate, that may 
 cause that the gate should be opened to you ? 
 
 IGNOR. I know my Lord's will, and I have been a good 
 
 The o n ^ ' ^7 ever 7 man s own 5 P ra 7) ast > 
 
 ofignor- pay tithes, and give alms, and have left my 
 
 ance'shope. J _ 7 , . , _ * 
 
 country for whither I am going. 
 
 CHR. But thou earnest not in at the Wicket-Gate that 
 is at the head of this way ; thou earnest in hither through 
 that same crooked lane, and therefore I fear, however 
 thou mayest think of thyself, when the reckoning day 
 shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy charge that thou 
 art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance into 
 the city. 
 
 IGNOR. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me ; I know 
 He saith to vou not : be content to follow the religion of 
 thathe'isa 7 our country, and I will follow the religion of 
 
 mine. I hope all will be well. And as for the 
 gate that you talk of, all the world knows that that is a 
 great way off of our country. I cannot think that any 
 man in all our parts doth so much as know the way to it ; 
 nor need they matter whether they do or no, since we have, 
 as you see, a fine pleasant green lane, that comes down 
 from our country the next way into the way. 
 
 When Christian saw that the man was wise in his own 
 
 conceit, he said to Hopeful whisperingly, There 
 
 is more hopes of a fool than of him. And said 
 
 moreover, 'When he that is a fool walketh by the way, 
 
 j his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one 
 
 that he is a fool.* What, shall we talk further 
 with him ? or outgo him at present ? and so leave him 
 
IGNORANCE 
 
200 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 to think of what he hath heard already ; and then 
 HOW to ^ stop again for him afterwards, and see if by 
 a fool. degrees we can do any good of 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. 
 
 HOPE. He further added, It is not good, I think, to say 
 all to him at once j 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 
 Matt. 12. 45 . Devils had bound with seven strong cords, and 
 Prov. 5. 22. were carrvm g of him back to the door that they 
 saw on the side of the hill. Now good Christian began to 
 tremble, and so did Hopeful his companion : Yet as the 
 devils led away the man, Christian looked to see if he knew 
 Thede- hi m > an d he thought it might be one Turn-away 
 onTTur n h- f tnat dwelt in the town of Apostasy. But he 
 away. jjj not p er f ec tly see his face, for he did hang his 
 
 head like a thief that is found : But being gone past, 
 Hopeful looked after him, and .espied on his back a paper 
 with this inscription, 'Wanton professor, and damnable 
 Christian a Pstate.' Then said Christian to his fellow, 
 teiiethhis Now I call to remembrance that which was told 
 
 companion a 
 
 story of me or a thing that happened to a good man 
 
 Little-faith. 5. , T i 
 
 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 of this passage there 
 
TALE OF LITTLE-FAITH 
 
 2OI 
 
 comes down from Broadway Gate a lane called Dead- 
 man's Lane ; so called, because of the murders Broadway 
 that are commonly done there. And this Deadina _ 
 Little-faith going on pilgrimage, as we do now, Lane - 
 chanced to sit down there and slept. Now there happened, 
 
 GUILT, MISTRUST, AND FAINT-HEART 
 
 at that time, to come down that lane from Broadway Gate, 
 three sturdy rogues, and their names were Faint-heart, 
 Mistrust, and Guilt (three brothers), and they espying 
 Little-faith where he was, came galloping up with speed : 
 Now the good man was just awaked from his sleep, and 
 
202 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 was getting up to go on his journey. So they came all up 
 to him, and with threatening language bid him stand. At 
 this, Little-faith looked as white as a clout, and had neither 
 
 Littie-faith P ower to % nt nor fly- Then said Faint-heart, 
 robbed by Deliver thy purse ; but he making no haste to 
 
 Faint-heart, . 
 
 Mistrust, do it (for he was loth to lose his money), Mis- 
 
 and Guilt. . J '> 
 
 trust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand into 
 his pocket, pulled out thence a bag of silver. Then he 
 They ot cr ' et * out > Thieves, thieves ! With that, Guilt, 
 away his with 2. great club that was in his hand, struck 
 knocked him Little-faith on the head, and with that blow 
 felled him flat to the ground, where he lay 
 bleeding as one that would bleed to death. All this while 
 the thieves stood by : But at last, they hearing that some 
 were upon the road, and fearing lest it should be one 
 Great-grace that dwells in the city of Good-confidence, 
 they betook themselves to their heels, and left this good 
 man to shift for himself. Now after a while, Little-faith 
 came to himself, and getting up, made shift to scramble on 
 his way. This was the story. 
 
 HOPE. But did they take from him all that ever he had ? 
 CHR. No : The place where his jewels were, 
 
 Littk-faith f 11-111 
 
 lost not his they never ransacked, so those he kept still ; but, 
 
 best things. .1 11, , i / i 
 
 as I was told, the good man was much afflicted 
 
 for his loss, for the thieves got most of his spending money. 
 
 That which they got not (as I said) were jewels ; 
 
 i Pet. 4. 18. . . , . .if .. ^ i r i 
 
 also he had a little odd money left, but scarce 
 
 enough to bring him to his journey's end. Nay, if I was 
 
 not misinformed, he was forced to beg as he went, 
 
 Little-faith . . . . 
 
 forced to beg to keep himself alive, for his jewels he might not 
 journey's 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. 
 
TALE OF LITTLE-FAITH 203 
 
 HOPE. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his 
 certificate, by which he was to receive his admittance at 
 the Celestial Gate ? 
 
 CHR. 'Tis a wonder, but they got not that : though 
 they missed it not through any good cunning of He kept not 
 his ; for he, being dismayed with their coming J 
 upon him, had neither power nor skill to hide 
 anything; so it was more by good providence 2Tim - I - I 4- 
 than by his endeavour, that they missed of that good thing. 
 
 HOPE. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they 
 got not this jewel from him. 
 
 CHR. It might have been great comfort to him, had he 
 used it as he should ; but they that told me the 
 story said, That he made but little use of it all 
 the rest of the way, and that because of the dismay that he 
 had in the taking away 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 com- 
 forted therewith, then would fresh thoughts of his loss 
 come again upon him, and those thoughts would swallow 
 up all. 
 
 HOPE. Alas, poor man ! this could not but be a great 
 grief unto him. He is pitied 
 
 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 ? 'Tis a wonder he did not die with grief, poor 
 heart ! I was told that he scattered almost all the rest of 
 the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints ; 
 telling also to all that overtook him, or that he overtook 
 in the way as he went, where he was robbed, and how ; 
 who they were that did it, and what he lost ; how he 
 was wounded, and that he hardly escaped with life. 
 
204 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 HOPE. But 'tis 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 
 
 Christian * ' 
 
 snibbeth his pawn them ? or to whom should he sell them ? 
 
 fellow for T 11 i 
 
 unadvised in alJ that country where he was robbed, his 
 
 speaking. ...... i /- 1-1, 
 
 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 villainy 
 of ten thousand thieves. 
 
 HOPE. Why art thou so tart, my brother ? Esau sold 
 his birthright, and that for a mess of pottage, 
 and that birthright was his greatest jewel ; and 
 if he, why might not Little-faith do so too ? 
 
 CHR. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do 
 A discourse many besides, and by so doing, exclude them- 
 and U Liie- u selves from the chief blessing, as also that caitiff 
 faith. ^d. g ut y OU mus t p u t 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- 
 Esauwas faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could see no 
 iusts dby his further than to the fulfilling of his lusts : c For I 
 Gen. 25. 32. am at t ne p f nt to die,' said he, ' and what good 
 will this birthright do me ? ' 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. 
 
HOPEFUL SWJGGERS 205 
 
 You read not anywhere that Esau had faith, no, not so 
 much as a little; therefore no marvel, if where Esaunever 
 the flesh only bears sway (as it will in that man had faith - 
 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 
 occasions cannot be turned away. When their minds are 
 set upon their lusts, they will have them whatever they 
 cost. But Little-faith was of another temper, his mind 
 was on things divine ; his livelihood was upon 
 
 .'. . . e Little-faith 
 
 things that were spiritual, and from above : could not 
 Therefore to what end should he that is of such Esau's 
 a temper sell his jewels (had there been any that 
 would have bought them) to fill his mind with empty 
 things ? Will a man give a penny to fill his belly with 
 hay ? or can you persuade the turtle-dove to live 
 
 TI i ^ T-I i r - i i Acompari- 
 
 upon carrion, like the crow r 1 hough faithless son between 
 
 c 3 . . the turtle- 
 
 Ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage, or dove and 
 
 sell what they have, and themselves outright to 
 boot ; yet they that have faith, saving faith, though but a 
 little of* it, cannot do so. Here therefore, my brother, is 
 thy mistake. 
 
 HOPE. I acknowledge it ; but yet your severe reflections 
 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 un- 
 trodden 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 Hopeful 
 they have run else, think you, as they did, at swa sg ers - 
 the noise of one that was coming on the road ? Why did 
 
206 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 not Little-faith pluck up a great heart? He might, 
 methinks, have stood one brush with them, and have 
 yielded when there had been no remedy. 
 
 CHR. That they are cowards, many have said, but few 
 
 have found it so in the time of trial. As for a 
 
 heart for great heart, Little-faith had none : and I perceive 
 
 God where . 1,1,, 
 
 there is but by thee, my brother, hadst thou been the man 
 
 little faith. . i i \ r 11 
 
 concerned, thou art but for a brush, and then to 
 yield. And verily, since this is the height of thy stomach 
 We have now tne 7 are at a distance from us, should they 
 "gTwhST appear to thee, as they did to him, they might 
 
 whence P Ut t ^ eC tO SeCOnc ^ thoughts. 
 
 arein< But consider again, they are but journeymen 
 
 thieves ; they serve under the king of the bottomless pit, 
 
 who, if need be, will come in to their aid himself, and his 
 
 voice is as the roaring of a lion. I myself have 
 
 been engaged as this Little-faith was, and I found 
 
 it a terrible thing. These three villains set upon me, and 
 
 Christian I beginning like a Christian to resist, they gave 
 
 in this case. t j ie sav i n g J S) 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 but appeared ; and no 
 The King's marvel, for he is the King's champion. But I 
 champion. trow you will put some difference between Little- 
 faith and the King's champion. All the King's subjects 
 
THE KING'S CHAMPION^, 207 
 
 are not his champions, nor can they, when tried, do such 
 feats of war as he. Is it meet to think that a little child 
 should handle Goliath as David did ? or that there should be 
 the strength of an ox in a wren ? Some are strong, some 
 are weak ; some have great faith, some have little : this man 
 was one of the weak, and therefore he went to the walls. 
 
 HOPE. I would it had been Great-grace, for their sakes. 
 
 CHR. If it had been he, he might have had his hands 
 full : For I must tell you, That though Great-grace is 
 excellent good at his weapons, and has and can, so long as 
 he keeps them at sword's point, do well enough with them j 
 yet if they get within him, even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or 
 the other, it shall go hard but they will throw up his heels. 
 And when a man is down, you know, what can he do ? 
 
 Whoso looks well upon Great-grace's face, shall see 
 those scars and cuts there, that shall easily give demonstra- 
 tion of what I say. Yea, once I heard that he should say 
 (and that when he was in the combat), c 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 day, were forced 
 to bestir them when by these assaulted ; and yet, notwith- 
 standing, they had their coats soundly brushed by them. 
 Peter upon a time would go try what he could do ; but, 
 though some do say of him that he is the prince of the 
 apostles, they handled him so, that they made him at last 
 afraid of a sorry girl. 
 
 Besides, their king is at their whistle, he is never out of 
 hearing ; and if at any time they be put to the worst, he, if 
 possible, comes in to help them : and of him 
 it is said, 'The sword of him that layeth at Leviathan's 
 him cannot hold the spear, the dart, nor the 
 habergeon : he esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten 
 
208 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 wood. The arrow cannot make him fly ; slingstones are 
 turned with him into stubble, darts are counted as stubble : 
 he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.' What can a man 
 do in this case ? J Tis true, if a man could at every turn 
 have Job's horse, and had skill and courage to ride him, he 
 might do notable things : for < his neck is clothed with 
 thunder, he will not be afraid as the grasshopper, 
 The excel- the glory of his nostrils is terrible, he paweth in 
 
 lent mettle , ,, ...... . 
 
 that is in the valley, rejoiceth in his strength, and goeth 
 
 Job's horse. , j TT 
 
 out to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, 
 and is not affrighted, neither turneth back from the sword. 
 The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the 
 shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage, 
 neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. 
 He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha ! and he smelleth 
 the battle afar off, the thundering of the captains, and the 
 shoutings/ 
 
 But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire 
 to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, 
 when we hear of others that they have been foiled, nor 
 be tickled at the thoughts of our own manhood, for such 
 commonly come by the worst when tried. Witness Peter, 
 of whom I made mention before. He would swagger, 
 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 these villains, 
 as he ? 
 
 When therefore we hear that such robberies are done on 
 the King's highway, two things become us to do : first to 
 go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield with us ; 
 For it was for want of that, that he that laid so lustily at 
 Leviathan could not make him yield. For indeed, if that 
 be wanting, he fears us not at all. Therefore he that had 
 
SWAGGERING 209 
 
 skill, hath said, * Above all, take the shield of faith, where- 
 with ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts 
 
 -T.it, E P h - 6. 16. 
 
 of the wicked/ 
 
 'Tis good also that we desire of the King a convoy, 
 yea that he will go with us himself. This made '^good 
 David rejoice when in the Valley of the Shadow * n h v a v a 
 of Death ; and Moses was rather for dying where Exod - 33> IS - 
 he stood, than to go one step without his God. O my 
 brother, if he will but go along with us, what 
 need we be afraid of ten thousands that shall PS. 27. i- 3 . 
 set themselves against us, but without him, 'the 
 proud helpers fall under the slain.' 
 
 I for my part have been in the fray before now, and 
 though (through the goodness of him that is best) I am 
 as you see alive; yet I cannot boast of my manhood. 
 Glad shall I be, if I meet with no more such brunts, 
 though I fear we are not got beyond all danger. How- 
 ever, since the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured 
 me, I hope God will also deliver us from the next uncir- 
 cumcised Philistine. Then sang Christian : 
 
 Poor Little-faith ! Hast been among the thieves ? 
 Wast robb'd ! Remember this : Whoso believes 
 And gets more faith, shall then a victor 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 A way and 
 way put itself into their way, and seemed withal a way - 
 to lie as straight as the way which they should go : and 
 here they knew not which of the two to take, for both 
 seemed straight before them ; therefore here they stood 
 still to consider. And as they were thinking The Flatterer 
 about the way, behold a man black of flesh, but finds them - 
 covered with a very light robe, came to them and asked 
 
 o 
 
210 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 them Why they stood there ? They answered, They were 
 going to the Celestial City, but knew not which of these 
 ways to take. Follow me, said the man, it is thither that 
 I am going. So they followed him in the way that but 
 now came into the road, which by degrees 
 
 Christian and . . . . . , J 
 
 his fellow turned, and turned them so from the city that 
 
 deluded. . i i i T i . , 
 
 they desired to go to, that in little time their 
 faces were turned away from it ; yet they followed him. 
 But by-and-by, before they were aware, he led them both 
 
 within the compass of a net, in which they were 
 
 They are , . 11111 , 
 
 taken in a both so entangled that they knew not what to 
 do ; and with that, the white robe fell off the 
 black man's back ; then they saw where they were. 
 Wherefore there they lay crying some time, for they could 
 not get themselves out. 
 
 CHR. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I see 
 They bewail myself in an error. Did not the Shepherds bid 
 ditTon C s ? n us beware of the flatterers ? As is the saying 
 Prov. 29. s . O f {he w j se man5 so we nave found it this day : 
 
 C A man that flattereth his neighbour spreadeth a net for 
 his feet.' 
 
 HOPE. They also gave us a note of directions about the 
 
 way, for our more sure finding thereof; but therein we 
 
 have also forgotten to read, and have not kept ourselves 
 
 from the paths of the destroyer. Here David was wiser 
 
 than we ; for saith he, c Concerning the works 
 
 of men, by the word of thy lips I have kept me 
 
 from the paths of the destroyer.' Thus they lay bewailing 
 
 themselves in the net. At last they espied a 
 
 A Shining _ . . . , , . 
 
 One comes bhining One coming towards them, with a whip 
 
 a whip in his 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 
 
FLATTERER'S NET 
 
 211 
 
 him, That they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were 
 led out of their way by a black man, clothed in Prov 2g s 
 white, who bid us, said they, follow him ; for he fcor/ii. 3 ^, 
 was going thither too. Then said he with the J *- 
 whip, It is Flatterer, a false apostle, that hath transformed 
 
 THE FLATTERER 
 
 himself into an angel of light. So he rent the net, and let 
 the men out. Then said he to them, Follow me, that I 
 may set you in your way again ; so he led them back to 
 the way, which they had left to follow the Flatterer. 
 Then he asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last 
 
212 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 night ? They said, With the Shepherds upon the Delect- 
 Theyare a W e Mountains. He asked them then, If they 
 Sd?o n n- d| na d not f those Shepherds a note of direction 
 forkful for the wa 7 - ? The 7 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 
 fine spoken. Flatterer ? They answered, Yes : but we did 
 
 Rom. 16. 18. . . 'ii ' r 
 
 not imagine, said they, that this nne-spoken man 
 had been he. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to 
 They are ne down ; which when they did, he chastised 
 Mnt p n d th5 tjlem sore > to teacn them tne good way wherein 
 Deut 25 2 they should walk ; and as he chastised them he 
 26?27? n ' 6 ' sai( ^) ' As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten ; 
 Rev. 3 . 19. be zealous therefore, and repent.' This done, he 
 bids them go on their way, and take good heed to the 
 other directions of the Shepherds. So they thanked him 
 for all his kindness, and went softly along the right way, 
 singing : 
 
 Come hither, you that walk along the way ; 
 
 See how the pilgrims fare, that go astray ! 
 
 They catched are in an entangling net, 
 
 'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget : 
 
 'Tis true, they rescued were, but yet you see 
 
 They 're scourged to boot : Let this your caution be. 
 
 Now after a while, they perceived afar off, one coming 
 softly and alone all along the highway to meet them. 
 Then said Christian to his fellow, Yonder is a man with 
 his back toward Zion, and he is coming to meet us. 
 
 HOPE. I see him ; let us take heed to ourselves now, 
 lest he should prove a Flatterer also. So he drew nearer 
 
ATHEIST 213 
 
 and nearer, and at last came up unto them. His name 
 was Atheist, and he asked them whither they The Atheist 
 
 Were going. meets them. 
 
 CHR. We are going to the Mount Zion. 
 Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. He laughs at 
 CHR. What is the meaning of your laughter ? them - 
 ATHEIST. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, 
 
 to take upon you so tedious a journey ; and yet are like to 
 
 have nothing but your travel for your pains. 
 
 CHR. Why, man ? Do you think we shall not be 
 
 received? They reason 
 
 ATHEIST. Received ! There is no such place to s ether - 
 as you dream of, in all this world. 
 
 CHR. But there is in the world to come. 
 
 ATHEIST. When I was at home in mine own country, 
 I heard as you now affirm, and, from that hearing went 
 out to see, and have been seeking this city this twenty 
 years : But find no more of it, than I did the Jer 22 12 
 first day I set out. Ww** 
 
 CHR. We have both heard and believe that there is such 
 a place to be found. 
 
 ATHEIST. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not 
 come thus far to seek : But finding none (and The Atheist 
 yet I should, had there been such a place to be '>* 
 found, for I have gone to seek it further than thisworld - 
 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. 
 
 CHR. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow, Is it 
 true which this man hath said ? Christian 
 
 HOPE. Take heed, he is one of the Flatterers ; Cgj! h " 
 remember what it hath cost us once already for 
 our hearkening to such kind of fellows. What ! an 
 
214 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 no Mount Zion ? Did we not see from the Delectable 
 2 Cor Mountains the gate of the city ? Also, are we 
 
 A remem- not now to walk by faith ? Let us go on, said 
 
 brance of * 
 
 former Hopeful, lest the man with the whip overtake us 
 
 ments is a again. You should have taught me that lesson, 
 
 help against . T ... . . ' 
 
 present which I will round you in the ears withal : 
 
 temptations. ~ . ' . . 
 
 Prov. i 9 . 27. ' Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that 
 causeth to err from the words of knowledge.' I 
 say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us believe to 
 the saving of the soul. 
 
 CHR. My brother, I did not put the question to thee 
 for that I doubted of the truth of our belief myself, but 
 A fruit of an to P r ve thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of 
 
 honest heart. ^ h onesty Q f thy heart> As foj . tn j g ^^^ J 
 
 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 c no lie is of the truth.' 
 
 HOPE. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 
 So they turned away from the man ; and he, laughing at 
 them, went his way. 
 
 I saw then in my dream, that they went till they came 
 They are ' into a certain country whose air naturally tended 
 Enchanted 6 to ma -ke one drowsy, if he came a stranger into 
 Ground. j ti ^nd here Hopeful began to be very dull and 
 heavy of sleep ; wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now 
 Hopeful begin to grow so drowsy that I can scarcely hold 
 
 begins to be 6 . 6 . .. / . . ' 
 
 drowsy. up mine eyes -, let us lie down here and take one nap. 
 CHR. By no means, said the other, lest sleeping we never 
 
 awake more. 
 
 keeps him 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 Shepherds 
 
THE ENCH4NTET> GROUND 215 
 
 bid us beware of the Enchanted Ground ? He meant by 
 that, that we should beware of sleeping ; Wherefore 
 let us not sleep, as do others ; but let us watch, ^ 
 
 and be sober. 
 
 HOPE. I acknowledge myself in a fault ; and had I 
 been here alone, I had, by sleeping, run the He is thank 
 danger of death. I see it is true that the wise ful> 
 man saith, 'Two are better than one.' Hitherto hath 
 thy company been my mercy, c and thou shalt 
 
 ' ', j r i i / Eccles. 4.9. 
 
 have a good reward for thy labour. 
 
 CHR. Now then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness 
 
 in this place, let us fall into good discouse. To 
 
 HOPE. With all my heart, said the other drowsiness 
 
 CHR. Where shall we begin ? good dis- 
 
 HOPE. Where God began with us. But do Gooddis- 
 
 . course pre- 
 
 you begin, if you please. vents drow- 
 
 f^ T -11 r , . siness. 
 
 CHR. I will sing you first this song : 
 
 When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither, The 
 And hear how these two pilgrims talk together : Note. 
 
 Yea, let them learn of them, in any wise, 
 Thus to keep ope their drowsy slumbering eyes. 
 Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 
 Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell. 
 
 CHR. Then Christian began and said, I will ask you a 
 question : How came you to think at first of 
 
 i . , \ They begin 
 
 doing what you do now r at the be- 
 
 TT tS TT T r ginning of 
 
 rloPE. JJo you mean, rlow came 1 at first to their con- 
 
 i t r i i /- i > version. 
 
 look after the good of my soul r 
 
 CHR. Yes, that is my meaning. 
 
 HOPE. I continued a great while in the delight of those 
 things which were seen and sold at our fair ; things which, 
 I believe now, would have (had I continued in them still) 
 drowned me in perdition and destruction. 
 
216 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 CHR. What things were they ? 
 
 HOPE. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also 
 
 I delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, 
 
 life before swearing;, lying;, uncleanness, Sabbath-breaking;, 
 
 conversion. . , 7 , 
 
 and what not, that tended to destroy the soul. 
 
 But I found at last, by hearing and considering of things 
 
 that are divine, which indeed I heard of you, as also of 
 
 beloved Faithful, that was put to death for his 
 
 23. faith and good living in Vanity Fair, that c the 
 
 end of these things is death.' And that for these 
 
 things' sake the wrath of God cometh upon the children of 
 
 disobedience. 
 
 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 com- 
 Hopefui at mission of it ; but endeavoured, when my mind 
 eyes s a h ga\ s nst s at first began to be shaken with the Word, to 
 the light. shut m j ne e y es a g a j nst the light thereof. 
 
 CHR. But what was the cause of your carrying of it 
 thus to the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon 
 you ? 
 
 HOPE. The causes were, I. I was ignorant that this was 
 the work of God upon me. I never thought that 
 
 Reasons of . r-^i r i_ i 
 
 his resisting by awakenmg;s for sin Lrod at nrst beg;ms the 
 
 of light. ' . 
 
 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 mine 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. 
 
HOPEFUL'S REMINISCENCES 217 
 
 CHR. Then as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your 
 trouble ? 
 
 HOPE. Yes, verily ; but it would come into my mind 
 again, and then I should 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 : 
 
 1. If I did but meet a good man in the streets ; or, 
 
 2. If I have heard any read in the Bible ; or, when ^ 
 7. If mine head did begin to ache ; or, had lost his 
 
 sense of sin, 
 
 4. If I were told that some of my neighbours whatbrought 
 
 1 it again. 
 
 were sick ; or, 
 
 5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead ; or, 
 
 6. If I thought of dying myself; or, 
 
 7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others ; 
 
 8. But especially, when I thought of myself, that I must 
 quickly come to judgment. 
 
 CHR. And could you at any time with ease get off 
 the guilt of sin, when by any of these ways it came 
 upon you ? 
 
 HOPE. No, not I, for then they got faster hold of my 
 conscience ; and then, if I did but think of going back to 
 sin (though my mind was turned against it), it would be 
 double torment to me. 
 
 CHR. And how did you then ? 
 
 HOPE. I thought I must endeavour to mend my life ; for 
 else, thought I, I am sure to be damned. when ^ 
 
 CHR. And did you endeavour to mend ? could no 
 
 ,, _, , , - , . longer shake 
 
 HOPE. Yes, and fled from, not only my sins, off his guilt 
 
 1 . . 7 , - b y sinful 
 
 but sinful company too ; and betook me to courses, 
 
 ... . . J . ,. . then he en- 
 
 religious duties, as praying, reading, weeping deavoursto 
 for sin, speaking truth to my neighbours, etc. 
 
2i8 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 These things did I, with many others, too much here to 
 relate. 
 
 CHR. And did you think yourself well then ? 
 
 HOPE. Yes, for a while; but at the last my trouble 
 came tumbling upon me again, and that over the 
 thought him- neck of all my reformation. 
 
 self well. ,,, TT 
 
 CHR. Jtiow came that about, since you were 
 now reformed ? 
 
 HOPE. There were several things brought it upon me, 
 especially such sayings as these : c All our 
 
 Isa.6 4 .6. .\ J /MI , L r> i. 
 
 Gal. 2 . 16. righteousnesses are as nithy rags. ' By the 
 
 Luke 17. 10. . r . . Till /* j j 
 
 works or the law no man shall be justified. 
 c When you have done all things, say, We are unprofit- 
 Reformation able': with many more such like. From whence 
 nothdp^alfd ! be g an to reason with myself thus : If all my 
 why * righteousnesses are filthy rags, if by the deeds of 
 
 the law, no man can be justified ; and if, when we have 
 done #//, we are yet unprofitable, then 'tis but a folly to 
 think of heaven by the law. I further thought thus : If 
 His being a a man runs an ; IO ^ nto tne shopkeeper's debt, 
 
 faw^rouVled and after that sha11 P a 7 f r a11 that he sha11 fetch > 
 
 him. vet {f kjg Q^ jg^i- stan( i st Qi i n tne b oo k un- 
 
 crossed, for that the shopkeeper may sue him, and cast him 
 into prison till he shall pay the debt. 
 
 CHR. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself? 
 
 HOPE. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have by 
 my sins run a great way into God's Book, and that my 
 now reforming will not pay off that score ; therefore I 
 should think still under all my present amendments, But 
 how shall I be freed from that damnation that I brought 
 myself in danger of by my former transgressions ? 
 
 CHR. A very good application : but pray go on. 
 
 HOPE. Another thing that hath troubled me, even since 
 
HOPEFUL'S REMINISCENCES 219 
 
 my late amendments, is, that if I look narrowly into the 
 best of what I do now, I still see sin, new sin, H is espying 
 mixing itself with the best of that I do ; so 
 that now I am forced to conclude, that notwith- 
 standing my former fond conceits of myself and him - 
 duties, I have committed sin enough in one duty to send 
 me to hell, though my former life had been faultless. 
 CHR. And what did you do then ? 
 
 J This made 
 
 HOPE. Do ! I could not tell what to do, till JI^J k 
 I brake my mind to Faithful, for he and I were to Faithful, 
 
 A 11 i who told him 
 
 well acquainted. And he told me, that unless the way to 
 I could obtain the righteousness of a man that 
 never had sinned, neither mine own, nor all the righteous- 
 ness of the world could save me. 
 
 CHR. And did you think he spake true ? 
 
 HOPE. Had he told me so when I was pleased and 
 satisfied with mine own amendments, I had called him fool 
 for his pains ; but now, since I see my own infirmity, and 
 the sin that cleaves to my best performance, I have been 
 forced to be of his opinion. 
 
 CHR. But did you think, when at first he suggested it 
 to you, that there was such a man to be found, of whom 
 it might justly be said, That he never committed sin ? 
 
 HOPE. I must confess the words at first sounded 
 strangely ; but after a little more talk and com- he started 
 
 .... T i i /- 1 1 i at present. 
 
 pany with him, I had full conviction about it. 
 
 CHR. And did you ask him what man this was, and how 
 you must be justified by him ? 
 
 HOPE. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that 
 dwelleth on the right hand of the Most High. Heb . I0i 
 And thus, said he, you must be justified by cS** x * 
 him, even by trusting to what he hath done by x Pet ' x - 
 himself in the days of his flesh, and suffered when he did 
 
220 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 hang on the tree. I asked him further, How that man's 
 
 righteousness could be of that efficacy, to justify 
 
 ticuiar dis- another before God ? And he told me, He was 
 
 the way to the mighty God, and did what he did, and died 
 
 the death also, not for himself, but for me ; to 
 
 whom his doings, and the worthiness of them should be 
 
 imputed, if I believed on him. 
 
 CHR. And what did you do then ? 
 
 HOPE. I made my -objections against my believing, for 
 He doubts of tnat I thought he was not willing to save me. 
 acceptation. CHR> And what S2L id Faithful to you then ? 
 
 HOPE. He bid me go to him and see. Then I said it 
 
 was presumption : he said, No ; for I was in- 
 Matt, ii. 28. . , r _ r 
 vited to come. 1 hen he gave me a book or 
 
 Jesus his inditing, to encourage me the more freely to 
 
 come ; and he said concerning that book, that 
 
 instructed, every jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than 
 
 heaven and earth. Then I asked him, What I 
 
 must do when I came ? and he told me, I must entreat 
 
 p s 6 upon my knees, with all my heart and soul, the 
 
 Dan. 6. 10. Father to reveal him to me. Then I asked him 
 
 Jer. 29. 12, 
 
 J 3- further, How I must make my supplication to 
 
 him ? And he said, Go, and thou shalt find him upon a 
 Exod 25 22 niercy-seat, where he sits all the year long, to 
 Nu V m l6 ' 8 g* ve P ar d n an d forgiveness to them that come. 
 Heb. 4 . 16. j fold hijn tnat: I knew not what to say when I 
 came. And he bid me say to this effect : God be merciful 
 He is bid to to me a sinner, and mf k ( e me to know and believe 
 pray. j n j esus Christ ; for i see that if his righteous- 
 
 ness had not been, or I have not faith in that righteousness, 
 I am utterly cast away ; Lord, I have heard that thou art 
 a merciful God, and hast ordained that thy Son Jesus Christ 
 should be the Saviour of the world ; and moreover, that 
 
HOPEFUL'S REMINISCENCES 221 
 
 thou art willing to bestow him upon such a poor sinner as 
 I am (and I am a sinner indeed), Lord, take therefore this 
 opportunity, and magnify thy grace in the salvation of my 
 soul, through thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen. 
 
 CHR. And did you do as you were bidden ? 
 
 HOPE. Yes ; over, and over, and over. 
 
 CHR. And did the Father reveal the Son to 
 you? 
 
 HOPE. Not at the first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, 
 nor fifth, no, nor at the sixth time neither. 
 
 CHR. What did you do then ? 
 
 HOPE. What ! why I could not tell what to do. 
 
 CHR. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying ? 
 
 HOPE. Yes. an hundred times, twice told. 
 
 ^ Aii i i i , He thought 
 
 CHR. And what was the reason you did not r to leave off 
 
 HOPE. I believed that that was true which had 
 been told me, to wit, That without the righteousness of 
 this Christ, all the world could not save me ; and He durst 
 therefore thought I with myself, If I leave off, Jff^yfng, 
 I die ; and I can but die at the throne of grace. and why - 
 And withal, this came into my mind, c lf it tarry, wait for 
 it, because it will surely come, and will not 
 tarry.' So I continued praying until the Father 
 showed me his Son. 
 
 CHR. And how was he revealed unto you ? 
 
 HOPE. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with 
 the eyes of mine understanding ; and thus it was : Eph z jg 
 One day I was very sad T think sadder than at J 9- 
 any one time in my life, and this sadness was through a 
 fresh sight of the greatness and vileness of my Chrlst is 
 sins. And as I was then looking for nothing hlm^lnV 
 but hell, and the everlasting damnation of my how< 
 soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus look 
 
2 Cor. 12. 
 
 9- 
 
 222 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 down from heaven upon me, and saying, * Believe on the 
 Acts 16. 3 o, Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.' 
 31 * But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very- 
 
 great sinner : and he answered, < My grace is sufficient 
 for thee.' Then I said, But, Lord, what is be- 
 lieving ? And then I saw from that saying, [ c He 
 that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth 
 on me shall never thirst ,'] that believing; and 
 
 John 6. 35. . i * V i 
 
 coming was all one ; and that he that came, that 
 is, ran out in his heart and affections after salvation by Christ, 
 he indeed believed in Christ. Then the water stood in 
 mine eyes, and I asked further, But, Lord, may such a 
 great sinner as I am be indeed accepted of thee, and be 
 
 saved by thee ? And I heard him say, ' And him 
 
 John 6. 37. . . T MI * 
 
 that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out. 
 Then I said, But how, Lord, must I consider of thee in 
 my coming to thee, that my faith may be placed aright 
 i Tim. 1. 15. upon thee ? Then he said, c Christ Jesus came 
 Rom. 10. 4 . j nto t}le wor i ( j to save sinners.' c He is the end 
 
 of the law for righteousness to every one that believes.' 
 c He died for our sins, and rose again for our justification : 
 
 He loved us and washed us from our sins in his 
 Heb!' 7 4 .' 24, own blood.' c He is Mediator ' between God and 
 
 us. c He ever liveth to make intercession for us.' 
 From all which I gathered, that I must look for righteousness 
 in his person, and for satisfaction for my sins by his blood ; 
 that what he did in obedience to his Father's law, and in 
 submitting to the penalty thereof, was not for himself, but 
 for him that will accept it for his salvation, and be thankful. 
 And now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes full of tears, 
 and mine affections running over with love to the name, 
 people, and ways of Jesus Christ. 
 
 CHR. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul 
 
HOPEFUL'S REMINISCENCES 223 
 
 indeed ; but tell me particularly what effect this had upon 
 your spirit. 
 
 HOPE. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding 
 all the righteousness thereof, is in a state of condemnation. 
 It made me see that God the Father, though he be just, 
 can justly justify the coming sinner. It made me greatly 
 ashamed of the vileness of my former life, and confounded 
 me with the sense of mine own ignorance ; for there never 
 came thought into mine heart before now, that showed me 
 so the beauty of Jesus Christ. It made me love a holy life, 
 and long to do something for the honour and glory of the 
 name of the Lord Jesus. Yea, I thought, that had I now 
 a thousand gallons of blood in my body, I could spill it all 
 for the sake of the Lord Jesus. 
 
 I saw then in my dream, that Hopeful looked back and 
 saw Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming after. 
 Look, said he to Christian, how far yonder youngster 
 loitereth behind. 
 
 CHR. Ay, ay, I see him ; he careth not for our company. 
 
 HOPE. But I trow, it would not have hurt him, had he 
 kept pace with us hitherto. 
 
 CHR. That 's true ; but I warrant you he thinketh 
 otherwise. 
 
 HOPE. That I think he doth j but, however, let us tarry 
 for him. So they did. 
 
 Then Christian said to him, Come away, man, why do 
 you stay so behind ? 
 
 IGNOR. I take my pleasure in walking alone, ignorance 
 even more a great deal than in company, unless I again 3 up 
 
 1-1 U , Their talk. 
 
 like it the better. 
 
 Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), Did I not 
 tell you he cared not for our company ? But, however, 
 said he, come up, and let us talk away the time in this 
 
224 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 solitary place. Then, directing his speech to Ignorance, 
 he said, Come, how do you ? How stands it between God 
 and your soul now ? 
 
 IGNOR. I hope well ; for I am always full of good 
 ignorance's motions, that come into my mind, to comfort me 
 
 hope, and oc T wsllr 
 the ground aS L WalK ' 
 
 CHR. What good motions ? Pray tell us. 
 IGNOR. Why, I think of God and heaven. 
 CHR. So do the devils and damned souls. 
 IGNOR. But I think of them, and desire them. 
 CHR. So do many that are never like to come there. 
 'The soul of the sluggard desires, and hath 
 
 Prov. 13. 4. , 
 
 nothing. 
 
 IGNOR. But I think of them, and leave all for them. 
 CHR. That I doubt, for leaving of all is an hard matter ; 
 yea, a harder matter than many are aware of. But why, or 
 by what, art thou persuaded that thou hast left all for God 
 and heaven ? 
 
 IGNOR. Mv heart tells me so. 
 
 CHR. The wise man says, i He that trusts his 
 
 Prov. 28. 26. , , 
 
 own heart is a fool. 
 
 IGNOR. This is spoken of an evil heart, but mine is a 
 good one. 
 
 CHR. But how dost thou prove that ? 
 
 IGNOR. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. 
 
 CHR. That may be, through its deceitfulness ; for a 
 man's heart may minister comfort to him in the hopes of 
 that thing for which yet he has no ground to hope. 
 
 IGNOR. But my heart and life agree together, and there- 
 fore my hope is well grounded. 
 
 CHR. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree to- 
 gether ? 
 
 IGNOR. My heart tells me so. 
 
IGNORANCE AGAIN 225 
 
 CHR. Ask my fellow if I be a thief! Thy heart tells 
 thee so ! Except the Word of God beareth witness in 
 this matter, other testimony is of no value. 
 
 IGNOR. But is it not a good heart that has good thoughts, 
 and is not that a good life that is according to God's 
 commandments ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, 
 and that is a good life that is according to God's com- 
 mandments ; but it is one thing indeed to have these, and 
 , another thing only to think so. 
 
 IGNOR. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life 
 according to God's commandments ? 
 
 CHR. There are good thoughts of divers kinds, some 
 respecting ourselves, some God, some Christ, and some 
 other things. 
 
 IGNOR. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves ? 
 
 CHR. Such as agree with the Word of God. 
 
 T TTTI i r i What are 
 
 IGNOR. When do our thoughts or ourselves good 
 
 . , , TTr , - ^ i % thoughts. 
 
 agree with the Word or (jod r 
 
 CHR. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves 
 which the Word passes. To explain myself: The Word 
 of God saith of persons in a natural condition, 'There is 
 none righteous, there is none that doeth good.' Rom 
 It saith also, 'That every imagination of the Gen - 6 - s- 
 heart of man is only evil, and that continually.' And 
 again, 'The imagination of man's heart is evil from his 
 youth.' Now then, when we think thus of ourselves, 
 having sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, 
 because according to the Word of God. 
 
 IGNOR. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad. 
 
 CHR. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought 
 concerning thyself in thy life. But let me go on : As the 
 Word passeth a judgment upon our Heart, so it passeth a 
 
 P 
 
226 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 judgment upon our Ways ; and when our thoughts of our 
 Hearts and Ways agree with the judgment which the Word 
 giveth of both, then are both good, because agreeing thereto. 
 
 IGNOR. Make out your meaning. 
 
 CHR. Why, the Word of God saith that man's ways are 
 crooked ways, not good, but perverse. It saith 
 
 PS. 125. 5. . 11 r i_ J i 
 
 Prov. 2. 15. they are naturally out of the good way, that they 
 have not known it. Now when a man thus 
 thinketh of his ways, I say when he doth sensibly, and 
 with heart-humiliation thus think, then hath he good 
 thoughts of his own ways, because his thoughts now agree 
 with the judgment of the Word of God. 
 
 IGNOR. What are good thoughts concerning God ? 
 
 CHR. Even (as I have said concerning ourselves) when 
 our thoughts of God do agree with what the Word saith of 
 him. And that is, when we think of his being and 
 attributes as the Word hath taught : of which I cannot 
 now discourse at large. But to speak of him with reference 
 to us, Then we have right thoughts of God, when we 
 think that he knows us better than we know ourselves, 
 and can see sin in us, when and where we can see none in 
 ourselves ; when we think he knows our inmost thoughts, 
 and that our heart with all its depths is always open unto 
 his eyes : Also when we think that all our righteousness 
 stinks in his nostrils, and that therefore he cannot abide to 
 see us stand before him in any confidence, even in all our 
 best performances. 
 
 IGNOR. Do you think that I am such a fool, as to think 
 God can see no further than I ? or, that I would come to 
 God in the best of my performances ? 
 
 CHR. Why, how dost thou think in this matter ? 
 
 IGNOR. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in 
 Christ for justification. 
 
THE FAITH OF IGNORANCE 227 
 
 CHR. How ! think thou must believe in Christ, when 
 thou seest not thy need of him ! Thou neither seest thy 
 original nor actual infirmities ; but hast such an opinion of 
 thyself, and of what thou doest, as plainly renders thee to 
 be one that did never see a necessity of Christ's personal 
 righteousness to justify thee before God : How then dost 
 thou say, I believe in Christ ? 
 
 IGNOR. I believe well enough for all that. 
 
 CHR. How dost thou believe ? 
 
 IGNOR. I believe that Christ died for sinners, and that I 
 shall be justified before God from the curse through his 
 gracious acceptance of my obedience to his law : The fa i th of 
 Or thus, Christ makes my duties that are religious, 1 * norance - 
 acceptable to his Father by virtue of his merits ; and so 
 shall I be justified. 
 
 CHR. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy 
 faith. 
 
 1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith, for this faith 
 is nowhere described in the Word. 
 
 2. Thou believest with a false faith, because it taketh 
 justification from the personal righteousness of Christ, and 
 applies it to thy own. 
 
 3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, 
 but of thy actions ; and of thy person for thy actions' sake, 
 which is false. 
 
 4. Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will 
 leave thee under wrath in the day of God Almighty ; for 
 true justifying faith puts the soul (as sensible of its lost 
 condition by the law) upon flying for refuge unto Christ's 
 righteousness (which righteousness of his, is not an act of 
 grace, by which he maketh for justification thy obedience 
 accepted with God, but his personal obedience to the law- 
 in doing and suffering for us, what that required at our 
 
228 THE TILG RIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 hands) This righteousness, I say, true faith accepteth ; 
 under the skirt of which, the soul being shrouded, and by 
 it presented as spotless before God, it is accepted, and acquit 
 from condemnation. 
 
 IGNOR. What ! would you have us trust to what Christ 
 in his own person has done without us ? This conceit 
 would loosen the reins of our lust, and tolerate us to live 
 as we list. For what matter how we live, if we may be 
 justified by Christ's personal righteousness from all, when 
 we believe it ? 
 
 CHR. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so 
 art thou ; even this thy answer demonstrateth what I say. 
 Ignorant thou art of what justifying righteousness is, and 
 as ignorant how to secure thy soul, through the faith of it, 
 from the heavy wrath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant 
 of the true effects of saving faith in the righteousness of 
 Christ, which is, to bow and win over the heart to God in 
 Christ, to love his name, his Word, ways, and people, and 
 not as thou ignorantly imaginest. 
 
 HOPE. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him 
 from heaven. 
 
 IGNOR. What ! you arc a man for revelations. I be- 
 lieve that what both you, and all the rest of 
 
 Ignorance . . 
 
 jangles you, say about that matter, is but the fruit 
 
 with them. /- i 11 
 
 of distracted brains. 
 
 HOPE. Why, man ! Christ is so hid in God from the 
 natural apprehensions of the flesh, that he cannot by any 
 man be savingly known, unless God the Father reveals him 
 to them. 
 He speaks IGNOR. That is your faith, but not mine ; yet 
 
 of p what h h f e lly mine 5 J doubt not > is as g oocl as yours, though I 
 knows not. nave no t in my head so many whimsies as you. 
 CHR. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought 
 
POO^IGNORdNCE 229 
 
 not so slightly to speak of this matter ; for this I will 
 boldly affirm (even as my good companion hath done), 
 that no man can know Jesus Christ but by the 
 revelation of the Father ; yea, and faith too, by i Cor. '. 3 .' 
 which the soul layeth hold upon Christ (if it be 
 right) must be wrought by the exceeding greatness of his 
 mighty power; the working of which faith, I perceive, 
 poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant of. Be awakened then, 
 see thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus ; 
 and by his righteousness, which is the righteousness of God 
 (for he himself is God), thou shalt be delivered from con- 
 demnation. 
 
 IGNOR. You go so fast I cannot keep pace with you ; 
 do you go on before, I must stay a while behind. The u j k 
 
 Then they said : brokeu P- 
 
 Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be, 
 To slight good counsel, ten times given thee ? 
 And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know 
 Ere long the evil of thy doing so : 
 Remember, man, in time ; stoop, do not fear, 
 Good counsel taken well, saves ; therefore hear : 
 But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
 The loser (Ignorance), I '11 warrant thee. 
 
 Then Christian addressed thus himself to his fellow : 
 
 CHR. Well, come my good Hopeful, I perceive that 
 thou and I must walk by ourselves again. 
 
 So I saw in my dream, that they went on apace before, 
 and Ignorance he came hobbling after. Then said Christian 
 to his companion, It pities me much for this poor man, it 
 will certainly go ill with him at last. 
 
 HOPE. Alas, there are abundance in our town in his 
 condition ; whole families, yea, whole streets (and that of 
 pilgrims too) ; and if there be so many in our parts, how 
 
30 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 many think you must there be in the place where he was 
 born ? 
 
 CHR. Indeed the Word saith, c He hath blinded their 
 eyes, lest they should see,' etc. But now we are by our- 
 selves, what do you think of such men ? Have they at no 
 time, think you, convictions of sin, and so consequently 
 fears that their state is dangerous ? 
 
 HOPE. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for 
 you are the elder man. 
 
 CHR. Then I say sometimes (as I think) they may, but 
 they being naturally ignorant, understand not that such 
 convictions tend to their good ; and therefore they do 
 desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptuously con- 
 tinue to flatter themselves in the way of their own hearts. 
 The good HOPE. I do believe as you say, that fear tends 
 
 use of fear. muc h to men's good, and to make them right, 
 at their beginning to go on pilgrimage, 
 job. 28. 28. CHR. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right ; 
 Pro"i : .7? : for so Sa 7 s the w ord, 'The fear of the Lord is 
 Chap. 9 . 10. t j ie beginning of wisdom.' 
 
 HOPE. How will you describe right fear ? 
 
 CHR. True, or right fear, is discovered by 
 
 Right fear. . ,. 
 
 three things : 
 
 1. By its rise; it is caused by saving convictions for 
 sin. 
 
 2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for 
 salvation. 
 
 3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great rever- 
 ence of God, his Word, and ways, keeping it tender, and 
 making it afraid to turn from them, to the right hand or to 
 the left, to anything that may dishonour God, break its 
 peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause the enemy to speak 
 reproachfully. 
 
TALE OF TEMPORARY 31 
 
 HOPE. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth. 
 Are we now almost got past the Enchanted Ground ? 
 
 CHR. Why, are you weary of this discourse ? 
 
 HOPE. No verily, but that I would know where we are. 
 
 CHR. We have not now above two miles further to go 
 thereon. But let us return to our matter. Now why igno . 
 the ignorant know not that such convictions that J 
 tend to put them in fear, are for their good, and 
 therefore they seek to stifle them. general. 
 
 HOPE. How do they seek to stifle them ? 
 
 CHR. i. They think that those fears are wrought by the 
 devil (though indeed they are wrought of God) ; 2 Inpar . 
 and thinking so, they resist them as things that ticular - 
 directly tend to their overthrow. 2. They also think that 
 these fears tend to the spoiling of their faith (when, alas for 
 them, poor men that they are, they have none at all), and 
 therefore they harden their hearts against them. 3. They 
 presume they ought not to fear, and therefore, in despite of 
 them, wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see that 
 these fears tend to take away from them their pitiful old self- 
 holiness, and therefore they resist them with all their might. 
 
 HOPE. I know something of this myself; for before I 
 knew myself it was so with me. 
 
 CHR. Well, we will leave at this time our neighbour 
 Ignorance by himself, and fall upon another profitable 
 question. 
 
 HOPE. With all my heart j but you shall still begin. 
 
 CHR. Well then, did you not know about ten 
 
 ^ ' J Talk about 
 
 years ago, one Temporary in your parts, who oneTem- 
 was a forward man in religion then ? 
 
 HOPE. Know him ! yes ; he dwelt in Graceless, a town 
 about two miles ofF of Honesty, and he dwelt where he 
 next door to one Turn-back. dwelt - 
 
232 
 
 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 CHR. Right ; he dwelt under the same roof with him. 
 Well, that man was much awakened once : I 
 believe that then he had some sight of his sins, 
 and of the wages that was due thereto. 
 
 HOPE. I am of your mind, for (my house not being 
 
 He was 
 
 towardly 
 once. 
 
 ONE TEMPORARY 
 
 above three miles from him) he would ofttimes come to 
 me, and that with many tears. Truly I pitied the man, 
 and was not altogether without hope of him ; but one may 
 see it is not every one that cries, c Lord, Lord.' 
 
 CHR. He told me once, that he was resolved to go on 
 pilgrimage, as we go now ; but all of a sudden he grew 
 
REASONS OF 'BACKSLIDING 233 
 
 acquainted with one Save-self, and then he became a 
 stranger to me. 
 
 HOPE. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a 
 little inquire into the reason of the sudden backsliding of 
 him and such others. 
 
 CHR. It may be very profitable ; but do you begin. 
 
 HOPE. Well then, there are in my judgment four reasons 
 for it. 
 
 1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, 
 yet their minds are not changed : therefore, when Reasons 
 the power of guilt weareth away, that which jjjg^ 
 provoketh them to be religious ceaseth. Where- s back - 
 fore they naturally turn to their own course again, even as 
 we see the dog that is sick of what he hath eaten, so long 
 as his sickness prevails, he vomits and casts up all ; not 
 that he doth this of a free mind (if we may say a dog 
 has a mind) but because it troubleth his stomach ; but now, 
 when his sickness is over, and so his stomach eased, his 
 desires being not at all alienate from his vomit, he turns 
 him about and licks up all ; and so it is true which is 
 written, 'The dog is turned to his own vomit 
 
 2 Pet 2 22 
 
 again.' Thus I say, being hot for heaven by 
 virtue only of the sense and fear of the torments of hell, as 
 their sense of hell and the fears of damnation chills and 
 cools, so their desires for heaven and salvation cool also. 
 So then it comes to pass, that when their guilt and fear is 
 gone, their desires for heaven and happiness die, and they 
 return to their course again. 
 
 2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do 
 overmaster them : I speak now of the fears that they have 
 of men, c For the fear of man bringeth a snare.' 
 
 So then, though they seem to be hot for heaven 
 
 so long as the flames of hell are about their ears, yet when 
 
34 THE TlLGRlM'S TROGRESS 
 
 that terror is a little over, they betake themselves to second 
 thoughts ; namely, that 'tis good to be wise, and not to 
 run (for they know not what) the hazard of losing all ; 
 or at least, of bringing themselves into unavoidable and 
 unnecessary troubles : and so they fall in with the world 
 again. 
 
 3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in 
 their way ; they are proud and haughty, and religion in 
 their eye is low and contemptible ; therefore, when they 
 have lost their sense of hell and wrath to come, they return 
 again to their former course. 
 
 4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them. 
 They like not to see their misery before they come into it ; 
 though perhaps the sight of it first, if they loved that sight, 
 might make them fly whither the righteous fly and are safe. 
 But because they do, as I hinted before, even shun the 
 thoughts of guilt and terror, therefore, when once they are 
 rid of their awakenings about the terrors and wrath of God, 
 they harden their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as 
 will harden them more and more. 
 
 CHR. You are pretty near the business, for the bottom of 
 all is, for want of a change in their mind and will. And 
 therefore they are but like the felon that standeth before 
 the judge, he quakes and trembles, and seems to repent 
 most heartily, but the bottom of all is the fear of the 
 halter : not that he hath any detestation of the offence, as 
 is evident, because, let but this man have his liberty, and 
 he will be a thief, and so a rogue still ; whereas, if his 
 mind was changed, he would be otherwise. 
 
 HOPE. Now I have showed you the reasons of their 
 going back, do you show me the manner thereof. 
 
 CHR. So I will willingly. 
 
 I. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, 
 
THE LANT) OF <BEULAH 2$$ 
 
 from the remembrance of God, death, and judgment to 
 
 COme. How the 
 
 2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, goes back, 
 as closet-prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for 
 sin, and the like. 
 
 3. Then they shun the company of lively ana warm 
 Christians. 
 
 4. After that, they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, 
 reading, godly conference, and the like. 
 
 5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the ccats 
 of some of the godly, and that devilishly ; that they may 
 have a seeming colour to throw religion (for the sake of 
 some infirmity they have spied in them) behind their 
 backs. 
 
 6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves 
 with, carnal, loose and wanton men. 
 
 7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses 
 in secret ; and glad are they if they can see such things in 
 any that are counted honest, that they may the more boldly 
 do it through their example. 
 
 8. After this, they begin to play with little sins openly. 
 
 9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as 
 they are. Thus being launched again into the gulf of 
 misery, unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they ever- 
 lastingly perish in their own deceivings. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the pilgrims 
 were got over the Enchanted Ground, and 
 
 . . t r T i i i I* 3 " 62. 4. 
 
 entering in the country of Beulah, whose air 
 was very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through 
 it, they solaced themselves there for a season. Cant 2< 10 . 
 Yea, here they heard continually the singing of 12t 
 birds, and saw every day the flowers appear in the earth, 
 and heard the voice of the turtle in the land. In this 
 
236 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 country the sun shineth night and day ; wherefore this 
 was beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also 
 out of the reach of Giant Despair, neither could they from 
 this place so much as see Doubting Castle. Here they 
 were within sight of the city they were going to ; also here 
 met them some of the inhabitants thereof: for 
 
 Angels. 
 
 in this land the Shining Ones commonly walked, 
 
 because it was upon the borders of heaven. In this land 
 
 also the contract between the Bride and the Bridegroom 
 
 isa. 6. 5. was renewed ; yea here, c As the bridegroom 
 
 rejoiceth over the bride, so did their God rejoice 
 
 over them.' Here they had no want of corn and wine ; 
 
 for in this place they met with abundance of what they had 
 
 sought for in all their pilgrimage. Here they heard voices 
 
 from out of the city, loud voices, saying, 'Say 
 
 ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation 
 
 cofneth ! behold, his reward is with him ! ' Here all the 
 
 inhabitants of the country called them, c The 
 
 holy people, The redeemed of the Lord, Sought 
 
 out,' etc. 
 
 Now as they walked in this land, they had more rejoic- 
 ing than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which 
 they were bound ; and drawing near to the city, they had 
 yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded of pearls 
 and precious stones, also the street thereof was paved with 
 gold ; so that by reason of the natural glory of the city, 
 and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with 
 desire fell sick, Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same 
 disease. Wherefore here they lay by it a while, crying out 
 because of their pangs, c If you see my Beloved, tell him 
 that I am sick of love.' 
 
 But being a little strengthened, and better able to bear 
 their sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet 
 
THE LAN<D OF <BEULAH 237 
 
 nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and 
 gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now 
 as they came up to these places, behold, the gardener stood 
 in the way, to whom the pilgrims said, Whose goodly vine- 
 yards and gardens are these ? He answered, They ^^ ^ 
 are the King's, and are planted here for his own 
 delights, and also for the solace of pilgrims. So the gardener 
 had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh them- 
 selves with dainties. He also showed them there the King's 
 walks, and the arbours where he delighted to be : and here 
 they tarried and slept. 
 
 Now I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in 
 their sleep at this time than ever they did in all their 
 journey ; and being in a muse thereabout, the gardener 
 said even to me, Wherefore musest thou at the matter ? 
 It is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these vineyards 
 to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that are 
 asleep to speak. 
 
 So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed them- 
 selves to go up to the city. But, as I said, the reflection of 
 the sun upon the city (for the city was pure gold) R ev> 2Ij l8 . 
 was so extremely glorious, that they could not, 2 Cor ' 3> l8 ' 
 as yet, with open face behold it, but through an instru- 
 ment made for that purpose. So I saw, that as they went 
 on, there met them two men, in raiment that shone like 
 gold, also their faces shone as the light. 
 
 These men asked the pilgrims whence they came ; and 
 they told them. They also asked them where they had 
 lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and 
 pleasures they had met in the way ; and they told them. 
 Then said the men that met them, you have but two diffi- 
 culties more to meet with, and then you are in the city. 
 
 Christian then and his companion asked the men to go 
 
238 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 along with them, so they told them they would. But, 
 said they, you must obtain it by your own faith. So I saw 
 in my dream that they went on together till they came in 
 sight of the gate. 
 
 Now I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate was 
 Death a r * ver > ^ ut tnere was no bridge to go over ; the 
 river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of 
 this river the pilgrims were much stunned ; but the men 
 that went with them said, You must go through, or you 
 cannot come at the gate. 
 
 The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no 
 other way to the gate ; to which they answered, 
 
 Death is not J ' 
 
 welcome Yes, but there hath not any, save two, to wit, 
 though by it Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that 
 of this world path, since the foundation of the world, nor shall, 
 i Cor. 15/51, until the last trumpet shall sound. The pilgrims 
 
 then, especially Christian, began to despond in 
 their minds, and looked this way and that, but no way 
 could be found by them by which they might escape the 
 river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all of 
 
 a depth. They said, No j yet they could not 
 
 Angels help ... , - J . . . J - T ... 
 
 us not com- help them in that case ; for said they, You shall 
 
 fortably * . ... J /. 
 
 through find it deeper or shallower, as you believe in the 
 
 death. . , r . J 
 
 King of the place. 
 
 They then addressed themselves to the water ; and enter- 
 ing, Christian began to sink, and, crying out to his good 
 friend Hopeful, he said, I sink in deep waters ; the billows 
 go over my head, all his waves go over me ! Selah. 
 
 Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother ; I 
 Christian's fe Q \ tne bottom, and it is good. Then said 
 the hour a of Christian, Ah, my friend, the sorrows of death 
 death. j iave com p ass ed me about; I shall not see the 
 land that flows with milk and honey. And with that, a 
 
CROSSING THE <BjyER 239 
 
 great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he 
 could not see before him. Also here he in great measure 
 lost his senses ; so that he could neither remember nor 
 orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had 
 met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words 
 that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror of 
 mind, and heart-fears that he should die in that river, and 
 never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they 
 that stood by perceived, he was much in the 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 hobgoblins and evil 
 spirits 3 for ever and anon he would intimate so much by 
 words. Hopeful therefore here had much ado to keep his 
 brother's head above water ; yea, sometimes he would be 
 quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he would rise up 
 again half dead. Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort 
 him, saying, Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to 
 receive us ; but Christian would answer, It is you, it is you 
 they wait for ; you have been hopeful ever since I knew 
 you. And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah, brother ! 
 said he, surely if I was right, he would now arise to help 
 me; but for my sins he hath brought me into the snare, 
 and hath left me. Then said Hopeful, My brother, you 
 have quite forgot the text where it is said of the wicked, 
 'There is no band in their death, but their 
 strength is firm ; they are not troubled as other 
 men, neither are they plagued like other men.' These 
 troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters 
 are no sign that God hath forsaken you ; but are sent to 
 try you, whether you will call to mind that which hereto- 
 fore you have received of his goodness, and live upon him 
 in your distresses. 
 
240 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was as in a 
 muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added this word, 
 
 * Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee 
 delivered whole.' And with that Christian brake out with 
 fea in a loud voice, Oh, I see him again ! and he tells 
 
 me, 'When thou passest through the waters, I 
 will be with thee ; and through the rivers, they shall not 
 
 overflow thee.' Then they both took courage, 
 
 and the enemy was after that as still as a stone 
 until they were gone over. Christian therefore presently 
 found ground to stand upon ; and so it followed that the 
 rest of the river was but shallow. Thus they got over. 
 Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they 
 The angek saw tne two Shining Men again, who there 
 ?hem a as?oon wa i tec ^ fo r them. Wherefore, being come out 
 ^s^eYo^Tof f t ^ le r i yer > tne y saluted them, saying, We are 
 this world, ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for those 
 that shall be heirs of salvation. Thus they went along 
 towards the gate. Now you must note that the city stood 
 upon a mighty hill ; but the pilgrims went up that hill 
 with ease, because they had these two men to lead them 
 
 up by the arms : also they had left their mortal 
 P ut C off av garments behind them in the river j 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 j they therefore went 
 up through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they 
 went, being comforted, because they safely got over the 
 river, and had such glorious companions to attend them 
 
 The talk they had with the Shining Ones was about the 
 glory of the place, who told them that the beauty and 
 glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they, is the 
 
THE JNGELS* WELCOME 241 
 
 Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable 
 company of angels, and the spirits of just men 
 
 t f *? j i_ Heb. 12. 22- 
 
 made perfect. You are going now, said they, 24. 
 to the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the 
 tree of life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof; 
 and when you come there, you shall have white 
 robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be 
 every day with the King, even all the days of eternity. 
 There you shall not see again such things as you saw when 
 you were in the lower region upon the earth, to wit, 
 sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death ; c for the Chap 2I 4? 
 former things are passed away.' You are going ^ sa 57 x 2 
 now to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the Cha P-6s-i7- 
 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 comforts of all your toil, and 
 have joy for all your sorrow ; you must reap 
 what you have sown, even the fruit of all your 
 prayers and tears, and sufferings for the King by tne way. 
 In that place you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the 
 perpetual sight and visions of the Holy One ; for 
 there c you shall see him as he is.' There also 
 you shall serve him continually with praise, with shouting 
 and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the world, 
 though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of 
 your flesh. There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, 
 and your ears with hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty 
 One. There you shall enjoy your friends again that are 
 gone thither before you ; and there you shall with joy 
 receive even every one that follows into the holy place 
 after you. There also you shall be clothed with glory and 
 
242 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the 
 King of Glory. When he shall come with sound 
 
 13-16. ' of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of 
 the wind, you shall come with him ; and when 
 
 he shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you 
 shall sit by him ; yea, and when he shall pass sentence 
 upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be angels or 
 men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment, because 
 they were his and your enemies. Also, when he shall 
 again return to the city, you shall go too, with sound of 
 trumpet, and be ever with him. 1 
 
 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 
 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. 
 
 This done, they compassed them round on every side ; 
 
 1 Now, now look how the holy pilgrims ride, 
 Clouds are their chariots, angels are their guide : 
 Who would not here for him all hazards run, 
 That thus provides for his when this world 's dore ? 
 
THE ANGELS 1 WELCOME 243 
 
 some went before, some behind, and some on the right 
 hand, some on the left (as 'twere to guard them through 
 the upper regions), continually sounding as they went, with 
 melodious noise, in notes on high : so that the very sight 
 was to them that could behold it, as if heaven itself was 
 come down to meet them. Thus therefore they walked 
 on together ; and as they walked, ever and anon these 
 trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing their 
 music with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and 
 his brother how welcome they were into their company, 
 and with what gladness they came to meet them. And 
 now were these two men, as 'twere in heaven, before they 
 came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, 
 and with hearing of 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 glorious joy be expressed ! And thus they came up 
 to the gate. 
 
 Now when they were come up to the gate, there 
 was written over it in letters of gold, < BLESSED 
 
 Rev. 22. 14. 
 ARE THEY THAT DO HIS COMMANDMENTS, THAT 
 
 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 Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, These pilgrims are 
 come from the City of Destruction, for the love that they 
 bear to the King of this place : and then the pilgrims gave 
 in unto them each man his certificate, which they had 
 
244 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 received in the beginning ; those, therefore, were carried 
 
 in to the King, who, when he had read them, said, Where 
 
 are the men ? To whom it was answered, They are stand- 
 
 ing without the gate. The King then commanded to open 
 
 the gate, 'That the righteous nation,' said he, 
 
 ' that keepeth truth may enter in.' 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that these two men went in at 
 the gate ; and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured, 
 and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There 
 was 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 themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, 
 saying, 'Blessing, honour, glory, and power be to 
 him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the 
 Lamb, for ever and ever.' 
 
 Now just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I 
 looked in after them ; and behold, the city shone like the 
 sun ; the streets also were paved with gold, and in them 
 walked many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in 
 their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal. 
 
 There were also of them that had wings, and they 
 answered one another without intermission, saying, c Holy, 
 holy, holy, is the Lord.' And after that they shut up the 
 gates ; which, when I had seen, I wished myself among 
 them. 
 
 Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned 
 my head to look back, and saw Ignorance come 
 up to the river-side ; but he soon got over, and 
 
 that without half that difficulty which the other 
 two men met with. For it happened that there was then 
 
THE CELESTIAL CITY 245 
 
 in that place one Vain-hope, a ferryman, that with his 
 boat helped him over ; so he, as the other I saw, 
 
 i i i -11 i i Vain-hope 
 
 did ascend the hill to come up to the gate, only does ferry 
 
 . , i i i i him over. 
 
 he came alone ; neither did any man meet him 
 with the least encouragement. When he was come up to 
 the gate, he looked up to the writing that was above, and 
 then began to knock, supposing that entrance should have 
 been quickly administered to- him ; but he was asked by the 
 men that looked over the top of the gate, Whence came 
 you ? and what would you have ? He answered, I have 
 eat and drank in the presence of the King, and he has 
 taught in our streets. Then they asked him for his 
 certificate, that they might go in and show it to the King. 
 So he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. 
 Then said they, Have you none ? But the man answered 
 never a word. So they told the King, but he would not 
 come down to see him, but commanded the two Shining 
 Ones that conducted Christian and Hopeful to the city, to 
 go out and take Ignorance and bind him hand and foot, 
 and have him away. Then they took him up and carried 
 him through the air, to the door that I saw in the side of 
 the hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that there was 
 a way to hell even from the gates of heaven, as well as from 
 the City of Destruction. 
 
 So I awoke, and, behold, it was a dream. 
 
34-6 THE TILG RIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 THE CONCLUSION 
 
 Now, Reader, I have told my dream to thce ; 
 
 See if thou canst interpret it to me, 
 
 Or to thyself, or neighbour ; but take heed 
 
 Of misinterpreting ; for that, instead 
 
 Of doing good, will but thyself abuse : 
 
 By misinterpreting, evil ensues. 
 
 Take heed also, that thou be not extreme 
 In playing with the outside of my Dream : 
 Nor let my figure or similitude 
 Put thee into a laughter or a feud ; 
 Leave this for boys and fools ; but as for thee, 
 Do thou the substance of my matter see. 
 
 Put by the curtains, look within my veil ; 
 Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail 
 There, if thou seekest them, such things to find, 
 As will be helpful to an honest mind. 
 
 What of my dross thou findcst there, be bold 
 To throw away, but yet preserve the gold ; 
 What if my gold be wrapped up in ore ? 
 None throws away the apple for the core : 
 But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, 
 I know not but 'twill make me dream again. 
 
 THE END 
 
THE 
 
 PART II 
 
 247 
 
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT 
 WHICH IS TO COME: 
 
 The Second Part 
 
 DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF 
 A DREAM : WHEREIN IS SET FORTH 
 
 THE MANNER OF THE SETTING OUT 
 
 OF CHRISTIAN'S WIFE AND CHILDREN, 
 
 THEIR DANGEROUS JOURNEY, AND SAFE 
 
 ARRIVAL AT THE DESIRED COUNTRY : 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN 
 I have used, Similitudes. Hos. xii. 10 
 
 248 
 
THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF SENDING FORTH 
 HIS SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM 
 
 Go now, my little Book, to every place 
 
 Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face ; 
 
 Call at their door. If any say, Who 's there ? 
 
 Then answer thou, Christiana is here. 
 
 If they bid thee come in, then enter thou, 
 
 With all thy boys ; and then, as thou know'st how, 
 
 Tell who they are, also from whence they came ; 
 
 Perhaps they '11 know them by their looks or name. 
 
 But if they should not, ask them yet again 
 
 If formerly they did not entertain 
 
 One Christian, a Pilgrim ? If they say 
 
 They did, and were delighted in his way ; 
 
 Then let them know that those related were 
 
 Unto him, yea, his wife and children are. 
 
 Tell them, that they have left their house and home, 
 Are turned Pilgrims, seek a world to come ; 
 That they have met with hardships in the way; 
 That they do meet with troubles night and day ; 
 That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils ; 
 Have also overcome a many evils. 
 Yea, tell them also of the next, who have 
 Of love to pilgrimage been stout and brave 
 Defenders of that way, and how they still 
 Refuse this world, to do their Father's will. 
 
 Go, tell them also of those dainty things 
 That Pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings. 
 
 249 
 
250 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Let them acquainted be, too, how they are 
 
 Beloved of their King, under his care ; 
 
 What goodly mansions for them he provides, 
 
 Tho' they meet with rough winds and swelling tides, 
 
 How brave a calm they will enjoy at last, 
 
 Who to their Lord, and by his ways hold fast. 
 
 Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace 
 Thee, as they did my firstling, and will grace 
 Thee, and thy fellows, with such cheer and fare, 
 As show well, they of Pilgrims lovers are. 
 
 I. OBJECT 
 
 But how if they will not believe of me 
 That I am truly thine ; 'cause some there be 
 That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name, 
 Seek by disguise to seem the very same, 
 And by that means have wrought themselves into 
 The hands and houses of I know not who ? 
 
 ANSWER 
 
 'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit 
 My Pilgrim, to their own my title set ; 
 Yea others, half my name and title too 
 Have stitched to their book, to make them do ; 
 But yet they, by their features, do declare 
 Themselves not mine to be, whose'er they are. 
 
 If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way 
 Before them all, is, to say out thy say, 
 In thine own native language, which no man 
 Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can. 
 If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, 
 Thinking that you, like gipsies, go about 
 In naughty wise the country to defile, 
 Or that you seek good people to beguile 
 
THE SECOND TART 251 
 
 With things unwarrantable ; send for me, 
 And I will testify you Pilgrims be ; 
 Yea, I will testify that only you 
 My Pilgrims are ; and that alone will do. 
 
 2. OBJECT 
 
 But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him, 
 Of those that wish him damned, life and limb. 
 What shall I do, when I at such a door 
 For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more ? 
 
 ANSWER 
 
 Fright not thyself, my Book, for such bugbears 
 Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. 
 My Pilgrim's book has travell'd sea and land, 
 Yet could I never come to understand 
 That it was slighted, or turned out of door 
 By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 
 
 In France and Flanders, where men kill each other, 
 My Pilgrim is esteem'd a friend, a brother. 
 
 In Holland too, 'tis said, as I am told, 
 My Pilgrim is with some worth more than gold. 
 
 Highlanders and wild Irish can agree 
 My Pilgrim should familiar with them be. 
 
 7 Tis in New England under such advance, 
 Receives there so much loving countenance, 
 As to be trimm'd, new clothed, and deck'd with 
 
 gems, 
 
 That it may show its features and its limbs, 
 Yet more ; so comely doth my Pilgrim walk, 
 That of him thousands daily sing and talk. 
 
 If you draw nearer home, it will appear 
 My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear ; 
 
252 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 City and country will him entertain 
 
 With, Welcome, Pilgrim ; yea, they can't refrain 
 
 From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by, 
 
 Or shows his head in any company. 
 
 Brave Gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love, 
 Esteem it much, yea, value it above 
 Things of a greater bulk ; yea, with delight, 
 Say, My lark's leg is better than a kite. 
 
 Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too, 
 Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show; 
 Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts 
 My Pilgrim has, 'cause he to them imparts 
 His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains, 
 As yield them profit double to their pains 
 Of reading : yea, I think I may be bold 
 To say, some prize him far above their gold. 
 
 The very children that do walk the street, 
 If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet, 
 Salute him will, will wish him well, and say, 
 He is the only stripling of the day. 
 
 They that have never seen him, yet aamire 
 What they have heard of him, and much desire 
 To have his company, and hear him tell 
 Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well. 
 
 Yea, some who did not love him at the first, 
 But call'd him fool and noddy, say they must, 
 Now they have seen and heard him, him com- 
 mend, 
 And to those whom they love, they do him send. 
 
 Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be 
 Afraid to show thy head ; none can hurt thee, 
 That wish but well to him that went before, 
 'Cause thou com'st after with a second store 
 Of things as good, as rich, as profitable, 
 For young, for old, for staggering, and for stable. 
 
THE SECOND <PART 253 
 
 3. OBJECT 
 
 But some there be that say, he laughs too loud; 
 And some do say his head is in a cloud. 
 Some say, his words and stories are so dark, 
 They know not how, by them, to find his mark. 
 
 ANSWER 
 
 One may (I think) say, Both his laughs and cries 
 May well be guess'd at by his watery eyes. 
 Some things arc of that nature as to make 
 One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache. 
 When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, 
 He did at the same time both kiss and weep. 
 
 Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head, 
 That doth but show how wisdom's covered 
 With its own mantles, and to stir the mind 
 To a search after what it fain would find : 
 Things that seem to be hid in words obscure, 
 Do but the godly mind the more allure ; 
 To study what those sayings should contain, 
 That speak to us in such a cloudy strain. 
 
 I also know a dark similitude 
 Will on the fancy more itself intrude, 
 And will stick faster in the heart and head, 
 Than things from similes not borrowed. 
 
 Wherefore, my Book, let no discouragement 
 Hinder thy travels. Behold, thou art sent 
 To friends, not foes; to friends that will give place 
 To thee, thy Pilgrims, and thy words embrace. 
 
 Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceal'd, 
 Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveaFd ; 
 What Christian left lock'd up, and went his way, 
 Sweet Christiana opens with her key. 
 
254 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 4. OBJECT 
 
 But some love not the method of your first: 
 Romance they count it ; throw 't away as dust. 
 If I should meet with such, what should I say ? 
 Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay ? 
 
 ANSWER 
 
 My Christiana, if with such thou meet, 
 By all means in all loving wise them greet ; 
 Render them not reviling for revile ; 
 But if they frown, I prithee on them smile ; 
 Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report, 
 Has made them thus despise, or thus retort. 
 
 Some love no cheese, some love no fish, and some 
 Love not their friends, nor their own house or home ; 
 Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl, 
 More than they love a cuckoo or an owl ; 
 Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice, 
 And seek those who to find thee will rejoice ; 
 By no means strive, but in humble-wise 
 Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise. 
 
 Go then, my little Book, and show to all 
 That entertain, and bid thee welcome shall, 
 What thou shalt keep close, shut up from the rest, 
 And wish what thou shalt show them may be blest 
 To them for good, may make them choose to be 
 Pilgrims, better by far, than thee or me. 
 
 Go then, I say, tell all men who thou art, 
 Say, I am Christiana, and my part 
 Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what 
 It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot : 
 
 Go also tell them who, and what they be, 
 That now do go on pilgrimage with thee : 
 
THE S ECO NT) <P4RT 255 
 
 Say, here 's my Neighbour Mercy, she is one 
 That has long time with me a Pilgrim gone. 
 Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn 
 'Twixt idle ones and Pilgrims to discern. 
 Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize 
 The world which is to come, in any wise. 
 When little tripping maidens follow God, 
 And leave old doting sinners to his rod ; 
 'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried 
 Hosanna ! to whom old ones did deride. 
 
 Next tell them of old Honest, who you found 
 With his white hairs treading the Pilgrim's ground. 
 Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was, 
 How after his good Lord he bare his cross ; 
 Perhaps with some grey head this may prevail 
 With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail. 
 
 Tell them also how Master Fearing went 
 On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent 
 In solitariness, with fears and cries, 
 And how at last he won the joyful prize. 
 He i was a good man, though much down in 
 
 spirit, 
 He // a good man, and doth life inherit. 
 
 Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also, 
 Who, not before, but still behind would go ; 
 Show them also how he had like been slain, 
 And how one Great-heart did his life regain : 
 This man was true of heart, tho' weak in grace, 
 One might true godliness read in his face. 
 
 Then tell them of Master Ready-to-halt, 
 A man with crutches, but much without fault ; 
 Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he 
 Did love, and in opinions much agree. 
 And let all know, tho' weakness was their chance, 
 Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance. 
 
256 THE TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth, 
 That man of courage, though a very youth. 
 Tell every one his spirit was so stout, 
 No man could ever make him face about, 
 And how Great-heart and he could not forbear, 
 But put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair. 
 
 Overlook not Master Despondency, 
 Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, tho' they lie 
 Under such mantles as may make them look 
 (With some) as if their God had them forsook. 
 They softly went, but sure, and at the end 
 Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their Friend. 
 When thou hast told the world of all these things, 
 Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings, 
 Which, if but touched, will such music make, 
 They '11 make a cripple dance, a giant quake. 
 
 These riddles that lie couch'd within thy breast, 
 Freely propound, expound ; and for the rest 
 Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain 
 For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain. 
 
 Now may this little Book a blessing be 
 To those that love this little Book and me : 
 And may its buyer have no cause to say, 
 His money is but lost or thrown away ; 
 Yea, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit, 
 As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit ; 
 And may it persuade some that go astray, 
 To turn their foot and heart to the right way. 
 
 Is the hearty prayer 
 
 of the Author, 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
CHRISTlAHR, 
 
IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 
 
 THE SECOND PART 
 
 COURTEOUS companions, some time since, to tell you my 
 dream that I had of Christian the Pilgrim, and of his 
 dangerous journey toward the Celestial Country, was pleasant 
 to me, and profitable to you. I told you then also what I 
 saw concerning his wife and children, and how unwilling 
 they were to go with him on pilgrimage, insomuch that he 
 was forced to go on his progress without them ; for he 
 durst not run the danger of that destruction which he 
 feared would come by staying with them in the City of 
 Destruction. Wherefore, as I then showed you, he left 
 them and departed. 
 
 Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity 
 of business, that I have been much hindered and kept 
 back from my wonted travels into those parts whence 
 he went, and so could not till now obtain an oppor- 
 tunity to make further inquiry after whom he left 
 behind, that I might give you an account of them. 
 But having had some concerns that way of late, I went 
 
 259 
 
260 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 down again thitherward. Now, having taken up my 
 lodgings in a wood, about a mile off the place, as I slept 
 I dreamed again. 
 
 And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman 
 came by where I lay ; and because he was to go some part 
 of the way that I was travelling, methought I got up and 
 went with him. So as we walked, and as travellers usually 
 do, I was as if we fell into discourse, and our talk happened 
 to be about Christian and his travels j for thus I began with 
 the old man : 
 
 Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lieth on 
 the left hand of our way ? 
 
 Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name), It is 
 the City of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed 
 with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people. 
 
 I thought that was that city, quoth I ; I went once 
 myself through that town, and therefore know that this 
 report you give of it is true. 
 
 SAG. Too true, I wish I could speak truth in speaking 
 better of them that dwell therein. 
 
 Well, Sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well- 
 meaning man ; and so one that takes pleasure to hear and 
 tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear what 
 happened to a man some time ago in this town (whose 
 name was Christian) that went on pilgrimage up towards 
 the higher regions. 
 
 SAG. Hear of him ! Ay, and I also heard of the molesta- 
 tions, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, frights, and 
 fears that he met with, and had in his journey. Besides, I 
 must tell you, all our country rings of him ; there are but 
 few houses that have heard of him and his doings but have 
 sought after and got the record of his pilgrimage j yea, I 
 think I may say that that his hazardous journey has got a 
 
MR SAGACITY 261 
 
 many well-wishers to his ways ; for though, when he 
 was here, he was fool in every man's mouth, yet, now 
 he is gone, he is highly commended of all. For, Christians 
 'tis said he lives bravely where he is ; yea, many 
 of them that are resolved never to run his 
 hazards, yet have their mouths water at his 
 gains. here - 
 
 They may, quoth I, well think, if they think anything 
 that is true, that he liveth well where he is ; for he now lives 
 at and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he has without 
 labour and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed therewith. 
 
 SAG. Talk ! the people talk strangely about him. Some 
 say that he now walks in white, that he has a Rev> 3> 4> 
 chain of gold about his neck, that he has a crown Chap ' 6> "' 
 of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head. Others say that 
 the Shining Ones, that sometimes showed themselves to 
 him in his journey, are become his companions, and that he 
 is as familiar with them in the place where he is, as here 
 one neighbour is with another. Besides, 'tis confidently 
 affirmed concerning him, that the King of the place where 
 he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich Zech- 3< 7> 
 and pleasant dwelling at court ; and that he Luke I4 ' I5- 
 every day eateth and drinketh, and walketh, and talketh 
 with him ; and receiveth of the smiles and favours of him 
 that is Judge of all there. Moreover, it is expected of 
 some, that his Prince, the Lord of that country, will shortly 
 come into these parts, and will know the reason, if they 
 can give any, why his neighbours set so little by him, and 
 had him so much in derision when they perceived 
 that he would be a pilgrim. For they say, that Christian's ' 
 
 * * * King will 
 
 now he is so in the affections of his Prince, and takeChris- 
 that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the 
 indignities that were cast upon Christian when he became 
 
262 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 a pilgrim, that he will look upon all as if done unto him- 
 self; and no marvel, for 'twas for the love that he 
 had to his Rrince that he ventured as he did. 
 
 I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on it ; I am glad for the 
 Rev. 14. 13. P oor man's sake, for that now he has rest from 
 p s . 126. 5,6. his i a b our3 and for that he now reapeth the 
 benefit of his tears with joy ; and for that he has got 
 beyond the gunshot of his enemies, and is out of the reach 
 of them that hate him. I also am glad for that a rumour 
 of these things is noised abroad in this country ; who can 
 tell but that it may work some good effect on some that 
 are left behind ? But pray, Sir, while it is fresh in my 
 mind, do you hear anything of his wife and children ? 
 Poor hearts, I wonder in my mind what they do ! 
 
 SAG. Who ! Christiana and her sons ? They are like 
 Good tidings to do as we ll as did Christian himself ; for though 
 wiS h and tian>s they all played the fool at the first, and would by 
 children. no means j^ 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. 'Tis true : I can give you an account of the 
 matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was 
 thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair. 
 
 Then, said I, a man it seems may report it for a truth ? 
 
 SAG. You need not fear to affirm it, I mean that they 
 are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman and her 
 four boys. And seeing we are, as I perceive, going some 
 considerable way together, I will give you an account of 
 the whole of the matter. 
 
 This Christiana (for that was her name from the day 
 
CHRISTIANA'S REPENTANCE 263 
 
 that she with her children betook themselves to a pilgrim's 
 life) after her husband was gone over the river, and she 
 could hear of him no more, her thoughts began Part x< 
 to work in her mind. First, for that she had P a s e2 39- 
 lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that 
 relation was utterly broken betwixt them. For you know, 
 said he to me, nature can do no less but entertain the 
 living with many a heavy cogitation in the remem- 
 brance of the loss of loving relations. This therefore of 
 her husband did cost her many a tear. But this was 
 not all, for Christiana did also begin to consider 
 with herself, whether her unbecoming behaviour you that aVe 
 
 11111 churls to 
 
 towards her husband was not one cause that your godly 
 
 , , . 11-1 i relations. 
 
 she saw him no more, and that in such sort he 
 was taken away from her. And upon this came into her 
 mind, by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly 
 carriages to her dear friend ; which also clogged her con- 
 science, and did load her with guilt. She was moreover 
 much broken with calling to remembrance the restless 
 groans, brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, 
 and how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties, 
 and loving persuasions (of her and her sons) to go with 
 him 3 yea, there was not anything that Christian either 
 said to her, or did before her, all the while that his burden 
 did hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash 
 of lightning, and rent the caul of her heart in sunder. 
 Specially that bitter outcry of his, < What shall Part x 
 I do to be saved ? ' did ring in her ears most page IZ - 
 dolefully. 
 
 Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all undone. 
 I have sinned away your father, and he is gone : he would 
 have had us with him ; but I would not go myself, I also 
 have hindered you of life. With that the boys fell all into 
 
264 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 tears, and cried out to go after their father. Oh ! said 
 Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with him, 
 then had it fared well with us beyond what 'tis like to 
 do now ; for though I formerly foolishly imagined con- 
 cerning the troubles of your father, that they proceeded of 
 a foolish fancy that he had, or for that he was overrun with 
 melancholy humours ; yet now 'twill not out of my mind 
 but that they sprang from another cause, to wit, for that 
 James i. tne Light of light was given him, by the help of 
 
 which, as I perceive, he has escaped the snares 
 of death. Then they all wept again, and cried out, Oh ! 
 woe worth the day ! 
 
 The next night Christiana had a dream ; and behold, she 
 
 saw as if a broad parchment was opened before 
 
 Christiana's ...... 11, 
 
 dream. her, in which were recorded the sum of her 
 ways ; and the times, as she thought, looked very 
 black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, 
 c Lord have mercy upon me, a sinner ' ; and the little 
 children heard her. 
 
 After this she thought she saw two very ill-favoured 
 Mark this, ones standing by her bedside, and saying, What 
 
 quintessence Sna ^ WC ^ W ^^ tfl ^ S WOman ? for she CHCS OUt 
 
 of hell. or merc y waking and sleeping ; if she be suffered 
 to go on as she begins, we shall lose her as we have lost her 
 husband. Wherefore we must, by one way or other, seek 
 to take her off from the thoughts of what shall be here- 
 after, else all the world cannot help it but she will become 
 a pilgrim. 
 
 Now she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling was 
 upon her, but after a while she fell to sleeping 
 again. And then she thought she saw Christian 
 her husband in a place of bliss among many im- 
 mortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and playing upon 
 
CHRISTIANAS T>REAM 265 
 
 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 to 
 the paved-work that was under the Prince's feet, saying, I 
 heartily thank my Lord and King for bringing of me into 
 this place. Then shouted a company of them that stood 
 round about, and harped with their harps ; but no man 
 living could tell what they said, but Christian and his 
 companions. 
 
 Next morning when she was up, had prayed to God, 
 and talked with her children a while, one knocked hard 
 at the door, to whom she spake out, saying, If thou comest 
 in God's name, come in. So he said, Amen, and opened 
 the door, and saluted her with Peace be to this house. 
 The which when he had done, he said, Chris- 
 tiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come ? seconded 
 
 Then she blushed and trembled, also her heart 
 began to wax warm with desires to know whence ness tcT* 
 he came, and what was his errand to her. So p 
 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 to thy 
 husband, in hardening of thy heart against his way, and in 
 keeping of these thy babes in their ignorance. Christiana, 
 the Merciful One has sent me to tell thee that he is a God 
 ready to forgive, and that he taketh delight to multiply to 
 pardon offences. He also would have thee know that he 
 inviteth thee to come into his presence, to his table, and 
 that he will feed thee with the fat of his house, and with 
 the heritage of Jacob thy father. 
 
 There is Christian thy husband, that was^ with legions 
 more his companions, ever beholding that face that doth 
 minister life to beholders ; and they will all be glad when 
 
266 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's 
 threshold. 
 
 Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and 
 
 bowing her head to the ground, this Visitor proceeded and 
 
 said, Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which I have 
 
 brought from thy husband's King. So she took 
 
 it and opened it, but it smelt after the manner 
 
 of the best perfume, also it was written in letters of gold. 
 
 The contents of the letter was : ' That the King would 
 
 have her do as did Christian her husband ; for that 
 
 was the way to come to his city, and to dwell in his 
 
 presence with joy for ever.' At this the good 
 
 Christiana J . 7 . , 5 
 
 quite over- woman was quite overcome j so she cried out 
 to her Visitor, Sir, will you carry me and my 
 children with you, that we also may go and worship this 
 King ? 
 
 Then said the Visitor, Christiana, the bitter is before 
 
 the sweet : thou must through troubles, as did 
 
 stmctfonto he that went before thee, enter this Celestial 
 
 City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did 
 
 Christian thy husband. Go to the Wicket-gate yonder, 
 
 over the plain, for that stands in the head of the way up 
 
 which thou must go, and I wish thee all good speed. Also 
 
 I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom ; that thou 
 
 read therein to thyself and to thy children, until you have 
 
 got it by root-of-heart, for it is one of the songs 
 
 that thou must sing while thou art in this house 
 
 of thy pilgrimage ; also this thou must deliver in at the 
 
 further gate. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he 
 told me this story, did himself seem to be greatly affected 
 therewith. He moreover proceeded and said, So Christiana 
 called her sons together, and began thus to address herself 
 
CHRISTIANA'S NEIGHBOURS 267 
 
 unto them : My sons, I have, as you may perceive, been 
 of late under much exercise in my soul about Christiana 
 the death of your father ; not for that I doubt at ? r r T er weU 
 all of his happiness, for I am satisfied now that J urne y- 
 he is well. I have also been much affected with the 
 thoughts of mine own state and yours, which I verily 
 believe is by nature miserable. My carriages also to your 
 father in his distress, is a great load to my conscience ; for 
 I hardened both my own heart and yours against him, and 
 refused to go with him on pilgrimage. 
 
 The thoughts of these things would now kill me out- 
 right, but that for a dream which I had last night, and but 
 for the encouragement that this stranger has given me this 
 morning. Come, my children, let us pack up, and begone 
 to the gate that leads to the Celestial Country, that we 
 may see your father, and be with him and his companions 
 in peace, according to the laws of that land. 
 
 Then did her children burst out into tears for joy that 
 the heart of their mother was so inclined. So their Visitor 
 bid them farewell ; and they began to prepare to set out 
 for their journey. 
 
 But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the 
 women that were Christiana's neighbours came up to her 
 house and knocked at her door. To whom she said as 
 before, If you come in God's name, come in. 
 
 A i i i r i i i Christiana's 
 
 At this the women were stunned, for this kind newian- 
 
 r i 111 guage stuns 
 
 of language they used not to hear, or to perceive her old 
 to drop from the lips of Christiana. Yet they neis 
 came in : but, behold, they found the good woman a-pre- 
 paring 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 
 
268 
 
 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 name was Mrs. Timorous, I am preparing for a journey. 
 (This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian 
 PartT upon the Hill Difficulty, and would have had 
 
 page6 2 . 
 
 MRS. TIMOROUS 
 
 TIM. For what journey, I pray you ? 
 
 CHRIS. Even to go after my good husband. 
 And with that she fell a-weeping. 
 
 TIM. I hope not so, good neighbour ; pray, 
 for your poor children's sakes, do not so un- 
 womanly cast away yourself. 
 
 Timorous 
 comes to 
 visit Chris- 
 tiana, with 
 Mercy, one 
 of her 
 neighbours. 
 
TIMOROUS JND fMERCT 269 
 
 CHRIS. Nay, my children shall go with me j not one of 
 them is willing to stay behind. 
 
 TIM. I wonder, in my very heart, what, or who has 
 brought you into this mind. 
 
 CHRIS. O neighbour, knew you but as much as I do, 
 I doubt not but that you would go with me. 
 
 TIM. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got, 
 that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that 
 tempteth thee to go nobody knows where ? 
 
 CHRIS. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely 
 afflicted since my husband's departure from me, but speci- 
 ally since he went over the river. But that 
 which troubleth me most, is my churlish car- 
 riages to him when he was under his distress. Besides, 
 I am now as he was then ; nothing will serve me but going 
 on pilgrimage. I was a-dreaming last night that I saw 
 him. O 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, and has a house now given him to 
 dwell in, to which the best palaces on earth, if 
 compared, seem to me to be but as a dunghill. The Prince 
 of the place has also sent for me, with promise of enter- 
 tainment if I shall come to him j his messenger was here 
 even now, and has brought me a letter, which invites me 
 to come. And with that she plucked out her letter, and 
 read it, and said to them, What now will you say to this ? 
 
 TIM. Oh the madness that has possessed thee and thy 
 husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties ! You 
 have heard, I am sure, what your husband did Part T 
 meet with, even in a manner at the first step P 3 ^ 31 ** 21 - 
 that he took on his way, as our Neighbour Obstinate can 
 yet testify, for he went along with him j yea, and Pliable 
 
270 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 too, until they, like wise men, were afraid to go any 
 farther. We also heard over and above, how he met with 
 the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many 
 other things. 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, 
 
 The reason- . ' 
 
 ings of the being but a poor woman, dor Consider also 
 that these four sweet babes are thy children, thy 
 flesh and thy bones. Wherefore, though thou shouldest 
 be so rash as to cast away thyself, yet, for the sake of the 
 fruit of thy body, keep thou at home. 
 
 But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, my 
 neighbour. I have now a price put into mine hand to get 
 gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest size if I should 
 have no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for 
 that you tell me of all these troubles that I am like to meet 
 with in the way, they are so far off from being to me a 
 A pertinent discouragement, that they show I am in the 
 fleshly righ^ The bitter must come before the sweet, 
 
 reasonings. ?n( J t j lat a j so W JH ma ] ce ^^ sweet tne SWCCter. 
 
 Wherefore, since you came not to my house in God's 
 name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and not to disquiet 
 me further. 
 
 Then Timorous also reviled her, and said to her fellow, 
 Come, Neighbour Mercy, let 's leave her in her own hands, 
 since she scorns our counsel and company. But Mercy 
 was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her 
 neighbour, and that for a twofold reason. First, her 
 Mercy . s bowels yearned over Christiana : so she said 
 o^r e ch y ris a - rn within herself, If my neighbour will needs be 
 tmna. gone, I will go a little way with her and help 
 
 her. Secondly, her bowels yearned over her own soul (for 
 what Christiana had said had taken some hold upon her 
 
MERCY 
 
272 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 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 began thus to reply 
 to her Neighbour Timorous : 
 
 MERCY. Neighbour, I did indeed come with you to see 
 
 Christiana this morning ; and since she is, as you see, 
 
 a-taking of her last farewell of her country, I 
 
 Timorous , . , , . 
 
 forsakes her, think: to walk this sunshine morning a little way 
 
 but Mercy . , , i -^ , , , 
 
 cleaves to with her to help her on the way. But she told her 
 not of her second reason, but kept that to herself. 
 TIM. Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too, 
 but take heed in time and be wise : while we are out of 
 danger, we are out : but when we are in, we are in. So 
 Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana 
 betook herself to her journey. But when Timorous was 
 got home to her house, she sends for some of her neigh- 
 bours, to wit, Mrs. Bat's-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, 
 
 Timorous \ . J \ ' 
 
 acquaints Mrs. Light-mind, and Mrs. Know-nothing. So 
 
 her friends & 11 i ?n 
 
 what the when they were come to her house, she falls to 
 tmna in-"' telling of the story of Christiana and of her in- 
 tended journey. And thus she began her tale : 
 TIM. Neighbours, having had little to do this morning, 
 I went to give Christiana a visit ; and when I came at 
 the door, I knocked, as you know 'tis our custom. And 
 she answered, If you come in God's name, come in. So in 
 I went, thinking all was well. But when I came in, I 
 found her preparing herself to depart the town, she and also 
 her children. So I asked her what was her meaning by that ; 
 and she told me in short, that she was now of a mind to go 
 on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She told me also a dream 
 that she had, and how the King of the country where her 
 husband was, had sent her an inviting letter to come thither. 
 
MRS. KNOW-NOTHING 
 
 273 
 
 Then said Mrs. Know-nothing, And what ! do you 
 think she will go ? Mrs . Know . 
 
 TIM. Ay, go she will, whatever come on 't : nothin s- 
 and methinks I know it by this, for that which was my 
 great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, 
 
 MRS. BAT S-EYKS AND MRS. KNOW-NOTHING 
 
 the troubles she was like to meet with in the way) is one 
 great argument with her to put her forward on her journey. 
 For she told me in so many words, The bitter goes before 
 the sweet ; yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, it makes the 
 sweet the sweeter. 
 
274 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 MRS. BAT'S-EYES. Oh this blind and foolish woman ! 
 
 Mrs. Bat's- sa ^ sne 5 w ^ sne not ta ^ e warning by her 
 e y es - husband's afflictions ? For my part, I see, if he 
 
 MRS. INCONSIDERATE 
 
 was 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 rid- 
 dance, for my part, I say, of her. Should she stay 
 where she dwells and retain this her mind, who could live 
 quietly by her ? for she will either be dumpish or unneigh- 
 bourly, or talk of such matters as no wise body can abide : 
 
 Mrs. Incon- 
 siderate. 
 
MRS. LIGHT- MINT) 
 
 275 
 
 Wherefore, for my part, I shall never be sorry for her de- 
 parture ; let her go, and let better come in her room : 'twas 
 never a good world since these whimsical fools dwelt in it. 
 
 MRS. LIGHT-MIND 
 
 Then Mrs. Light-mind added as followeth : Come, put 
 this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at 
 
 _ _ , TT _ , , J f < Mrs. Light- 
 
 Madam Wantons, where we were as merry as mind. 
 
 the maids. For who do you think should be Wanton, she 
 
 there, but I and Mrs. Love-the-flesh, and three to have been 
 
 or four more, with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and Faithful in 
 
 some others. So there we had music and dancing, Part i. 
 
 111 rnii page lox. 
 
 and what else was meet to nil up the pleasure. 
 
276 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 And I dare say my lady herself is an admirably well-bred 
 gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery 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, 
 
 Discourse A ~ i /~ii T i 
 
 betwixt Mercy, said Christiana, 1 take this as an unex- 
 goo r d Chris- pected favour, that thou shouldest set foot out of 
 
 tiana. , . , ,. , 
 
 doors with me, to accompany me a little in my way. 
 
 MERCY. Then said young Mercy (for she was but 
 
 young), If I thought it would be to purpose to go 
 
 Mercy in- with you, I would never go near the town any 
 
 dines to go. more> 
 
 CHRIS. Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot 
 
 with me : I well know what will be the end of 
 
 would have our pilgrimage ; my husband is where he would 
 
 bour with 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. 
 
 MERCY. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall 
 
 Mercy be entertained ? Had I this hope from one that 
 
 acceptance, can tell, I would make no stick at all, but would 
 
 go, being helped by him that can help, though the way 
 
 was never so tedious. 
 
 CHRIS. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee 
 which f s a e ' what thou shalt do : Go with me to the Wicket- 
 
 Christ, and , . f ... _ . . _ . 
 
 promiseth gate, and there I will further inquire for thee ; 
 
 inqu1refbr and if there thou shalt not meet with encourage- 
 
 ment, I will be content that thou shalt return to 
 
 thy place. I also will pay thee for thy kindness which thou 
 
CHRISTIANA SETS OUT 277 
 
 showest to me and my children, in thy accompanying of us 
 in our way as thou dost. 
 
 MERCY. Then will I go thither, and will take what 
 shall follow 5 and the Lord grant that my lot Mercy 
 may there fall, even as the King of heaven shall prays- 
 have his heart upon me. 
 
 Christiana then was glad at her heart, not only that she 
 had a companion, but also for that she had pre- Christiana 
 vailed with this poor maid to fall in love with fS*r C y s 
 her own salvation. So they went on together, com P an y- 
 and Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Where- 
 fore weepeth my sister so ? 
 
 MERCY. Alas ! said she, who can but lament that shall 
 but rightly consider what a state and condition Mercy 
 my poor relations are in, that yet remain in our he^cS/af 
 sinful town ? And that which makes my grief relatlons - 
 the more heavy, is, because they have no instructor, nor 
 any to tell them what is to come. 
 
 CHRIS. Bowels becometh pilgrims ; and thou dost for 
 thy friends as my good Christian did for me when Christian's 
 he left me ; he mourned for that I would not answered for 
 heed nor regard him, but his Lord and ours did afterle'was 
 gather up his tears and put them into his bottle ; dead> 
 and now both I, and thou, and these my sweet babes, are 
 reaping the fruit and benefit of them. I hope, Mercy, 
 these tears of thine will not be lost ; for the truth 
 hath said, that c They that sow in tears shall reap 
 in joy,' in singing. And < he that goeth forth and weepeth, 
 bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with 
 rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.' 
 
 Then said Mercy : 
 
 Let the Most Blessed be my guide, 
 If 't be his blessed will, 
 
278 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Unto his gate, into his fold, 
 
 Up to his holy hill. 
 And let him never suffer me 
 
 To swerve or turn aside 
 From his free grace and holy ways, 
 
 Whate'er shall me betide. 
 And let him gather them of mine, 
 
 That I have left behind ; 
 Lord, make them pray they may be thine, 
 
 With all their heart and mind. 
 
 Now my old friend proceeded and said : But when 
 Parti. Christiana came up to the Slough of Despond, 
 pages 2i. 23 . she began to be at a stand ; for, said she, This is 
 the place in which my dear husband had like to have been 
 smothered with mud. She perceived also, that notwith- 
 standing the commarfcl of the King to make this 
 place for pilgrims good, yet it was rather worse 
 [he w d ord f than formerly. So I asked if that was true ? 
 Yes, said the old gentleman, too true ; for that 
 many there be that pretend to be the King's labourers, and 
 that say they are for mending the King's highway, that 
 bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and so mar instead 
 Mercy the f mending. Here Christiana therefore, with her 
 through boys, did make a stand. But said Mercy, Come, 
 of Despond. j et us venture) on \y j et us be wary. Then they 
 
 looked well to the steps, and made a shift to get stagger- 
 ingly over. 
 
 Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not 
 once nor twice. Now they had no sooner got over, but 
 they thought they heard words that said unto them, 
 'Blessed is she that believeth, for there shall be 
 a performance of the things that have been told 
 her from the Lord/ 
 
 Then they went on again ; and said Mercy to Chris- 
 
 Luke 
 
 45- 
 
THE qATE 279 
 
 tiana, Had I as good ground to hope for a loving reception 
 at the Wicket-gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond 
 would discourage me. 
 
 Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know 
 mine j and, good friend, we shall all have enough evil before 
 we come at our journey's end. 
 
 For can it be imagined, that the people that design to 
 attain such excellent glories as we do, and that are so 
 envied that happiness as we are, but that we shall meet 
 with what fears and scares, with what troubles and afflic- 
 tions they can possibly assault us with, that hate us ? 
 
 And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream 
 by myself. Wherefore, methought I saw Christiana, and 
 Mercy, and the boys, go all of them up to the gate ; to 
 which, when they were come, they betook themselves to a 
 short debate about how they must manage their p rayer 
 calling at the gate, and what should be said to made d Jith 
 him that did open to them. So it was concluded, ^""aS* 
 since Christiana was the eldest, that she should JsTA faith 6 " 
 knock for entrance, and that she should speak to lart^ 0156 ' 
 him that did open, for the rest. So Christiana P a s e 37- 
 began to knock, and as her poor husband did, she knocked, 
 and knocked again. But instead of any that answered, 
 they all thought that they heard as if a dog came The dog> 
 barking upon them ; a dog, and a great one too, J^o an 
 and this made the women and children afraid ; P ra y er - 
 nor durst they for a while to knock any more, for fear 
 the mastiff should fly upon them. Now, therefore, they 
 were greatly tumbled up and down in their 
 
 . . & . / T _ Christiana 
 
 minds, and knew not what to do. Knock they andhercom- 
 durst not, for fear of the dog ; go back they piexed about 
 
 i c TT- ft prayer. 
 
 durst not, for fear that the Keeper of that gate 
 
 should espy them as they so went, and should be offended 
 
280 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 with them. At last they thought of knocking again, and 
 knocked more vehemently than they did at the first. Then 
 said the Keeper of the gate, Who is there ? So the dog 
 left off to bark, and he opened unto them. 
 
 Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, Let not 
 our Lord be offended with his handmaidens for that we 
 have knocked at his princely gate. Then said the Keeper, 
 Whence come ye, and what is that you would have ? 
 
 Christiana answered, We are come from whence Christian 
 did come, and upon the same errand as he ; to wit, to be, if 
 it shall please you, graciously admitted by this gate, into 
 the way that leads to the Celestial City. And I answer, 
 my Lord, in the next place, that I am Christiana, once the 
 wife of Christian, that now is gotten above. 
 
 With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, 
 What ! is she become now a pilgrim, that but a while ago 
 abhorred that life ? Then she bowed her head, and said, 
 Yes, and so are these, my sweet babes, also. 
 
 Then he took her by the hand, and let her in, and 
 HOW Chris- sa ^ also, c Suffer the little children to come unto 
 
 tertaiiedk't mC> 5 and With that he SnUt U P the g atC - This 
 
 the gate. done, he called to a trumpeter that was above over 
 the gate, to entertain Christiana with shouting and sound 
 of trumpet for joy. So he obeyed and sounded, 
 and filled the air with his melodious notes. - 
 Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without, tremb- 
 ling and crying for fear that she was rejected. But when 
 Christiana had gotten admittance for herself and her boys, 
 then she began to make intercession for Mercy. 
 Christiana's CHRIS. And she said, My Lord, I have a com- 
 hS y friid panion of mine that stands yet without, that is 
 Mercy. come hither upon the same account as myself; 
 one that is much dejected in her mind, for that she comes, 
 
THE LORD'S WELCOME 281 
 
 as she thinks, without sending for, whereas I was sent to 
 by my husband's King to come. 
 
 Now Mercy began to be very impatient, for each minute 
 was as long to her as an hour, wherefore she pre- ^^ ^^ g 
 vented Christiana from a fuller interceding for make the 
 
 nungcrinsr 
 
 her, by knocking at the gate herself. And she g^JJ*^. 
 knocked then so loud, that she made Christiana 
 to start. Then said the Keeper of the gate, Who is there ? 
 and said Christiana, It is my friend. 
 
 So he opened the gate, and looked out; but Mercy 
 was fallen down without, in a swoon, for she Mercy 
 fainted, and was afraid that no gate would be falnts * 
 opened to her. 
 
 Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I bid 
 thee arise. 
 
 Oh, sir, said she, I am faint ; there is scarce life left in 
 me. But he answered, That one once said, 'When my 
 soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord, 
 
 . . 111 J nah 2 ' 7- 
 
 and my prayer came in unto thee, into thy holy 
 
 temple.' Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell me 
 
 wherefore thou art come. 
 
 MERCY. I am come for that unto which I was never 
 invited, as my friend Christiana was. Hers was The cause of 
 from the King, and mine was but from her: herfaintin s- 
 wherefore I fear I presume. 
 
 Did she desire thee to come with her to this place ? 
 
 MERCY. Yes ; and as my Lord sees, I am come. And 
 if there is any grace or forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech 
 that I, thy poor handmaid, may be partaker thereof. 
 
 Then he took her again by the hand, and led her gently 
 in, and said, I pray for all them that believe on 
 
 Mark this. 
 
 me, by what means soever they come unto me. 
 
 Then said he to those that stood by, Fetch something, and 
 
282 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 give it Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay her fainting. So 
 they fetched her a bundle of myrrh, and a while after she 
 was revived. 
 
 And now was Christiana, and her boys, and Mercy, 
 received of the Lord at the head of the way, and spoke 
 kindly unto by him. 
 
 Then said they yet further unto him, We are sorry for 
 our sins, and beg of our Lord his pardon, and further infor- 
 mation what we must do. 
 
 I grant pardon, said he, by word and deed : by word, in 
 the promise of forgiveness ; by deed, in the way I obtained 
 
 Song i. 2. it- Take the first from my lips with a kiss, and 
 John 20 . k the Qther as it shall be ^^1^ 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that he spake many good 
 
 words unto them, whereby they were greatly gladded. 
 
 He also had them up to the top of the gate, 
 
 Christ Cru- 
 cified seen and showed them by what deed they were saved, 
 
 and told them withal that that sight they would 
 have again as they went along in the way, to their 
 comfort. 
 
 So he left them a while in a summer parlour below, 
 
 where they entered into talk by themselves ; and 
 
 tween the thus Christiana began : O Lord ! how glad am 
 
 Christians. _ , i i 
 
 I, that we are got in hither ! 
 
 MERCY. So you well may ; but I, of all, have cause to 
 leap for joy. 
 
 CHRIS. I thought, one time, as I stood at the gate 
 (because I had knocked and none did answer) that all our 
 labour had been lost ; specially when that ugly cur made 
 such a heavy barking at us. 
 
 MERCY. But my worst fear was after I saw that you 
 was taken into his favour, and that I was left behind. 
 Now, thought I, 'tis fulfilled which is written, 'Two 
 
THE CHILDREN JN<D THE >OG 283 
 
 women shall be grinding together, the one shall be taken 
 and the other left.' I had much ado to forbear 
 
 , , , Matt. 24. 41. 
 
 crying out, U ndone ! undone ! 
 
 And afraid I was to knock any more ; but when I looked 
 up to what was written over the gate, I took part i. 
 courage. I also thought that I must either knock pages 36> 37 ' 
 again, or die ; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how, for my 
 spirit now struggled betwixt life and death. 
 
 CHRIS. Can you not tell how you knocked ? I am 
 sure your knocks were so earnest, that the very Christiana 
 sound of them made me start ; I thought I never 
 heard such knocking in all my life ; I thought J 
 you would have come in by violent hands, or Matt * "* I2< 
 have taken the kingdom by storm. 
 
 MERCY. Alas, to be in my case, who that so was could 
 but have done so ? You saw that the door was shut upon 
 me, and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout. 
 Who, I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, that would not 
 have knocked with all their might ? But pray what said 
 my Lord to my rudeness ? Was he not angry with me ? 
 
 CHRIS. When he heard your lumbering noise, he gave 
 a wonderful inhocent smile ; I believe what you chr . st 
 did pleased him well enough, for he showed no pleased 
 
 _ T with loud 
 
 sign to the contrary. But I marvel in my heart and restless 
 why he keeps such a dog ; had I known that if the soul 
 
 f T r T 1 1 1 ill at firSt did 
 
 atore, 1 rear 1 should not have had heart enough know ail it 
 
 . J . . _ should meet 
 
 to have ventured myself in this manner. But with in its 
 
 IT i i i 11 journey to 
 
 now we are in, we are in, and I am glad with all heaven, 
 
 , it would 
 
 my heart. hardly ever 
 
 MERCY. I will ask, if you please, next time he 
 comes down, why he keeps such a filthy cur in his yard. 
 I hope he will not take it amiss. 
 
 Ay, do, said the children, and persuade him to hang 
 
284 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 him, for we are afraid he will bite us when we go 
 hence. 
 
 The children 
 
 are afraid So at last he came down to them again, and 
 
 Mercy fell to the ground on her face before him 
 and worshipped, and said, Let my Lord accept of the sacri- 
 fice of praise which I now offer unto him, with the calves 
 of my lips. 
 
 So he said unto her, Peace be to thee ; stand up. 
 
 But she continued upon her face and said, 
 
 Tcr. 12. i. 
 
 c Righteous art thou, O Lord, when I plead with 
 thee, yet let me talk with thee of thy judgments.' Where- 
 Mercy ex- f re dost thou keep so cruel a dog in thy yard, 
 about the at tne sight of which, such women and children 
 dog - as we, are ready to fly from thy gate for fear ? 
 
 He answered and said, That dog has another owner ; 
 
 he also is kept close in another man's ground, 
 
 only my pilgrims hear his barking ; he belongs 
 to the castle which you see there at a distance, but can 
 Part i. come up to the walls of this place. He has 
 
 frightened many an honest pilgrim from worse 
 to better, by the great voice of his roaring. Indeed, he 
 that owneth him doth not keep him of any goodwill to me 
 or mine, but with intent to keep the pilgrims from coming 
 to me, and that they may be afraid to knock at this gate 
 for entrance. Sometimes also he has broken out, and has 
 worried some that I love ; but I take all at present 
 A check to patiently. I also give my pilgrims timely help, 
 fear?fthe so they are not delivered up to his power, to do 
 pilgrims. to tnem w hat his doggish nature would prompt 
 him to. But what ! my purchased one, I trow, hadst thou 
 known never so much beforehand, thou wouldst not have 
 been afraid of a dog. 
 
 The beggars that go from door to door will, rather than 
 
THE PERIL'S CjARDEN 285 
 
 they will lose a supposed alms, run the hazard of the bawling, 
 barking, and biting too of a dog ; and shall a dog a dog 
 in another man's yard, a dog whose barking I turn to the 
 profit of pilgrims keep any from coming to me ? I deliver 
 them from the lions, their darling from the power of the dog. 
 MERCY. Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance ; I 
 spake what I understood not ; I acknowledge 
 
 & Christians 
 
 that thou doest all things well. when wise 
 
 CHRIS. Then Christiana began to talk of their quiesce in 
 
 . . . r , _ - . the wisdom 
 
 journey, and to inquire after the way. bo he red of their 
 them, and washed their feet, and set them in 
 the way of his steps, according as he had dealt with her 
 husband before. Parti. 
 
 So I saw in my dream that they walked on in page 39> 
 their way, and had the weather very comfortable to them. 
 
 Then Christiana began to sing, saying : 
 
 BlessM be the day that I began 
 
 A pilgrim for to be ; 
 And blessed also be that man 
 
 That thereto moved me. 
 'Tis true, 'twas long ere I began 
 
 To seek to live for ever : 
 But now I run fast as I can j 
 
 'Tis better late than never. 
 Our tears to joy, our fears to faith, 
 
 Are turned, as we see j 
 Thus our beginning (as one saith) 
 
 Shows what our end will be. 
 
 Now there was, on the other side of the wall that fenced 
 in the way up which Christiana and her companions were 
 to go, a garden, and that garden belonged to him The devil's 
 whose was that barking dog of whom mention s arden - 
 was made before. And some of the fruit-trees that grew 
 in that garden shot their branches over the wall ; and being 
 
286 
 
 THE PILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 mellow, they that found them did gather them up, and oft 
 eat of them to their hurt. So Christiana's boys, as boys 
 are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, and with the 
 The children fruit tnat did hang thereon, did pluck them, and 
 enemy's he be g a n to eat. Their mother did also chide them 
 
 for so doing, but still the boys went on. 
 Well, said she, my sons, you transgress, for that fruit is 
 none of ours ; but she did not 
 know that they did belong to 
 the enemy ; I '11 warrant you if 
 she had, she would have been 
 ready to die for fear. But that 
 passed, and they went on their 
 way. Now, by that they were 
 gone about two bows-shot from 
 the place that led them into the 
 TWO m- way, they espied two 
 favoured very ill-favoured ones 
 
 ones. . . 
 
 coming down apace 
 to meet them. With that 
 Christiana and Mercy her friend 
 covered themselves with their 
 
 veils, and so kept on their journey ; the children also went 
 on before ; so that at last they met together. Then they 
 that came down to meet them, came just up to the women 
 as if they would embrace them ; but Christiana said, Stand 
 back, or go peaceably by as you should. Yet these two, 
 They assault as men tnat are deaf, regarded not Christiana's 
 Christiana. wor( j Sj but began to lay hands upon them. At 
 that Christiana, waxing very wroth, spurned at them with 
 The pilgrims her feet. Mercy also, as well as she could, did 
 with them, what she could to shift them. Christiana again 
 said to them, Stand back, and be gone, for we have no 
 
 THE DEVIL S FRUIT 
 
THE RELIEFER 287 
 
 money to lose, being pilgrims, as ye see, and such too as 
 live upon the charity of our friends. 
 
 ILL-FA v. Then said one of the two of the men, We 
 make no assault upon you for money, but are come out to 
 tell you, that if you will but grant one small request which 
 we shall ask, we will make women of you for ever. 
 
 CHRIS. Now Christiana, imagining what they should 
 mean, made answer again, We will neither hear nor regard, 
 nor yield to what you shall ask. We are in haste, cannot 
 stay, our business is a business of life and death. So again 
 she and her companions made a fresh assay to go past them, 
 but they letted them in their way. 
 
 ILL-FAV. And they said, We intend no hurt to your 
 lives, 'tis another thing we would have. 
 
 CHRIS. Ah, quoth Christiana, you would have us body 
 and soul, for I know 'tis for that you are come ; but we 
 will rather die upon the spot than suffer ourselves to be 
 brought into such snares as shall hazard our well-being 
 hereafter. And with that they both shrieked She cries 
 out, and cried, Murder ! murder ! and so put g 1 ^ 22 23j 
 themselves under those laws that are provided 26 > 27 ' 
 for the protection of women. But the men still made their 
 approach upon them, with design to prevail against them. 
 They therefore cried out again. 
 
 Now they being, as I said, not far from the gate in at 
 which they came, their voice was heard from . Tisgood 
 where they were, thither. Wherefore some of ^ h e r n y ^'are 
 the house came out, and knowing that it was assaulted - 
 Christiana's tongue, they made haste to her relief. But 
 by that they were got within sight of them the women 
 were in a very great scuffle, the children also The Re . 
 stood crying by. Then did he that came in for lievercome s- 
 their relief call out to the ruffians, saying, What is that 
 
288 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 thing that you do ? Would you make my Lord's people 
 to transgress ? He also attempted to take them, but they 
 The m ones did make their escape over the wall into the 
 deyi?for e garden of the man to whom the great dog 
 relief. belonged j so the dog became their protector. 
 
 This Reliever then came up to the women, and asked 
 them how they did. So they answered, We thank thy 
 Prince, pretty well, only we have been somewhat affrighted ; 
 we thank thee also, for that thou earnest in to our help, 
 for otherwise we had been overcome. 
 
 RELIEVER. So after a few more words, this Reliever 
 The Re- sa ^ as followeth : I marvelled much when you 
 to e the talks were entertained at the gate above, seeing ye 
 women. knew that ye were but weak women, that you 
 petitioned not the Lord there for a conductor ; then might 
 you have avoided these troubles and dangers, for he would 
 have granted you one. 
 
 CHRIS. Alas ! said Christiana, we were so taken with 
 
 our present blessing, that dangers to come were 
 
 forgotten by us; besides, who could have thought 
 
 that so near the King's palace there 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 
 
 'twould be for our profit, I wonder he sent not one along 
 
 with us. 
 
 REL. It is not always necessary to grant things not 
 asked for, lest by so doing they become of little 
 
 We lose for / . & * . . . _ , 
 
 want of ask- esteem j but when the want or 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 thereafter used. Had my Lord granted 
 you a conductor, you would not neither so have bewailed 
 that oversight of yours in not asking for one, as now you 
 
CHRISTIANAS QUILT 289 
 
 have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and 
 tend to make you more wary. 
 
 CHRIS. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess 
 our folly, and ask one ? 
 
 REL. Your confession of your folly I will present him 
 with. To go back again you need not ; for in all places 
 where you shall come, you will find no want at all ; for 
 in every of my Lord's lodgings which he has prepared for 
 the reception of his pilgrims, there is sufficient to furnish 
 them against all attempts whatsoever. But, as I said, he 
 will be inquired of by them to do it for them : 
 
 ... i i 11- Ezek. 36. 37. 
 
 and tis a poor thing that is not worth asking 
 
 for. When he had thus said, he went back to his place, 
 
 and the pilgrims went on their way. 
 
 MERCY. Then said Mercy, What a sudden blank is here ! 
 I made account we had now been past all danger, The mistake 
 and that we should never see sorrow more. of Mercy. 
 
 CHRIS. Thy innocency, my sister, said Christiana to 
 Mercy, may excuse thee much ; but as for me, Christiana's 
 my fault is so much the greater, for that I saw guilt - 
 this danger before I came out of the doors, and yet did not 
 provide for it, where provision might have been had. I am 
 therefore much to be blamed. 
 
 MERCY. Then said Mercy, How knew you this before 
 you came from home ? Pray open to me this riddle. 
 
 CHRIS. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of 
 doors, one night, as I lay in my bed, I had a dream about 
 this ; for methought I saw two men, as like these as ever 
 the world they could look, stand at my bed's feet, plotting 
 how they might prevent my salvation. I will 
 
 11 i i r-r-., . i /, Christiana's 
 
 tell you their very words. 1 hey said ( twas dream 
 when I was in my troubles), What shall we do 
 with this woman ? for she cries out, waking and sleeping, 
 
 T 
 
290 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 for forgiveness : if she be suffered to go on as she begins, 
 we shall lose her as we have lost her husband. This, you 
 know, might have made me take heed, and have provided 
 when provision might have been had. 
 
 MERCY. Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have 
 an occasion ministered unto us to behold our own 
 
 .. TIII 
 
 makes good imperfections, so our Lord has taken occasion 
 
 use of their . . - . 
 
 neglect of 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 nigh to a house which stood in the way, 
 which house was built for the relief of pilgrims ; as you 
 Part x. w ^ ^ n d more fully narrated in the First Part of 
 
 page 4 o these records of the Pilgrim's Progress. So they 
 drew on towards the house (the house of the Interpreter), 
 Talk in the anc ^ wnen tne 7 came to the door, they heard a 
 
 g reat talk in the house - The 7 then g ave ear > 
 and heard, as they thought, Christiana mentioned 
 pilgrimage, foy name> p or vou must know that there went 
 along, even before her, a talk of her and her children's 
 going on pilgrimage. And this thing 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, there- 
 fore, they stood still and heard the good people within 
 commending her, who they little thought stood at the door. 
 She knocks At last Christiana knocked as she had done at 
 
 the g ate before. Now when she had knocked, 
 t e by there came to the door a young damsel named 
 innocent. Innocent, and opened the door and looked, and 
 behold two women were there. 
 
THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 291 
 
 DAMSEL. Then said the damsel to them, With whom 
 would you speak in this place ? 
 
 CHRIS. Christiana answered, We understand that this is 
 a privileged place for those that are become pilgrims, and 
 we now at this door are such ; wherefore we pray that we 
 may be partakers of that for which we at this time are 
 come ; for the day, as thou seest, is very far spent, and we 
 are loth to-night to go any farther. 
 
 DAMSEL. Pray what may I call your name, that I may 
 tell it to my Lord within ? 
 
 CHRIS. 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. 
 
 INNOCENT. 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 children and her 
 companion, all waiting for entertainment here. 
 Then they leaped for joy, and went and told home of the 
 
 01 Interpreter 
 
 their master. bo he came to the door, and thatchris- 
 looking upon her, he said, Art thou that turned 
 Christiana whom Christian, the good-man, left l 
 behind him when he betook himself to a pilgrim's life ? 
 
 CHRIS. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to 
 slight my husband's troubles, and that left him to go on in 
 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 also 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 ; but afterwards repented and went. 
 
 CHRIS. Then said Christiana, So be it, Amen. God 
 
292 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 make it a true saying upon me, and grant that I may be 
 found at the last of him in peace, without spot and blame- 
 less. 
 
 INTER. But why standest thou thus at the door ? Come 
 in, thou daughter of Abraham. We were talking of thee 
 but now, for tidings have come to us before how thou 
 art become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in ; come, 
 maiden, come in. So he had them all in to the house. 
 
 So when they were within, they were bidden sit down 
 and rest them ; the which when they had done, those that 
 attended upon the pilgrims in the house, came into the 
 
 Old Saints r m to See them - And one smiled, and another 
 glad to see smiled, and they all smiled for joy that Christiana 
 
 the young , ., . _, , 
 
 ones walk in was become a pilgrim. They also looked upon 
 
 God's ways. 111 
 
 the boys : they stroked them over the faces with 
 the hand, in token of their kind reception of them. They 
 also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all welcome 
 into their master's house. 
 
 After a while, because supper was not ready, the Inter- 
 The signifi- preter took them into his significant rooms, and 
 pTrt r i ms ' showed them what Christian, Christiana's husband, 
 pages 42-52. had seen some time before. Here therefore they 
 saw the man in the cage, the man and his dream, the man 
 that cut his way through his enemies, and the picture of 
 the biggest of them all ; together with the rest of those 
 things that were then so profitable to Christian. 
 
 This done, and after these things had been somewhat 
 digested by Christiana and her company, the Interpreter 
 takes them apart again, and has them first into a room 
 The man where was a man that could look no way but 
 muciSake downwards, with a muck-rake in his hand. There 
 
 expounded. stoO( } a j so Qne oyer ^ hea( J w j th a ce l est i a l 
 
 crown in his hand, and proffered to give him that crown for 
 
THE MAN WITH THE MUCK-R4KE 293 
 
 his muck-rake ; but the man did neither look up nor 
 regard, but raked to himself the straws, the small sticks, 
 and dust of the floor. 
 
 Then said Christiana, I per- 
 suade myself that I know some- 
 what the meaning of this ; for 
 this is a figure of a man of 
 this world, is it not, good sir ? 
 
 INTER. Thou hast said the 
 right, said he ; and his muck- 
 rake doth show his carnal mind. 
 And whereas thou seest him 
 rather give heed to rake up 
 straws and sticks and the dust 
 of the floor, than to 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 whereas it was also showed thee, that the man could 
 look no way but downwards, it is to let thee know that 
 earthly things, when they are with power upon men's minds, 
 quite carry their hearts away from God. 
 
 CHRIS. Then said Christiana, O deliver me from this 
 muck-rake ! 
 
 . Christiana's 
 
 INTER. That prayer, said the Interpreter, has prayer 
 lain by till 'tis almost rusty. * Give me not 
 riches,' is scarce the prayer of one of ten thousand. 
 Straws, and sticks, and dust, with most, are the great things 
 now looked after. 
 
 With that Mercy and Christiana wept, and said, It is, 
 alas ! too true. 
 
 When the Interpreter had showed them this, he has 
 
 THE MUCK-RAKE 
 
 against the 
 muck-rake. 
 Prov. 30. 8. 
 
294 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 them into the very best room in the house (a very brave 
 room it was), so he bid them look round about and see if 
 they could find anything profitable there. Then they 
 looked round and round, for there was nothing there to be 
 seen but a very great spider on the wall, and that they 
 overlooked. 
 
 MERCY. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing ; but 
 Christiana held her peace. 
 
 INTER. But said the Interpreter, Look again. She 
 therefore looked again and said, Here is not anything but 
 or the an u &ty spider, who hangs by her hands upon the 
 
 spider. wall. Then said he, Is there but one spider in 
 
 all this spacious room ? Then the water stood in Chris- 
 tiana's eyes, for she was a woman quick of apprehension ; 
 Talk about anc ^ sne said, Yes, Lord, there is more here than 
 the spider. one . JQ^ an( j S pi<j ers w hose venom is far more 
 
 destructive than that which is in her. The Interpreter 
 then looked pleasantly upon her, and said, Thou hast said 
 the truth. This made Mercy blush, and the boys to 
 cover their faces, for they all began now to understand 
 the riddle. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter again, 'The spider taketh 
 hold with her hands (as you see), and is in kings' 
 
 Prov. 30. 28. . , r i- i j i 
 
 palaces. And wherefore is this recorded, but to 
 show you that, how full of the venom of sin soever you be, 
 The inter- 7 et 7 OU ma 7 by the hand of faith lay hold of, and 
 pretation. dwell in the best room that belongs to the King's 
 house above ? 
 
 CHRIS. 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 room soever we were - 9 but that by this spider, this 
 venomous and ill-favoured creature, we were to learn how 
 
THE HE&CJND CHICKENS 295 
 
 to act faith, that came not into my mind. And yet she 
 has taken hold with her hands, as I see, and 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 
 another, and also bowed before 
 the Interpreter. 
 
 He had them then into an- 
 other room where was a hen and 
 chickens, and bid them observe THE SPIDER 
 
 a while. So one of the chickens 
 
 went to the trough to drink, and every time she drank she 
 lift up her head and her eyes towards heaven. 
 See, said he, what this little chick doth, and hen and 
 learn of her to acknowledge whence your 
 mercies come, by receiving them with looking up. Yet 
 
 again, said he, observe and look ; 
 so they gave heed and perceived 
 that the hen did walk in a four- 
 fold method towards 
 
 , 1-1 01 Matt. 23. 37. 
 
 her chickens: i. brie 
 had a common call, and that she 
 hath all day long. 2. She had 
 a special call, and that she had 
 but sometimes. 3. She had a 
 brooding note. And, 4. She 
 had an outcry. 
 
 Now, said he, compare this 
 
 hen to your King, and these chickens to his obedient ones: 
 For answerable to her, himself has his methods which he 
 walketh in towards his people. By his common call he 
 
 THE CHICKEN DRINKING 
 
296 
 
 THE TILG RIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 gives nothing ; by his special call he always has something 
 to give : he has also a brooding voice, for them that are 
 under his wing j and he has an outcry, to give the alarm 
 when he seeth the enemy come. I chose, my darlings, to 
 lead you into the room where such things are, because 
 you are women, and they are easy for you. 
 
 CHRIS. And, Sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some 
 more. So he had them into the slaughter-house, 
 where was a butcher a-killing of a sheep ; and 
 behold the sheep was quiet, and took her death 
 patiently. Then said the Interpreter, You must learn of 
 this sheep to suffer, and to put up wrongs without murmur- 
 ings and complaints. Behold how quietly she takes her 
 death, and without objecting, she suffereth her skin to be 
 pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you his sheep. 
 
 Of the 
 butcher and 
 the sheep. 
 
 THE SWORD AND CROOK 
 
 THE SCYTHE AND HOURGLASS 
 
 After this he led them into his garden, where was great 
 of the variety of flowers, and he said, Do you see all 
 
 garden. tjlese ? So Christiana said, Yes, Then said he 
 
I, 
 
 THE ROBIS^ANT) THE SPIDER 297 
 
 again, Behold, the flowers are diverse in stature, in quality, 
 and colour, and smell, and virtue, and some are better than 
 some 5 also where the gardener has set them, there they 
 stand, and quarrel not one with another. 
 
 Again, he had them into his field, which he had sowed 
 with wheat and corn ; but when they beheld, 
 
 J ' Of the field. 
 
 the tops of all were cut off, only the straw 
 remained ; he said again, This ground was dunged, and 
 ploughed, and sowed ; but what shall we do with the crop ? 
 Then said Christiana, Burn some, and make muck of the 
 rest. Then said the Interpreter again, Fruit, you see, is 
 that thing you look for, and for want of that you condemn 
 it to the fire, and to be trodden 
 under foot of men ; beware that 
 in this you condemn not your- 
 selves. 
 
 Then, as they were coming 
 
 in from abroad, they 
 
 . , ,. ' . / Of the 
 espied a little robin robin and 
 
 . . ... the spider. 
 
 with a great spider in 
 his mouth. So the Interpreter 
 said, Look here. So they looked, 
 and Mercy wondered ; but Chris- 
 tiana said, What a disparagement 
 is it to such a little pretty bird as the robin redbreast is, he 
 being also a bird above many that loveth to maintain a kind 
 of sociableness with man j 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 
 
 THE ROBIN AND SPIDER 
 
298 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 that are sincere : and above all other to desire to sociate 
 with, 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 them- 
 selves, as the robin, they can catch and gobble up spiders, 
 they can change their diet, drink iniquity, and swallow 
 down sin like water. 
 
 So when they were come again into the house, because 
 Pray, and supper as yet was not ready, Christiana again 
 ge"at l that desired that the Interpreter would either show 
 [Sunn? or te ^ f some other things that are profitable, 
 veaied. Then the Interpreter began and said : The 
 
 fatter the sow is, the more she desires the mire j the fatter 
 the ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; 
 and the more healthy the lusty man is, the more prone he 
 is unto evil. 
 
 There is a desire in women to go neat and fine, and it is 
 a comely thing to be adorned with that that 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 shipmaster, when in a storm, will willingly 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 destroy a 
 sinner. 
 
 He that forgets his friend is ungrateful unto him, but he 
 that forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to himself. 
 
 He that lives in sin, and looks for happiness hereafter, is 
 
THE TREE ROTTED AT HEART 299 
 
 like him that soweth cockle, and thinks to fill his barn 
 with wheat or barley. 
 
 If a man would live well, let him fetch his last day to 
 him, and make it always his company-keeper. 
 
 Whispering, and change of thoughts, prove that sin is in 
 the world. 
 
 If the world, which God sets light by, is counted a 
 thing of that worth with men, what is heaven, that God 
 commendeth ? 
 
 If the life that is attended with so many troubles is so 
 loth to be let go by us, what is the life above ? 
 
 Everybody will cry up the goodness of men ; but who 
 is there that is, as he should, 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 
 
 . .,11 , Of the Tree 
 
 inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it grew that is rotten 
 and had leaves. Then said Mercy, What means 
 this ? This tree, said he, whose outside is fair, and 
 whose inside is rotten, it is to which many may be 
 compared that are in the garden of God ; who with 
 their mouths speak high in behalf of God, but indeed 
 will do nothing for him j whose leaves are fair, but 
 their heart good for nothing but to be tinder for the 
 devil's tinder-box. 
 
 Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things 
 set on the board ; so they sat down and did eat They are at 
 when one had given thanks. And the Inter- suppen 
 preter did usually entertain those that lodged with him 
 with music at meals, so the minstrels played. There was 
 
300 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 was ended, the Interpreter 
 
 Talk at asked Christiana what it was that at first did 
 
 supper. move her to betake herself to a pilgrim's life. 
 
 Christiana answered : First, the loss of my husband came 
 
 A repetition mto m Y mind, at which I was heartily grieved ; 
 
 ?fana' r s is ex. but a11 that was but natural affection. Then 
 
 perience. a f ter t j iat came tne troubles and pilgrimage of 
 
 my husband's 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 afore you set 
 out of doors ? 
 
 CHRIS. Yes, a neighbour of mine, one Mrs. Timorous 
 (she was akin to him that would have persuaded my 
 husband to go back for fear of the lions). She ail-to 
 befooled me for, as she called it, my intended desperate 
 adventure ; she also urged what she could to dishearten me 
 to it, the hardship and troubles that my husband met with 
 in the way : but all this I got over pretty well. But a 
 dream that I had, of two ill-looked ones, that I thought did 
 plot how to make me miscarry in my journey, that hath 
 troubled me much ; yea, it still runs in my mind, and 
 
CHRISTIANA'S EXPERIENCES 301 
 
 makes me afraid of every one that I meet, lest they should 
 meet me to do me a mischief, and to turn me out of the 
 way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would not have 
 everybody know 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 
 himself to Mercy, and said unto her, And what put to 
 
 I i 15 Mercy. 
 
 moved thee to come hither, sweet heart r 
 
 Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while 
 continued silent. 
 
 INTER. Then said he, Be not afraid, only believe, and 
 speak thy mind. 
 
 MERCY. So she began and said : Truly, Sir, my want of 
 experience is that that makes me covet to be in Mercy . s 
 silence, and that also that fills me with fears of answer - 
 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 ? 
 
 MERCY. Why, when our friend here was packing up to 
 be gone from our town, I and another went accidentally to 
 see her. So we knocked at the door and went in. When 
 we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we asked 
 what was her meaning. She said she was sent for to go to 
 her husband ; and then she up and told us how she had 
 seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious place, among 
 immortals, wearing a crown, playing upon a harp, eating 
 
302 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 and drinking at his Prince's table, and singing praises to 
 him for bringing him thither, etc. Now methought, while 
 she was telling these things unto us, my heart burned 
 within me ; and I said in my heart, If this be true, I will 
 leave my father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, 
 and will, if I may, go along with Christiana. 
 
 So I asked her further of the truth of these things, and 
 if she would let me go with her ; for I saw now that 
 there was no dwelling, but with the danger of ruin, 
 any longer in our town. But yet I came away with 
 a heavy heart, not for that I was unwilling to come 
 away, but for that so many of my relations were left 
 behind. And I am come, with all the desire of my 
 heart, and will go, if I may, with Christiana unto her 
 husband, and his King. 
 
 INTER. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given 
 credit to the truth. Thou art a Ruth, who did, for the 
 Ruth 2 . n, l ve tnat sne bore to Naomi, and to the Lord her 
 " God, leave father and mother, and the land of 
 
 her nativity, to come out, and go with a people that she 
 knew not heretofore. 'The Lord recompense thy work, 
 and a full reward be given thee of the Lord God of Israel, 
 under whose wings thou art come to trust.' 
 
 Now supper was ended, and preparation was made for 
 
 They bed : tne women were laid singly alone, and the 
 
 SfemSves ^7 S by themselves. Now when Mercy was in 
 
 for bed. b ec [ 5 sne 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 
 
 good night's blessing and praising God, who had had such 
 
 favour for her. 
 
 In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared 
 themselves for their departure ; but the Interpreter would 
 
THE <BAT:H SANCTIFICATIOO^ 303 
 
 have them tarry a while, For, said he, you must orderly go 
 from hence. Then said he to the damsel that at first 
 opened unto them : Take them and have them into the 
 garden to the bath, and there wash them, and make them 
 clean from the soil which they have gathered by travelling. 
 Then Innocent, the damsel, took them, and had them into 
 the garden, and brought them to the bath ; so 
 she told them that there they must wash and be Sanctifica- 
 clean, for so her master would have the women 
 to do that called at his house as they were going on 
 pilgrimage. They then went in and washed, They wash 
 yea, they and the boys and all ; and they came m lt ' 
 out of that bath not only sweet and clean, but also much 
 enlivened and strengthened in their joints. So when they 
 came in they looked fairer a deal than when they went out 
 to the washing. 
 
 When they were returned out of the garden from the 
 bath, the Interpreter took them, and looked upon them, 
 and said unto them, c Fair as the moon.' Then he called 
 for the seal, wherewith 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 They are 
 in the places whither they were yet to go. Now sealed - 
 the seal was the contents and sum of the passover which 
 the children of Israel did eat when they came out Exod I3 8 . 
 from the land of Egypt ; and the mark was set I0 - 
 between their eyes. This seal greatly added to their beauty, 
 for it was an ornament to their faces. It also added to their 
 gravity, and made their countenances more like them of 
 angels. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that 
 waited upon these women, Go into the vestry and fetch 
 out garments for these people. So she went and fetched 
 
304 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 out white raiment, and laid it down before him ; so he 
 They are commanded them to put it on. It was 'fine 
 linen, white and clean.' When the women were 
 thus adorned, they seemed to be a terror one to the other ; 
 for that they could not see that glory each one on herself, 
 which they could see in each other. Now therefore they 
 True began to esteem each other better than them- 
 
 humiiity. selves. For, You are fairer than I am, said one ; 
 and, You are more comely than I am, said another. The 
 children also stood amazed to see into what fashion they 
 were brought. 
 
 The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, 
 one Great-heart, and bid him take sword, and helmet, and 
 shield ; and take these my daughters, said he, and 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 sung : 
 
 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. 
 
GREA.THEART. 
 
 U 
 
306 THE PILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that they went on, and Great- 
 heart went before them. So they went and came to the 
 Part i. place where Christian's burden fell off his back, 
 
 page 53- and tumbled into a sepulchre. Here then they 
 made a pause, and here also they blessed God. Now, said 
 Christiana, it comes to my mind what was said to us at 
 the gate, to wit, that we should have pardon, by word and 
 deed : by word, that is, by the promise ; by deed, to wit, 
 in the way it was obtained. What the promise is, of that 
 I know something ; but what is it to have pardon by deed, 
 or in the way that it was obtained, Mr. Great-heart, I 
 suppose you know ; wherefore, if you please, let us hear 
 you discourse thereof. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon 
 A comment obtained by some one, for another that hath need 
 was n s dd a at thereof: not by the person pardoned, but in the 
 a b IiS>uree r Wa 7> sa ^^ another, in which I have obtained it. 
 ?u S tifi r ed e by S So then, to speak to the question more at large, the 
 Chnst. pardon that you and Mercy and these boys have 
 
 attained, was obtained by another, to wit, by him that let 
 you in at the gate : And he hath obtained it in this double 
 way : He has performed righteousness to cover you, and 
 spilt blood to wash you in. 
 
 CHRIS. But if he parts with his righteousness to us, what 
 will he have for himself? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. He has more righteousness than you 
 have need of, or than he needeth himself. 
 
 CHRIS. Pray make that appear. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. With all my heart ; but first I must 
 premise, that he of whom we are now about to speak is 
 one that has not his fellow. He has two natures in one 
 person, plain to be distinguished, impossible to be divided. 
 Unto each of these natures a righteousness belongeth, and 
 
qREAT-HEART DISCOURSES 307 
 
 each righteousness is essential to that nature ; so that one 
 may as easily cause the nature to be extinct, as to separate 
 its justice or righteousness from it. Of these righteous- 
 nesses, therefore, we are not made partakers so as 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 
 righteousness of the manhood, as distinguished from the 
 Godhead ; but a righteousness which standeth in the union 
 of both natures, and may properly be called, the righteous- 
 ness that is essential to his being prepared of God to the 
 capacity of the mediatory office which he was to be in- 
 trusted with. If he parts with his first righteousness, he 
 parts with his Godhead ; if he parts with his second right- 
 eousness, he parts with the purity of his manhood j if he 
 parts with this third, he parts with that perfection that 
 capacitates him to the office of mediation. He has there- 
 fore another righteousness, which standeth in performance, 
 or obedience to a revealed will ; and that is it that he puts 
 upon sinners, and that by which their sins are covered. 
 Wherefore he saith, * As by one man's disobedience many 
 were made sinners, so by the obedience of one 
 shall many be made righteous.' 
 
 CHRIS. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Yes ; for though they are essential to 
 his natures and office, and so cannot be communicated unto 
 another, yet it is by virtue of them that the righteousness 
 that justifies is for that purpose efficacious. The righteous- 
 ness of his Godhead gives virtue to his obedience ; the 
 righteousness of his manhood giveth capability to his 
 obedience to justify ; and the righteousness that standeth 
 
308 THE PILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 in the union of these two natures to his office, giveth 
 authority to that righteousness to do the work foi which 
 it is ordained. 
 
 So then, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has 
 no need of, for he is God without it. Here is a righteous- 
 ness that Christ, as man, has no need of to make him so, 
 for he is perfect man without it. Again, here is a righteous- 
 ness that Christ, as God-man, has no need of, for he is 
 perfectly so without it. Here then is a righteousness that 
 Christ, as God, as man, as God-man, has no need of, with 
 reference to himself, and therefore he can spare it ; a justi- 
 fying righteousness, that he for himself wanteth not, and 
 therefore he giveth it away ; hence 'tis called the 
 '' I7 ' ' gift of righteousness.' This righteousness, since 
 Christ Jesus the Lord has made himself under the law, 
 must be given away ; for the law doth not only bind him 
 that is under it to do justly, but to use charity. Where- 
 fore he must, he ought by the law, if he hath two coats, 
 to give one to him that hath none. Now our Lord indeed 
 
 o 
 
 hath two coats, one for himself, and one to spare ; where- 
 fore 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 has worked, 
 and given away what he wrought for, to the next poor 
 beggar he meets. 
 
 But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must some- 
 thing be paid to God as a price, as well as something pre- 
 pared to cover us withal. Sin has delivered us up to the 
 just curse of a righteous law ; now from this curse we must 
 be justified by way of redemption, a price being 
 paid for the harms we have done ; and this is 
 by the blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your 
 
THE CUTTING OF THE STRINGS 309 
 
 place and stead, and died your death for your transgressions. 
 Thus has he ransomed you from your transgres- 
 sions by blood, and covered your polluted and 
 deformed souls with righteousness j for the sake of which, 
 God passeth by you, and will not hurt you, when he comes 
 to judge the world. 
 
 CHRIS. This is brave. Now I see that there was some- 
 thing to be learned by our being pardoned by Chrls tiana 
 word and deed. Good Mercy, let us labour to ^ e a d y w V th 
 keep this in mind; and, my children, do you redemption. 
 remember it also. But, Sir, was not this it that made my 
 good Christian's burden fall from off his shoulder, and that 
 made him give three leaps for joy ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Yes, 'twas the belief of this that cut 
 those string's that could not be cut by other 
 
 j i i r r i How the 
 
 means, and twas to give him a proof of the strings that 
 
 ',. ,, rr i i bound 
 
 virtue or this, that he was suffered to carry his Christian's 
 
 . , . burden to 
 
 burden to the cross. him were 
 
 CHRIS. 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, 'twould make his heart the more 
 merry and blithe. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. There is not only comfort, and the ease 
 of a burden brought to us, by the sight and 
 consideration of these, but an endeared affection tionto 
 
 i i r i / i i i i Christ is 
 
 begot in us by it ; for who can, if he doth but begot in the 
 once think that pardon comes, not only by pro- 
 mise, but thus, but be affected with the way and means 
 of his redemption, and so with the man that hath wrought 
 it for him ? 
 
310 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 CHRIS. True ; methinks it makes my heart bleed to 
 Part i. think that he should bleed for me. Oh ! thou 
 
 page 53- loving One! Oh! thou blessed One! thou 
 deservest to have me, thou hast bought me : thou deservest 
 
 Cause of tO naVC mC a ^ tn U naSt P a ^ ^ r me ten tnou - 
 
 admiration. san( J t j mes more t fa n J am wort h. No marvel 
 
 that this made the water stand in my husband's eyes, and 
 that it made him trudge so nimbly on. I am persuaded he 
 wished me with him j 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 to refuse to 
 become good pilgrims. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. You speak now in the warmth of your 
 affections. Will it, think you, be always thus with you ? 
 Besides, this is not communicated to every one, nor to 
 every one that did see your Jesus bleed. There were that 
 Tobe stood by, and that saw the blood run from his 
 
 iStlfchrot, neart to tne ground, and yet were so far off this, 
 wh d at w he h has tnat i nstea d of lamenting, they laughed at him ; 
 fhfng isa anc * instead of becoming his disciples, did harden 
 special. ^^ hearts against him. So that all that you 
 have, my daughters, you have by a peculiar impression 
 made by a divine contemplating upon what I have spoken 
 to you. Remember that 'twas told you, that the hen by 
 her common call gives no meat to her chickens. This you 
 have, therefore, by a special grace. 
 
 Now I saw still in my dream, that they went on until 
 they were come to the place that Simple, and Sloth, and 
 Presumption lay and slept in, when Christiaa went by 
 
SIMPLE, SLOTH, JND PRESUMPTION^ 311 
 
 on pilgrimage. And behold, they were hanged up in 
 irons, a little way off on the other side. 
 
 MERCY. Then said Mercy to him that was sunh.and 
 
 TTTI i i Presumption 
 
 their guide and conductor, What are those three hanged; 
 men ? and for what are they hanged there ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. These three men were men of very bad 
 qualities, they had no mind to be pilgrims themselves, and 
 whosoever they could they hindered. They were for sloth 
 and folly themselves, and whoever they could persuade 
 with, they made so too, and withal taught them to presume 
 that they should do well at last. They were asleep when 
 Christian went by, and now you go by they are hanged. 1 
 
 MERCY. But could they persuade any to be of their 
 opinion ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Yes ; they turned several out of the way. 
 There was Slow-pace that they persuaded to do Thelr 
 as they. They also prevailed with one Short- cnmes - 
 wind, with one No-heart, with one Linger-after-lust, and 
 with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman, 
 
 rj r i i Who they 
 
 her name was Dull, to turn out of the way and prevailed 
 
 T> 1 1 '11 U P 0n t0 
 
 become as they. Besides, they brought up an ill turn out of 
 
 T i i i i the wa y- 
 
 report of your Lord, persuading others that he 
 
 was a taskmaster. They also brought up an evil report 
 of the good land, saying 'twas not half so good as some 
 pretend it .was. They also began to vilify his servants, 
 and to count the very best of them meddlesome, trouble- 
 some busybodies. Further, they would call the bread of 
 God husks ; the comforts of his children, fancies ; the 
 travel and labour of pilgrims, things to no purpose. 
 
 1 Behold here how the slothful are a sign, 
 Hung up, 'cause holy ways they did decline. 
 See here, too, how the child did play the man, 
 And weak grow strong, when Great-heart leads the van. 
 
312 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 CHRIS. Nay, said Christiana, if they were such, they 
 shall never be bewailed by me. They have but what they 
 deserve, and I think it is well that they hang so near the 
 highway that others may see and take warning. But had 
 it not been well if their crimes had been engraven in some 
 plate of iron or brass, and left here, even where they did 
 their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. So it is, as you well may perceive if you 
 will go a little to the wall. 
 
 MERCY. No, no, let them hang, and their names rot, 
 and their crimes live for ever against them. I think it a 
 high favour that they were hanged afore we came hither ; 
 who knows else what they might have done to such poor 
 women as we are ? Then she turned it into a song, 
 saying : 
 
 Now then you three, hang there, and be a sign 
 To all that shall against the truth combine. 
 And let him that comes after, fear this end, 
 If unto pilgrims he is not a friend. 
 And thou, my soul, of all such men beware, 
 That unto holiness opposers are. 
 
 Thus they went on till they came at the foot of the 
 
 Partl Hill Difficulty, where, again, their good friend, 
 
 page 60. M n Great-heart, took an occasion to tell them 
 
 of what happened there when Christian himself went by. 
 
 So he had them first to the spring;. Lo, saith 
 
 'Tis difficult . .... . J: . , , r 
 
 getting of he, this is the spring that Christian drank or 
 trine in before he went up this hill, and then 'twas clear 
 
 erroneous . ., .... i t r r 
 
 times. and good, but now tis dirty with the feet of 
 
 Ezek. 34. 18. j i M 
 
 some that are not desirous that pilgrims here 
 should quench their thirst. Thereat Mercy said, And why 
 so envious, trow ? But said their guide, It will do, if 
 taken up and put into a vessel that is sweet and good j for 
 
THE HILL VIFFICULTT 313 
 
 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 Hypo- By-paths, 
 crisy lost themselves. And, said he, these are 
 dangerous paths. Two were here cast away 
 when Christian came by ; and although, as you p 
 see, these ways are since stopped up with chains, P a e 6l - 
 posts, and a ditch, yet there are that will choose to adven- 
 ture here, rather than take the pains to go up this hill. 
 
 CHRIS. 'The way of transgressors is hard.' 'Tis a 
 wonder that they can get into those ways with- 
 out danger of breaking their necks. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. They will venture ; yea, if at any time 
 any of the King's servants doth happen to see them, and 
 doth call unto them, and tell them that they are in the 
 wrong ways, and do bid them beware the danger, then 
 they will railingly return them answer and say, c As for 
 the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the Jer 44 jg 
 name of the King, we will not hearken unto I7 ' 
 thee ; but we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth out 
 of our own mouths,' etc. Nay, if you look a little farther, 
 you shall see that these ways are made cautionary enough, 
 not only by these posts, and ditch, and chain, but also 
 by being hedged up - 3 yet they will choose to go there. 
 
 CHRIS. They are idle, they love not to take The reason 
 pains, up-hill way is unpleasant to them. So it do 
 is fulfilled unto them as it is written, < The way * 
 of the slothful man is as a hedge of thorns.' p v-*s- *9- 
 Yea, they will rather choose to walk upon a snare 
 
314 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 than to go up this hill, and the rest of this way to the 
 city. 
 
 Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, 
 
 and up the hill they went ; but before they got to the 
 
 top, Christiana began to pant, and said, I dare say this is 
 
 a breathing hill. No marvel if they that love 
 
 The hill . r i it 
 
 puts the pii- their ease more than their souls, choose to them- 
 selves 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 took he the 
 little boy by the hand, and led him up thereto. 
 
 When they were come to the arbour, they were very 
 willing to sit down, for they were all in a pelt- 
 
 Theysitin . , . "* 
 
 the arbour, ing heat. 1 hen said Mercy, How sweet is rest 
 page 61. to them that labour ! And how good is the 
 
 Matt. ii. 28. TL . r ., . , . , 
 
 rrmce or 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 
 The little g om g on pilgrimage ? Sir, said the least, I was 
 swer s to n the a l most beat out of heart, but I thank you for 
 fiso d to and lending me a hand at my need. And I remem- 
 Mercy. b er no w what my mother has told me, namely, 
 That the way to heaven is as up a ladder, and the way to 
 hell is as down a hill. But I had rather go up the ladder 
 to life, than down the hill to death. 
 
 which is Then said Mercy, But the proverb is, To go 
 
 hfifoTdoTn down the hill is easy. But James said (for that 
 hl11 - was his name), The day is coming, when, in my 
 
 opinion, going down hill will be the hardest of all. 'Tis 
 
THE JRBOUR 315 
 
 a good boy, said his master ; thou hast given her a right 
 answer. Then Mercy smiled, but the little boy did blush. 
 CHRIS. Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit, a little 
 to sweeten your mouths, while you sit here to 
 rest your legs ? For I have here a piece of refresh 
 
 ' i i -n /r T themselves. 
 
 pomegranate, which Mr. Interpreter put in my 
 hand, just when I came out of his doors. He gave me 
 also a piece of an honeycomb, and a little bottle of spirits. 
 I thought he gave you something, said Mercy, because he 
 called you aside. Yes, so he did, said the other ; but 
 Mercy, it shall still be as I said it should, when at first we 
 came from home : Thou shalt be a sharer in all the good 
 that I have, because thou so willingly didst become my 
 companion. Then she gave to them, and they did eat, 
 both Mercy and the boys. And said Christiana to Mr. 
 Great-heart, Sir, will you do as we ? But he answered, 
 You are going on pilgrimage, and presently I shall return ; 
 much good may what you have, do to you : at home I eat 
 the same every day. Now when they had eaten and drank, 
 and had chatted a little longer, their guide said to them, 
 The day wears away ; if you think good, let us prepare to 
 be going. So they got up to go, and the little boys went 
 before. But Christiana forgot to take her bottle christlana 
 of spirits with her, so she sent her little boy back Sufe^of" 
 to fetch it. Then said Mercy, I think this is s P irits - 
 a losing place. Here Christian lost his roll, and here 
 Christiana left her bottle behind her : Sir, what is the 
 cause of this ? So their guide made answer and said, The 
 cause is sleep or forgetfulness : some sleep, when they 
 should keep awake; and some forget, when they should 
 remember ; and this is the very cause why often at the 
 resting-places some pilgrims in some things come off losers. 
 Pilgrims should watch, and remember what they have 
 
316 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 already received under their greatest enjoyments ; but for 
 want of doing; so, ofttimes their rejoicing ends 
 
 Mark this. . ' ' . . . J , 
 
 Part i. m tears, and their sunshine in a cloud : Witness 
 
 pages 62-66. , - / ~ 11 . , . . 
 
 the story of Christian at this place. 
 
 When they were come to the place where Mistrust and 
 Timorous met Christian to persuade him to go back for 
 fear of the lions, they perceived as it were a stage, and 
 before it, towards the road, a broad plate, with a copy of 
 verses written thereon, and underneath, the reason of rais- 
 ing up of that stage in that place, rendered. The verses 
 were these : 
 
 Let him that sees this stage take heed 
 
 Unto his heart and tongue j 
 Lest if he do not, here he speed 
 
 As some have long agone. 
 
 The words underneath the verses were, This stage was 
 built to punish such upon, who, through timorousness or 
 mistrust, shall be afraid to go farther on pilgrimage. Also, 
 on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous were burned 
 through the tongue with an hot iron, for endeavouring to 
 hinder Christian in his journey. 
 
 Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying of 
 
 the Beloved, c What shall be given unto thee ? 
 
 or what shall be done unto thee, thou false 
 
 tongue ? Sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of 
 
 juniper.' 
 
 So they went on, till they came within sight of the 
 Part i. lions. Now Mr. Great-heart was a strong man, 
 page 67. so he was not afraid o f a lion ; but yet, when 
 they were come up to the place where the lions were, 
 the boys that went before were glad to cringe behind, 
 for they were afraid of the lions ; so they stepped back, 
 
317 
 
 and went behind. At this their guide smiled, and said. 
 How now, my boys, do you love to go before, when no 
 danger doth approach, and love to come behind 
 
 . An emblem 
 
 so soon as the lions appear r of those that 
 
 _ T . w /* i i go on brave- 
 
 Now, as they went up, Mr. Great-heart drew iy when 
 
 . . . . , , r i there is no 
 
 his sword, with intent to make a way for the danger, but 
 
 pilgrims in spite of the lions. Then there troubles 
 
 appeared one that, it seems, had taken upon him 
 
 to back the lions ; and he said to the pilgrims' guide, 
 
 What is the cause of your coming hither ? Now 
 
 the name of that man was Grim, or Bloody- 
 
 man, because of his slaying of pilgrims, and he in g h Jne Hon's. 
 
 was of the race of the giants. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 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 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 unoccupied, and was almost 
 all grown over with grass. 
 
 CHRIS. Then said Christiana, Though the highways 
 have been unoccupied heretofore, and though the travellers 
 have been made in time past to walk through by-paths, 
 it must not be so now I am risen. Now *I j^s^e, 
 am risen a mother in Israel.' 7> 
 
 GRIM. Then he swore by the lions, but it should ; and 
 therefore bid them turn aside, for they should not have 
 passage there. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. But their guide made first his approach 
 
318 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 unto Grim, and laid so heavily at him with his sword, that 
 he forced him to a retreat. 
 
 GRIM. Then said he (that attempted to back the lions), 
 Will you slay me upon mine own ground ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 'Tis the King's highway that we are 
 A fight be- m > an d in his way it is that thou hast placed 
 and X G?ea tn 7 ^ ons 5 but tne se women, and these children, 
 heart. though weak, shall hold on their way in spite 
 
 of thy lions. And with that he gave him again a down- 
 right blow, and brought him upon his knees. With this 
 blow he also broke his helmet, and with the next he cut off 
 The an arm. Then did the giant roar so hideously, 
 
 victory. tnat n j s vo i ce frighted the women ; and yet they 
 were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now 
 the lions were chained, and so of themselves could do 
 nothing. Wherefore, when old Grim, that intended to 
 back them, was dead, Mr. Great-heart said to the pilgrims, 
 Come now and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you 
 
 from the lions. They therefore went on, but 
 by tL pas 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. 
 
 Now then they were within sight of the porter's lodge, 
 
 and they soon came up unto it ; but they made 
 
 They come , . .. . . . . , 
 
 tothepor- the more haste after this to go thither, because 
 'tis dangerous travelling there in the night. So 
 when they were come to the gate, the guide knocked, and 
 the porter cried, Who is there ? But as soon as the guide 
 had said, It is I, he knew his voice, and came down (for 
 the guide had oft before that come thither as a conductor 
 of pilgrims). When he was come down, he opened the 
 gate, and seeing the guide standing just before it (for he 
 saw not the women, for they were behind him) he said 
 
WELCOME JT THE TALACE 319 
 
 unto him, How now, Mr. Great-heart ? what is your 
 business here so late to-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 did .use to back the 
 lions ; but I, after a long and tedious combat with him, 
 have cut him off, and have brought the pilgrims hither in 
 safety. 
 
 PORTER. Will you not go in, and stay till morning ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. No ; I will return to my 
 
 J Great-heart 
 Lord tO-night. attempts to 
 
 CHRIS. Oh, Sir, I know not how to be will- The pilgrims 
 
 . M . implore his 
 
 mg you should leave us in our pilgrimage j you company 
 have been so faithful and so loving to us, you 
 have fought so stoutly for us, you have been so hearty in 
 counselling of us, that I shall never forget your favour 
 towards us. 
 
 MERCY. Then said Mercy, O that we might have thy 
 company to our journey's end ! How can such poor 
 women as we, hold out in a way so full of troubles as 
 this way is, without a friend and defender ? 
 
 JAMES. Then said James, the youngest of the boys, 
 Pray, Sir, be persuaded to go with us, and help us, because 
 v/e are so weak, and the way so dangerous as it is. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 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 for want of 
 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 with- 
 draw ; and so, good Christiana, Mercy, and my brave 
 children, Adieu. 
 
320 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 Then the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her 
 country, and of her kindred. And she said, I 
 
 Part i. J * ' 
 
 page 6 7 . came from the City of Destruction, I am a 
 
 Christiana / 
 
 makes her- widow woman, and my husband is dead, his 
 
 self known . . .... TT . . 
 
 to the por- name was Christian the pilgrim. How, said the 
 it to a porter : was he your husband ? Yes, said she, 
 
 damsel. . . . . J . .. . , , . . 
 
 and these are his children ; and this, pointing to 
 Mercy, is one of my townswomen. Then the porter rang 
 his bell, as at such times he is wont, and there came to the 
 door one of the damsels, whose name was Humble-mind. 
 And to her the porter said, Go, tell it within, that Chris- 
 tiana, the wife of Christian, and her children, are come 
 joy at the hither on pilgrimage. She went in, therefore, 
 piigrims' he and told it: - But oh ! what a noise for gladness 
 commg. was t h ere w ithin, when the damsel did but drop 
 that word out of her mouth. 
 
 So they came with haste to the porter, for Christiana 
 stood still at the door. Then some of the most grave said 
 unto her, Come in, Christiana ; come in, thou wife of that 
 good man ; come in, thou blessed woman ; come in, with 
 all that are with thee. So she went in, and they followed 
 her that were her children and her companions. Now 
 when they were gone in, they were had into a very large 
 room, where they were bidden to sit down ; so they sat 
 down, and the chief of the house was called to see, and 
 
 welcome the guests. Then they came in, and 
 
 Christians' 1-111 
 
 love is understanding; who they were, did salute each 
 
 kindled at .... t i TTT i 1 
 
 the sight of other with a kiss, and said, Welcome, ye vessels 
 
 one another. - . r s^i i i 
 
 of the grace of God ; welcome to us your 
 friends. 
 
 Now because it was somewhat late, and because the 
 pilgrims were weary with their journey, and also made 
 faint with the sight of the fight, and of the terrible lions, 
 
T>REAM 321 
 
 therefore they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to 
 go to rest. Nay, said those of the family, refresh your- 
 selves first with a morsel of meat. For they had prepared 
 for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce Exodt I2< 38> 
 belonging thereto; for the porter had heard J hni - 2 9- 
 before of their coming, and had told it to them within. 
 So when they had supped, and ended their prayer with a 
 psalm, they desired they might go to rest. But let us, 
 said Christiana, if we may be so bold as to 
 choose, be in that chamber that was my hus- page&o. 
 band's when he was here. So they had them bosom is for 
 
 ... . . , ,, . TTTI all pilgrims. 
 
 up thither, and they lay all in a room. When 
 they were at rest, Christiana and Mercy entered into dis- 
 course about things that were convenient. 
 
 CHRIS. Little did I think once, that when my husband 
 went on pilgrimage, I should ever have followed. 
 
 MERCY. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, 
 and in his chamber to rest, as you do now. 
 
 CHRIS. 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. 
 
 MERCY. Hark ! don't you hear a noise ? 
 
 CHRIS. Yes ; 'tis, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy 
 that we are here. 
 
 MERCY. Wonderful ! Music in the house, music in 
 the heart, and music also in heaven, for ioy that 
 
 J J Music. 
 
 we are here. 
 
 Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves 
 to sleep. So in the morning;, when they were 
 
 i /~M i TV /r Mercy did 
 
 awake, Christiana said to Mercy : laugh in her 
 
 CHRIS. What was the matter, that you did 
 laugh in your sleep to-night ? I suppose you were in a 
 dream. 
 
322 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 MERCY. So I was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are 
 you sure I laughed ? 
 
 CHRIS. Yes j you laughed heartily : but prithee, Mercy, 
 tell me thy dream. 
 
 MERCY. I was a-dreaming that I sat all alone in a 
 
 Mercy's solitary place, and was bemoaning of the hard- 
 dream. ness O f m y h eart . 
 
 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 
 what her to thrust me about. With that, methought I 
 dream was. looked up, and saw one coming with wings 
 towards me. So he came directly to me, and said, Mercy, 
 what aileth thee ? Now when he had heard me make my 
 complaint, he said, 'Peace be to thee.' He also wiped 
 mine eyes with his handkerchief, and clad me in silver and 
 Ezek. 16. 8- gld. He put a chain about my neck, and ear- 
 rings in mine ears, and a beautiful crown upon 
 my head. Then he took me by the hand, and said, 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 ? 
 
 CHRIS. Laugh ! ay, and well you might, to see yourself 
 so well. For you must give me leave to tell you, that I 
 believe it was a good dream ; and that, as you have begun 
 to find the first part true, so you shall find the second at 
 
THE VOTS CATECHISED 323 
 
 last. 'God speaks once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth 
 it not. In a dream, in a vision of the night, j ob 33> 
 when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumbering IS> 
 upon the bed.' We need not, when a-bed, lie awake to 
 talk with God j he can visit us while we sleep, and cause 
 us then to hear his voice. Our heart ofttimes wakes 
 when we sleep j and God can speak to that, either by 
 words, by proverbs, by signs and similitudes, as well as 
 if one was awake. 
 
 MERCY. Well, I am glad of my dream, for I hope ere 
 Ions: to see it fulfilled, to the making; of me Mercy 
 
 . & , . glad of her 
 
 laugh again. dream. 
 
 CHRIS. I think it is now high time to rise, and to know 
 what we must do. 
 
 MERCY. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us 
 willingly accept of the proffer. I am the willinger to stay 
 a while here, to grow better acquainted with these maids ; 
 methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity have very comely 
 and sober countenances. 
 
 CHRIS. We shall see what they will do. So when they 
 were up and ready, they came down ; and they asked one 
 another of their rest, and if it was comfortable or not. 
 
 MERCY. Very good, said Mercy ; it was one of the best 
 night's lodging that ever I had in my life. 
 
 Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be persuaded 
 to stay here a while, you shall have what the They stay 
 house will afford. time. 50 " 
 
 CHAR. Ay, and that with a very good will, said 
 Charity. So they consented, and stayed there 
 about a month or above, and became very profit- desires to 
 able one to another. And because Prudence Christiana's 
 would see how Christiana had brought up her 
 children, she asked leave of her to catechise them. So 
 
324 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 she gave her free consent. Then she began at the 
 
 youngest, whose name was James. 
 
 James PRUD. And she said, Come, James, canst thou 
 
 catechised. 
 
 JAMES. God the Father, God the Son, and God the 
 Holy Ghost. 
 
 PRUD. Good boy. And canst thou tell who saves thee ? 
 
 JAMES. God the Father, God the Son, and God the 
 Holy Ghost. 
 
 PRUD. Good boy still. But how doth God the Father 
 save thee ? 
 
 JAMES. By his grace. 
 
 PRUD. How doth God the Son save thee ? 
 
 JAMES. By his righteousness, death, and blood, and life. 
 
 PRUD. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee ? 
 
 JAMES. By his illumination, by his renovation, and by 
 his preservation. 
 
 Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to be com- 
 mended for thus bringing up your children. I suppose I 
 need not ask the rest these questions, since the youngest of 
 them can answer them so well. I will therefore now apply 
 myself to the youngest next. 
 
 PRUD. Then she said, Come, Joseph (for his name was 
 Joseph J ose P n )> will you let me catechise you ? 
 catechised. JOSEPH. With all my heart. 
 
 PRUD. What is man ? 
 
 JOSEPH. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as my 
 brother said. 
 
 PRUD. What is supposed by this word c saved ' ? 
 
 JOSEPH. That man by sin has brought himself into a 
 state of captivity and misery. 
 
 PRUD. What is supposed by his being saved by the 
 Trinity ? 
 
THE WOTS CATECHISE 325 
 
 JOSEPH. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant, that 
 none can pull us out of its clutches but God ; and that 
 God is so good and loving to man, as to pull him indeed 
 out of this miserable state. 
 
 PRUD. What is God's design in saving of poor men ? 
 
 JOSEPH. The glorifying of his name, of his grace and 
 justice, etc., and the everlasting happiness of his creature. 
 
 PRUD. Who are they that must be saved ? 
 
 JOSEPH. Those that accept of his salvation. 
 
 PRUD. Good boy, Joseph ; thy mother has taught thee 
 well, and thou hast hearkened to what she has said unto thee. 
 
 Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest but 
 one : 
 
 PRUD. Come, Samuel, are you willing that I should 
 catechise you also ? Samuel 
 
 SAMUEL. Yes, forsooth, if you please. catechised. 
 
 PRUD. What is heaven ? 
 
 SAM. A place and state most blessed, because God 
 dwelleth there. 
 
 PRUD. What is hell ? 
 
 SAM. A place and state most woful, because it is the 
 dwelling-place of sin, the devil, and death. 
 
 PRUD. Why wouldest thou go to heaven ? 
 
 SAM. That I may see God, and serve him without 
 weariness ; that I may see Christ, and love him ever- 
 lastingly j that I may have that fulness of the Holy Spirit 
 in me, that I can by no means here enjoy. 
 
 PRUD. A very good boy also, and one that has learned 
 well. 
 
 Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose name 
 was Matthew ; and she said to him, Come, Matthew 
 Matthew, shall I also catechise you ? catechised. 
 
 MATT. With a very good will. 
 
326 THE PILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 PRCJD. I ask then, if there was ever anything that had a 
 being antecedent to, or before God ? 
 
 MATT. No, for God is eternal ; nor is there anything 
 excepting himself that had a being until the beginning of 
 the first day : c For in six days the Lord made heaven and 
 earth, the sea, and all that in them is.' 
 
 PRUD. What do you think of the Bible ? 
 
 MATT. It is the holy Word of God. 
 
 PRUD. Is there nothing written therein but what you 
 understand ? 
 
 MATT. Yes ; a great deal. 
 
 PRUD. What do you do when you meet with such places 
 therein that you do not understand ? 
 
 MATT. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that 
 he will please to let me know all therein that he knows 
 will be for my good. 
 
 PRUD. How believe you as touching the resurrection of 
 the dead ? 
 
 MATT. I believe they shall rise, the same that was buried, 
 the same in nature, though not in corruption. And I 
 believe this upon a double account : First, because God has 
 promised it ; Secondly, because he is able to perform it. 
 
 Then said Prudence to the boys, You must still hearken 
 to your mother, for she can learn you more. 
 
 Prudence's __ . , ... ,. . . 
 
 conclusion You must also diligently give ear to what good 
 catechising talk you shall hear from others, for, for your 
 sakes do they speak good things. Observe also, 
 and that with carefulness, what the heavens and the earth 
 do teach you -, but especially be much in the meditation of 
 that book that was the cause of your father's becoming a 
 pilgrim. I for my part, my children, will teach you what 
 I can while you are here, and shall be glad if you will ask 
 me questions that tend to godly edifying. 
 
SWEETHEART 327 
 
 Now by that these pilgrims had been at this place a 
 week, Mercy had a visitor that pretended some Mercy has a 
 good will unto her, and his name was Mr. Brisk ; sweetheart. 
 a man of some breeding, and that pretended to religion, 
 but a man that stuck very close to the world. So he came 
 
 once or twice, or more to Mercy, and offered love unto 
 her. Now Mercy was of a fair countenance, and therefore 
 the more alluring. 
 
 Her mind also was, to be always busying of herself in 
 doing ; for when she had nothing to do for herself, she 
 
328 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 would be making of hose and garments for others, and 
 Mercy's would bestow them upon them that had need, 
 temper. And Mr. Brisk, not knowing where or how she 
 disposed of what she made, seemed to be greatly taken, for 
 that he found her never idle. I will warrant her a good 
 housewife, quoth he to himself. 
 
 Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that 
 were of the house, and inquired of them con- 
 inquires of cerning him, for they did know him better than 
 
 the maids . n i 11111 i 
 
 concerning she. So they told her that he was a very busy 
 
 Mr. Brisk. J , . i- 
 
 young man, and one that pretended to religion, 
 but was, as they feared, a stranger to the power of that 
 which was good. 
 
 Nay then, said Mercy, I will look no more on him ; for 
 I purpose never to have a clog to my soul. 
 
 Prudence then replied, that there needed no great matter 
 of discouragement to be given to him, her continuing so as 
 she had begun to do for the poor would quickly cool his 
 courage. 
 
 So the next time he comes, he finds her at her old work, 
 a-making of thing's for the poor. Then said he, 
 
 Talk betwixt ____ . 6 . & . , _._ ^ . , 
 
 Mercy and What ! always at it r Yes, said she, either for 
 
 Mr. Brisk. lr J A J u i. 
 
 myselr, or for others. And what canst thou 
 earn a day ? quoth he. I do these things, said she, c that I 
 i. Tim. 6. may be rich in good works, laying up in store a 
 I 7- I 9- good foundation against the time to come, that I 
 
 may lay hold on eternal life.' Why, prithee, what dost 
 thou with them ? said he. Clothe the naked, said she. 
 With that his countenance fell. So he forbore to come at 
 
 her again. And when he was asked the reason 
 
 He forsakes . .- _. . 
 
 her, and why, he said that Mercy was a pretty lass, but 
 
 troubled with ill conditions. 
 When he had left her, Prudence said, Did I not tell thee 
 
MATTHEW HAS THE qRIPES 329 
 
 that Mr. Brisk would soon forsake thee ? yea, he will raise 
 up an ill report of thee ; for notwithstanding his Mercy in 
 pretence to religion, and his seeming love to 
 Mercy, yet Mercy and he are of tempers so S 
 different, that I believe they will never come 
 together. isliked ' 
 
 MERCY. I might have had husbands afore now, though 
 I spake not of it to any ; but they were such as did not 
 like my conditions, though never did any of them find 
 fault with my person. So they and I could not agree. 
 
 PRUD. Mercy in our days is little set by, any further 
 than as to its name : the practice, which is set forth by thy 
 conditions, there are but few that can abide. 
 
 MERCY. Well, said Mercy, if nobody will have me, I 
 will die a maid, or my conditions shall be to me Mercy ' s 
 as a husband. For I cannot change my nature, resolution - 
 and to have one that lies cross to me in this, that I purpose 
 never to admit of, as long as I live. I had a sister named 
 Bountiful, that was married to one of these churls ; but he 
 and she could never agree : but because my sister was 
 resolved to do as she had begun, that is, to show 
 kindness to the poor, therefore her husband first Mercy's 
 cried her down at the cross, and then turned her served b y 
 
 _ - her husband. 
 
 out or his doors. 
 
 PRUD. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you ? 
 
 MERCY. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as 
 he, the world is now full : but I am for none of them 
 all. 
 
 Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, 
 and his sickness was sore upon him, for he was Matthew 
 much pained in his bowels, so that he was with falls sick * 
 it, at times, pulled as 'twere both ends together. There 
 dwelt also not far from thence, one Mr. Skill, an ancient 
 
330 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 and well-approved physician. So Christiana desired it, and 
 they sent for him, and he came. When he was entered 
 Gripes of tne room, and had a little observed the boy, he 
 
 conscience. concluded that he wag sick Q f thf . gripes> Then 
 
 he said to his mother, What diet has Matthew of late fed 
 
 upon ? Diet ! said Christiana, nothing but that which is 
 
 wholesome. The physician answered, This boy 
 
 The physi- r J J 
 
 clan's judg- has been tampering with something that lies in 
 his maw undigested, and that will not away 
 without means. And I tell you he must be purged, or 
 else he will die. 
 
 SAM. Then said Samuel, Mother, mother, what was that 
 Samuel puts which my brother did gather up and eat, so soon 
 S*iS?5 as we were come from the gate that is at the 
 bother 1 his head f this way ? You know that there was an 
 did eat. orchard on the left hand, on the other side of 
 the wall, and some of the trees hung over the wall, and my 
 brother did pluck and did eat. 
 
 CHRIS. True, my child, said Christiana, he did take 
 thereof, and did eat ; naughty boy as he was, I did chide 
 him, and yet he would eat thereof. 
 
 SKILL. I knew he had eaten something that was not 
 wholesome food ; and that food, to wit, that fruit, is even 
 the most hurtful of all. It is the fruit of Beelzebub's 
 orchard. I do marvel that none did warn you of it ; many 
 have died thereof. 
 
 CHRIS. Then Christiana began to cry ; and she said, O 
 naughty boy ! and O careless mother ! what shall I do for 
 
 m 
 
 y son 
 
 SKILL. Come, do not be too much dejected ; the boy 
 may do well again, but he must purge and vomit. 
 
 CHRIS. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, 
 whatever it costs. 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PILL 331 
 
 SKILL. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So he made 
 him a purge ; but it was too weak. 'Twas said 
 it was made of the blood of a goat, the ashes of prepared. 
 
 , . . - 1-1 r i /-i Heb - I0 - 1 '4- 
 
 an heirer, and with some or the juice or hyssop, 
 etc. When Mr. Skill had seen that that purge was too 
 weak, he made him one to the purpose, 'twas made The 
 ex carne et sanguine Christi (you know physicians j 
 give strange medicines to their patients), and it 57 * 
 was made up into pills, with a promise or two, and a pro- 
 portionable quantity of salt. Now he was to 
 
 , . r , ir Mark 9. 49. 
 
 take them three at a time fasting, in half a 
 quarter of a pint of the tears of repentance. When this 
 potion was prepared and brought to the boy, he Heb g I4> 
 was loth to take it, though torn with the gripes, h t e a Se th 
 as if he should be pulled in pieces. Come, come, P h y slc ' 
 said the physician, you must take it. It goes against my 
 stomach, said the boy. I must have you take it, said his 
 mother. I shall vomit it up again, said the boy. 
 
 r -i /^ii -n ir m MI i i Zech. 12. 10. 
 
 rray, sir, said Christiana to Mr. bkill, how does 
 it taste ? It has no ill taste, said the doctor ; and with 
 that she touched one of the pills with the tip Themo ther 
 of her tongue. Oh, Matthew, said she, this %$** 
 potion is sweeter than honey. If thou lovest thy hinu 
 mother, if thou lovest thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if 
 thou lovest thy life, take it. So with much ado, after a short 
 prayer for the blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it 
 wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge, it caused 
 him to sleep and rest quietly, it put him into a fine heat 
 and breathing sweat, and did quite rid him of his gripes. 
 
 So in little time he got up, and walked about with a 
 staff, and would go from room to room, and talk A word ot 
 with Prudence, Piety, and Charity of his dis- 
 temper, and how he was healed, faitlu 
 
332 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 So when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, 
 
 saying, Sir, what will content you for your pains and care 
 
 Heb. 13. ii- to an d f m y child ? And he said, You must 
 
 pay the Master of the College of Physicians, 
 
 according to rules made, in that case, and provided. 
 
 CHRIS. But, Sir, said she, what is this pill good for else ? 
 
 SKILL. It is an universal pill ; it is good against all the 
 
 diseases that pilgrims are incident to, and when 
 
 This pill an . . n . . . . , . 
 
 universal it is well prepared, it will keep good, time out of 
 
 remedy. . , 
 
 mind. 
 
 CHRIS. Pray, Sir, make me up twelve boxes of them, for 
 if I can get these, I will never take other physic. 
 
 SKILL. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as well 
 
 as to cure when one is sick. Yea, I dare say it, and stand 
 
 to it, that if a man will but use this physic as 
 
 he should, it will make him live for ever. But, 
 
 good Christiana, thou must give these pills no other way 
 
 but as I have prescribed ; for if you do, they 
 
 In a glass of .111 i n i ^i 
 
 the tears of will do no good. bo he gave unto Christiana 
 physic for herself, and her boys, and for Mercy, 
 and bid Matthew take heed how he eat anv more green 
 plums, and kissed them and went his way. 
 
 It was told you before that Prudence bid the boys, that 
 if at any time they would, they should ask her some 
 questions that might be profitable, and she would say 
 something to them. 
 
 MATT. Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, 
 Why, for the most part, physic should be bitter 
 
 Of physic. . , ' V J 
 
 to our palates r 
 
 PRUD. To show how unwelcome the Word of God and 
 the effects thereof are to a carnal heart. 
 
 MATT. Why does physic, if it does good, purge, and 
 cause that we vomit ? 
 
MATTHEWS LESSON 333 
 
 PRUD. To show that the Word, when it works effectu- 
 ally, cleanseth the heart and mind. For look, 
 what the one doth to the body, the other doth effects of 
 
 . i physic. 
 
 to the soul. 
 
 MATT. What should we learn by seeing the flame of our 
 fire go upwards? and by seeing the beams and O f fire and 
 sweet influences of the sun strike downwards ? of the sun. 
 
 PRUD. By the going up of the fire we are taught to 
 ascend to heaven by fervent and hot desires ; and by the 
 sun's sending his heat, beams, and sweet influences down- 
 wards, we are taught that the Saviour of the world, though 
 high, reaches down with his grace and love to us below. 
 
 MATT. Where have the clouds their water ? Of the 
 
 PRUD. Out of the sea. clouds - 
 
 MATT. What may we learn from that ? 
 
 PRUD. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from 
 God. 
 
 MATT. Why do they empty themselves upon the earth ? 
 
 PRUD. To show that ministers should give out what they 
 know of God to the world. 
 
 MATT. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun ? Of the 
 
 PRUD. To show that the covenant of God's rainbow - 
 grace is confirmed to us in Christ. 
 
 MATT. Why do the springs come from the sea to us 
 through the earth ? Ofthe 
 
 PRUD. To show that the grace of God comes springs * 
 to us through the body of Christ. 
 
 MATT. Why do some of the springs rise out of the tops 
 of high hills? 
 
 PRUD. To show that the spirit of grace shall spring up 
 in some that are great and mighty, as well as in many that 
 are poor and low. 
 
 MATT. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candle-wick ? 
 
334 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 PRUD. To show that unless grace doth kindle upon 
 Of the tne neart > there will be no true light of life 
 
 candle. 
 
 MATT. Why is the wick, and tallow, and all, spent to 
 maintain the light of the candle ? 
 
 PRUD. To show that body, and soul, and all, should be 
 at the service of, and spend themselves to maintain in good 
 condition that grace of God that is in us. 
 
 MATT. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast 
 
 of the with her bil1 ? 
 
 pelican. PRUD. To nourish her young ones with her 
 
 blood, and thereby to show that Christ the blessed so loveth 
 his young, his people, as to save them from death by his blood. 
 MATT. What may one learn by hearing the cock to 
 crow ? 
 
 PRUD. Learn to remember Peter's sin, and 
 Peter's repentance. The cock's crowing shows also that 
 day is coming on ; let then the crowing of the cock put 
 thee in mind of that last and terrible day of judgment. 
 
 Now about this time their month was out j wherefore 
 
 they signified to those of the house that 'twas convenient 
 
 for them to up and be going. Then said Joseph to his 
 
 mother, It is convenient that you forget not to 
 
 The weak . . . r -\ r -r 
 
 may some- send to the house of Mr. Interpreter, to pray 
 tLTstrong him to grant that Mr. Great-heart should be 
 sent unto us, that he may be our conductor the 
 rest of our way. Good boy, said she, I had almost forgot. 
 So she drew up a petition, and prayed Mr. Watchful the 
 porter to send it by some fit man to her good friend Mr. 
 Interpreter ; who, when it was come, and he had seen the 
 contents of the petition, said to the messenger, Go tell 
 them that I will send him. 
 
 When the family where Christiana was saw that they 
 
EVE'S JPPLE 335 
 
 had a purpose to go forward, they called the whole house 
 together, to give thanks to their King for sending They pro . 
 of them such profitable guests as these. Which ^^ 
 done, they said to Christiana, And shall we theirwa y- 
 not show thee something, according as our custom is 
 to do to pilgrims, on which thou mayest meditate when 
 thou art upon the way ? So they took Christiana, her 
 children, and Mercy, into the closet, and showed 
 
 . _ , i i -i- i i r- i Eve's apple. 
 
 them one of the apples that Eve did eat of, and 
 that she also did give to her husband, and that for the 
 eating of which they both were turned out of . 
 Paradise, and asked her what she thought that of sin is 
 was ? Then Christiana said, J Tis food or poison, Gen. 3 . 6. 
 
 T i i ' i r i 11 Rom. 7. 24. 
 
 I know not which. So they opened the matter 
 to her, and she held up her hands and wondered. 
 
 Then they had her to a place, and showed her Jacob's 
 ladder. Now at that time there were some j acob > s 
 angels ascending upon it. So Christiana looked, ladder< 
 and looked, to see the angels go up ; and so did the rest of 
 the company. Then they were going into another place 
 to show them something else ; but James said to his 
 mother, Pray bid them stay here a little longer, 
 
 r i L o i i A sight of 
 
 for this is a curious sight, bo they turned again, Christ is 
 and stood feeding their eyes with this so pleasant Gen. 28. 12. 
 
 A /- i i 111 John i. 51. 
 
 a prospect. After this, they had them into a 
 place where did hang up a golden anchor, so they bid 
 Christiana take it down ; For, said they, you Go]den 
 shall have it with you, for 'tis of absolute anchor - 
 necessity that you should, that you may lay hold of that 
 within the veil, and stand steadfast, in case you 
 
 111 -111 01 Heb - 6 - T 9- 
 
 should meet with turbulent weather : bo they 
 
 were glad thereof. Then they took them, and had them 
 
 to the mount upon which Abraham our father had offered 
 
336 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 up Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the wood, the 
 Of Abraham ^ re j an ^ tne knife, for they remain to be seen to 
 iSc ngup tn i s Vei 7 da 7- Wne n they had seen it, they 
 Gen. 22. 9 . k^ U p t jj e j r hands and blessed themselves, and 
 said, Oh, what a man for love to his Master, and for denial 
 to himself, was Abraham ! After they had showed them 
 Prudence's a ^ these things, Prudence took them into the 
 virginals. dining-room, where stood a pair of excellent 
 virginals : so she played upon them, and turned what she 
 had showed them into this excellent song, saying : 
 
 Eve's apple we have showed you, 
 
 Of that be you aware $ 
 You have seen Jacob's ladder, too. 
 
 Upon which angels are. 
 An anchor you received have ; 
 
 But let not these suffice, 
 Until with Abra'm you have gave 
 
 Your best, a sacrifice. 
 
 Now about this time, one knocked at the door j so the 
 
 porter opened, and behold Mr. Great-heart was there. 
 
 But when he was come in, what ioy was there ! 
 
 Mr. Great- . f , . . i_ j 
 
 heart come r or it came now fresh again into their minds, now 
 but a while ago he had slain old Grim Bloody- 
 man the giant, and had delivered them from the lions. 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart to Christiana, and to Mercy, 
 He brin s a ^7 Lord has sent each of you a bottle of wine, 
 h ( Sord >m and also some parched corn, together with a 
 with him. couple of pomegranates. He has also sent the 
 boys some figs, and raisins to refresh you in your way. 
 
 Then they addressed themselves to their journey ; and 
 Prudence and Piety went along with them. When they 
 came at the gate, Christiana asked the porter if any of late 
 went by. He said, No, only one, some time since j who 
 
FAREWELL TO THE TALACE 337 
 
 also told me that of late there had been a great robbery 
 
 committed on the King's highway, as you go ; 
 
 but he saith the thieves are taken, and will shortly 
 
 be tried for their lives. Then Christiana and Mercy were 
 
 afraid ; but Matthew said, Mother, fear nothing, as long as 
 
 Mr. Great-heart is to go with us, and to be our conductor. 
 
 Then said Christiana to the porter, Sir, I am much 
 obliged to you for all the kindnesses that you Christiana 
 have showed me since I came hither; and also [eavlofthe 
 for that you have been so loving and kind to my porten 
 children. I know not how to gratify your idndness : 
 wherefore pray, as a token of my respects to you, accept of 
 this small mite. So she put a gold angel in his hand, and 
 he made her a low obeisance, and said, Let thy The p 0rter - s 
 garments be always white, and let thy head want blessin s- 
 no ointment. Let Mercy live, and not die, and let not her 
 works be few. And to the boys he said, Do you fly 
 youthful lusts, and follow after godliness with them that 
 are grave and wise ; so shall you put gladness into your 
 mother's heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober- 
 minded. So they thanked the porter, and departed. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that they went forward until 
 they were come to the brow of the hill, where Piety, 
 bethinking herself, cried out, Alas ! I have forgot what I 
 intended to bestow upon Christiana and her companions ; I 
 will go back and fetch it. So she ran and fetched it. 
 While she was gone, Christiana thought she heard in a 
 grove, a little way off, on the right hand, a most curious 
 melodious note, with words much like these : 
 
 Through all my life thy favour is 
 
 So frankly show'd to me, 
 That in thy house for evermore 
 My dwelling-place shall be. 
 Y 
 
338 THE TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 And, listening still, she thought she heard another 
 answer it, saying : 
 
 For why ? The Lord our God is good, 
 
 His Mercy is for ever sure j 
 His truth at all times firmly stood, 
 
 And shall from age to age endure. 
 
 So Christiana asked Prudence what it was that made 
 Song 2 . ii, those curious notes? They are, said she, our 
 country birds ; they sing these notes but seldom, 
 except it be at the spring, when the flowers appear, and 
 the sun shines warm, and then you may hear them all day 
 long. I often, said she, go out to hear them ; we also 
 ofttimes keep them tame in our house. They are very 
 fine company for us when we are melancholy ; also they 
 make the woods, and groves, and solitary places, places 
 desirous to be in. 
 
 By this time Piety was come again \ so she said to 
 
 Christiana, Look here, I have brought thee a 
 
 bestoweth scheme of all those things that thou hast seen 
 
 something . 
 
 on them at at our house, upon which thou mayest look 
 when thou findest thyself forgetful, and call 
 those things again to remembrance for thy edification and 
 comfort. 
 
 Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley of 
 Part j Humiliation. It was a steep hill, and the way 
 
 page 85. was s }ipp er y . b ut t h ev we re very careful, so 
 they got down pretty well. When they were down in the 
 valley, Piety said to Christiana, This is the place where 
 Christian your husband met with the foul fiend Apollyon, 
 and where they had that dreadful fight that they had ; I 
 know you cannot but have heard thereof. But be of good 
 courage ; as long as you have here Mr. Great-heart to be 
 
THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION 339 
 
 your guide and conductor, we hope you will fare the better. 
 So when these two had committed the pilgrims unto the con- 
 duct of their guide, he went forward, and they went after. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Then said Mr. Great-heart, We need 
 not to be so afraid of this valley, for here is Mr Great . 
 nothing to hurt us, unless we procure it to vSk^or* 
 ourselves. 'Tis true, Christian did here meet Humiliati <> n - 
 with Apollyon, with whom he also had a sore combat : but 
 that fray was the fruit of those slips that he got in his 
 going down the hill ; for they that get slips there^ must 
 look for combats here. And hence it is that this Part x 
 valley has got so hard a name. For the common page 88> 
 people, when they hear that some frightful thing has 
 befallen such an one in such a place, are of an opinion that 
 that place is haunted with some foul fiend or evil spirit ; 
 when, alas, it is for the fruit of their doing, that such 
 things do befall them there. 
 
 This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place 
 as any the crow flies over ; and I am persuaded if we could 
 hit upon it, we might find somewhere hereabouts Thereason 
 something that might give us an account why Janwasso 
 Christian was so hardly beset in this place. beset here. 
 
 Then James said to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a 
 pillar, and it looks as if something was written A aiar 
 thereon ; let us go and see what it is. So they ^ h t ^ in " 
 went, and found there written, Let Christian's onit - 
 slips before he came hither, and the battles that he met 
 with in this place, be a warning to those that come after. 
 Lo, said their guide, did not I tell you that there was 
 something hereabouts that would give intimation of the 
 reason why Christian was so hard beset in this place ? 
 Then turning himself to Christiana, he said, No disparage- 
 ment to Christian more than to many others whose hap 
 
340 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 and lot his was. For 'tis easier going up than down this 
 hill ; and that can be said but of few hills in all these parts 
 of the world. But we will leave the good man, he is at 
 rest, he also had a brave victory over his enemy : let him 
 grant that dwelleth above, that we fare no worse, when we 
 come to be tried, than he. 
 
 But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. 
 It is the best and most fruitful piece of ground 
 
 This valley n _ . r c 
 
 a brave in all those parts. It is fat ground, and, as you 
 
 see, consisteth much in meadows $ and if a man 
 
 was to come here in the summer-time, as we do now, if he 
 
 knew not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted 
 
 himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that that 
 
 would be delightful to him. Behold how green 
 
 this valley is ; also how beautified with lilies ! I 
 
 have also known many labouring men that have got good 
 
 estates in this Valley of Humiliation (for God 
 
 Men thrive / v 
 
 in the resisteth the proud, but gives more 3 more grace 
 
 Humiiia- to the humble) ; for indeed it is a very fruitful soil, 
 james 4. 6. and doth bring forth by handfuls. Some also 
 have wished that the next way to their Father's 
 house were here, that they might be troubled no more with 
 either hills or mountains to go over : but the way is the 
 way, and there 's an end. 
 
 Now as they were going along and talking, they espied 
 a boy feeding his father's sheep. The boy was in very 
 mean clothes, but of a very fresh and well-favoured coun- 
 tenance, and as he sat by himself, he sang. Hark, said 
 Mr. Great-heart, to what the shepherd's boy saith : so they 
 hearkened, and he said : 
 
 He that is down, needs fear no fall, 
 He that is low, no pride j 
 
THE V 'ALLEY OF HUMILIATION 
 
 He that is humble, ever shall 
 Have God to be his guide. 
 
 I am content with what I have, 
 Little be it, or much ; 
 
 And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 
 Because thou savest such. 
 
 341 
 
 Phil. 4. 12, 13. 
 
 
 THE SHEPHERD S BOY 
 
 Fulness to such a burden is 
 That go on pilgrimage j 
 
 Here little, and hereafter bliss, 
 Is best from age to age. 
 
 Heb. 13. 5. 
 
 Then said their guide, Do you hear him ? I will dare 
 
342 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 to say that this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more 
 of that herb called heart's-ease in his bosom, than he that 
 is clad in silk and velvet. But we will proceed in our 
 discourse. 
 
 In this valley our Lord formerly had his country house. 
 Christ, He loved much to be here 5 he loved also to 
 flih"had he wa ^ tnese meadows, for he found the air was 
 houshSe Peasant. Besides, here a man shall be free from 
 HumUia- t ^ le noise i anc ^ fr m tne hurryings of this life. 
 tion. All states are full of noise and confusion, only 
 
 the Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place. 
 Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in his con- 
 templation, as in other places he is apt to be. This is a 
 valley that nobody walks in, but those that love a pilgrim's 
 life. And though Christian had the hard hap to meet here 
 with Apollyon, and to enter with him a brisk encounter, 
 yet I must tell you, that in former times men have met 
 
 with angels here, have found pearls here, and 
 
 5 ' have in this place found the words of life. 
 
 Did I say our Lord had here in former days his country 
 
 house, and that he loved here to walk ? I will add, in this 
 
 place, and to the people that live, and trace these grounds, 
 
 he has left a yearly revenue, to be faithfully paid them at 
 
 certain seasons, for their maintenance by the way, and for 
 
 their further encouragement to go on in their 
 
 Matt. ii. 29. .. . 
 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 SAMUEL. Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. 
 Great-heart, Sir, I perceive that in this valley my father 
 and Apollyon had their battle ; but whereabout was the 
 fight ? for I perceive this valley is large. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Your father had that battle with Apol- 
 lyon at a place yonder, before us, in a narrow passage just 
 beyond Forgetful Green. And indeed that place is the 
 
THE (JRACE OF HUMILITT 343 
 
 most dangerous place in all these parts. For if at any time 
 the pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when For etful 
 they forget what favours they have received, and Green - 
 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. 
 
 MERCY. Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this 
 valley, as I have been anywhere else in all our journey ; 
 the place methinks suits with my spirit. I love to be in 
 such places where there is no rattling with HumiHtya 
 coaches, nor rumbling with wheels. Methinks sweet s race - 
 here one may, without much molestation, be thinking what 
 he is, whence he came, what he has done, and to what 
 the King has called him. Here one may think, and break 
 at heart, and melt in one's spirit, until one's eyes become 
 like the fish-pools of Heshbon. They that go Son g7 . 4 . 
 rightly through this Valley of Baca make it a Ps- 84> 5 " 7 ' 
 well; the rain that God sends down from heaven upon 
 them that are here also filleth the pools. This valley is 
 that from whence also the King will give to his 
 their vineyards, and they that go through it shall 
 sing (as Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon). 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 'Tis true, said their guide, I have gone 
 through this valley many a time, and never was An experi . 
 better than when here. mem of it. 
 
 I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims, and 
 they have confessed the same, c To this man will I look,' 
 saith the King, ' even to him that is poor, and of a con- 
 trite spirit, and that trembles at my Word.' 
 
 Now they were come to the place where the afore- 
 
344 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 mentioned battle was fought. Then said the guide to 
 The place Christiana, her children, and Mercy, This is the 
 Christian place - y on this ground Christian stood, and up 
 fienddtd there came Apollyon against him. And look, 
 fight - did not I tell you ? here is some of your husband's 
 
 blood upon these stones to this day ! Behold, also, how 
 . ^ here and there are yet to be seen upon the place 
 of the battle some of the shivers of Apollyon's broken darts. 
 See also how they did beat the ground with 
 their feet as they fought, to make good their places against 
 each other ; how also, with their by-blows, they did split 
 the very stones in pieces. Verily Christian did here play 
 the man, and showed himself as stout, as could, had he 
 been there, even Hercules himself. When Apollyon was 
 beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called 
 the Valley of the Shadow of Death, unto which we shall 
 come anon. 
 
 Lo, yonder also stands a monument, on which is en- 
 A monument graven this battle, and Christian's victory, to his 
 of the battle. fame throughout all ages. So, because it stood 
 just on the wayside before them, they stepped to it, and 
 read the writing, which, word for word, was this 
 
 A monu- Hard by, here was a battle fought, 
 
 Christian's Mo ^ stran S e > *ld 7 et most true 5 
 
 victory. Christian and Apollyon sought 
 
 Each other to subdue. 
 The man so bravely play'd the man, 
 
 He made the fiend to fly j 
 Of which a monument I stand, 
 
 The same to testify. 
 
 When they had passed by this place, they came upon the 
 Part i. borders of the Shadow of Death ; and this valley 
 
 page 92. was l on g er than the other ; a place also most 
 
THE PALLET OF THE SHADOW 345 
 
 strangely haunted with evil things, as many are able to 
 testify. But these women and children went the better 
 through it, because they had daylight, and because Mr. 
 Great-heart was their conductor. 
 
 When they were entered upon this valley, they thought 
 that they heard a groaning, as of dead men a G roanings 
 very great groaning. They thought also they heard> 
 did hear words of lamentation spoken, as of some in extreme 
 torment. These things made the boys to quake, the 
 women also looked pale and wan ; but their guide bid 
 them be of good comfort. 
 
 So they went on a little further, and they thought that 
 they felt the ground begin to shake under them, The ground 
 as if some hollow place was there ; they heard shakes - 
 also a kind of a hissing, as of serpents, but nothing as yet 
 appeared. Then said the boys, Are we not yet at the end 
 of this doleful place ? But the guide also bid them be of 
 good courage, and look well to their feet, lest haply, said 
 he, you be taken in some snare. 
 
 Now James began to be sick, but I think the cause 
 thereof was fear ; so his mother gave him some j^ mes sick 
 of that glass of spirits that she had given her at wlth fear> 
 the Interpreter's house, and three of the pills that Mr. Skill 
 had prepared ; and the boy began to revive. Thus they 
 went on till they came to about the middle of the valley, 
 and then Christiana said, Methinks I see some- Thefiend 
 thing yonder upon the road before us, a thing of a PP ears - 
 such a shape such as I have not seen. Then said Joseph, 
 Mother, what is it ? An ugly thing, child, an ugly thing, 
 said she. But, mother, what is it like ? said he. 'Tis 
 like I cannot tell what, said she. And now it The pilgrims 
 was but a little way off. Then said she, It is nigh. are afraid - 
 
 Well, well, said Mr. Great-heart, let them that are 
 
346 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 most afraid keep close to me. So the fiend came on, and 
 Great-heart the conductor met it ; but when it was just 
 
 encourages .. . i i n i 
 
 them. come to him, it vanished to all their sights. 
 
 Then remembered they what had been said some time 
 
 ago : c Resist the devil, and he will flee from 
 
 Ja m es 4 . 7 . you _, 
 
 They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed ; but 
 they had not gone far before Mercy, looking behind her, 
 saw, as she thought, something, most like a lion, 
 and it came a great padding pace after ; and it 
 had a hollow voice of roaring, and at every roar that it 
 gave it made all the valley echo, and their hearts to ache, 
 save the heart of him that was their guide. So it came up, 
 and Mr. Great-heart went behind, and put the pilgrims all 
 before him. The lion also came on apace, and Mr. Great- 
 heart addressed himself to give him battle. But 
 when he saw that it was determined that resistance 
 should be made, he also drew back and came no further. 
 
 Then they went on again, and their conductor did go 
 before them, till they came at a place where was cast up a 
 A pit and P^ t ^ ie wno l e breadth of the way, and before 
 darkness. t h G y cou \^ 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 answer, Fear not ; stand still 
 and see what an end will be put to this also. So they 
 stayed there because their path was marred. They then 
 also thought that they did hear more apparently the noise 
 and rushing of the enemies, the fire also and the smoke 
 Christiana ^ tne P^ was mucn easier to be discerned. 
 Xt k her ws Then said Christiana to Mercy, Now I see what 
 husband felt. mv p OO r husband went through j I have heard 
 much of this place, but I never was here afore now. 
 
THE TIT JND <DARKNESS 347 
 
 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 can tell what the Valley 
 of the Shadow of Death should mean, until they come in 
 it themselves. ' The heart knows its own bitterness, and a 
 stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.' To be here is a 
 fearful thing. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. This is like doing business in great 
 waters, or like going down into the deep ; this Great-heart's 
 is like being in the heart of the sea, and like rer>ly - 
 going down to the bottoms of the mountains ; now it 
 seems as if the earth, with its bars, were about us for ever. 
 ' But let them that walk in darkness, and have no light, 
 trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon their 
 God.' For my part, as I have told you already, I have 
 gone often through this valley, and have been much 
 harder put to it than now I am, 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 deliver- 
 ance. Come, let us pray for light to Him that can 
 lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke, not only these, 
 but all the Satans in hell. 
 
 So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and 
 deliverance, for there was now no let in their 
 
 . . . . They pray. 
 
 way ; no, not there, where but now they were 
 stopped with a pit. Yet they were not got through the 
 valley ; so they went on still, and, behold, great stinks and 
 loathsome smells, to the great annoyance of them. Then 
 said Mercy to Christiana, There is not such pleasant being 
 here as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the house 
 where we lay last. 
 
 Oh, but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go 
 
348 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 through here as it is to abide here always, and for aught 
 One of the I know, one reason why we must go this way 
 boys reply. to ^ fr ouse prepared for us, is, that our home 
 might be made the sweeter to us. 
 
 Well said, Samuel, quoth the guide, thou hast now spoke like 
 a man. Why, if ever I get out here again, said the boy, I 
 think I shall prize light and good way better than ever I did 
 in all my life. Then said the guide, We shall be out by and by. 
 
 So on they went, and Joseph said, Cannot we see to the 
 end of this valley as yet ? Then said the guide, Look to 
 your feet, for you shall presently be among the snares. So 
 they looked to their feet, and went on ; but they were 
 troubled much with the snares. Now when they were 
 come among the snares, they espied a man cast into the 
 ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. 
 Heedless ; s Then said the guide, That is one Heedless, that 
 fee-heed was a "g om g tms wav > ne nas k" n there a great 
 preserved. w hile. 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 hereabout, and 
 yet men are so foolishly venturous as to set out lightly on 
 pilgrimage, and to come without a guide. Poor Christian ! 
 it was a wonder that he here escaped ; but he was beloved 
 of his God ; also he had a good heart of his own, or else 
 Parti. h e c uld never have done it. Now they drew 
 pages 97. towards the end of the way, and just there where 
 Christian had seen the cave when he went by, out thence 
 Maul, a came forth Maul, a giant. This Maul did use 
 s ianT - to spoil young pilgrims with sophistry ; and 
 
 he called Great-heart by his name, and said unto him, 
 He quarrels How many times have you been forbidden to 
 heart. re ' do these things ? Then said Mr. Great-heart, 
 What things ? What things ! quoth the giant, you know 
 
MAUL 349 
 
 what things ; but I will put an end to your trade. But 
 pray, said Mr. Great-heart, before we fall to it, let us 
 understand wherefore we must fight. Now the women 
 and children stood trembling, and knew not what to do. 
 Quoth the giant, You rob the country, and rob it with 
 the worst of thefts. These are but generals, said Mr. 
 Great-heart, come to particulars, man. 
 
 Then said the giant, Thou practisest the craft of a 
 kidnapper, thou gatherest up women and children, God , s 
 and carriest them into a strange country, to the ^^^5 
 weakening of my master's kingdom. But now kldna PP ers - 
 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 endeavour to turn men, The Iant 
 women, and children from darkness to light, giea^heart 
 and from the power of Satan to God ; and if this must fight - 
 be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall to it as soon 
 as thou wilt. 
 
 Then the giant came up, and Mr. Great-heart went to 
 meet him ; and as he went he drew his sword, but the 
 giant had a club. So without more ado they fell to it, 
 and at the first blow the giant struck Mr. Great-heart down 
 upon one of his knees. With that the women and children 
 cried out ; so Mr. Great-heart, recovering him- 
 
 ir 1 -J L. i.' r 11 i i Weak folks' 
 
 selt, laid about him in full lusty manner, and gave prayers do 
 
 i i i rr-i i rt sometimes 
 
 the giant a wound in his arm. Thus he fought help strong 
 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 him to prayer j also the women and children did 
 nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle did 
 last. 
 
350 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both 
 fell to it again, and Mr. Great-heart, with a full blow, 
 The giant fetched the giant down to the ground. Nay, 
 
 struck down. holdj an( J let me recoverj quoth he> g Q Mr / 
 
 Great-heart fairly let him get up. So to it they went 
 again, and the giant missed but little of ail-to breaking 
 Mr. Great-heart's skull with his club. 
 
 Mr. Great-heart, seeing that, runs to him in the full 
 heat of his spirit, and 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, 
 and his head When this was done, they amongst them 
 erected a pillar, and fastened the giant's head 
 thereon, and wrote underneath, in letters that passengers 
 might read 
 
 He that did wear this head, was one 
 
 That pilgrims did misuse j 
 He stopped their way, he spared none, 
 
 But did them all abuse ; 
 Until that I, Great-heart, arose, 
 
 The pilgrims' guide to be j 
 Until that I did him oppose, 
 
 That was their enemy. 
 
 Now I saw, that they went to the ascent that was a 
 
 Part i. ntt ^ e Wa 7 ff> cast U P to be a prospect for pilgrims 
 page 9 8. ^ t j lat was the pl ace f rom whence Christian had 
 
 the first sight of Faithful, his brother). Wherefore here 
 they sat down and rested ; they also here did eat and drink, 
 and make merry ; for that they had gotten deliverance from 
 this so dangerous an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, 
 
OLT> HONEST 351 
 
 Christiana asked the guide if he had caught no hurt in the 
 battle. Then said Mr. Great-heart, No, save a little on 
 my flesh ; yet that also shall be so far from being 
 
 i i c e aCor -4- 
 
 to my determent, that it is at present a proof or 
 
 my love to my Master, and you, and shall be a means by 
 
 grace to increase my reward at last. 
 
 CHRIS. But was you not afraid, good Sir, when you saw 
 him come out with his club ? Discourse 
 
 GREAT-HEART. It is my duty, said he, to dis- of thefi s hts - 
 trust mine own ability, that I may have reliance on him 
 that is stronger than all. 
 
 CHRIS. But what did you think when he fetched you 
 down to the ground at the first blow ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my 
 Master himself was served, and yet he it was that con- 
 quered at the last. 
 
 MATT. When you all have thought what you please, 
 I think God has been wonderful good unto us, 
 
 & ' Mat. here 
 
 both in bringing us out of this valley, and in admires 
 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 
 
 , i / i i i M r Old Honest 
 
 they came to it, they round an old pilgrim fast asleep under 
 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 
 lift up his eyes, cried out, What 's the matter ? who are 
 you ? and what is your business here ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Come, man, be not so hot ; here is 
 none but friends. Yet the old man gets UD and stands 
 
352 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 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. 
 
 HON. Then said Mr. Honest, I cry you mercy. 
 
 One saint ,11 * t e 
 
 sometimes I reared that you had been of the company or 
 another for 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. 
 
 Talk be- GREAT-HEART. Why, what WOuld Or COuld 
 
 Seat-heart 7 OU nave ^ one to nave 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 shall yield 
 of himself. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 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 knowest what 
 true pilgrimage is, for all others do think that we are the 
 soonest overcome of any. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Well, now we are so happily met, pray 
 let me crave your name, and the name of the place you 
 came from. 
 
 HON. My name I cannot : but I came from 
 Mr. e Honest the Town of Stupidity ; it lieth about four 
 degrees beyond the City of Destruction. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 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 
 
HONESFS CjREETING 353 
 
 in the abstract, but Honest is my name, and I wish that 
 my nature shall agree to what I am called. 
 
 HON. But, Sir, said the old gentleman, how could you 
 guess that I am such a man, since I came from such a 
 place ? 
 
 OLD HONEST 
 
 GREAT-HEART. I had heard of you before, by my 
 Master ; for he knows all things that are done 
 on the earth : but I have often wondered that ones are 
 
 worse than 
 
 any should come from your place, for your town those merely 
 is worse than is the City of Destruction itself 
 
 HON. Yes; we lie more off from the sun, and so are 
 
354 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 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 hath been 
 with me. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. I believe it, Father Honest, I believe it ; 
 for I know the thing is true. 
 
 Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with 
 a holy kiss of charity, and asked them of their names, 
 and how they had fared since they set out on their 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 CHRIS. Then said Christiana, My name I suppose you 
 have heard of : good Christian was my husband. 
 
 Old Honest I-T-IJ T 
 
 and Chris- and these four were his children. But can you 
 
 tiana talk. i i 111 i 
 
 think how the old gentleman was taken, when 
 she told them who she was ! He skipped, he smiled, and 
 blessed them with a thousand good wishes, saying : 
 
 HON. I have heard much of your husband, and of his 
 travels and wars which he underwent in his days. Be it 
 spoken to your comfort, the name of your husband rings 
 all over these parts of the world : his faith, his courage, 
 
 his enduring, and his sincerity under all, have 
 talks with made his name famous. Then he turned him 
 
 to the boys, and asked them of their names, 
 which they told him. And then he said unto them : 
 Old Mr. Matthew, be thou like Matthew the publican, 
 5es n s ing S on not ' m vlce > ^ ut * n y i rtue ' Samuel, said he, be 
 Man'. 10. 3 . thou ^ke Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and 
 Gen 99 3 9 6 ' prayer. Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in 
 Acts i. 13. Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flies from 
 temptation. And James, be thou like James the Just, and 
 like James the brother of our Lord. 
 
 Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left 
 her town and her kindred to come along with Christiana 
 
THE STORT OF MI^FEARING 355 
 
 and with her sons. At that, the old honest man said, 
 Mercy is thy name ? by Mercy shalt thou be He blesseth 
 sustained, and carried through all those difficulties Mercy - 
 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 
 much pleased, and smiled upon his companion. 
 
 Now as they walked along together, the guide asked 
 the old gentleman if he did not know one Mr. 
 
 ., . _ . . Talk of one 
 
 Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out of his Mr. Fear- 
 parts. 
 
 HON. Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that had 
 the root of the matter in him ; but he was one of the most 
 troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all my days. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. I perceive you knew him, for you have 
 given a very right character of him. 
 
 HON. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his ; I 
 was with him most an end ; when he first began to think 
 of what would come upon us hereafter, I was with him. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. I was his guide from my Master's house 
 to the gates of the Celestial City. 
 
 HON. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. I did so ! but I could very well bear it, 
 for men of my calling are oftentimes intrusted 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. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Why, he was always afraid that he 
 should come short of whither he had a desire to Mn 
 go. Everything frightened him that he heard 
 anybody speak of, that had but the least appear- 
 ance of opposition in it. I hear that he lay roaring at the 
 
356 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Slough of Despond for above a month together ; nor durst 
 His be- ne > f r a ^ ne saw several go over before him, 
 the v sujh venture, though they, many of them, offered to 
 of Despond. i enc i fa m t ^^ r hand. He would not go back again 
 neither. The Celestial City, he said he should die if he 
 came not to it, and yet was dejected at every difficulty, 
 and stumbled at every straw that anybody cast in his way. 
 Well, after he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great 
 while, as I have told you, one sunshine morning, I do not 
 know how, he ventured, and so got over. But when he 
 was over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, 
 a Slough of Despond in his mind, a slough that he carried 
 everywhere with him, or else he could never have been as 
 he was. So he came up to the gate, you know what I 
 mean, that stands at the head of this way, and there also 
 he stood a good while before he would adventure 
 to knock. When the gate was opened he would 
 
 the gate. i i i i 
 
 give back, and give place to others, and say that 
 he was not worthy. For, for all he got before some to 
 the gate, yet many of them went in before him. There 
 the poor man would stand shaking and shrinking ; I dare 
 say it would have pitied one's heart to have seen him : 
 Nor would he go back again. At last he took the hammer 
 that hanged on the gate in his hand, and gave a small rap 
 or two ; then one opened to him, but he shrank back as 
 before. He that opened stept out after him, and said, 
 Thou trembling one, what wantest thou ? With that, he 
 fell down to the ground. He that spoke to him wondered 
 to see him so faint j so he said to him, Peace be to thee ; 
 up, for I have set open the door to thee ; come in, for thou 
 art blest. With that he got up, and went in trembling, 
 and when he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. 
 Well, after he had been entertained there a while, as you 
 
THE STORT OF M^FEARING 357 
 
 know how the manner is, he was bid go on his way, and 
 also told the way he should take. So he came till he came 
 to our house ; but as he behaved himself at the gate, so he 
 
 MR. FEARING 
 
 did at my Master the Interpreter's door. He lay thereabout 
 in the cold a good while, before he would adven- 
 
 11 XZ 1 A 1 Hisbe ' 
 
 ture to call ; Yet he would not go back. And haviour at 
 the nights were long and cold then. Nay, he prater's 
 had a note of necessity in his bosom to my Master 
 to receive him, and grant him the comfort of his house, 
 and also to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because 
 he was himself so chicken-hearted a man j and yet, for all 
 
358 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 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 
 thing to our Lord : so he sent me out again, to entreat 
 him to come in ; but I dare say I had hard work to do 
 it. At last he came in, and I will say that for my Lord, 
 he carried it wonderful lovingly to him. There 
 
 How he was / 
 
 entertained were but a few good bits at the table, but some 
 of it was laid upon his trencher. Then he pre- 
 sented the note, and my Lord looked thereon, and said his 
 He is a desire should be granted. So when he had been 
 couraged there a good while, he seemed to get some heart, 
 terpretS's and to be a ntt l e more comfortable. For my 
 Master, you must know, is one of very tender 
 bowels, especially to them that are afraid ; wherefore he 
 carried it so towards him, as might tend most to his 
 encouragement. Well, when he had had a sight of the 
 things of the place, and was ready to take his journey to 
 go to the city, my Lord, as he did to Christian before, 
 gave him a bottle of spirits, and some comfortable things 
 to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went before him ; but 
 the man was but of few words, only he would sigh aloud. 
 He was When we were come to where the three fellows 
 
 n were hanged, he said that he doubted that that 
 
 would be his end also - Onl 7 he seemed g lad 
 en when he saw the Cross and the Sepulchre. There, 
 Cross. confess, he desired to stay a little to look, and 
 
THE STORT OF MI^F EARING 359 
 
 he seemed for a while after to be a little cheery. 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 those ; his fear 
 was about his acceptance at last. 
 
 I got him in at the house Beautiful, I think, before he 
 was willing. Also, when he was in, I brought 
 
 ' ' Dumpish at 
 
 him acquainted with the damsels that were of the house 
 
 i 11 i i i i ir Beautiful. 
 
 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 pondering them in his mind. He told 
 me afterwards that he loved to be in those two houses from 
 which he came last, to wit, at the gate, and that of the 
 Interpreter j but that he durst not be so bold to ask. 
 
 When we went also from the house Beautiful, down the 
 hill, into the Valley of Humiliation, he went He went 
 down as well as ever I saw a man in my life ; for fd 
 he cared not how mean he was, so he might be 
 happy at last Yea, I think there was a kind of a Humiliation. 
 sympathy betwixt that valley and him ; for I never saw him 
 better in all his pilgrimage than when he was in that valley. 
 
 Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss 
 the very flowers that grew in this valley. He would now 
 be up every morning by break of day, tracing Lam 3 27 . 
 and walking to and fro in this valley. 29 ' 
 
 But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of 
 the Shadow of Death, I thought I should have Much ^ QI . 
 lost my man : not for that he had any inclination [JeVaiiey 
 to go back, that he always abhorred ; but he shadow of 
 was ready to die for fear. Oh, the hobgoblins Death - 
 will have me ! the hobgoblins will have me ! cried he ; 
 
360 THE TILGRIM^S TROGRESS 
 
 and I could not beat him out on 't. He made such a 
 noise, and such an outcry here, that, had they but heard 
 him, 'twas enough to encourage them to come and fall 
 upon us. 
 
 But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was 
 as quiet while 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 at Vanity Fair, I thought he would 
 haviourat 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. Upon 
 the Enchanted Ground he was also very wakeful. But 
 when he was come at the river where was no bridge, 
 there again he was in a heavy case. Now, now, he said, 
 he should be drowned for ever, and so never see that face 
 with comfort, that he had come so many miles to behold. 
 
 And here, also, I took notice of what was very remark- 
 able : 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, I shall, I 
 His boldness shall. Then parted we asunder, and I saw him 
 at last. no more. 
 
 HON. Then, it seems, he was well at last. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Yes, yes ; I never had doubt about 
 
 him ; he was a man of a choice spirit, only he 
 
 was always kept very low, and that made his life 
 
 so burdensome to himself, and so troublesome to others. 
 
TUNING FROM THE <B4SS 361 
 
 He was, above many, tender of sin. He was so afraid of 
 doing injuries to others, that he often would deny himself 
 of that which was lawful, because he would not Rom I4 2I 
 offend. iC ;.8.V 
 
 HON. But what should be the reason that such a good 
 man should be all his days so much in the dark ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. There are two sorts of reasons for it. 
 One is, the wise God will have it so : some must ReaS on why 
 pipe, and some must weep. Now Mr. Fearing 
 was one that played upon this bass. He and his 
 fellows sound the sackbut, whose notes are more I6 ' l8< 
 doleful than the 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 here was the im- 
 perfection 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 the Revelations, the saved are compared chap.i 4 .' 
 to a company of musicians that play upon their 
 trumpets and harps, and sing their songs before the throne. 
 
 HON. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by 
 what relation you have given of him. Difficulties, lions, 
 or Vanity Fair, he feared not at all. It was only sin, death, 
 and hell that was to him a terror, because he had some 
 doubts about his interest in that celestial country. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. You say right ; those were the things 
 that were his troublers : and they, as you have A c j ose 
 well observed, arose from the weakness of his abouth "- 
 
362 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 mind thereabout, not from weakness of spirit as to the 
 practical part of a pilgrim's life. I dare believe that, as the 
 proverb is, he could have bit a firebrand, had it stood in his 
 way ; but the things with which he was oppressed no man 
 ever yet could shake off with ease. . 
 
 CHRIS. Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr. 
 Christiana's Fearing has done me good. I thought nobody 
 
 sentence. Jj a( J k een ftfe ^ ^ J gee ^^ wag SQme 
 
 semblance 'twixt this good man and I ; only we differed in 
 two things : his troubles were so great, they brake out ; 
 but mine I kept within. His also lay so hard upon him, 
 they made him that he could not knock at the houses 
 provided for entertainment; but my trouble was always 
 such as made me knock the louder. 
 
 MERCY. If I might also speak my heart, I must say some- 
 Mercy's thing of him has also dwelt in me. For I have 
 
 sentence. eyer ^ een more afr^ Q f fa Q fe^ an( J j^g J oss Q f 
 
 a place in Paradise, than I have been of the loss of other 
 things. Oh, thought I, may I have the happiness to have 
 a habitation there ! it is enough, though I part with all the 
 world to win it. 
 
 MATT. Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing that 
 Matthew's niade me think that I was far from having that 
 sentence. 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 ? 
 
 JAMES. No fears, no grace, said James. Though there 
 James's * s not always grace where there is the fear of 
 hell, yet to be sure there is no grace where there 
 is no fear of God. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Well said, James, thou hast hit the 
 mark, for c the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom ' ; 
 and, to be sure, they that want the beginning have neither 
 
THE STORT OF SELF-WILL 363 
 
 middle nor end. But we will here conclude our discourse 
 of Mr. Fearing, after we have sent after him this farewell : 
 
 Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear, 
 
 Thy God, and wast afraid Their fare> 
 
 Of doing any thing, while here, well about 
 
 That would have thee betrayM. 
 And didst thou fear the lake and pit ? 
 
 Would others did so too ! 
 For, as for them that want thy wit, 
 
 They do themselves undo. 
 
 Now I saw, that they still went on in their talk. For 
 after Mr. Great-heart had made an end with Mr. Fearing, 
 Mr. Honest began to tell them of another, but ofMr. 
 his name was Mr. Self-will. He pretended him- Self - wi11 - 
 self to be a pilgrim, said Mr. Honest, but I persuade myself 
 he never came in at the gate that stands at the head of 
 the way. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 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 neither cared for 
 man, nor argument, nor yet example : what his 
 
 . , 11- , i ill .Old Honest 
 
 mind prompted him to, that he would do, and had talked 
 
 , . , iiit with him. 
 
 nothing else could he be got to. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Pray what principles did he hold ? for I 
 suppose you can tell. 
 
 HON. He held that a man might follow the vices as well 
 as the virtues of the pilgrims ; and that if he did self-will's 
 both, he should be certainly saved. P inions - 
 
 GREAT-HEART. How ! If he had said, 'tis possible for 
 the best to be guilty of the vices, as well as to partake 
 of the virtues of pilgrims, he could not much have been 
 blamed ; for indeed we are exempted from no vice ab- 
 solutely, but on condition that we watch and strive. But 
 
3 6 4 
 
 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 this, I perceive, is not the thing ; but ir I understand you 
 right, your meaning 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. 
 
 MR. SELF-WILL 
 
 GREAT-HEART. But what ground had he for his so 
 saying ? 
 
 HON. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his warrant. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Prithee, Mr. Honest, present us with a 
 few particulars. 
 
THE STORT OF SELF-WILL 365 
 
 HON. So I will. He said, To have to do with other 
 men's wives had been practised by David, God's beloved ; 
 and therefore he could do it. He said to have more 
 women than one, was a thing that Solomon practised ; 
 and therefore he could do it. He said that Sarah and the 
 godly midwives of Egypt lied, and so did saved Rahab ; 
 and therefore he could do it. He said that the disciples 
 went at the bidding of their Master, and took away the 
 owner's ass ; and therefore he could do so too. He said 
 that Jacob got the inheritance of his father in a way of 
 guile and dissimulation ; and therefore he could do so too. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. High base ! indeed ; and you are sure 
 he was of this opinion ? 
 
 HON. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture for 
 it, bring argument for it, etc. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 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. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. But what more false than such a con- 
 clusion ? For this is as much as to say, that because good 
 men heretofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had 
 allowance to do it of a presumptuous mind. Or if because 
 a child, by the blast of the 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 
 
 , , r-rM 11 1 I Pet. 2. 8. 
 
 is written must be true, ' 1 hey stumble at the 
 word, being disobedient j whereunto also they were ap- 
 pointed.' 
 
366 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 His supposing that such may have the godly man's 
 
 virtues, who addict themselves to their vices, is also a 
 
 delusion as strong as the other. 'Tis just as if the dog 
 
 should say, I have, or may have, the qualities of the child, 
 
 because I lick up its stinking excrements. To eat up the 
 
 sin of God's people is no sign of one that is 
 
 possessed 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 ; prithee 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 con- 
 trary to it in opinion. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 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 pleads 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. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. You have said the truth, and it is to be 
 lamented. But he that feareth the King of Paradise shall 
 come out of them all. 
 
 CHRIS. There are strange opinions in the world ; I know 
 one that said, 'twas time enough to repent when they came 
 to die. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Such are not over-wise. That man 
 would have been loth, might he have had a week to run 
 twenty miles in for his life, to have deferred that journey 
 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, 
 
THE STORT OF SELF-WILL 367 
 
 as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller in this 
 road many a day ; and I have taken notice of many 
 things. 
 
 I have seen some that have 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 that 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 pil- 
 grim'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 their 
 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 for your- Fresh news 
 selves, for the robbers are before you. of trouble. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 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 page 202. 
 
 l XT L 1 1 J Great ' 
 
 went on their way. JN ow they looked at every heart's 
 
 turning, when they should have met with the 
 
 villains ; but whether they heard of Mr. Great-heart, or 
 
368 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 whether they had some other game, they came not up to 
 the pilgrims. 
 
 Christiana then wished for an inn for herself and her 
 Christiana children, because they were weary. Then said 
 
 wishethfor _ ... TT r _, 1 . .. J . 
 
 an inn. Mr. Honest, 1 here is one a little before us, 
 
 where a very honourable disciple, one Gaius, dwells. So 
 Rom. 16. 23. tne 7 a ^ concluded to turn in thither, and the 
 Gaius. 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 
 
 They enter ' . . ,_. .. 
 
 into his the door or an inn. 1 hen they called for the 
 master of the house, and he came to them. So 
 they asked if they might lie there that night. 
 
 GAIUS. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men, for my 
 Gaius house is for none but pilgrims. Then was 
 
 them ta and Christiana, Mercy, and the boys the more glad, 
 how. f or tnat tne innkeeper was a lover of pilgrims. 
 
 So they called for rooms, and he showed them one for 
 Christiana and her children and Mercy, and another for 
 Mr. Great-heart and the old gentleman. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Then said Mr. Great-heart, Good Gaius, 
 what hast thou for supper ? for these pilgrims have come 
 far to-day, and are weary. 
 
 GAIUS. It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently 
 go out to seek food ; but such as we have you shall be 
 welcome to, if that will content. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. We will be content with what thou 
 hast in the house ; forasmuch as I have proved thee, thou 
 art never destitute of that which is convenient. 
 
 Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose 
 Gaius his name was Taste- that-which-is-good, to get ready 
 cook supper for so many pilgrims. This done, he 
 
 comes up again, saying, Come, my good friends, you are 
 
OF CHRISTIAN'S ANCESTORS 369 
 
 welcome to me, and I am glad that I have an house to 
 entertain you ; and while supper is making ready, if you 
 please, let us entertain one another with some good dis- 
 course. So they all said, Content. 
 
 GAIUS. Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged 
 matron ? and whose daughter is this young Talk be _ 
 
 A * ^l ? tween Gaius 
 
 damsel f an d his 
 
 GREAT- HE ART. The woman is the wife of guests> 
 one Christian, a pilgrim of former times, and these are his 
 four children. The maid is one of her acquaintance, one 
 that she hath persuaded to come with her on pilgrimage. 
 The boys take all after their father, and covet to 
 
 . . J . . ... , Mark this. 
 
 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. 
 
 GAIUS. Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife ? and 
 are these Christian's children ? I knew your husband's 
 father, yea, also his father's father. Many have been good 
 of this stock ; their ancestors dwelt first at Acts Ir 26 
 Antioch. Christian's progenitors (I suppose you Sln?aS" 
 have heard your husband talk of them) were cestors - 
 very worthy men. They have, above any that I know, 
 showed themselves men of great virtue and courage for the 
 Lord of the pilgrims, his ways, and them that loved him. 
 I have heard of many of your husband's relations that have 
 stood all trials for the sake of the truth. Stephen, Acts 7 S9j 
 that was one of the first of the family from ^ 
 whence your husband sprang, was knocked on the head 
 with stones. 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 Ignatius, who 
 
 2 A 
 
370 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 was cast to the lions ; Romanus, whose flesh was cut by 
 pieces from his bones ; and Polycarp, 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. 'Twould 
 be impossible utterly to count up all of 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. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Indeed, Sir, they are likely lads; they 
 seem to choose heartily their father's ways. 
 
 GAIUS. That is it that I said. Wherefore Christian's 
 family is like still to spread abroad upon the face of the 
 Advice to ground, and yet to be numerous upon the face of 
 ah? tne eartn 5 wherefore let Christiana look out 
 boys - some damsels for her sons, to whom they may 
 
 be betrothed, etc., that the name of their father and the 
 house of his progenitors may never be forgotten in the 
 world. 
 
 HON. 'Tis pity this family should fall, and be extinct. 
 
 GAIUS. 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 innkeeper, 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 ; 'tis the way to preserve you a posterity in 
 
 Matthe^T the earth. So this match was concluded, and in 
 
 process of time they were married. But more 
 
 of that hereafter. 
 
THE SUPPEl^AT (}4IUS'S 371 
 
 Gaius 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 Gen 3 
 woman, so also did life and health : c God sent GaL 4 - 4< 
 forth his Son, made of a woman.' Yea, to show how much 
 those that came after did abhor the act of their mother, 
 this sex in the Old Testament coveted children, why women 
 if haply this or that woman might be the mother ^hl^ind 
 of the Saviour of the world. children. 
 
 I will say again, that when the Saviour was come, 
 women rejoiced in him before either man or 
 angel. I read not that ever any man did give 
 unto Christ so much as one groat ; but the women 
 followed him, and ministered to him of their C ha P .8. 2 , 3 . 
 substance. It was a woman that washed his C hap> 7> 37> 
 feet with tears, and a woman that anointed his jEj^n "^ 2> 
 body to the burial. They were women that JK? 23 ' 27 ' 
 
 / J Matt. 27. 55, 
 
 wept when he was going to the cross, and women 56, 61. 
 that followed him from the cross, and that sat by his 
 sepulchre when he was buried. They were women that 
 were first with him at his resurrection-morn, and Luke 24 22> 
 women that brought tidings first to his disciples 23> 
 that he was risen from the dead. 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, the trenchers, Supper 
 and to set the salt and bread in order. ready 
 
 Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth and of this 
 forerunner of the supper begetteth in me a greater appetite 
 to my food than I had before. 
 
 GAIUS. So let all ministering doctrines to thee in this 
 life, beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the supper 
 
372 THE TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 of the great King in his kingdom ; for all preaching, 
 what to be books, an( * ordinances here, are but as the 
 gathered laying of the trenchers, and as setting of salt upon 
 of the board the board, when compared with the feast that 
 
 with the ' J, 
 
 cloth and our Lord will make for us when we come to 
 
 trenchers. . 
 
 his house. 
 
 So supper came up, and first a heave-shoulder and a 
 wave-breast was set on the table before them. 
 
 Lev. 7. "32"344 
 
 Chap. 10. 14, to show that they must begin their meal with 
 PS. 25. i. prayer and praise to God. The heave-shoulder 
 
 David lifted his heart up to God with, and with 
 
 the wave-breast, where his heart lay, with that he used to 
 
 lean upon his harp when he played. These two dishes were 
 
 very fresh and good, and they all ate heartily well thereof. 
 
 The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, red as 
 
 blood. So Gaius said to them, Drink freely ; 
 
 Deut. 32. 14. 
 
 judges 9 . 13. this is the juice of the true vine, that makes glad 
 the heart of God and man. So they drank and 
 
 were merry. 
 
 The next was a dish of milk, well crumbed. But Gaius 
 said, Let the boys have that, that they may grow 
 
 A dish of' ' thereby. 
 
 Of honey Then they brought up in course a dish of 
 
 butter and honey. Then said Gaius, Eat freely 
 
 of this ; for this is good to cheer up and strengthen your 
 
 judgments and understandings. This was our Lord's dish 
 when he was a child : c Butter and honey shall 
 he eat, that he may know to refuse the evil and 
 
 choose the good.' 
 
 Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they 
 
 A dish of were very good-tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, 
 
 apples. May we eat apples, since they were such by and 
 
 with which the serpent beguiled our first mother ? 
 
THE SUPPED AT g^IUS'S 373 
 
 Then said Gaius : 
 
 Apples were they with which we were beguiled, 
 Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defiled. 
 Apples forbid, if eat, corrupt the blood } 
 To eat such, when commanded, does us good. 
 Drink of his flagons, then, thou church, his dove, 
 And eat his apples, who are sick of love. 
 
 Then said Matthew, I made the scruple because I, a 
 while since, was sick with eating of fruit. 
 
 GAIUS. Forbidden fruit will make you sick, but not 
 what our Lord has tolerated. 
 
 While they were thus talking, they were presented with 
 another dish, and it was a dish of nuts. Then Song e. . 
 said some at the table, Nuts spoil tender teeth, nuts. 
 specially the teeth of children ; which when Gaius heard, 
 he said 
 
 Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters), 
 Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters. 
 Ope then the shells, and you shall have the meat j 
 They here are brought for you to crack and eat. 
 
 Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long 
 time, talking of many things. Then said the old gentle- 
 man, My good landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, 
 if you please, do you open this riddle : 
 
 A man there was, though some did count him mad, A riddle put 
 
 _, ' forth by old 
 
 The more he cast away, the more he had. Honest. 
 
 Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good 
 Gaius would say ; so he sat still a while, and then thus 
 replied : 
 
 He that bestows his goods upon the poor, 
 
 Shall have as much again, and ten times more. P ens ** 
 
374 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 Then said Joseph, I dare say, Sir, I did not think you 
 Joseph could have found it out. 
 
 Oh, said Gaius, I have been trained up in this 
 
 way a great while; nothing teaches like experience. I 
 
 have learned of my Lord to be kind, and have found by 
 
 Prov ii 2 ex P erience tnat I nave gained thereby. 'There 
 
 is that scattereth, yet increased! ; and there is 
 
 that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to 
 
 poverty.' 'There is that maketh himself rich, 
 
 Cnap. 13. 7. * 
 
 yet hath nothing; there is that maketh himself 
 poor, yet hath great riches.' 
 
 Then Samuel whispered to Christiana his mother, and 
 said, Mother, this is a very good man's house ; let us stay 
 here a good while, and let my brother Matthew be married 
 here to Mercy before we go any further. 
 
 The which Gaius the host overhearing, said, With a 
 very good will, my child. 
 
 So they stayed there more than a month, and Mercy 
 
 was given to Matthew to wife. 
 and Mercy While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom 
 
 are married. J J J ' 
 
 was, would be making coats and garments to 
 give to the poor, by which she brought up a very good 
 report upon the pilgrims. 
 
 But to return again to our story. After supper the lads 
 The bo -s o ^ es ^ re( ^ a bed, for that they were weary with 
 to bed, the travelling. Then Gaius called to show them 
 
 their chamber ; but said Mercy, I will have them 
 to bed. So she had them to bed, and they slept well : 
 but the rest sat up all night, for Gaius and they were 
 such suitable company that they could not tell how to 
 Old Honest P art - Then after much talk of their Lord, 
 
 themselves, and their journey, old Mr. Honest, 
 he that put forth the riddle to Gaius, began to nod. Then 
 
THE SUPPEI^JT g^IUS'S 375 
 
 said Great-heart, What, Sir, you begin to be drowsy ; 
 come, rub up, now here 's a riddle for you. Then said 
 Mr. Honest, Let 's hear it. 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart : 
 
 He that will kill, must first be overcome : 
 Who live abroad would, first must die at home. 
 
 Ha ! said Mr. Honest, it is a hard one ; hard to expound, 
 and harder to practise. But come, landlord, said he, I will, 
 if you please, leave my part to you ; do you expound it, 
 and I will hear what you say. 
 
 No, said Gaius, 'twas put to you, and 'tis expected that 
 you should answer it. 
 
 Then said the old gentleman, 
 
 He first by grace must conquer'd be, The riddle 
 
 That sin would mortify : opened. 
 
 And who, that lives, would convince me, 
 Unto himself must die. 
 
 It is right, said Gaius ; good doctrine and experience 
 teaches this. For first, until grace displays itself, and 
 overcomes the soul with its glory, it is altogether without 
 heart to oppose sin. Besides, if sin is Satan's cords, by 
 which the soul lies bound, how should it make resistance, 
 before it is loosed from that infirmity ? 
 
 Secondly, nor will any, that knows either reason or 
 grace, believe that such a man can be a living monument 
 of grace, that is a slave to his own corruptions. 
 
 And now it comes in my mind, I will tell you a story 
 worth the hearing;. There were two men that 
 
 . A question 
 
 went on pilgrimage, trie one began when he was worth the 
 young, the other when he was old. The young 
 man had strong corruptions to grapple with, the old man's 
 were decayed with the decays of nature. The young man 
 
376 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 trod his steps as even as did the old one, and was every 
 way as light as he. Who now, or which of them, had 
 their graces shining clearest, since both seemed to be alike ? 
 
 HON. The young man's, doubtless. For that which 
 Acom- heads it against the greatest opposition, gives 
 parison. ^ est d emons tration that it is strongest. Specially 
 when it also holdeth pace with that that meets not with 
 half so much, as to be sure old age does not. 
 
 Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed 
 themselves with this mistake, namely, taking the 
 
 A mistake. J ' 
 
 decays of nature for a gracious conquest over 
 corruptions, and so have been apt to beguile themselves. 
 Indeed, old men that are gracious are best able to give 
 advice to them that are young, because they have seen 
 most of the emptiness of things. But yet, for an old and 
 a young to set out both together, the young one has the 
 advantage of the fairest discovery of a work of grace within 
 him, though the old man's corruptions are naturally the 
 weakest. 
 
 Thus they sat talking till break of day. Now when 
 the family was up, Christiana bid her son James that he 
 should read a chapter ; so he read the fifty-third of Isaiah. 
 Another When he had done, Mr. Honest asked why it 
 
 question. wag ^^ ^^ ^ S av j our j g^ to come < out 
 
 of a dry ground,' and also that ' he had no form nor come- 
 liness in him.' 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Then said Mr. Great-heart, To the first 
 I answer, Because the church of the Jews, of which Christ 
 came, had then lost almost all the sap and spirit of religion. 
 To the second I say, The words are spoken in the person 
 of the unbelievers, who, because they want that eye that 
 can see into our Prince's heart, therefore they judge of him 
 by the meanness of his outside : just like those that know 
 
CjIANT SLAr-GOO<D SLAIM^ 377 
 
 not that precious stones are covered over with a homely 
 crust ; who, when they have found one, because they know 
 not what they have found, cast it again away, as men do 
 a common stone. 
 
 Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I 
 know, Mr. Great-heart is good at his weapons, if you 
 please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk into 
 the fields, to see if we can do any good. About a mile 
 from hence there is one Slay-good, a giant that Giant 
 doth much annoy the King's highway in these fJ^JJS? 
 parts ; and I know whereabout his haunt is. He and slain * 
 is master of a number of thieves. 'Twould be well if we 
 could clear these parts of him. 
 
 So they consented and went ; Mr. Great-heart with his 
 sword, helmet, and shield, and the rest with spears and 
 staves. 
 
 When they came to the place where he was, they found 
 him with one Feeble-mind in his hands, whom He is found 
 his servants had brought unto him, having taken Feebi^mind 
 him in the way. Now the giant was rifling of inhishand - 
 him, with a purpose after that to pick his bones $ for he 
 was of the nature of flesh-eaters. 
 
 Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends 
 at the mouth of his cave, with their weapons, he demanded 
 what they wanted. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. We want thee; for we are come to 
 revenge the quarrel of the many that thou hast slain of 
 the pilgrims, when thou hast dragged them out of the 
 King's highway, wherefore come out of thy cave. So he 
 armed himself and came out 3 and to a battle they went, and 
 fought for above an hour, and then stood still to take wind. 
 
 SLAY-GOOD. Then said the giant, Why are you here on 
 my ground ? 
 
378 THE TILGRIM'S "PROGRESS 
 
 GREAT-HEART. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I 
 also told thee before. So they went to it again, and the 
 giant made Mr. Great-heart give back ; but he came up 
 again, and in the greatness of his mind he let fly with 
 such stoutness at the giant's head and sides, that he made 
 him let his weapon fall out of his hand. So he smote him 
 and slew him, and cut of? his head, and brought it away 
 One Feeble- to tne inn ' He also took Feeble-mind the pil- 
 ^Jed from g T ' lm y anc ^ brought him with him to his lodgings, 
 the giant. When they were come home, they showed his 
 head to the family, and then set it up, as they had done 
 others before, for a terror to those that should attempt to 
 do as he, hereafter. 
 
 Then they asked Mr. Feeble-mind how he fell into his 
 hands. 
 
 FEEBLE. Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man, 
 as you see ; and, because death did usually once a day 
 knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at 
 HOW Feeble- home ; so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life, and 
 tobJapiC h ave travelled hither from the town of Uncertain, 
 where I and my father were born. I am a man 
 of no strength at all, of body, nor yet of mind, but would, 
 if I could, though I can but crawl, spend my life in the 
 pilgrim's way. When I came at the gate that is at the 
 head of the way, the Lord of that place did entertain me 
 freely, neither objected he against my weakly looks, nor 
 against my feeble mind, but gave me such things that 
 were necessary for my journey, and bid me hope to the 
 end. When I came to the house of the Interpreter, I 
 received much kindness there, and, because the Hill Diffi- 
 culty was judged too hard for me, I was carried up that 
 by one of his servants. Indeed, I have found much relief 
 from pilgrims, though none was willing to go so softly as 
 
FEEBLE-MIND'S STORT 
 
 379 
 
 I am forced to do ; yet still, as they came on, they bid 
 me be of good cheer, and said that it was the will of their 
 Lord that comfort should be given to the feeble- , Thess> 5> 
 minded, and so went on their own pace. When I4- 
 I was come up to Assault Lane, then this giant met with 
 
 MR. FEEBLE-MIND 
 
 me, and bid me prepare for an encounter ; but, alas ! feeble 
 one that I was, I had more need of a cordial. So he came 
 up and took me. I conceited he should not kill 
 
 Mark this. 
 
 me. Also, when he had got me into his den, since 
 
 I went not with him willingly, I believed I should come 
 
380 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 out alive again ; for I have heard, that not any pilgrim 
 that is taken captive by violent hands, if he keeps heart- 
 whole towards his Master, is, by the laws of Providence, 
 to die by the hand of the enemy. Robbed, I looked to 
 be, and robbed to be sure I am ; but I am, as you see, 
 escaped with life, for the which I thank my King as author, 
 and you as the means. Other brunts I also look for, but 
 this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when I 
 
 Mark this. ' 
 
 can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when 
 I cannot go. As to the main, I thank Him that loves 
 me, I am fixed. My way is before me, my mind is beyond 
 the river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but 
 of feeble mind. 
 
 HON. Then said old Mr. Honest, Have not you, some 
 time ago, been acquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim ? 
 
 FEEBLE. Acquainted with him ! yes ; he came from the 
 
 town of Stupidity, which lieth four degrees to the north- 
 
 ward to the City of Destruction, and as many 
 
 Mr. Fearing J J 
 
 Mr. Feeble- off of where I was born ; yet we were well 
 
 mind's uncle. . . . . . . 
 
 acquainted, for indeed he was mine uncle, my 
 father's brother. He and I have been much of a temper. 
 He was a little shorter than I, but yet we were much of 
 a complexion. 
 
 HON. I perceive you know him, and I am apt to believe 
 
 also that you were related one to another ; for 
 mind has you have his whitely look, a cast like his with 
 
 some of Mr. ' J . . 
 
 your eye, and your speech is much alike. 
 
 features. -r^,.- , ., , , , 
 
 FEEBLE. Most have said so that have known 
 us both ; and besides, what I have read in him, I have for 
 the most part found in myself. 
 
 Gaiuscom- GAius. Come, Sir, said good Gaius, be of 
 forts him. g OQ( j chee^ vou are W elcome to me, and to my 
 
 house, and what thou hast a mind to, call for freely ; and 
 
THE PARTING FROM CJAIUS 381 
 
 what thou wouldest have my servants do for thee, they will 
 do it with a ready mind. 
 
 Then said Mr. Feeble- mind, This is unexpected 
 favour, and as the sun shining: out of a very 
 
 Notice to be 
 
 dark cloud. Did Giant Slay-good intend me taken of pro- 
 this favour when he stopped me, and resolved 
 to let me go no further ? Did he intend that after he 
 had rifled my pockets I should go to Gaius mine host? 
 Yet so it is. 
 
 Now just as Mr. Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in 
 talk, there comes one running, and called at the door, and 
 told, that about a mile and a half off there was Tidings how 
 one Mr. Not-right, a pilgrim, struck dead upon rght^ 
 the place where he was with a thunderbolt. SSd? a 
 
 FEEBLE. Alas! said Mr. Feeble-mind, is he ^ F a e n e d ble . 
 slain ? He overtook me some days before I JJJJ^ent 
 came so far as hither, and would be my company- u P n ll - 
 keeper. He also was with me when Slay-good, the giant, 
 took me ; but he was nimble of his heels, and escaped. 
 But it seems he escaped to die, and I was took to live. 
 
 What, one would think, doth seek to slay outright, 
 
 Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight. 
 
 That very providence, whose face is death, 
 
 Doth ofttimes to the lowly life bequeath. 
 
 I taken was, he did escape and flee, 
 
 Hands crossed gives death to him, and life to me. 
 
 Now about this time, Matthew and Mercy were 
 married ; also Gaius gave his daughter Phebe to James, 
 Matthew's brother, to wife; after which time they yet 
 stayed above ten days at Gaius's house, spending their time, 
 and the seasons, like as pilgrims use to do. 
 
 When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, 
 
3$z THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 and they did eat and drink, and were merry. Now tne 
 The Pii- nour was come that they must be gone ; where- 
 falTtoTo fore Mr - Great-heart called for a reckoning. 
 forward. g ut Q a { us to \^ fa m tfat at his house it was 
 
 not the custom for pilgrims to pay for their entertainment. 
 He boarded them by the year, but looked for his pay from 
 Luke 10. tne g 00 ^ Samaritan, who had promised him at 
 How'they ^ s return > whatsoever charge he was at with 
 fnotner n at them, faithfully to repay him. Then said Mr. 
 parting. Great-heart to him : 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 'Beloved, thou dost faithfully whatso- 
 ever thou dost, to the brethren and to strangers, 
 which have borne witness of thy charity before 
 the church ; whom if thou (yet) bring forward on their 
 journey after a godly sort, thou shalt do well.' 
 
 Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and of his 
 Gaius'siast children, and particularly of Mr. Feeble-mind. 
 kindness to He also gaye him somet hing to drink by the 
 
 mind. way< 
 
 Now Mr. Feeble-mind, when they were going out of 
 the door made as if he intended to linger. The which 
 when Mr. Great-heart espied, he said, Come, Mr. Feeble- 
 mind, pray do you go along with us, I will be your 
 conductor, and you shall fare as the rest. 
 
 FEEBLE. Alas ! I want a suitable companion ; you are 
 all lusty and strong:, but I, as you see, am weak. 
 
 Feeble-mind T , 7 ... 6> , ti'iii 
 
 forgoing 1 choose therefore rather to come behind, lest by 
 reason of my many infirmities I should be both a 
 burden to myself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of 
 a weak and feeble mind, and shall be offended and made 
 weak at that which others can bear. I shall like no 
 laughing, I shall like no gay attire, I shall like no un- 
 profitable questions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be 
 
READT-TO-HALT JOINS 383 
 
 offended with that which others have a liberty to do. I 
 do not yet know all the truth ; I am a very His excuse 
 ignorant Christian man ; sometimes, if I hear for lt- 
 some rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me because I cannot 
 do so too. It is with me as it is with a weak man among 
 the strong, or as with a sick man among the healthy, or 
 as a lamp despised ( c He that is ready to slip with 
 
 i r - i i J 111 r Job 12. 5. 
 
 his feet, is as a lamp despised in the thought of 
 him that is at ease ') ; so that I know not what to do. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. But, brother, said Mr. Great-heart, I 
 have it in commission, to comfort the feeble- Great . 
 minded and to support the weak. You must commission. 
 needs go along with us; we will wait for you, j2j^J 14 " 
 we will lend you our help, we will deny our- lCor - 8 - 
 selves in some things, both opinionative and practical, for 
 your sake ; we will not enter into doubtful dis- 
 
 . _ -n i i 11 i_ A. Christian 
 
 putations before you, we will be made all things spirit. 
 to you rather than you shall be left behind. 
 
 Now all this while they were at Gaius's door ; and, 
 behold, as they were thus in the heat of their discourse, 
 Mr. Ready-to-halt came by, with his crutches in Ps 38 I7 
 his hand ; and he also was going on pilgrimage. Promises. 
 
 FEEBLE. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, Man, how 
 earnest thou hither ? I was but just now complaining 
 that I had not a suitable companion, but thou 
 
 ,. . . TTT i i Feeble-mind 
 
 art according to my wish. Welcome, welcome, glad to see 
 good Mr. Ready-to-halt, I hope thee and I may halt come 
 be some help. 
 
 READY-TO-HALT. I shall be glad of thy company, said 
 the other; and, good Mr. Feeble-mind, rather than we 
 will part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee 
 one of my crutches. 
 
 FEEBLE. Nay, said he, though I thank thee for thy 
 
384 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 goodwill, I am not inclined to halt before I am lame. 
 Howbeit, I think, when occasion is, it may help me against 
 a dog. 
 
 READY. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a 
 
 MR. READY-TO-HALT 
 
 pleasure, we are both at thy command, good Mr. Feeble- 
 mind. 
 
 Thus therefore they went on -, Mr. Great-heart and Mr. 
 Honest went before, Christiana and her children went next, 
 and Mr. Feeble-mind, and Mr. Ready-to-halt came behind 
 with his crutches. Then said Mr. Honest : 
 
DISCUSSING CHRISTIAN'S PILGRIMAGE 385 
 
 HON. Pray, Sir, now we are upon the road, tell us some 
 profitable things of some that have gone on 
 
 .. . i / New talk. 
 
 pilgrimage before us. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. With a good will. I suppose you have 
 heard how Christian of old did meet with 
 Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation, and also pages 85-90, 
 what hard work he had to go through the Valley 
 of the Shadow of Death. Also I think you cannot but have 
 heard how Faithful was put to it with Madam Wanton, 
 with Adam the first, with one Discontent, and Shame j four 
 as deceitful villains as a man can meet with upon the road. 
 
 HON. Yes, I have heard of all this ; but indeed, good 
 Faithful was hardest put to it with Shame : he was an 
 unwearied one. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Ay ; for as the pilgrim well said, he of 
 all men had the wrong name. 
 
 HON. But pray, Sir, where was it that Christian and 
 Faithful met Talkative ? That same was also a Part x 
 notable one. P age "* 
 
 GREAT-HEART. He was a confident fool j yet many 
 follow his ways. 
 
 HON. He had like to have beguiled Faithful. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Ay, but Christian put him into a way 
 quickly to find him out. Thus they went on till they 
 came at the place where Evangelist met with Christian and 
 Faithful, and prophesied to them of what should PartT 
 befall them at Vanity Fair. **& ^ 2 - 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Then said their guide, Hereabouts did 
 Christian and Faithful meet with Evangelist, who pro- 
 phesied to them of what troubles they should meet with at 
 Vanity Fair. 
 
 HON. Say you so ? I dare say it was a hard chapter that 
 then he did read unto them. 
 
 2B 
 
386 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 GREAT -HE ART. 'Twas so ; but he gave them en- 
 couragement withal. But what do we talk of them ? 
 They were a couple of lion-like men, they had set 
 Part i tne ^ r f aces like ^ mt< Don't vou remember how 
 
 page 143. undaunted they were when they stood before 
 the judge ? 
 
 HON. Well, Faithful bravely suffered ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. So he did, and as brave things came 
 on 't ; for Hopeful and some others, as the story relates it, 
 were converted by his death. 
 
 HON. Well, but pray go on ; for you are well acquainted 
 with things. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Above all that Christian met with after 
 Part j he had passed through Vanity Fair, one By-ends 
 
 page 154. was the arch one. 
 
 HON. By-ends ! what was he ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. A very arch fellow, a downright 
 hypocrite. One that would be religious which way 
 ever the world went ; but so cunning, that he would 
 be sure neither to lose nor suffer for it. He had his 
 mode of religion tor every fresh occasion, and his wife 
 was as good at it as he. He would turn and change 
 from opinion to opinion, yea, and plead for so doing 
 too. But so far as I could learn, he came to an ill 
 end with his by-ends ; nor did I ever hear that any 
 of his children were ever of any esteem with any that 
 truly feared God. 
 
 Now by this time they were come within sight of the 
 They are town of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept. So 
 si 01 ht ^ ithin when they saw that they were so near the town, 
 Vanity. they consulted with one another how they should 
 pass through the town, and some said one thing, and 
 some another. At last Mr. Great-heart said, I have, as 
 
VANITY rowz^ 387 
 
 you may understand, often been a conductor of pilgrims 
 through this town ; now I am acquainted with 
 
 n * -n it /"i i 11 They enter 
 
 one Mr. Mnason, a Cyprusian by nation, an old into one Mr. 
 
 , . . , , , -I, -f r Mnason's to 
 
 disciple, at whose house we may lodge. Ir you lodge. 
 think good, said he, we will turn in there ? 
 
 Content, said old Honest ; Content, said Christiana ; 
 Content, said Mr. Feeble-mind : and so they said all. 
 Now you must think it was eventide by that they got to 
 the outside of the town, but Mr. Great-heart knew the 
 way to the old man's house. So thither they came ; and 
 he called at the door, and the old man within knew his 
 tongue so soon as ever he heard it ; so he opened, and 
 they all came in. Then said Mnason their host, How 
 far have ye come to-day ? So they said, From the house 
 of Gaius our friend. I promise you, said he, you have 
 gone a good stitch you may well be a- weary ; sit down. 
 So they sat down. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Then said their guide, Come, what 
 cheer, sirs ? I daresay you are welcome to my They are 
 
 MNASON. I also, said Mr. Mnason, do bid you ment - 
 welcome ; and whatever you want, do but say, and we will 
 do what we can to get it for you. 
 
 HON. Our great want, a while since, was harbour, and 
 good company, and now I hope we have both. 
 
 MNASON. For harbour, you see what it is j but for good 
 company, that will appear in the trial. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Well, said Mr. Great-heart, will you 
 have the pilgrims up into their lodging ? 
 
 MNASON. I will, said Mr. Mnason. So he had them 
 to their respective places, and also showed them a very fair 
 dining-room, where they might be and sup together, until 
 time was come to go to rest. 
 
388 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Now when they were set in their places, and were a 
 little cheery after their journey, Mr. Honest asked his 
 landlord if there were any store of good people in the 
 town ? 
 
 MNASON. We have a few ; for indeed they are but a 
 few, when compared with them on the other side. 
 
 HON. But how shall we do to see some of them ? for 
 the sight of good men to them that are going; on 
 
 They desire . & ... . J 
 
 to see some pilgrimage, is like to the appearing or the moon 
 
 of the good ?.. 
 
 people in the and the stars to them that are sailing; upon the 
 
 town. 
 
 seas. 
 
 MNASON. Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, 
 Some sent an ^ his daughter Grace came up. So he said 
 unto her, Grace, go you tell my friends, Mr. 
 Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Love-saint, Mr. Dare-not-lie, 
 and Mr. Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my house, 
 that have a mind this evening to see them. 
 
 So Grace went to call them, and they came ; and, after 
 salutation made, they sat down together at the table. 
 
 Then said Mr. Mnason, their landlord, My neighbours, 
 I have, as you see, a company of strangers come to my 
 house : they are pilgrims ; they come from afar, and are 
 going to Mount Zion. But who, quoth he, do you think 
 this is ? pointing with his finger to Christiana. It is Chris- 
 tiana, the wife of Christian, that famous pilgrim, who with 
 Faithful his brother were so shamefully handled in our 
 town. At that they stood amazed, saying, We little 
 thought to see Christiana, when Grace came to call us ; 
 wherefore this is a very comfortable surprise. Then they 
 asked her of her welfare, and if these young men were 
 her husband's sons. And when she had told them they 
 were, they said, The King whom you love and serve make 
 you as your father, and bring you where he is in peace. 
 
MR MNASON'S 389 
 
 HON. Then Mr. Honest (when they were all sat down) 
 asked Mr. Contrite and the rest in what posture Som< ; talk 
 their town was at present. B^Sted' 
 
 CONTRITE. You may be sure we are full of Contrite - 
 hurry in fair-time. It is hard keeping our hearts and 
 spirits in any good order when we are in a 
 
 7 ... TT , ,. . The fruit of 
 
 cumbered condition. He that lives in such a watchful- 
 place as this is, and that has to do with such as 
 we have, has need of an item, to caution him to take heed, 
 every moment of the day. 
 
 HON. But how are your neighbours for quietness ? 
 
 CONTRITE. They are much more moderate now than 
 formerly. You know how Christian and Faithful p ersecut ; on 
 were used at our town ; but of late, I say, they vanity h Faif 
 have been far more moderate. I think the blood as formerl y- 
 of Faithful lieth with load upon them till now ; for since 
 they burned him, they have been ashamed to burn any more. 
 In those days we were afraid to walk the streets, but now 
 we can show our heads. Then the name of a professor was 
 odious ; now, specially 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 happeneth to wayfaring 
 men ; sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul, some- 
 times up-hill, sometimes down-hill ; we are seldom at a 
 certainty ; the wind is not always 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, of old, A good man must 
 suffer trouble. 
 
390 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 CONTRITE. 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. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. We have been beset three or four times 
 already. First, Christiana and her children were beset 
 with two ruffians, that they feared would have taken 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 c Gaius, mine host, 
 and of the whole church,' we were minded 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 
 thereabout, so we looked, and looked, till at last we dis- 
 cerned the mouth of his cave ; then we were glad and 
 plucked up our spirits. So we approached up to his den ; 
 and, lo, when we came there, he had dragged by mere 
 force into his net this poor man, Mr. Feeble-mind, and was 
 about to bring him to his end. But when he saw us, 
 supposing, as we thought, he had had another prey, he left 
 the poor man in his hole, 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 wayside 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. 
 
 FEEBLE. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, I found this true 
 to my cost, and comfort : to my cost, when he threatened 
 ot pick my bones every moment ; and to my comfort, 
 
SUPPER AT MR fMNASON'S 391 
 
 when I saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends with their 
 weapons approach so near for my deliverance. 
 
 HOLY-MAN. Then said Mr. Holy-man, There are two 
 things that they have need to be possessed with ^ ^ _ 
 that go on pilgrimage : courage, and an un- man's 
 spotted life. If they have not courage, they can 
 never hold on their way j and if their lives be loose, they 
 will make the very name of a pilgrim stink. 
 
 LOVE-SAINT. Then said Mr. Love-saint, I hope this 
 caution is not needful amongst you. But truly there are 
 many that go upon the road, that rather declare 
 
 J fe . ' Mr. Love- 
 
 themselves strangers to pilgrimage, than strangers saint's 
 
 . . speech. 
 
 and pilgrims in the earth. 
 
 DARE-NOT-LIE. Then said Mr. Dare-not-lie, 'Tis true, 
 
 they neither have the pilgrim's weed, nor the 
 
 ] .,1111 Mr - Dare - 
 
 pilgrim's courage j they go not uprightly, but all not-iie his 
 
 awry with their feet ; one shoe goes inward, 
 
 another outward, and their hosen out behind ; there a rag, 
 
 and there a rent, to the disparagement of their Lord. 
 
 PENITENT. These things, said Mr. Penitent, they ought 
 to be troubled for, nor are the pilgrims like to M r .p en i ten t 
 have that grace put upon them and their hlss P eech - 
 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 ; unto which they went and 
 refreshed their weary bodies ; so they went to rest. Now 
 they stayed in this fair a great while, at the house of this 
 Mr. Mnason, who in process of time gave his daughter 
 Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife, and his 
 daughter Martha 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 
 
392 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 grew acquainted with many of the good people of the town, 
 and did them what service they could. Mercy, as she was 
 wont, laboured 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 place. 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 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 j but all men fled when they 
 heard of the noise of his coming. 
 
 The monster was like unto no one beast upon the earth ; 
 
 its body was like a dragon, and it had seven heads 
 His shape.' and ten horns. It made great havoc of children, 
 
 His nature. . 
 
 and yet it was governed by a woman. This 
 monster ^propounded conditions to men, and such men as 
 loved their lives more than their souls, accepted of those 
 conditions. So they came under. 
 
 Now this Mr. Great-heart, together with these that 
 came to visit the pilgrims at Mr. Mnason's house, entered 
 into a covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps they 
 might deliver the people of this town from the paws and 
 mouth of this so devouring a serpent. 
 
 Then did Mr. Great-heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, 
 HOW he is Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, with their 
 engaged. 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 
 
d TERRIBLE MONSTER 393 
 
 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 j also these seasons did these valiant 
 worthies watch him in, and did still continually assault him, 
 insomuch that in process of time he became not only 
 wounded, but lame ; also, he has not made that havoc of 
 the townsmen's children as formerly he has done ; and 
 it is verily believed by some that this beast will 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 understand more than a beast ; these had no 
 reverence for these men, nor took they notice of their 
 valour or adventures. 
 
 Well, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go on 
 their way ; wherefore they prepared for their journey. 
 They sent for their friends, they conferred with them, 
 they had some time set apart, therein to commit each other 
 to the protection of their Prince. There was 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 
 
 Acts 28. 10. 
 
 necessary. 
 
 Then they set forwards on their way ; and their friends 
 accompanying them so far as was convenient, they again 
 committed each other to the protection of their King, and 
 parted. 
 
394 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 They, therefore, that were of the pilgrims' company 
 went on, and Mr. Great-heart went before 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. Feeble-mind had more to sympathise with their 
 condition. 
 
 When they were gone from the townsmen, and when 
 their friends had bid them farewell, they quickly came to 
 the place where Faithful was put to death. There there- 
 fore 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 manly 
 suffering as his was. 
 
 They went on therefore after this, a good way further, 
 talking of Christian and Faithful, and how Hopeful joined 
 himself to Christian after that Faithful was dead. 
 
 Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre, where 
 Part x the silver mine was which took Demas off from 
 
 page 172. j^g pilgrimage, and into which, as some think, 
 By-ends fell and perished j wherefore they considered that. 
 But when they were come to the old monument that stood 
 over against the Hill Lucre, to wit, to the Pillar of Salt, 
 that stood also within view of Sodom and its stinking lake, 
 they marvelled, as did Christian before, that men of that 
 knowledge and ripeness of wit as they were should be so 
 blinded as to turn aside here. Only they considered again, 
 that nature is not affected with the harms that others have 
 met with, specially if that thing upon which they look has 
 an attracting virtue upon the foolish eye. 
 
 I saw now that they went on till they came at the 
 Parti. river that was on this side of the Delectable 
 page 176. Mountains ; to the river where the fine trees 
 grow on both sides, and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, 
 
THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL 395 
 
 are good against surfeits ; where the meadows are green 
 all the year long j and where they might lie ^ 
 down safely. 
 
 By this river-side, in the meadow, there were cotes and 
 folds for sheep, an house built for the nourishing and bring- 
 ing up of those lambs, the babes of those women that go 
 on pilgrimage. Also there was here One that was in- 
 trusted with them, who could have compassion, Heb s> 2> 
 and that could gather these lambs with his arm Isa * 4 * " 
 and carry them in his bosom, and that could gently lead 
 those that were with young. 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 
 
 Tcr. 23. 4* 
 
 none of them might be lacking in time to come. Ez*k. 34. n 
 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. Here 
 they will never want meat, and drink, and clothing ; here 
 they will be kept from thieves and robbers ; for this man 
 will die before one of those committed to his trust shall 
 be lost. Besides, here they shall be sure to have good 
 nurture and admonition, and shall be taught to walk in 
 right paths, and that, you know, is a favour of no small 
 account. Also here, as you see, are delicate waters, pleasant 
 meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and such as bear 
 wholesome fruit ; fruit, not like that that Matthew ate 
 of, that fell over the wall out of Beelzebub's garden, but 
 fruit that procureth health where there is none, and that 
 continueth and increaseth it where it is. 
 
 So they were content to commit their little ones to 
 him ; and that which was also an encouragement to them 
 so to do was, for that all this was to be at the charge of 
 
396 THE "PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 the King, and so was as an hospital to young children and 
 orphans. 
 
 Now they went on ; and when they were come to By- 
 
 The bdn Meadow, to tne st ^ e over which Christian 
 
 come to By- went with his fellow Hopeful, when they were 
 
 path stile, . r ' . T^I- 
 
 have a mind taken by (jriant Despair and put into Doubting 
 
 to have a _, . J . . . . . 
 
 pluck with Castle : they sat down and consulted what was 
 
 Giant 111 i 
 
 Despair. best to be done ; to wit, now they were so 
 
 Parti. 111 i TV/T /-. 
 
 pages 178- strong, and had got such a man as Mr. Cjreat- 
 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 further. So one said one 
 thing, and another said the 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 commandment to resist 
 sin, to overcome evil, to fight the good fight of faith ; and 
 I pray, with whom should I fight this good fight, if not 
 with Giant Despair ? I will therefore attempt the taking 
 away of his life, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. 
 Then said he, Who will go with me ? Then said old 
 Honest, I will. And so will we too, said Christiana's four 
 sons, Matthew, Samuel, James, and Joseph ; for they were 
 i John 2 . 13, young men and strong. So they left the women 
 I4> in 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 
 
( DESPAI ( I{ j KILLE ( D 397 
 
 Despair. When they came at the Castle gate, they 
 knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. At that the 
 old giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his wife, 
 follows. Then said he, Who, and what is he that is so 
 hardy, as after this manner to molest the Giant Despair ? 
 Mr. Great-heart replied, It is I, Great-heart, one of the King 
 of the Celestial Country's conductors of pilgrims to their 
 place ; and I demand of thee that thou open thy gates for 
 my entrance. Prepare thyself also to fight, for I am come 
 to take away thy head, and to demolish Doubting Castle. 
 
 Now Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought no 
 man could overcome him : and again, thought 
 
 , c . r T u J r Despair has 
 
 he, bmce heretofore 1 nave made a conquest or overcome 
 angels, shall Great-heart make me afraid ? So 
 he harnessed himself and went out. He had a cap of steel 
 upon his head, a breastplate of fire girded to him, and he 
 came out in iron shoes, with a great club in his hand. 
 Then these six men made up to him, and beset him behind 
 and before ; also when Diffidence the giantess came up to 
 help him, old Mr. Honest cut her down at one blow. 
 Then they fought for their lives, and Giant Despair was 
 brought down to the ground, but was very loth repair is 
 to die. He struggled hard, and had, as they say, loth to die - 
 as many lives as a cat, but Great-heart was his death, for he 
 left him not till he had severed his head from his shoulders. 
 
 Then they fell to demolishing Doubting 
 Castle, 1 and that, you know, might with ease be Castiede- 
 
 /- T-\ . 11 /-i-> molished. 
 
 done, since Giant Despair was dead. They were 
 
 seven days in destroying of that ; and in it of pilgrims they 
 
 1 Though Doubting Castle be demolished, 
 And the Giant Despair hath lost his head, 
 Sin can rebuild the castle, make 't remain, 
 And make Despair the giant live again. 
 
398 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 found one Mr. Despondency, almost starved to death, and 
 one Much-afraid, his daughter ; these two they saved alive. 
 But it would have made you a-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. 
 
 MR. DESPONDENCY 
 
 When Mr. Great-heart and his companions had per- 
 formed this exploit, they took Mr. Despondency and his 
 daughter Much-afraid into their protection, for they were 
 honest people, though they were prisoners in Doubting 
 Castle to that tyrant Giant Despair. They therefore, I 
 say, took with them the head of the giant (for his body 
 
THE VELECrABLE MOUNTAINS 399 
 
 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 They have 
 merry disposed, she played them a lesson, and SEJSngfor 
 Ready-to-halt would dance. So he took De- Joy - 
 spondency's daughter, named Much-afraid, by the hand, 
 and to dancing they went in the road. True, he could 
 not dance without one crutch in his hand, but I promise 
 you he footed it well : also the girl was to be commended, 
 for she answered the music handsomely. 
 
 As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not much to 
 him, he was for feeding rather than dancing, for that he 
 was almost starved. So Christiana gave him some of her 
 bottle of spirits for present relief, and then prepared him 
 something to eat ; and in little time the old gentleman 
 came to himself, and began to be finely revived. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, when all these things were 
 finished, Mr. Great-heart took the head of Giant Despair, 
 and set it upon a pole by the highway-side, right over 
 against the pillar that Christian erected for a caution to 
 pilgrims that came after, to take heed of entering into his 
 grounds. 
 
 Then he writ under it, upon a marble stone, these verses 
 following : 
 
 This is the head of him, whose name only A Monu- 
 
 In former times did pilgrims terrify. 
 
 His Castle 's down j 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. 
 
400 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Who hereof doubts, if he '11 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 these men had thus bravely showed themselves 
 against Doubting Castle, and had slain Giant Despair, 
 they went forward, and went on till they came to the 
 Delectable Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful re- 
 freshed themselves with the varieties of the place. They 
 also acquainted themselves with the Shepherds there, who 
 welcomed them, as they had done Christian before, unto 
 the Delectable Mountains. 
 
 Now the Shepherds seeing so great a train follow Mr. 
 Great-heart (for with him they were well acquainted), 
 they said unto him, Good Sir, you have got a goodly 
 company here ; pray where did you find all these ? 
 
 Then Mr. Great-heart replied : 
 
 The guide's First, here is Christiana and her train, 
 
 116 Her SOnS > anc * ^ er SOnS ' w i yes > wno > ^e ^ e 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 eome 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 j 
 Despondency, good man, is coming after, 
 And so also is Much- afraid his daughter. 
 May we have entertainment here, or must 
 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 
 tainm e e nt. er " feeble, as for the strong. Our Prince has an eye 
 
 to what is done to the least of these ; therefore 
 infirmity must not be a block to our entertainment. So 
 
THE SHEPHERDS' FEAST 401 
 
 they had them to the palace door, and then said unto 
 them, Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind ; come in, Mr. Ready- 
 to-halt ; come in, Mr. Despondency, and Mrs. Much-afraid 
 his daughter. These, Mr. Great-heart, said the Shepherds 
 to the guide, we call in by name, for that they are most 
 subject to draw back ; but as for you, and the rest that are 
 strong, we leave you to your wonted liberty. Then said 
 Mr. Great-heart, This day I see that grace doth ^ descrip- 
 shine in your faces, and that you are my Lord's shepherds 5 . 6 
 Shepherds indeed ; for that you have not pushed Ezek - 34> 2I - 
 these diseased neither with side nor shoulder, but have 
 rather strewed their way into the palace with flowers, as 
 you should. 
 
 So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Great-heart 
 and the rest did follow. When they were also set down, 
 the Shepherds said to those of the weakest sort, What is 
 it 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 digestion, 
 and that were pleasant to the palate, and nourishing ; the 
 which when they had received, they went to their rest, 
 each one respectively unto his proper place. When 
 morning was come, because the mountains were high, 
 and the day clear, and because it was the custom of the 
 Shepherds to show to the pilgrims, before their departure, 
 some rarities ; therefore, after they were ready, and had 
 refreshed themselves, the Shepherds took them out into 
 the fields, and showed them first what they had showed 
 to Christian before. 
 
 Tlien they had them to some new places. The first was 
 to Mount Marvel, where they looked, and beheld Mount 
 a man at a distance, that tumbled the hills about MarveL 
 
 2 c 
 
402 THE TILG RIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 with words. Then they asked the Shepherds what that 
 should mean ? So they told them, that that man was the 
 Part i. son f one Great-grace, of whom you read in the 
 page 202. rst part of t j ie recor( i s of the Pilgrim's Progress. 
 And he is set there to teach pilgrims how to believe down, 
 Mark ii. 23, or to tumble out of their ways, what difficulties 
 24> they shall 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 
 Mount Innocent ; and there they saw a man clothed all 
 innocent. j n w hi te , and two men, Prejudice and Ill-will, 
 continually casting dirt upon him. Now behold the dirt, 
 whatsoever they cast at him, would in little time fall off 
 again, and his garment would look as clear as if no dirt had 
 been cast thereat. 
 
 Then said the pilgrims, What means this? The 
 Shepherds answered, This man is named Godly-man, and 
 this garment is to show the innocency of his life. Now 
 those that throw dirt at him, are such as hate his well- 
 doing - 9 but, as you see, the dirt will not stick upon his 
 clothes, so it shall be with him that liveth 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 innocence shall break 
 forth as the light, and their righteousness as the noonday. 
 
 Then they took them, and had them to Mount Charity, 
 Mount where they showed them a man that had a bundle 
 Charity. o f 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. 
 
THE HOLE IN THE HILL 403 
 
 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 a place where they saw one Fool, 
 and one Want-wit, washing of an Ethiopian, The work of 
 with intention to make him white ; but the more 
 they washed him the blacker he was. They then 
 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 an one a good name shall in conclusion 
 tend but to make him more abominable. Thus it was with 
 the Pharisees, and so shall it be with all hypocrites. 
 
 Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana 
 her mother, Mother, I would, if it might be, see Mercy has 
 the hole in the hill ; or that commonly called the l^thehoie 
 by-way to hell. So her mother brake her mind a j e 1 hi11 - 
 to the Shepherds. Then they went to the door. page I94 * 
 It was in the side of a hill, and they opened it, and bid 
 Mercy hearken a while. So she hearkened, and heard one 
 saying, Cursed be my father for holding of my feet back 
 from the way of peace and life ! 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 ! 
 Then there was as if the very earth had groaned and quaked 
 under the feet of this young woman for fear. So she 
 looked white, and came trembling away, saying, Blessed 
 be he and she that are delivered from this place. 
 
 Now when the Shepherds had showed them all these 
 things, then they had them back to the palace, and enter- 
 tained 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. 
 
404 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Her mother-in-law then asked her what she ailed, for she 
 
 looked as one not well. Then said Mercy, There 
 
 longeth.and is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining-room, 
 
 off of which I cannot take my mind ; if therefore 
 
 I have it not, I think I shall miscarry. Then said her 
 
 mother, I will mention thy wants to the Shepherds, and 
 
 they will not deny it thee. But she said, I am ashamed 
 
 that these men should know that I longed. Nay, my 
 
 daughter, said she, it is no shame, but a virtue, to long for 
 
 such a thing as that. So Mercy said, Then, mother, if 
 
 you please, ask the Shepherds if they are willing to sell it. 
 
 Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present 
 
 it was the a man one wav 5 w i tn hi s own features exactly, 
 ^ o J dof and, turn it but another way, and it would show 
 James i. 23. one t j ie ver y f ace an( j similitude of the Prince of 
 pilgrims himself. Yea, I have talked with them that can 
 tell, and they have said 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 heaven, whether in a state of 
 humiliation or in his exaltation, whether coming to suffer 
 or coming to reign. 
 
 Christiana therefore went to the Shepherds apart (now 
 Parti. t ^ le names f tne Shepherds are Knowledge, 
 
 page 190. Experience, Watchful, and Sincere), 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. 
 
 EXPERIENCE. Call her, can her ; she shall assuredly have 
 
THE SHEPHERDS' CjIFTS 405 
 
 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 not lose her 
 
 glass that hangs up in the dining-room. So 
 
 Sincere ran and fetched it, and with a joyful consent it was 
 
 given her. Then she bowed her head, and gave thanks, and 
 
 said, By this I know that I have obtained 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 joined with Mr. 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 HOW the 
 daughters; also they put earrings in their ears, fJoJjth? 
 and jewels on their foreheads. pilgrims. 
 
 When they were minded to go hence, they let them 
 go in peace, but gave not to them those certain cautions 
 which before were given to Christian and his Partl 
 companion. The reason was, for that these had page ig6 ' 
 Great-heart to be their guide, who was one that was well 
 acquainted with things, and so could give them their 
 cautions more seasonably, to wit, even then when the 
 danger was nigh the approaching. 
 
 What cautions Christian and his companions had received 
 of the Shepherds, they had also lost, by that the Part x 
 time was come that they had need to put them P a s e212 - 
 in practice. Wherefore here was the advantage that this 
 company had over the other. 
 
 From hence they went on singing, and they said : 
 
 Behold, how fitly are the stages set 
 For their relief that pilgrims are become ! 
 And how they us receive without one let, 
 That make the other life our mark and home 
 
4 o6 THE "PILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 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. 
 
 When they were gone from the Shepherds, they quickly 
 Part Xi came to the place where Christian met with one 
 page 200. 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 
 HOW one character of his rebellion at his back. And this 
 managSis ^ nave to Sa 7 concerning this man : He would 
 apostasy. hearken to no counsel, but once a-falling, per- 
 suasion 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 gnashed with his 
 teeth, and stamped, and said he was resolved to go back 
 to his own town. Before he came to the gate, he met 
 Heb. 10. 26- with Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on 
 29< 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 sword 
 drawn, and his face all bloody. Then said Mr. Great- 
 heart, What art thou ? The man made answer, saying, I 
 One Valiant- am one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I am 
 et U wUh a P% r i m > an d am going to tne Celestial City. 
 Now as I was in my way, there were three men 
 did beset me, and propounded unto me these three things : 
 I. Whether I would become one of them ? 2. Or go 
 back from whence I came ? 3. Or die upon the place ? 
 
TALE 407 
 
 To the first I answered, I had been a true man a long 
 season, and therefore it could not be expected Prov t 10 _ 
 that I now should cast in my lot with thieves. I4> 
 Then they demanded what I would say to the second. 
 So I told them that the place from whence I came, had 
 I not found incommodity there, I had not forsaken it at 
 all ; but finding it altogether unsuitable to me, 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 that I should lightly give it 
 away. Besides, you have nothing to do thus 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 then. 
 
 So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of above 
 three hours. They have left upon me, as you 
 see, some of the marks of their valour, and have behlved 
 
 i . i i i f -r-i himself, and 
 
 also carried away with them some of mine. They put them to 
 
 ! T i flight. 
 
 are but just now gone : I suppose they might, 
 
 as the saying is, hear your horse dash, and so they betook 
 
 them to flight. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. But here was great odds, three against 
 one. 
 
 VALIANT. 'Tis true, but little and more are wond'ers"? 
 nothing to him that has the truth on his side. 
 'Though an host should encamp against me,' said one, 
 c my heart shall not fear : though war should rise 
 against me, in this will I be confident,' etc. 
 Besides, said he, I have read in some records, that one man 
 has fought an army ; and how many did Samson slay with 
 the jaw-bone of an ass ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Then said the guide, Why did you not 
 cry out, that some might have come in for your succour ? 
 
408 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 VALIANT. So I did to my King, who I knew could 
 hear, and afford invisible help, and that was sufficient 
 for me. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Then said Great-heart to Mr. Valiant- 
 
 for-truth, Thou hast worthily behaved thyself: let me see 
 
 thy sword. So he showed it him. When he had taken 
 
 it in his hand, and looked thereon a while, he 
 
 Isa. 27 
 
 said, Ha ! it is a right Jerusalem blade. 
 
 VALIANT. It is so. Let a man have one of these blades, 
 
 E P h. 6. 12- 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. 
 
 Heb 12 """ ts ec % es w ^ ne ver blunt. It will cut flesh and 
 
 bones, and soul, and spirit, and all. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. But you fought a great while ; I wonder 
 you was not weary. 
 
 VALIANT. I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand ; 
 2 Sam 2 anc * wnen tne 7 were joined together, as if a 
 10. sword grew out of my arm, and when the blood 
 
 The Word. D ' ' 
 
 The Faith, ran through my fingers, then I fought with most 
 courage. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Thou hast done well. Thou hast re- 
 sisted unto blood, striving against sin. Thou shalt abide 
 by us, come in and go out with us ; for we are thy com- 
 panions. 
 
 Then they took him, and washed his wounds, and gave 
 him of what they had to refresh him ; and so they went 
 on 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 
 with his company them that were feeble and weak, there- 
 fore he questioned with him about many things ; as, first, 
 what countryman he was ? 
 
TALE 409 
 
 VALIANT. I am of Dark-land ; for there I was born, 
 and there my father and mother are still. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Dark-land, said the guide ; doth not that 
 lie up on the same coast with the City of Destruction ? 
 
 VALIANT. Yes, it doth. Now, that which caused me 
 to come on pilgrimage was this : We had one ^^ Mr 
 Mr. Tell-true came into our parts, and he told Valiant 
 it about what Christian had done, that went from on piigrim- 
 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 at all his Lord's 
 lodgings, specially when he came to the gates of the 
 Celestial City ; for there, said the man, he was received 
 with sound of trumpet by a company of Shining Ones. 
 He told it also how all the bells in the city did ring for 
 joy at his reception, and what golden garments he was 
 clothed with ; with many other things that now I shall 
 forbear to relate. In a word, that man so told the story 
 of Christian and his travels, that my heart fell into a burn- 
 ing haste to be gone after him ; nor could father or mother 
 stay me : so I got from them, and am come thus far on 
 my way. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. You came in at the gate, did you not ? 
 
 VALIANT. Yes, yes ; for the same man also told us that 
 all would be nothing, if we did not begin to enter He begins 
 this way at the gate. right< 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Look you, said the guide to Christiana, 
 the pilgrimage of your husband, and what he has 
 
 ... , , , ., Christian's 
 
 gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and near. name 
 
 VALIANT. Why, is this Christian's wife ? 
 
410 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Yes, that it is; and these are also her 
 four sons. 
 
 VALIANT. What ! and going on pilgrimage too ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Yes, verily ; they are following after. 
 
 VALIANT. It glads me at heart ! Good man ! how 
 He is much }J^ wl ^ ne be, when he shall see them that 
 sefchris- would not go with him, yet to enter after him 
 
 tian's wife. m at t fa g ates j ntQ the Q ^ j 
 
 GREAT-HEART. 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 his children. 
 
 VALIANT. 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 ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Do they think they shall know them- 
 selves then ? or that they shall rejoice to see themselves in 
 that bliss ? And if they think they shall know and do 
 these, why not know others, and rejoice in their welfare 
 also ? 
 
 Again, since relations are our second self, though that 
 state will be dissolved there, yet why may it not be ration- 
 ally concluded that we shall be more glad to see them there, 
 than to see they are wanting ? 
 
 VALIANT. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to 
 this. Have you any more things to ask me about my 
 beginning to come on pilgrimage ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Yes. Were your father and mother 
 willing that you should become a pilgrim ? 
 
 VALIANT. O no ! They used all means imaginable to 
 persuade me to stay at home. 
 
 GREAT- HEART. Why, what could they say against 
 it? 
 
 VALIANT. They said it was an idle life j and if I myself 
 
VALIANTS STUMBLING-BLOCKS 411 
 
 were not inclined to sloth and laziness, I would never 
 countenance a pilgrim's condition. The ^^ t 
 
 GREAT-HEART. And what did they say else ? JjJ^ 1 ^ 
 VALIANT. Why, they told me that it was a by his 
 
 ' ' J , friends 
 
 dangerous way ; yea, the most dangerous way in were laid 
 the world, said they, is that which the pilgrims go. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Did they show wherein this way is so 
 dangerous ? 
 
 VALIANT. Yes, and that in many particulars. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Name some of them. 
 
 VALIANT. They told me of the Slough of Despond, 
 where Christian was well-nigh smothered. They ^^ ^ 
 told me that there were archers standing ready stumbiing- 
 in Beelzebub Castle to shoot them that 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 ruins that the pilgrims met with there. Further, they 
 said I must go over the Enchanted Ground, which was 
 dangerous. And that after all this, I should find a river, 
 over which I should find no bridge, and that that river did 
 lie betwixt me and the Celestial Country. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. And was this all ? 
 
 VALIANT. No. They also told me that this way was 
 full of deceivers, and of persons that lay await 
 
 5 J The second. 
 
 there, to turn good men out of the path. 
 
412 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 GREAT-HEART. But how did they make that out ? 
 VALIANT. They told me that Mr. Worldly- Wiseman 
 did there lie in wait to deceive. They also said 
 
 The third. ' 
 
 that there was Formality and Hypocrisy con- 
 tinually on the road. They said also that By-ends, Talka- 
 tive, or Demas would go near to gather me up ; that the 
 Flatterer would catch me in his net ; or that, with green- 
 headed Ignorance, I would presume to go on to the gate, 
 from whence he always was sent back to the hole that v/as 
 in the side of the hill, and made to go the by-way to hell. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. I promise you this was enough to dis- 
 courage. But did they make an end here ? 
 
 VALIANT. No ; stay. They told me also of many that 
 had tried that way of old, and that had gone a 
 
 The fourth. . ' > 
 
 great way therein, to see if they could nnd some- 
 thing of the glory there, that so many had so much talked 
 of from time to time ; and how they came back again, 
 and befooled themselves for setting a foot out of doors 
 in that path, to the satisfaction of all the country. And 
 they named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pliable, 
 Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist, with 
 several more, who, they said, had, some of them, gone far 
 to see if they could find, but not one of them found so 
 much advantage by going, as amounted to the weight of 
 a feather. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Said they anything more to discourage 
 you ? 
 
 VALIANT. Yes, they told me of one Mr. Fearing, who 
 was a pilgrim, and how he found this way so 
 
 The fifth. ,. J 
 
 solitary that he never had comfortable hour 
 tnerein ; also that Mr. Despondency had like to have been 
 starved therein ; yea, and also, which I had almost forgot, 
 that Christian himself, about whom there has been such 
 
FALIANTS VICTORY 413 
 
 a noise, after all his ventures for a celestial crown, was 
 certainly drowned in the Black River, and never went 
 foot further, however it was smothered up. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. And did none of these things discourage 
 you? 
 
 VALIANT. No ; they seemed but as so many nothings 
 to me. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. How came that about ? 
 
 VALIANT. Why, I still believed what Mr. Tell-true had 
 said ; and that carried me beyond them all. How he got 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Then this was your victory, ^{,^1- 
 even your faith. blocks - 
 
 VALIANT. 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, 
 He '11 with a giant fight, 
 But he will have a right 
 To be a pilgrim. 
 
 Hobgoblin nor foul fiend 
 
 Can daunt his spirit ; 
 He knows he at the end 
 
 Shall life inherit. 
 
414 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Then fancies fly away j 
 He '11 fear not what men say ; 
 He '11 labour night and day 
 To be a pilgrim. 
 
 By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, 
 Partl> where the air naturally tended to make one 
 page 214. drowsy. And that place was all grown over 
 with briars 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 they shall rise or wake again in this world. Over 
 this forest, therefore, they went, both one with another, 
 and Mr. Great-heart went before, for that he was the 
 guide ; and Mr. Valiant-for-truth, he came behind, being 
 there a 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 as they 
 could ; Feeble-mind, Mr. Great-heart commanded should 
 come up after him ; and Mr. Despondency was under the 
 eye of Mr. Valiant. 
 
 Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and dark- 
 ness fell upon them all ; so that they could scarce, for a 
 great while, see the one the other. Wherefore they were 
 forced, for some time, to feel for one another by words ; 
 for they walked not by sight. 
 
 But any one must think that here was but sorry going 
 for the best of them all, but how much, worse for the 
 women and children, who both of feet and heart were but 
 tender. Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words 
 of him that led in the front, and of him that brought them 
 up behind, they made a pretty good shift to wag along. 
 
THE ENCHANTET* (fROUND 415 
 
 The way also was 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 sigh- 
 ing. 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 come at an arbour, warm, and promising 
 much refreshing to the pilgrims ; for it was An ar b our 
 finely wrought above-head, beautified with greens, ^chanting 
 furnished with benches and settles. It also had Ground - 
 in it a soft couch, whereon the weary might lean. This, 
 you must think, all things considered, was tempting, for 
 the pilgrims already began to be foiled with the badness 
 of the way ; but there was not one of them that made so 
 much as a motion to stop there. Yea, for aught I could 
 perceive, they continually gave so good heed to the advice 
 of their guide, and he did so faithfully tell them of dangers, 
 and of the nature of dangers when they were at them, 
 that usually, when they were nearest to them, they did 
 most pluck up their spirits, and hearten one 
 
 , ' _,, . The name 
 
 another to deny the flesh. This arbour was of the 
 called the SlothfuPs 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 
 
 7 8 . , ' ^_ The way 
 
 at which a man is apt to lose his way. Now, difficult to 
 
 though when it was light, their guide could well 
 
 enough tell how to miss those ways that led wrong, yet 
 
416 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 in the dark he was put to a stand ; but he had in his 
 The guide pocket a map of all ways leading to or from the 
 ofau ways Celestial City ; wherefore he struck a light (for 
 o e r a fro n m the ne ney e r goes also without his tinder-box) and 
 city * takes a view of his book or map, which bids 
 
 him be careful, in that place, to turn to the right-hand 
 way. And had he not here been careful to look in his map, 
 they had all, in 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 pil- 
 grimage but would have one of these maps about him, that 
 he may look when he is at a stand, which is 
 
 God's Book. . 3 
 
 the way he must take r 
 
 They went on then in this Enchanted Ground till they 
 came to where was another arbour, and it was built by the 
 An arbour highway-side. And in that arbour there lay two 
 asiee two men, whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. 
 therein. These two went thus far on pilgrimage ; but 
 here, being wearied with their journey, they sat down 
 to rest themselves, and so fell fast asleep. When the 
 pilgrims saw them, they stood still and shook their 
 heads, for they knew that the sleepers were in a 
 pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether 
 to go on and leave them in their sleep, or to step to 
 them and try to awake them. So they concluded to 
 go to them and wake them, that is, if they could ; 
 but with this caution, namely, to take heed that them- 
 selves did not sit down nor embrace the offered benefit 
 of that arbour. 
 
 So they went in and spake to the men, and called each 
 
THE FATAL SLEEP 417 
 
 by his name (for the guide, it seems, did know them) ; 
 but there was no voice nor answer. Then 
 the guide did shake them, and do what he could try to wake 
 to disturb them. Then said one of them, I will 
 pay you when I take my money. At which the guide shook 
 his head. I will fight so long as I can hold my sword in my 
 hand, said the other. At that one of the children laughed. 
 Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this ? 
 The guide said, They talk in their sleep. If you 
 
 .. b , J , Their en- 
 
 Strike them, beat them, or whatever else you do deavouris 
 
 to them, they will answer you after this fashion ; 
 or as one of them said in old time, when the waves of the 
 sea did beat upon him, and he slept as one upon the mast 
 of a ship, < When I awake, I will seek it again.' Prov 23 34) 
 You know, when men talk in their sleep, they 35- 
 say anything ; but their words are not governed either by 
 faith or reason. There is an incoherency in their words 
 now, as there was before, betwixt their going on pil- 
 grimage, and sitting down here. This, then, is the 
 mischief of it, when heedless ones go on pilgrimage, 'tis 
 twenty to one but they are served thus. For this En- 
 chanted Ground is one of the last refuges that the enemy 
 to pilgrims has ; wherefore it is, as you see, placed almost 
 at the end of the way, and so it standeth against us with 
 the more advantage. For when, thinks the enemy, will 
 these fools be so desirous to sit down as when they are 
 weary ? and when so like to be weary as when almost at their 
 journey's end ? Therefore it is, I say, that the Enchanted 
 Ground is placed so nigh to the land Beulah, and so near 
 the end of their race. Wherefore let pilgrims look to 
 themselves, lest it happen to them as it has done to these, 
 that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none can wake 
 them. 
 
 2 D 
 
418 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 Then the pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward ; 
 
 The light of on ty tnev P ra 7 e d their guide to strike a light, 
 
 the Word. fl^ t h e y m jght go the rest of their way by the 
 
 help of the light of a lantern. So he struck a light, and 
 
 they went by the help of that through the rest 
 
 of this way, though the darkness was very great. 
 
 But the children began to be sorely weary, and they 
 
 cried out unto Him that loveth pilgrims, to make 
 
 The children . . *1 & , ' 
 
 cryforweari- their way more comfortable. So by that they 
 had gone a little further, a wind arose, that drove 
 
 away the fog ; so the air became more clear. 
 
 Yet they were not off (by much) of the Enchanted 
 
 Ground ; only now they could see one another better, 
 
 and the way wherein they should walk. 
 
 Now when they were almost at the end of this ground, 
 
 they perceived that, a little before them, was a solemn 
 
 noise, as of one that was much concerned. So they went 
 
 on and looked before them ; and, behold, they saw, as they 
 thought, a man upon his knees, with hands and 
 
 Stand-fast & ' . . 
 
 upon his eyes lift up, and speaking, as they thought, 
 
 knees in the , , . ~. . 
 
 Enchanted earnestly to one that was above. 1 hey drew 
 nigh, but could not tell what he said ; so they 
 went softly till he had done. When he had done, he got 
 up and began to run towards the Celestial City. Then 
 Mr. Great-heart called after him, saying, Soho ! friend, 
 let us have your company, if you go, as I suppose you do, 
 to the Celestial City. So the man stopped, and they came 
 up to him. But so soon as Mr. Honest saw him, he said, 
 I know this man. Then said Mr. Valiant-for-truth, Prithee, 
 who is it ? 'Tis one, said he, that comes from whereabouts 
 The story of ^ dwelt. His name is Stand-fast ; he is certainly 
 stand-fast. a right good pilgrim. 
 
 So they came up one to another ; and presently Stand- 
 
STAND-FASTS TALE 419 
 
 fast said to old Honest, Ho, Father Honest, are you there ? 
 Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as you are there. 
 
 , I * r. i r i T i Talk betwixt 
 
 Right glad am I. said Mr. Stand-fast, that I have him and Mr. 
 
 A i 11 T Honest. 
 
 found you on this road. And as glad am I, 
 said the other, that I espied you upon your knees. Then 
 Mr. Stand-fast blushed, and said, But why, did you see 
 me ? Yes, that I did, quoth the other, and with my heart 
 was glad at the sight. Why, what did you think ? said 
 Stand-fast. Think ! said old Honest j what should I think ? 
 I thought we had an honest man upon the road, and there- 
 fore should have his company by and by. If you thought 
 not amiss, how happy am I ! But if I be not as I should, 
 I alone must bear it. That is true, said the other; but 
 your fear doth further confirm me that things are right 
 betwixt the Prince of pilgrims and your soul ; for he saith, 
 ' Blessed is the man that feareth always.' 
 
 VALIANT. Well, but brother, I pray thee tell us what 
 was it that was the cause of thy being; upon thy 
 
 a TXT- r u i They found 
 
 knees even now: Was it for that some special him at 
 mercy laid obligations upon thee, or how ? 
 
 STAND-FAST. Why, we are, as you see, upon the En- 
 chanted Ground ; and as I was coming along, I was musing 
 with myself of what a dangerous road the road in What it was 
 this place was, and how many that had come fj-mup^nht 
 even thus far on pilgrimage had here been stopped, knees 
 and been destroyed. I thought also of the manner of the 
 death with which this place destroyeth men. Those that 
 die here die of no violent distemper. The death which 
 such die is not grievous to them ; for he that goeth away 
 in a sleep begins that journey with desire and pleasure ; yea, 
 such acquiesce in the will of that disease. 
 
 HON. Then Mr. Honest, interrupting of him, said, Did 
 you see the two men asleep in the arbour ? 
 
420 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 STAND-FAST. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold 
 there, and for aught I know, there they will lie 
 till they rot. But let me go on in my tale. As 
 I was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very pleasant 
 attire, but old, that presented herself unto me, and offered 
 me three things, to wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. 
 Now the truth is, I was both a-weary and sleepy ; I am 
 also as poor as an owlet, and that, perhaps, the witch knew. 
 Well, I repulsed her once and twice, but she put by my 
 repulses, and smiled. Then I began to be angry, but she 
 mattered that nothing at all. Then she made offers again, 
 and said, If I would be ruled by her, she would make me 
 great and happy ; for, said she, I am the mistress of the 
 world, and men are made happy by me. Then I asked her 
 name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This set 
 Madam me further from her ; but she still followed me 
 Sis vam* with enticements. Then I betook me, as you 
 see, to my knees, and with hands lift up and 
 cries, I prayed to Him that had said he would help. So, 
 just as you came up, the gentlewoman went her way. 
 Then I continued to give thanks for this my great deliver- 
 ance ; for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather 
 sought to make stop of me in my journey. 
 
 HON. Without doubt her designs were bad. But stay, 
 now you talk of her, methinks I either have seen her, or 
 have read some story of her. 
 
 STAND-FAST. Perhaps you have done both. 
 
 HON. Madam Bubble ! is she not a tall, comely dame, 
 something of a swarthy complexion ? 
 
 STAND -FAST. Right, you hit it; she is just such an 
 one. 
 
 HON. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give you a 
 smile at the end of a sentence ? 
 
MADAM BVBBLE 
 
422 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 STAND-FAST. You fall right upon it again, for these are 
 her very actions. 
 
 HON. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side, and 
 is not her hand often in it, fingering her money, as if that 
 was her heart's delight ? 
 
 STAND-FAST. 'Tis just so ; had she stood by all this 
 while, you could not more amply have set her forth before 
 me, nor have better described her features. 
 
 HON. Then he that drew her picture was a good limner, 
 and he that wrote of her said true. 
 
 GREAT-HEART. This woman is a witch, and it is by 
 virtue of her sorceries that this ground is en- 
 chanted. Whoever doth lay their head down 
 in her lap, had as good lay it down upon that block over 
 James 4 . 4 . which the axe doth hang ; and whoever lay their 
 i John 2 . 15. eves U p 0n h er beauty, are counted the enemies of 
 God. This is she that maintaineth in their splendour all 
 those that are the enemies of pilgrims ; yea, this is she that 
 has bought off many a man from a pilgrim's life. She is a 
 great gossiper ; she is always, both she and her daughters, 
 at one pilgrim's heels or other, now commending, and then 
 preferring the excellencies of this life. She is a bold and 
 impudent slut ; she will talk with any man. She always 
 laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn, but highly commends the 
 rich. If there be one cunning to get money in a place, she 
 will speak well of him from house to house. She loveth 
 banqueting and feasting mainly well ; she is always at one 
 full table or another. She has given it out in some places 
 that she is a goddess, and therefore some do worship her. 
 She has her times and open places of cheating ; and she will 
 say and avow it, that none can Jshow a good comparable to 
 hers. She promiseth to dwell with children's children, if 
 they will but love and make much of her. She will cast 
 
THE PILGRIM'S V4NGERS 423 
 
 out of her purse gold like dust, in some places, and to 
 some persons. She loves to be sought after, spoken well 
 of, and to lie in the bosoms of men. She is never weary of 
 commending her commodities, and she loves them most that 
 think best of her. She will promise to some crowns and 
 kingdoms if they will but take her advice, yet many has she 
 brought to the halter, and ten thousand times more to hell. 
 
 STAND-FAST. Oh ! said Stand- fast, what a mercy is it 
 that I did resist her ; for whither might she have drawn me ? 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Whither ! nay, none but God knows 
 whither. But in general, to be sure, she would have 
 drawn thee ' into many foolish and hurtful lusts, 
 
 ; . , .... i Tim. 6.9. 
 
 which drown men in destruction and perdition. 
 
 'Twas she that set Absalom against his father, and 
 Jeroboam against his master. 'Twas she that persuaded 
 Judas to sell his Lord ; and that prevailed with Demas to 
 forsake the godly pilgrim's life. None can tell of the 
 mischief that she doth. She makes variance betwixt rulers 
 and subjects, betwixt parents and children, betwixt neighbour 
 and neighbour, betwixt a man and his wife, betwixt a man 
 and himself, betwixt the flesh and the heart. 
 
 Wherefore, good Master Stand-fast, be as your name is, 
 and when you have done all, stand. 
 
 At this discourse there was among the pilgrims a mixture 
 of joy and trembling, but at length they brake out, and 
 sang : 
 
 What danger is the pilgrim in ! 
 
 How many are his foes ! 
 How many ways there are to sin 
 
 No living mortal knows. 
 Some of the ditch shy are, yet can 
 
 Lie tumbling in the mire : 
 Some, though they shun the frying-pan, 
 Do leap into the fire. 
 
424. THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 After this I beheld, until they were come unto the land 
 Part i. f Beulah, where the sun shineth night and day. 
 page 235. Here, because they were weary, they betook 
 themselves a while to rest. And because this country was 
 common for pilgrims, and because the orchards and vine- 
 yards that were here belonged to the King of the Celestial 
 Country, therefore they were licensed to make bold with 
 any of his things. But a little while soon refreshed them 
 here ; for the bells did so ring, and the trumpets continually 
 sound so melodiously, that they could not sleep j and yet 
 they received as much refreshing as if they had slept their 
 sleep never so soundly. Here also all the noise of them 
 that walked the streets was, More pilgrims are come to 
 town. And another would answer, saying, And so many 
 went over the water, and were let in at the golden gates 
 to-day. They would cry again, There is now a legion of 
 Shining Ones just come to town, by which we know that 
 there are more pilgrims upon the road, for here they come 
 to wait for them, and to comfort them after all their 
 sorrow. Then the pilgrims got up and walked to and 
 fro ; but how were their ears now filled with heavenly 
 noises, and their eyes delighted with celestial visions ! In 
 this land they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, 
 smelt nothing, tasted nothing, that was offensive to their 
 stomach or mind ; only when they tasted of the water of 
 Death bitter tne r i yer j over which they were to go, they 
 butswee? h to thought that tasted a little bitterish to the palate, 
 but it proved sweeter when it was down. 
 
 In this place there was a record kept of the names of 
 them that had been pilgrims of old, and a history of all the 
 famous acts that they had done. It was here also much 
 discoursed how the river to some had had its flowings, 
 and what ebbings it has had while others have gone over. 
 
THE MESSAGE TO CHRISTIANA 425 
 
 It has been in a manner dry for some, while it has over- 
 flowed its banks for others. 
 
 T i i i i M i /-i 11 Death has 
 
 In this place, the children of the town would its ebbings 
 
 , -r,. . . , , , and flow- 
 
 gO into the Kings gardens and gather nose- ings like 
 
 gays for the pilgrims, and bring them to them 
 with much affection. Here also grew camphire with 
 spikenard, and saffron, calamus, and cinnamon, with all its 
 trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, with all chief 
 spices. With these the pilgrims' chambers were perfumed, 
 while they stayed here j and with these were their bodies 
 anointed, to prepare them to go over the river when the 
 time appointed was come. 
 
 Now, while they lay here, and waited for the good 
 hour, there was a noise in the town that there was a post 
 come from the Celestial City, with matter of A messenger 
 great importance, to one Christiana, the wife of sen?to th 
 Christian the pilgrim. So inquiry was made for Christiana - 
 her, and the house was found out where she was. So the 
 post presented her with a letter, the contents whereof was, 
 Hail, good woman, I bring thee tidings that the H ismes- 
 Master calleth for thee, and expecteth that thou sage> 
 shouldest stand in his presence, in clothes of immortality, 
 within this ten days. 
 
 When he had read this letter to her, he gave her 
 
 therewith a sure token that he was a true 
 
 i 1-11 i How wel " 
 
 messenger, and was come to bid her make come is 
 
 , ^, death to 
 
 haste to be gone. The token was, an arrow them that 
 
 . . 1-111 M have nothing 
 
 with a point sharpened with love, let easily to do but 
 
 , .f. , , , J to die. 
 
 into her heart, which by degrees wrought so 
 effectually with her, that at the time appointed she must 
 be gone. 
 
 When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that 
 she was the first of this company that was to go over, she 
 
426 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 called for Mr. Great-heart, her guide, and told him how 
 matters were. So he told her he was heartily 
 glad of the news, and could have been glad had 
 
 the post come for him. Then she bid that he 
 should give advice how all things should be prepared for 
 her journey. So he told her, saying, Thus and thus it 
 must be, and we that survive will accompany you to the 
 river-side. 
 
 Then she called for her children, and gave them her 
 TO her blessing, and told them that she yet read with 
 children. comfort the mark that was set in their foreheads, 
 and was glad to see them with her there, and that they 
 had kept their garments so white. Lastly, she bequeathed 
 to the poor that little she had, and commanded her sons 
 and her daughters to be ready against the messenger should 
 come for them. 
 
 When she had spoken these words to her guide and to 
 TO Mr. ner children, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-truth, 
 and said unto him, Sir, you have in all places 
 showed yourself true-hearted ; be faithful unto death, and 
 my King will give you a crown of life. I would also 
 entreat you to have an eye to my children, and if at any 
 time you see them faint, speak comfortably to them. 
 For my daughters, my sons' wives, they have been 
 TO Mr. faithful, and a fulfilling of the promise upon 
 
 Stand-fast. them W ; U be their ^ But ghe gaye Mn 
 
 Stand-fast a ring. 
 
 Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, 
 Toold Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile. 
 Honest. Then said he^ I wish you a fair day when you 
 set out for Mount Zion, and shall be glad to see that you 
 go over the river dry-shod. But she answered, Come wet, 
 come dry, I long to be gone ; for however the weather is 
 
CHRISTIANA'S TARTING WORDS 427 
 
 in my journey, I shall have time enough when I come 
 there to sit down and rest me, and dry me. 
 
 Then came in that good man, Mr. Ready-to-halt, to 
 see her. So she said to him, Thy travel hither 
 has been with difficulty, but that will make thy Ready-to- 
 rest the sweeter. But watch and be ready, for 
 at an hour when you think not, the messenger may come. 
 
 After him came in Mr. Despondency, and his daughter 
 Much-afraid, to whom she said, You ought with To De . 
 thankfulness, for ever to remember your deliver- a ncThfs ncy 
 ance from the hands of Giant Despair, and out dau s hter - 
 of Doubting Castle. The effect of that mercy is, that you 
 are brought with safety hither. Be ye watchful, and cast 
 away fear ; be sober, and hope to the end. 
 
 Then she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered 
 from the mouth of Giant Slay-good, that thou To Feeble- 
 mightest live in the light of the living for ever, mind " 
 and see thy King with comfort. Only I advise thec to 
 repent thee of thy aptness to fear and doubt of his good- 
 ness before he sends for thee ; lest thou shouldest, when he 
 comes, be forced to stand before him for that fault with 
 blushing. 
 
 Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. 
 So the road was full of people to see her take her Her last 
 journey. But behold all the banks beyond the ^Tnner^f 
 river were full of horses and chariots, which were de P arture - 
 come down from above to accompany her to the city gate. 
 So she came forth and entered the river, with a beckon of 
 farewell to those that followed her to the river-side. The 
 last word she was heard to say here was, I come, Lord, to 
 be with thee, and bless thee. 
 
 So her children and friends returned to their place, for 
 that those that waited for Christiana had carried her out 
 
428 THE TILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 of their sight. So she went and called, and entered in at 
 the gate with all the ceremonies of joy that her husband 
 Christian had done before her. 
 
 At her departure her children wept, but Mr. Great-heart 
 and Mr. Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and 
 harp for joy. So all departed to their respective places. 
 
 In process of time there came a post to the town again, 
 and his business was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. 
 
 Ready-to- r t_ i_ j i _"* T 
 
 halt sum- bo he inquired him out, and said to him, 1 am 
 come to thee in the name of Him whom thou 
 hast loved and followed, though upon crutches ; and my 
 message is to tell thee that he expects thee at his table to 
 sup with him in his kingdom, the next day after Easter ; 
 wherefore prepare thyself for this journey. 
 
 Then he also gave him a token that he was a true 
 messenger, saying, I have broken thy golden 
 
 Eccles. 12.6. . ' J . 5 .. J 
 
 bowl, and loosed thy silver cord. 
 
 After this Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow- 
 pilgrims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, and God 
 shall surely visit you also. So he desired Mr. Valiant to 
 make his will. And because he had nothing to bequeath 
 
 to them that should survive him but his crutches, 
 
 and his good wishes, therefore thus he said : 
 These crutches I bequeath to my son that shall tread in 
 
 my steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he 
 
 His will. J T , 
 
 may prove better than I have done. 
 
 Then he thanked Mr. Great-heart for his conduct and 
 kindness, and so addressed himself to his journey. When 
 he came at the brink of the river, he said, Now I shall 
 have no more need of these crutches, since yonder are 
 His last chariots and horses for me to ride on. The last 
 words. words he was heard to say were, Welcome life ! 
 So he went his way. 
 
FEEBLE-MIND'S LAST WORDS 429 
 
 After this Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him, 
 that the post sounded his horn at his chamber- Feeble-mind 
 door. Then he came in and told him, saying, ! summ oned. 
 I am come to tell thee that thy Master has need of thee, 
 and that in very little time thou must behold his face in 
 brightness. And take this as a token of the truth of my 
 message : Those that look out of the windows 
 
 i 11 i i i i Eccles. 12. 3. 
 
 shall be darkened. 
 
 Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his friends, and told 
 them what errand had been brought unto him, and what 
 token he had received of the truth of the message. Then 
 he said, Since I have nothing to bequeath to any, He makes 
 to what purpose should I make a will ? As for no wilh 
 my feeble mind, that I will leave behind me ; for that I 
 have no need of that in the place whither I go ; nor is it 
 worth bestowing upon the poorest pilgrim ; Wherefore, 
 when I am gone, I desire that you, Mr. Valiant, would 
 bury it in a dunghill. This done, and the day being come 
 in which he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest. 
 His last words were, Hold out, faith and patience. His j ast 
 So he went over to the other side. words - 
 
 When days had many of them passed away, Mr. De- 
 spondency was sent for. For a post was come, 
 and brought this message to him : Trembling spondency's 
 
 , 111-1 summons. 
 
 man, these are to summon thee to be ready with 
 
 thy King by the next Lord's day, to shout for joy for thy 
 
 deliverance from all thy doubtings. 
 
 And, said the messenger, that my message is true, take 
 this for a proof : so he gave him, < The Grass- 
 hopper to be a burden unto him.' Now Mr. 
 Despondency's daughter, whose name was Much-afraid, 
 said, when she heard what was done, that she H isdau g h- 
 would go with her father. Then Mr. Despond- ter goes too. 
 
430 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 ency said to his friends, Myself and my daughter, you 
 know what we have been, and how troublesomely we have 
 behaved ourselves in every company. My will 
 and my daughter's is, that our desponds, and 
 slavish fears, be by no man ever received, from the day of 
 our departure, for ever ; for I know that after my death 
 they will offer themselves to others. For, to be plain with 
 you, they are ghosts, the which we entertained when we 
 first began to be pilgrims, and could never shake them off 
 after ; and they will walk about and seek entertainment 
 of the pilgrims ; but for our sakes shut ye the doors upon 
 them. 
 
 When the time was come for them to depart, they went 
 His last to tne brink of the river. The last words of Mr. 
 words. Despondency were, Farewell night ; welcome day ! 
 
 His daughter went through the river singing, but none 
 could understand what she said. 
 
 Then it came to pass, a while after, that there was a 
 Mr Honest P ost m tne town tnat inquired for Mr. Honest. 
 summoned. g o j^ came to m ' s house where he was, and 
 
 delivered to his hand these lines : Thou art commanded to 
 
 be ready against this day seven-night ; to present thyself 
 
 before thy Lord at his Father's house. And for a token 
 
 that my message is true, 'All thy daughters of 
 
 Eccles. 12. 4. - i 11 i i 11 <T-I ii/r TT 
 
 music shall be brought low. Then Mr. Honest 
 called for his friends, and said unto them, I die, but shall 
 He makes make no will. As for my honesty, it shall go 
 
 with me ; let him that comes after be told of 
 this. When the day that he was to be gone was come, he 
 Good-con- addressed himself to go over the river. Now the 
 
 science helps . . J 1111- 
 
 Mr. Honest river at that time overflowed the banks in some 
 
 places, but Mr. Honest in his lifetime had spoken 
 to one Good-conscience to meet him there, the which he 
 
VALIANTS LAST WORDS 431 
 
 also did, and lent him his hand, and so helped him over. 
 The last words of Mr. Honest were, Grace reigns ! So he 
 left the world. 
 
 After this it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-for- 
 truth was taken with a summons, by the same Mr< Va iiant 
 post as the other, and had this for a token that summoned - 
 the summons was true, 'That his pitcher was broken at 
 the fountain.' When he understood it, he called 
 for his friends and told them of it. Then said 
 he, I am going to my fathers, and though with great 
 difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me of 
 all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. My 
 sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my 
 
 M i i i MI i i His will. 
 
 pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that 
 can get it. My marks and scars I carry with me, to be a 
 witness for me that I have fought His battles who now will 
 be my rewarder. When the day that he must go hence 
 was come, many accompanied him to the river-side, into 
 which as he went he said, ' Death, where is thy His last 
 sting ? ' And as he went down deeper, he said, words - 
 ' Grave, where is thy victory ? ' So he passed over, and all 
 the trumpets sounded for him on the other side. 
 
 Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Stand-fast 
 (this Mr. Stand-fast was he that the rest of the 
 pilgrims found upon his knees in the Enchanted fast is sum- 
 Ground), for the post brought it him open in his 
 hands. The contents whereof were, That he must prepare 
 for a change of life, for his Master was not willing that he 
 should be so far from him any longer. At this Mr. Stand- 
 fast was put into a muse. Nay, said the messenger, you 
 need not doubt of the truth of my message, for 
 
 i /-i 11 f , rr*-, i i EccleS. 12. 6. 
 
 here is a token of the truth thereof, c Thy wheel 
 
 is broken at the cistern.' Then he called to him Mr. Great- 
 
432 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 heart, who was their guide, and said unto him, Sir, although 
 it was not my hap to be much in your good 
 
 He calls for J . .. * 
 
 Mr. Great- company in the days of my pilgrimage, yet, since 
 the time I knew you, you have been profitable to 
 me. When I came from home, I left behind me a wife 
 His speech an ^ five small children ; let me entreat you at 
 your return (for I know that you will go and 
 return to your Master's house, in hopes that you may yet 
 be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims) that you send 
 to my family, and let them be acquainted with all that hath 
 His errand anc * sna ^ na PP en un to me. Tell them, moreover, 
 to his family. Q f m y happy arrival to this place, and of the 
 present late blessed condition that I am in. Tell them 
 also of Christian and Christiana his wife, and how she and 
 her children came after her husband. Tell them also of 
 what a happy end she made, and whither she is gone. I 
 have little or nothing to send to my family, except it be 
 prayers and tears for them ; of which it will suffice if thou 
 acquaint them, if peradventure they may prevail. 
 
 When Mr. Stand-fast had thus set things in order, and 
 the time being come for him to haste him away, he also 
 went down to the river. Now there was a great calm at 
 that time in the river ; wherefore Mr. Stand-fast, when he 
 was about half-way in, he stood a while, and talked to his 
 companions that had waited upon him thither. And he 
 said : 
 
 This river has been a terror to many j yea, the thoughts 
 
 His last f *t a ^ so nave often frightened me. But now 
 
 words. methinks I stand easy ; my foot is fixed upon 
 
 that upon which the feet of the priests that bare the ark of 
 
 the covenant stood, while Israel went over this 
 
 ; ' I? * Jordan. The waters, indeed, are to the palate 
 
 bitter, and to the stomach cold ; yet the thoughts of what 
 
STAND-FASTS LAST WORDS 433 
 
 I am going to, and of the conduct that waits for me on the 
 other side, doth lie as a glowing coal at my heart. 
 
 I see myself now at the end of my journey, my toilsome 
 days are ended. I am going now to see that head that was 
 crowned with thorns, and that face that was spit upon, 
 for me. 
 
 I have formerly lived by hearsay, and faith, but now I go 
 where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose 
 company I delight myself. 
 
 I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of, and wherever I 
 have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there I have 
 coveted to set my foot too. 
 
 His name has been to me as a civet-box ; yea, sweeter 
 than all perfumes. His voice to me has been most sweet, 
 and his countenance I have more desired than they that 
 have most desired the light of the sun. His Word I did 
 use to gather for my food, and for antidotes against my 
 faintings. He has held me, and I have kept me from 
 mine iniquities ; yea, my steps hath he strengthened in 
 his way. 
 
 Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance 
 changed, his strong man bowed under him ; and after he 
 had said, Take me, for I come unto thee, he ceased to be 
 seen of them. 
 
 But glorious it was, to see how the open region was 
 filled with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, 
 with singers and players on stringed instruments, to welcome 
 the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in 
 at the beautiful gate of the city. 
 
 As for Christian's children, the four boys that Christiana 
 brought with her, with their wives and children, I did not 
 stay where I was till they were gone over. Also, since I 
 came away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, and 
 
 2 E 
 
434 
 
 THE TILGRIM'S TROGRESS 
 
 so would be for the increase of the Church in that place 
 where they were for a time. 
 
 Shall it be my lot to go that way again, I may give those 
 
 that desire it an account of what I here am silent about. 
 
 Meantime I bid my reader Adieu. 
 
EDINBURGH 
 
 T. and A. CONSTABLE 
 
 Printers to Her Majesty 
 
 1896 
 

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