.-: 
 
 
 5s5!*'! 
 
ft 
 
 
LJFE OF 
 
THE! 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 FROM 
 
 THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. 
 
 BY JOHN BUN VAN. 
 
 WITH A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR, 
 
 CONDENSED FROM HIS " GRACE ABOUNDING:' AND THE "LIFE Oi 
 BUNYAN" BY CANQN EDMUN,DS VENABLES. 
 
 WITH ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN CHOICE ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 BY 
 F. BARNARD AND OTHERS 
 
 AMERICAN TE^ACT SOCIETY, 
 
 15O NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1890, 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETV- 
 
 f 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 John Bunyan , Page 3 
 
 Bunyan in Prison n 
 
 A House in Elstow 13 
 
 Elstow Church 14 
 
 Bronze Statue, at Bedford 23 
 
 Moot Hall, Courthouse and Manor 26 
 
 Bunyan's Arrest 29 
 
 Bimyan's Cottage 35 
 
 Bedford Gaol ' 36 
 
 Bunyan's Tomb 39 
 
 " As I slept, I dreamed a dream " 46 
 
 " I saw a man clothed with rags a book in his hand and a great burden on his back " ... 54 
 
 HEADING. The City of Destruction 55 
 
 " He brake his mind to his wife and children " 56 
 
 "He retired himself to his chamber to pray " 57 
 
 "Greatly distressed in his mind " 57 
 
 " Do you see yonder wicket-gate ?" 58 
 
 Obstinate 59 
 
 Pliable 60 
 
 " Christian still endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough that was farthest from his own house " 63 
 
 Mr. Worldly Wiseman 64 
 
 " There came a grave person to the gate, named Goodwill " 70 
 
 " The other gave him a pull " 71 
 
 " They that are with him shoot arrows " 71 
 
 " There sat a man in an iron cage " 77 
 
 " Hell opened her mouth just where I stood " 79 . 
 
 "The burden fell off his back and began to tumble" . 80- 
 
 " He stood still a while to look and wonder " 81 
 
 "Behold, three shining ones came to him and saluted him" 82 
 
 Formalist 83 
 
 Hypocrisy 84 
 
 " He fell and rose no more " 85 
 
 " He fell from running to going, and from going to clambering on his knees " 86 
 
 " He fell into a fast sleep " 87 
 
 Timorous 88 
 
 Mistrust 89 
 
 Watchful, the porter 9 
 
 " The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains " 9 1 
 
 "This man is on a journey from the City of Destruction to Mt. Zion " 93 
 
 Discourse about the Lord of the hill 96 
 
 '' They read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his servants had done " 99 
 
LIST OF ILL USTRA TIONS. 
 
 " Apollyon spread forth his dragon wings " Page 103 
 
 to Him let me give lasting praise " 104 
 
 " A compahy^of fiends coming forward to meet him " 106 
 
 " One of the witked ones got behind him and suggested many grievous blasphemies to him " . . 107 
 
 " He can do little more than sit in his cave's mouth " 109 
 
 " He could not rise again until Faithful came up to help him " in 
 
 Discontent .... 114 
 
 Pride, Arrogancy, Self-Conceit, Worldly Glory 115 
 
 " A man whose name is Talkative " 118 
 
 " At the town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair " 128"- 
 
 " Some mocking and calling on others to smite them " 130 
 
 Lord Hate-good 132 
 
 Envy 133 
 
 Superstition 133 
 
 Pickthank 134 
 
 The Jury 136 
 
 " They burned him to ashes at the stake " . 137 
 
 " There was one, whose name was Hopeful, who joined himself unto him " 139 
 
 " As they came up with him he made them a very low conge " 141 
 
 " Remember Lot's wife " ... 147 
 
 Vain-confidence 149 
 
 Giant Despair 151 
 
 " This done, he leaves them there to condole their misery " 153 
 
 " Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders ?" 157 
 
 Ignorance 159 
 
 "A man whom seven devils had bound " 160 
 
 " So they came up all to him and with threatening language bid him stand " 161 
 
 " Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter " 168 
 
 " But he said, ' No ; for I was invited to come : " 173 
 
 " I am always full of good motions " 175 
 
 " Christian brake out with a loud voice, ' Oh ! I see him again !"' 184 
 
 " Thus they got over " ... 185 
 
 " With shouting and sound of trumpet " 187 
 
 " They carried him through the air to the door tliat I saw in the side of the hill, and put him in there " 189 
 
 " Behold, it was a dream " 19 
 
 HEADING. Bunyan in Bedford Gaol 203 
 
 The Author and Mr. Sagacity . . ..." 204 
 
 " Her thoughts began to work in her mind " . . 206 
 
 "Then said she tb her children, 'Sons, we are all undone !'" 207 
 
 " Here is also a letter for thee " 209 
 
 " I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too " .' 212 
 
 Mrs. Timorous and her Neighbors .213 
 
 " Come, let us venture ; only let us be wary " 216 
 
 The King's Trumpeter .... 218 
 
 " Mercy was fallen down without in a swoon " 220 
 
 " And blessed also be the Man that thereto moved me " 223 
 
 " So Christiana's boys did pluck them and began to eat " 224 
 
 Two ill-favored ones . 22 5 
 
 Innocent 22 7 
 
 " A man that could look no way but downwards, with a muck-rake in his hand " 229 
 
 Mr. Great-heart .... 2 3$ 
 
 Short-wind 240 
 
LIST OF ILL USTRA T1ONS. 7 
 
 No-heart Page 241 
 
 Sleepy-head . 241 
 
 " He took the little boy by the hand and led him up thereto " 242 
 
 " So they stepped back and went behind " 245 
 
 Giant Grim 246 
 
 " I went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart " 249 
 
 " She began with the youngest, whose name was James " 251 
 
 Mercy's suitor, Mr. Brisk 253 
 
 " Mr. Skill, an ancient and well-approved physician " 255 
 
 In the valley of Humiliation 262 
 
 " And as he sat by himself he sang " 263 
 
 Heedless 268 
 
 The Giant Maul 268 
 
 Father Honest 271 
 
 " There also he stood a good while before he would venture to knock " 273 
 
 Self-will .278 
 
 "The Innkeeper was a lover of pilgrims " 280 
 
 Taste-that-which-is-good 281 
 
 Matthew and Mercy 282 
 
 " So supper came up" ........ V 283 
 
 " Mercy, as her custom was, would be making coats and garments to give to the poor "... 285 
 
 " Rather than we will part I will lend thee one of my crutches " 291 
 
 "Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle " 299 
 
 Despondency . " 299 
 
 Much-afraid . 300 
 
 Prejudice . 302 
 
 Ill-will . . . ' 302 
 
 " Evangelist offered to lay hands on him to turn him into the way again " 305 
 
 Wild-head 306 
 
 Valiant-for-truth 307 
 
 " She still followed me with enticements" 315 
 
 " Christiana saw that her time was come " 319 
 
 " So she came forth and entered the river " 321 
 
JOHN BUN VAN. 
 
LIFE OP BUNYAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN, the author of the book which has probably passed through more editions, 
 had a greater number of readers, and been translated into more languages than any other book 
 first written in the English tongue, was born in the parish of Elstow, in Bedfordshire, in the 
 latter part of the year 1628. 
 
 His father, Thomas Bunyan, though styling himself in his will by the more dignified title of 
 " brazier," was more properly what is known as a " tinker," a mender of pots and kettles. He 
 was not, however, a mere tramp or vagrant, as travelling tinkers were and usually are still, but a 
 man with a recognized calling, having a settled home and an acknowledged position in the vil- 
 lage community of Elstow. The family of Burngnon, Bunyun, Buniun, Boynon, Bonyon, or Bin- 
 yan (the name is found spelled in no fewer than thirty-four different ways), had been established 
 in Bedfordshire from very early times. It was of long standing in Elstow, having once been in 
 possession of a property considerable enough to have given the name of its possessor to the 
 whole locality. A mile to the east of the village, near the hamlet of Harrowden, was a place 
 long called " Bunyan's End," and two fields there are still known by the name of " Bunyan's " 
 and "farther Bunyan's." It was in his own cottage on this land that Bunyan's grandfather, 
 
 Thomas Bunyan, carried on the occupa- 
 tion of a " petty chapman," or small retail 
 dealer, and in this cottage, probablyjohn 
 Bunyan was born. 
 
 The mother of the immortal dreamer 
 was one Margaret Bentley, who, like her 
 husband, was a native of Elstow, and 
 only a few months his junior. She did 
 not come of the very squalid poor, but 
 of people who, though humble in station, 
 were yet decent and worthy in their 
 ways. She was the second of Thomas 
 Bunyan's three wives, dying after seven- 
 teen years of marriage. 
 
 Elstow, which as the birthplace of 
 the author of "The Pilgrim's Progress" 
 has gained a world-wide celebrity, is a 
 quiet little village, which, though not 
 much more than a mile from the popu- 
 lous and busy town of Bedford, yet lying 
 aside from the main stream of modern life, preserves its old-world look to an unusual degree. 
 Few villages are so little changed as Elstow. The old half-timbered cottages with overhang- 
 ing stories, peaked dormers, and gabled porches, tapestried with roses and honeysuckles, must 
 
 A HOUSE IN EI.STOW. 
 
LIFE OF BUN Y AN. 
 
 be much what they were in Bunyan's days. A village street with detached cottages, standing in 
 gardens gay with the homely flowers John Bunyan knew and loved, leads to the village green, 
 fringed with churchyard elms, the scene of village festivities, statute hirings, and all the public 
 occasions of village life. It is probably little altered from the time when our hero was the ring- 
 leader of the youth of the place in the dances on the greensward, which he tells us he found it 
 so hard to give up, and in "tip-cat" and other games innocent in theory, but which his con- 
 science afterwards regarded as " ungodly practices," even as the very ploughing of the wicked 
 is sin. In the middle of the green is still seen the pedestal or stump of the market cross; 
 at the upper end is the old "Moot Hall" of the fifteenth century, in front of which on 
 the common Bunyan afterwards preached; and on the south side is the church, a fragment 
 of the old Benedictine nunnery founded in 1078 by Judith, niece of William the Conqueror. 
 This church, with its detached bell- 
 tower, was the scene of many of the 
 fierce conflicts so vividly depicted 
 by Bunyan in his " Grace Abound- 
 ing." The pulpit, if it has survived 
 the recent restoration, is the same 
 from which Christopher Hall, the 
 then "parson" of Elstow, preached 
 the sermon which first awoke his 
 sleeping conscience. An old oaken 
 bench is traditionally shown as the 
 seat he used to occupy when " he 
 went to church twice a day, and 
 that too with the foremost, counting 
 all things holy that were therein con- 
 tained." The five bells which hang 
 in the belfry are the same in which 
 Bunyan so delighted, the fourth bell, 
 tradition says, being that he used to 
 ring. The rough, ragged floor, all 
 worn and broken with the hob- 
 nailed boots of generations of ring- 
 ers, remains undisturbed. One can- 
 not see the door, set in its solid ma- 
 sonry, without recalling the figure of Bunyan standing in it after conscience, " beginning to be 
 tender," told him that "such practice was but vain," but yet unable to deny himself the pleas- 
 ure of seeing others ring, hoping that " if a bell should fall," he could " slip out " safely " behind 
 the thick walls," and so " be preserved notwithstanding." Behind the church stand some pictu- 
 resque, ivy- clad remains of a once stately mansion, which may have given Bunyan the first idea 
 of " the very stately palace, the name of which was Beautiful." 
 
 The cottage in which Bunyan was born has been so long destroyed that even the knowledge 
 of its site has passed away. That in which he lived for six years (1649-1655), after his first 
 marriage, and where his children were born, is still standing in the village street, but modern 
 reparations have robbed it of all interest. 
 
 ELSTOW CHURCH. 
 
LIFE OF BUNYAN. 15 
 
 Bunyan's parents, though poor, were evidently worthy people, of good repute among their 
 village neighbors. Bunyan seems to be describing his own father and his wandering life when 
 he speaks of " an honest, poor laboring man who, like Adam unparadised, had all the world 
 to get his bread in, and was very careful to maintain his family." He and his wife were also 
 careful that their children should be properly educated. "Notwithstanding the meanness and 
 inconsiderableness of my parents," writes Bunyan, " it pleased God to put it into their hearts 
 to put me to school, to learn both to read and to write." There is reason to believe that what 
 little education he had was gained in the grammar school of Bedford, and thither we may 
 picture the little lad trudging, day by day, along the mile and a half of footpath and road from 
 his father's cottage by the brookside, often, no doubt, wet and miry enough, not, as he says, 
 to " go to school to Aristotle or Plato," but to be taught " according to the rate of other poor 
 men's children." 
 
 Whatever Bunyan may have learned at school, he confesses with shame that he soon lost 
 it " almost utterly." He was before long recalled from school to aid his father at the forge, 
 and soon, with little to elevate or refine his character, he contracted many bad habits, especially 
 those of " cursing, swearing, lying, and blaspheming the holy name of God." Sins of this kind 
 he declares to have become "a second nature to him;" and he says of himself that he became 
 a " notorious sin-breeder," the " very ringleader " of the village lads " in all manner of vice and 
 ungodliness." We must beware, however, of drawing the conclusion, from Bunyan's unsparing self- 
 condemnation, that he ever, either as boy or man, lived a vicious life. All of Bu^yan's biographers 
 agree that his wickedness has been greatly overrated. His youthful escapades of orchard robbing 
 or poaching might have brought him under " the stroke of the laws " and put him to " open shame 
 before the face of the world." But he confesses to no crime of a profligate habit. We have 
 no reason to suppose that he was ever drunk, and we have his own most solemn declaration that 
 he was never guilty of an act of unchastity. The passionate language in which he expresses 
 his own self-abhorrence is the language of a highly -strung spiritual nature, realizing its own 
 offences, venial as they appear to others, as sins against infinite love, and in the light of the 
 sacrifice of Calvary recognizing the heinousness of his guilt. The sinfulness of sin, more especially 
 of his own sin, is the intensest of all possible realities to such a nature. No language is too strong 
 to describe it. We may not unreasonably ask whether this estimate, however exaggerated it may 
 appear to those who are strangers to these spiritual experiences, is altogether a mistaken one. 
 
 The spiritual instinct was very early awakened in Bunyan. While still a child, " but nine 
 or ten years old," he tells us he was racked with convictions of sin and tormented with religious 
 fears. He was haunted in his sleep with "apprehensions of devils and wicked spirits" coming 
 to carry him away. The thought of the day of judgment hung over him like a dark cloud, and 
 made him tremble even in the midst of his boyish spirits. But these visions were but transient, 
 and his ardent nature reacting from them, he gave himself with so much the less restraint 
 to his boyish pleasures. " Thoughts of religion " became very grievous to him, and he put them 
 out of his mind. Yet even in his most reckless days the sense of religion was not dead in him, 
 and he experienced a horror at seeing religion dishonored by those who professed it. " Once," 
 he says, " when I was at the height of my vanity, hearing one to swear who was reckoned 
 for a religious man, it had so great a stroke upon my spirit that it made my heart to ache." 
 
 This undercurrent of religious feeling was deepened by providential escapes from accidents 
 which threatened his life "judgments mixed with mercy," he terms them which made him feel 
 that he was not utterly forsaken of God. Twice he narrowly escaped drowning once in " Bedford 
 
1 6 LIFE OF BUN VAN. 
 
 river," the Ouse; once in "a creek of the sea," perhaps when on his tinkering rounds. The most 
 impressive of these providential escapes is best told in his own words: "When I was a soldier 
 I, with others, was drawn out to go to such a place to besiege it. But when I was just ready 
 to go, one of the company desired to go in my room, to which, when I consented, he took 
 my place ; and coming to the siege, as he stood sentinel, he was shot in the head with a musket- 
 bullet and died." When it was that Bunyan served in the army, and on which side he served, 
 we have no means of knowing definitely. The religious import of the occurrences he relates 
 constituted their only value in his eyes, and he gives us no further details than suffice to bring 
 out this import. Probably it was shortly after the death of his mother, when he was sixteen, that 
 he entered the army, and there are good reasons for thinking that he served on the side of Parlia- 
 ment, though Mr. Froude holds that " probability is on the side of his having been with 
 the Royalists." The place of the siege he refers to is equally undeterminable. Tradition says 
 that Bunyan was present at the siege of Leicester; but the one thing certain is, that wherever 
 the siege may have been, Bunyan was not at it. He tells us plainly that he was " drawn to 
 go," and gave up his place to a comrade who went in his room. In any case, Bunyan's military 
 career was very short. He had only been a soldier a few months when the battle of Naseby 
 was fought, June 14, 1645. In 1646 the armies on both sides were disbanded, and Bunyan 
 returned to Elstow and resumed his tinker's work at the paternal forge. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BUNYAN was probably not more than twenty years old when he married. Of his marriage 
 he gives us no details not even the name of the orphan girl whom he made his wife except so 
 far as they bear upon his inner life. His " mercy was to light upon a wife whose father was 
 counted godly," and who, though she brought him no marriage portion so that they " came 
 together as poor as poor might be, not having," as he tells us, "so much household stuff as a 
 dish or spoon between us both yet this she had for her part, ' The Plain Man's Pathway to 
 Heaven ' and ' The Practice of Piety,' which her father had left her when he died. In these two 
 books I would sometimes read with her, wherein I also found some things that were somewhat 
 pleasing to me." This reading " did beget within me some desires to reform my vicious life, and 
 fall in very eagerly with the religion of the times, to wit, to go to church twice a day, and that 
 too with the foremost ; and there I would very devoutly both say and sing as others did, yet 
 retaining my wicked life," a liking for the sports and games of the profane and ungodly lads 
 of the village, " bell-ringing, dancing, and the like." The ceremonial of his parish church had 
 a powerful effect on Bunyan's freshly awakened religious susceptibility. " I adored," he says, 
 "with great devotion even all things, both the high place, priest, clerk, vestment, service, and 
 what else belonged to the church, counting all things holy that were therein contained, and 
 especially the priest and clerk most happy, and without doubt greatly blessed, because they were 
 the servants of God and were principal in the holy temple to do his work therein." Yet, service 
 over, the sports upon the village green still claimed him. These Sunday sports proved the 
 battle-ground of Bunyan's spiritual experience, the scene of the fierce inward struggles which he 
 has described so vividly, through which he ultimately reached the firm ground of solid peace 
 and hope. 
 
 The teaching came in this way. One Sunday Vicar Hall preached a sermon on the sin of 
 
LIFE OF BUN VAN. 17 
 
 Sabbath-breaking, and like many hearers before and since, Bunyan imagined that it was aimed 
 expressly at him. Sermon ended, he went home " with a great burden upon his spirit." But his 
 Sunday's dinner speedily drove away his self-condemning thoughts. He " shook the sermon out 
 of his mind " and went out to his sports with the Elstow lads on the village green with as 
 "great delight" as ever. But in the midst of his "game of cat," when he had "struck it one 
 blow from the hole " and " was about to strike it a second time " the minuteness of the detail 
 showing the unforgettable reality of the crisis " a voice did suddenly dart from heaven into my 
 soul, which said, ' Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell ?' 
 At this," he says, " I was put to an exceeding maze ; wherefore, leaving my bat upon the ground, 
 I looked up to heaven, and was as if I had with the eyes of my understanding seen the Lord 
 Jesus looking down upon me as being very hotly displeased with me." But he " shut his eyes 
 against the light," and having decided that " it was too late for him to look after heaven, he was 
 past pardon," he determined to look for what happiness he could get out of this world, resolved, 
 he says, " to take my fill of sin, still studying what sin was yet to be committed, that I might taste 
 the sweetness of it." 
 
 This desperate recklessness lasted with him " about a month or more " till " one day, as he was 
 standing at a neighbor's shop-window, and there cursing and swearing and playing the madman 
 after his wonted manner, " " the woman of the house, though a very loose and ungodly wretch," 
 rebuked him so severely as " the ungodliest fellow for swearing that ever she heard, able to spoil 
 all the youth in the whole town," that he resolved, though it seemed to him well nigh impossible, to 
 try to break off this wicked habit. To his own " great wonder," he did " leave off his swear- 
 ing," and found that he " could speak better and with more pleasantness " than when he " put an 
 oath before and another behind, to give his words authority." 
 
 The next step in his religious progress was the study of the Bible, to which he was led by 
 the conversation of a godly neighbor. He read the historical books " with great pleasure," but 
 frankly confesses, " Paul's Epistles and such like Scriptures I could not away with." He set 
 the keeping the Ten Commandments before him as his "way to heaven," much comforted 
 "sometimes" when, as he thought, "he kept them pretty well," but humbled in conscience when 
 " now and then he broke one." " But then," he says, " I would repent and say I was sorry for 
 it, and promise God to do better next time, and then get help again ; for then I thought I pleased 
 God as well as any man in England." His progress was slow, for each step involved a battle, 
 but it was steadily onwards. He had a very hard struggle in relinquishing his favorite amuse- 
 ments. But though he had much yet to learn, his feet were set in the upward way, and he had 
 no mind to go back, great as the temptation often was. He had once delighted in bell-ringing, 
 but " his conscience beginning to be tender " morbid, perhaps " he thought such practice to 
 be vain, and therefore forced himself to leave it." But " hankering after it still," he continued 
 to go while his old companions rang, and look on at what he "durst not " join in, until the fear 
 that if he thus winked at what his conscience condemned, a bell or even the tower itself might 
 fall and kill him, put a stop to that compromise. Dancing, which from his boyhood he had 
 practised on the village green or in the old Moot Hall, was still harder to give up. " It was a 
 full year before I could quite leave that." But this too was at last renounced, and finally. The 
 power of Bunyan's indomitable will was bracing itself for severe trials yet to come. 
 
 Meantime the changed life of the profane tinker had become the town talk. " My neighbors 
 were amazed at this my great conversion 'to something like a moral life," he writes, "and truly so 
 they well might, for this my conversion was as great as for Tom of Bedlam to become a sober 
 
 3 
 
18 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 
 
 man. Now, therefore, they began to praise, to commend, and to speak well of me, both to my 
 face and behind my back." These commendations of the public greatly flattered his vanity, so 
 that he was proud of his godliness, doing all he did either to be seen of or well spoken of by 
 man. Thus "for about a twelvemonth or more" he "had great peace of conscience," thinking, 
 "God cannot choose but now be pleased with me. All the while," he writes, "poor wretch as I 
 was, I was ignorant of Jesus Christ, and going about to establish my own righteousness ; and had 
 perished therein had not God in mercy showed me more of my state by nature." 
 
 This revelation came to him by means of the conversation of three or four poor women 
 whom, one day, when pursuing his tinker's calling at Bedford, he came upon " sitting at a door in 
 the sun and talking of the things of God." These women were members of the congregation of 
 " the holy Mr. John Gifford," and their conversation evidenced how thoroughly they had drunk 
 in their pastor's teaching. Bunyan himself was at this time a " brisk talker in the matters of 
 religion," such as he drew from the life in his own Talkative. But the words of these poor 
 women were entirely beyond him. They opened a new and blessed land to which he was a com- 
 plete stranger. " They spoke of their own wretchedness of heart, of their unbelief, of their miser- 
 able state by nature, of the new birth, and the work of God in their souls, and how the Lord 
 refreshed them, and supported them against the temptations of the devil by his words and 
 promises." But what seems to have struck Bunyan the most forcibly was the happiness which 
 their religion shed in the hearts of these poor women. Religion up to this time had been to him 
 a system of rules and restrictions. Of religion as a divine life kindled in the soul and flooding 
 it with a joy which creates a heaven on earth, he had no conception. But these women " spoke 
 as if joy did make them speak ; they spoke with such pleasantness of Scripture language, and 
 with such appearance of grace in all they said, that they were to me as if they had found a new 
 world." 
 
 Their words went with him as he left them and went about his work again. He saw that 
 though he thought himself a godly man, and his neighbors thought so too, he wanted the true 
 tokens of godliness ; and he could not rest until he had them. So he made it his business to be 
 going again and again into the company of these good women. The more he talked with them 
 "the more he questioned his own condition." The salvation of his soul became all in all to him. 
 His mind " lay fixed on eternity like a horse-leech at the vein." The Bible became precious to 
 him ; he read it as he " never did before." " I was indeed then never out of the Bible, either by 
 reading or meditation." The Epistles of St. Paul, which before he "could not away with," were 
 now " sweet and pleasant " to him. He was still " crying out to God that he might know the 
 truth and the way to heaven and glory." 
 
 Having no one to guide him in the study of the Word, it is no wonder that he misinterpreted 
 and misapplied its words in a manner that went far to unsettle his brain. He read that without 
 faith he could not be saved, and though he did not clearly know what faith was, it became a ques- 
 tion of supreme anxiety for him to determine whether he had it or not. He determined to put it 
 to the test. The Bible told him that faith, " even as a grain of mustard seed," would enable its 
 possessor to work miracles. So, as Mr. Froude says, " not understanding Oriental metaphors," he 
 thought he had here a simple test which would at once solve the question. One day as he was 
 walking along the miry road between Elstow and Bedford which he had so often paced as a 
 schoolboy, " the temptation came hot upon him " to put the matter to the proof by saying " to the 
 puddles that were in the horse-pads, ' Be dry,' and to the dry places, ' Be you puddles.' And 
 truly one time I was going to say so indeed ; but just as I was about to speak, this thought came 
 
LIFE OF BUN VAN. 19 
 
 into my mind, ' But go under yonder hedge and pray first that God would make you able.' " This 
 pause saved him from a rash venture which might have landed him in despair. For he concluded 
 that if he tried after praying and nothing came of it, it would prove that he had no faith, but was 
 a castaway. " Nay," thought I, " if it be so I will never try yet, but will stay a little longer." 
 " Thus," he continues, " I was so tossed between the devil and my own ignorance that I could not 
 tell what to do." 
 
 At another time his mind was harassed by the insoluble problem of predestination and 
 election. The question was not now whether he had faith, but whether he " was one of the elect 
 or not; and if not, what then?" He " might as well leave off and strive no further." And then 
 the strange fancy occurred to him that the good people at Bedford whose acquaintance he had 
 recently made were all that God meant to save in that part of the country, and that the day of 
 grace was past and gone for him; that he had overstood the time of mercy. "Oh, that he had 
 turned sooner !" was then his cry. " Oh, that he had turned seven years before ! What a fool he 
 had been to trifle away his time till his soul and heaven were lost !" The text " Compel them to 
 come in, for yet there is room," came to his rescue when he was so harassed and faint that he was 
 " scarce able to take one step more." He found them " sweet words," for they showed him that 
 there was " place enough in heaven for him," and he verily believed that when Christ spoke them 
 he was thinking of him, and had them recorded to help him to overcome the vile fear that there 
 was no place left for him in His bosom. But soon another fear succeeded the former. Was he 
 truly called of Christ ? " He called to Him whom He would, and they came unto Him."., But they 
 could not come unless He called them. Had He called him ? Would He call him ? If He did, 
 how gladly would he run after Him ! But oh, he feared that He had no liking to him, that He 
 would not call him ! True conversion was what he longed for. " Could it have been gotten for 
 gold," he said, " what would I have given for it ! Had I a whole world, it had all gone ten thou- 
 sand times over for this, that my soul might have been in a converted state." All those whom he 
 thought to be truly converted were now lovely in his eyes. " They shone, they walked like peo- 
 ple that carried the broad seal of heaven about with them." Oh, that he were like them and shared 
 in their goodly heritage ! 
 
 About this time he was at once troubled and encouraged by a "dream or vision " which pre- 
 sented itself to him. He fancied that he saw his four Bedford friends refreshing themselves on the 
 sunny side of a high mountain while he was shivering with dark and cold on the other side, parted 
 from them by a high wall with only one small gap in it, and that not found but after long searching, 
 and so strait and narrow withal that it needed long and desperate efforts to force his way through. 
 At last he succeeded. " Then," he says, " I was exceeding glad, and went and sat down in the 
 midst of them, and so was comforted with the light and heat of their sun." 
 
 But this sunshine soon gave place to the old sad questioning as to his calling. Some words 
 of the prophet Joel (chap. 3:'2i) encouraged him to hope that if not converted already, the time 
 might come when he should be converted to Christ, and despair began to give way to hope- 
 fulness. It was at this crisis that he was introduced to the "godly Mr. Gifford," the pastor of his- 
 Bedford friends, and began to attend the meetings of his disciples. His first experiences after his 
 introduction to Mr. Gifford and the inner circle of his disciples were most discouraging. What he 
 heard of God's dealings with their souls showed him something of "the vanity and inward wretch- 
 edness of his wicked heart," and at the same time roused all its hostility to God's will. " It did 
 work at that rate for wickedness as it never did before." "The Canaanites would dwell in the 
 land." His heart " hankered after every foolish vanity, and hung back both to and in every duty, 
 
20 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 
 
 as a clog on the leg oi a bird to hinder her from flying." He thought he was growing " worse 
 and worse," and was " further from conversion than ever before." Though he longed to let Christ 
 into his heart, " his unbelief would, as it were, set its shoulder to the door to keep him out." 
 
 Yet all the time he was tormented with the most perverse scrupulosity of conscience. " As to 
 the act of sinning, I was never more tender than now; I durst not take a pin or a stick, though 
 but so big as a straw, for my conscience now was sore and would smart at every twist. I could 
 not now tell how to speak my words for fear I should misplace them. Oh, how gingerly did I 
 then go in all I did or said. I found myself in a miry bog, that shook if I did but stir, and was as 
 those left both of God and of Christ and the Spirit and all good things." All the misdoings of 
 his earlier years rose up against him. He thought that no one could be so bad as he was; "not 
 even the devil could be his equal: he was more loathsome in his own eyes than a toad." What 
 then must God think of him ? Despair seized fast hold of him. He thought he was " forsaken 
 of God and given up to the devil and to a reprobate mind." Nor was this a transient fit of de- 
 spondency. " Thus," he writes, " I continued a long while, even for some years together." 
 
 So went on the struggle, described by himself in a picture of fearful fascination, through sudden 
 alternations of hopes and fears, fierce temptations, torturing illusions, harassing doubts as to the 
 truth of Christianity, depths of despair, and elevations of joy. At one time " a great storm " came 
 down upon him, in which he felt himself driven to commit the unpardonable sin and blaspheme 
 the Holy Ghost " whether he would or no." He was ready to leap head-foremost " into some 
 muckhole " to prevent his uttering the fatal words, and yet at last he was convinced that he had 
 committed the sin. He thought himself possessed by the devil, and compared himself to a child 
 " carried off under her apron by a gypsy." " Kick sometimes I did, and also shriek and cry, but 
 yet I was as bound in the wings of the temptation and the wind would carry me away." He 
 wished himself " a dog or a toad," for they " had no soul to be lost as his was like to be," and 
 again a hopeless callousness seemed to settle upon him. " If I would have given a thousand 
 pounds for a tear I could not shed one ; no, nor sometimes scarce desire to shed one." Again, 
 the very ground of his faith was shaken. " Was the Bible true, or was it not rather a fable and 
 cunning story ? All thought their own religion true. Might not the Turks have as good scrip- 
 tures to prove their Mahomet Saviour as Christians had for Christ ? What if all we believed in 
 should be but 'a think so' too?" So powerful and real were his illusions that he had hard work 
 to keep himself from praying to things about him, to " a bush, a bull, a besom, or the like," or 
 even to Satan himself. He heard voices behind him crying out that Satan desired to have him, 
 and that " so loud and plain that he would turn his head to see who was calling him." When on 
 his knees in prayer he fancied he felt the foul fiend pull his clothes from behind, bidding him 
 "break off, make haste; you have prayed enough." 
 
 This " horror of great darkness " was not always upon him. Bunyan had his intervals of " sun- 
 shine weather," when Giant Despair's fits came on him and the giant "lost the use of his hand." 
 Texts of Scripture would give him a " sweet glance," and flood his soul with comfort. But these 
 intervals of happiness were brief. They were but " hints, touches, and short visits," sweet when 
 present, but " like Peter's sheet, suddenly caught up again into heaven." But, though transient, 
 they helped the burdened pilgrim onward. The joy was real while it lasted. The words 
 of the preacher's text, " Behold, thou art fair, my love," kindling his spirit, he " felt his heart filled 
 with comfort and hope," and " could believe that his sins would be forgiven." He was almost 
 beside himself with ecstasy. " I was now so taken with the love and mercy of God that I thought 
 I could have spoken of it even to the very crows that sat upon the ploughed lands before 
 
LIFE OF BUNYAN. 21 
 
 me, had they been capable to have understood me." " Surely," he cried with gladness, " I will 
 not forget this forty years hence." " But alas ! within less than forty days I began to question 
 all again." It was the Valley of the Shadow of Death which Bunyan, like his own Pilgrim, 
 was travelling through. But, as in his allegory, " by-and-by the day broke," and " the Lord 
 did more fully and graciously discover himself to him." " One day," he writes, " as I was musing 
 on the wickedness and blasphemy of my heart, that Scripture came into my mind, ' He hath made 
 peace by the, blood of his cross.' By which I was made to see, both again and again and again 
 that day, that God and my soul were friends by this blood : yea, I saw the justice of God and 
 my sinful soul could embrace and kiss each other. This was a good day to me. I hope I shall 
 not forget it." At another time the "glory and joy " of a passage in the Hebrews (2 : 14, 15) were 
 "so weighty" that "I was once or twice ready to swoon as I sat, not with grief and trouble, 
 but with solid joy and peace." " But oh ! now how was my soul led on from truth to truth 
 by God ; now I had evidence of my salvation from heaven, with many golden seals thereon, 
 all hanging in my sight, and I would long that the last day were come, or that I were fourscore 
 years old, that I might die quickly, that my soul might be at rest." 
 
 At this time he fell in with an old copy of Luther's " Commentary on the Galatians," 
 " so old that it was ready to fall piece from piece, if I did but turn it over." As he read, 
 to his amazement and thankfulness he found his own spiritual experience described. "It was 
 as if his book had been written out of my heart." It greatly comforted him to find that his condi- 
 tion was not, as he had thought, solitary, but that others had known the same inward struggles. 
 " Of all the books that ever he had seen," he deemed it " most fit for a wounded conscience." 
 This book was also the means of awakening an intense love for the Saviour. " Now I found, 
 as I thought, that I loved Christ dearly. Oh, methought my soul cleaved unto him, my affections 
 cleaved unto him; I felt love to him as hot as fire." 
 
 Now came a new and extraordinary temptation. He had " found Christ " and felt Him " most 
 precious to his soul." He was now tempted to give Him up, "to sell and part with this most 
 blessed Christ, to exchange him for the things of this life, for anything." Nor was this a mere 
 passing, intermittent delusion. " It lay upon me for the space of a year, and did follow me so con- 
 tinually that I was not rid of it one day in a month, no, not sometimes one hour in many days 
 together, except when I was asleep." Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, day and night, 
 in bed, at table, at work, a voice kept sounding in his ears, bidding him " sell Christ " for this 
 or that. He could "neither eat his food, stoop for a pin, chop a stick, or cast his eyes on any- 
 thing," but the hateful words were heard, not once only, but a hundred times over, as fast 
 as a man could speak, " Sell him, sell him, sell him !" and like his own Christian in the dark valley, 
 he could not determine whether they were suggestions of the Wicked One or came from his own 
 heart. The agony was so intense, while for hours together he struggled with the temptation, that 
 his whole body was convulsed with it. It was no metaphorical, but an actual, wrestling with 
 a tangible enemy. He "pushed and thrust with his hands and elbows," and kept still answering, 
 as fast as the destroyer said, "Sell Him," "No, I will not, I will not, I will not! not for thousands, 
 thousands, thousands of worlds !" at least twenty times together. But the fatal moment came 
 at last, and the wearied will yielded against itself. One morning as he lay in his bed, the voice 
 came again with redoubled force and would not be silenced. He fought against it as long 
 as he could, " even until I was almost out of breath," when " without any conscious action 
 of his will" the suicidal words shaped themselves in his heart, " Let Him go if He will !" 
 
 Now all was over. He had spoken the words and they could not be recalled. Satan had 
 
22 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 
 
 "won the battle," and "as a bird that is shot from the top of a tree, down fell he into great guilt 
 and fearful despair." He left his bed, dressed, and went " moping into the field," where for the 
 next two hours he was " like a man bereft of life, and as one past all recovery and bound to eternal 
 punishment." The most terrible examples in the Bible came trooping before him. He had sold 
 his birthright like Esau. He had betrayed his Master like Judas. " I was ashamed that I should 
 be like such an ugly man as Judas." There was no longer any place for repentance. He was 
 past all recovery, shut up unto the judgment to come. He hardly dared to pray. When he tried 
 to do so he was " as with a tempest driven away from God," while something within said, " 'T is 
 too late; I am lost; God hath let me fall." The texts which once comforted him gave him 
 no comfort now, or if they did it was but for a brief space. " About ten or eleven o'clock one day, 
 as I was walking under a hedge and bemoaning myself for this hard hap that such a thought 
 should arise within me, suddenly this sentence bolted upon me, ' The blood of Jesus Christ, his 
 Son, cleanseth us from all sin,' and gave me good encouragement." But in two or three hours 
 all was gone. The terrible words concerning Esau's selling his birthright took possession of his 
 mind and " held him down." This " stuck with him." " Though he sought it carefully with 
 tears," there was no restoration for him. His agony received a terrible aggravation from a highly 
 colored narrative of the terrible death of Francis Spira, an Italian lawyer of the sixteenth century, 
 who, having embraced the Protestant religion, was induced by worldly motives to return to the 
 Romish Church, and died full of remorse and despair, from which Bunyan afterward drew the 
 awful picture of " the man in the iron cage " at " the Interpreter's house." The reading of this 
 book was to his troubled spirit as " salt when rubbed into a fresh wound," " as knives and daggers 
 in his soul." We cannot wonder that his health began to give way under so protracted a struggle. 
 His naturally sturdy frame was " shaken by a continual trembling." He would " wind and twine 
 and shrink under his burden," the weight of which so crushed him that he " could neither stand 
 nor go nor lie, either at rest or quiet. " His digestion became disordered, and a pain " as if his 
 breast-bone would have split asunder" made him fear that as he had been guilty of Judas' 
 sin, so he was to perish by Judas' end, and " burst asunder in the midst." No one was ever 
 so bad as he. When he compared his sins with those of David and Solomon and Manasseh and 
 others, which had been pardoned, he thought his sin so much exceeded theirs that he could have 
 no hope of pardon. Theirs, " it was true, were great sins, sins of a bloody color, but none 
 of them were of the nature of his. He had sold his Saviour. His sin was point-blank against 
 Christ." " Oh, methought this sin was bigger than the sins of a country, of a kingdom, or of the 
 whole world ; not all of them together was able to equal mine ; mine outwent them every one." 
 
 It was more than two years before this storm became a calm, and its waves, which he 
 thought were driving his soul upon the rocks of despair, bore him to the " haven where he 
 would be." He had heard, as he thought, the tempter bidding him " sell Christ ;" and he thought 
 he. heard God " with a great voice as it were, over his shoulder behind him," saying, " Return 
 unto me, for I have redeemed thee ;" and though he thought it mocked him, for there was no 
 "place of repentance" for him, it still pursued him, "hallooing after him, 'Return, return!'" 
 And return he did, but not all at once or without many a fresh struggle. Hot and cold fits 
 alternated with fearful suddenness. "As Esau beat him down Christ raised him up." " His life 
 hung in doubt, not knowing which way he should tip." More sensible evidence came. " One 
 day," he tells us, "as I walked to and fro in a good man's shop, bemoaning myself for this 
 hard hap of mine, for that I should commit so great a sin, greatly fearing that I should not be 
 pardoned, and ready to sink with fear, suddenly there was as if there had rushed in at the 
 
'""'Illlllllll 
 
 BRONZE STATUE, AT BEDFORD, ERECTED BY THE DUKE OF BEDFORD. 
 
24 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 
 
 window the noise of wind upon me, but very pleasant, and I heard a voice speaking, ' Didst 
 ever refuse to be justified by the blood of Christ?'" Whether the voice were supernatural or 
 not, he was not " in twenty years' time " able to determine. At the time he thought it was. It 
 was "as if an angel had come upon me." " It commanded a great calm upon me. It persuaded 
 me there might yet be hope." 
 
 Yet this persuasion soon vanished, and despair returned. " My life hung in doubt before me, 
 not knowing which way I should go ; only this I found my soul's desire, even to cast itself at the 
 foot of grace by prayer and supplication. But oh, it was hard for me now to have the face to 
 pray to this Christ for mercy against whom I had so vilely sinned ; yet, my case being desperate, 
 I thought with myself, I can but die, and if it must be so, it shall once be said that such a one 
 died at the foot of Christ in prayer." 
 
 " Oh, who knows how hard a thing I found it to come to God in prayer ! I did also desire 
 the prayers of the people of God for me, but I found that God would give them no heart to do it : 
 yea, I trembled in my soul to think that some or other. of them would shortly tell me that God 
 had said those words to them that he once did say to the prophet concerning the children of 
 Israel, ' Pray not for this people, for I will not hear them,' so pray not for him, for I have 
 rejected him." 
 
 In his despair he " took an opportunity to break his mind to an ancient Christian, and told 
 him all his case," telling him also that he feared he " had sinned the sin against the Holy Ghost," 
 to which the ancient Christian replied that he " thought so too." Here was " cold comfort," but 
 a little further conversation revealed that his aged counsellor was "a stranger to much combat 
 with the devil," in which, surely, Bunyan was well practised. " Wherefore I went to God again, 
 as well as I could, for mercy still." Years after he remembered how, " in this time of hopeless- 
 ness, having walked one day to a neighboring town," wearied out with his misery he " sat down 
 upon a settee in the street and fell into a very deep pause about the most fearful state his sin had 
 brought him to." The "sun grudged him its light, the very stones in the street and the tiles on 
 the house-roofs seemed to bend themselves against him." He burst forth with a grievous sigh, 
 " How can God comfort such a wretch as I ?" 
 
 Comfort was nearer than he imagined. " No sooner had I said it but this returned to me as 
 an echo doth answer a voice, 'This sin is not unto death.'" This breathed fresh life into his 
 soul. He was " as if he had been raised out of the grave." " It was a release to me from my 
 former bonds, a shelter from my former storm." The storm was, indeed, not over, though its 
 strength was spent. His despairing thoughts returned, but after them returned his hopes. As 
 he was on his knees before going to bed a few nights later, " seeking the Lord with strong cries," 
 a voice echoed his prayers, " I have loved thee with an everlasting love." " Now I went to bed 
 at quiet, and when I awoke the next morning it was fresh upon my soul and I believed it." 
 
 Thus he " went on for many weeks, sometimes comforted and sometimes tormented," some- 
 times believing in the sufficiency of grace, and again tortured by the recollections of Esau, the 
 two being " like a pair of scales within my mind sometimes one end would be uppermost and 
 sometimes again the other, according to which would be my trouble." Again his soul was 
 " sweetly visited " by the promise, " Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." Yet he 
 did not long enjoy this comfort, for " Satan would greatly labor to pull this promise from me, by 
 telling me that Christ did not mean me and such as I, but sinners of a lower rank, that had not 
 done as I had done. But I would answer him again, ' Satan, here is in these words no such 
 exception ; but him that cometh him, any him ; him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out* 
 
LIFE OF BUN VAN. 2$ 
 
 If ever Satan and I did strive for any word of God in all my life, it was for this good word of 
 Christ he at one end and I at the other. Oh, what work we made ! It was for this in John, I 
 say, that we did so tug and strive ; he pulled and I pulled, but God be praised, I overcame him ; 
 I got sweetness from it." 
 
 These voices from heaven whether real or not he could not tell, nor did he much care, for 
 they were real to him were continually sounding in his ears to help him out of the fresh crises 
 of his spiritual disorder. " O man, great is thy faith." " He is able." " My grace is sufficient 
 for thee:" such words were from time to time spoken loudly to his heart. The storm was 
 passing over. " Now remained only the hinder part of the tempest. The thunder was gone'; 
 only a few drops fell on him now and then." 
 
 The long-expected deliverance was at hand. As he was walking in the fields, still with some 
 fears in his heart, the sentence fell upon his soul, " Thy righteousness is in heaven." He looked 
 up and "saw with the eyes of his soul our Saviour at God's right hand." "There, I say, was 
 my righteousness, so that wherever I .was, or whatever I was a-doing, God could not say 
 of me, 'He wants my righteousness,' for that was just before him. Now did the chains fall off from 
 my legs. I was loosed from my affliction and irons. My temptations also fled away, so that 
 from that time those dreadful Scriptures left off" to trouble me. Oh, methought, Christ ! Christ ! 
 there was nothing but Christ that was before mine eyes. I could look from myself to him and 
 would reckon that all those graces of God that now were green upon me were yet but like those 
 crack-groats and fourpence-half-pennies that rich men carry in their purses, while their gold 
 is in their trunks at home. Oh, I saw my gold was in my trunk at home, in Christ, my Lord and 
 Saviour. Further, the Lord did lead me into the mystery of union with the Son of God. His 
 righteousness was mine, his merits mine, his victory also mine. Now I could see myself in heaven 
 and earth at once ; in heaven by my Christ, by my Head, by my Righteousness and Life, though 
 on earth by my body or person. These blessed considerations were made to spangle in mine 
 eyes. Christ was my all, all my wisdom, all my righteousness, all my sanctification, and all 
 my redemption." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE Pilgrim, having now floundered through the Slough of Despond, passed through the 
 wicket gate, climbed the Hill Difficulty, and got safe by the lions, entered the Palace Beautiful and 
 was " had into the family." In plain words, Bunyan united himself to the little Christian brother- 
 hood of Bedford, of which Mr. Giffbrd was the pastor. In Giffbrd we recognize the prototype 
 of the Evangelist of " The Pilgrim's Progress," while the Prudence, Piety, and Charity of Bunyan's 
 immortal narrative had their human representatives in Sister Bosworth, Sister Munnes, and Sister 
 Fenne, three of the poor women whose pleasant words on the things of God as they sat at a door- 
 way in the sun, " as if joy did make them speak," had first opened Bunyan's eyes to his spiritual 
 ignorance. He was received into the church by baptism about the year 1653; the exact date 
 ls~uhcertain. He was also admitted to the Lord's table, which for a time became the occasion 
 of a revival of his old temptations. The struggle against them seriously affected his health. 
 " Captain Consumption," who carried off" his own " Mr. Badman," threatened his life. But his 
 naturally robust constitution and his constantly increasing spiritual strength brought him safely 
 through. 
 4 
 
26 
 
 LIFE OF BUN VAN. 
 
 During this time Bunyan, though a member of the Bedford congregation, continued to reside 
 at Elstow in the little thatched wayside tenement, with its lean-to forge at one end, already men- 
 tioned, which is still pointed out as " Bunyan's cottage." There his two children, Mary, his 
 passionately loved blind daughter, and Elizabeth, were born, the one in 1650, the other in 1654. 
 It was probably in the next year, 1655, that he removed to Bedford and became a deacon of the, 
 congregation. About this time also he must have lost the wife to whom he owed so much. 
 He sustained also an even greater loss in the death of his friend and pastor, Mr. Gifford, who died 
 in September, 1655. 
 
 This was a momentous year for Bunyan, for in it we may probably place the beginning of his 
 ministerial life. He was now in his twenty-eighth year, in the prime of his manly vigor, with 
 a vivid imagination, ready speech, a minute textual knowledge of Scripture, and an experience 
 of temptation and the wiles of the evil one such as few Christians have ever reached. At first the 
 call to "speak a word of exhortation " did much " dash and abash his spirit," but after a few trials, 
 first in private and then more publicly, it became evident, both to himself and to others, that , 
 he had a real divine call to the ministry. His appointment to this office was not long delayed. 
 After " some solemn prayer with fasting " he was " called forth and appointed a preacher of the 
 Word," with especial reference 
 to the neighboring villages. An 
 old and unique etching, now in 
 the Bunyan Collection, repre- 
 sents him as preaching to a 
 crowd on Elstow green in front 
 of Moot Hall. He still contin- 
 ued his craft as a tinker, and 
 that with industry and success, 
 while his fame as a preacher 
 grew rapidly. People " came 
 in by hundreds to hear the 
 word, and that from all parts, 
 though upon sundry and divers 
 accounts." His success hum- 
 bled and amazed him. "At 
 first," he says, " I could not be- 
 lieve that God should speak by 
 me to the heart of any man, 
 
 still counting myself unworthy ; and though I did put it from me that they should be awakened 
 by me, still they would confess it and affirm it before the saints of God. They would also bless 
 God for me, unworthy wretch that I am, and count me God's instrument that showed them the 
 way of salvation." 
 
 He preached wherever he found opportunity, in woods, in barns, on village greens, or even 
 in churches. But he liked best to preach " in the darkest places of the country, where people 
 were the furthest off from profession," where he could give the fullest scope to the " awakening 
 and converting power" he possessed. His success as a preacher might have tempted him 
 to vanity. J3nt_frhe conviction that he was only an instrument in the hands of a higher power kept 
 it down. He was still not without his old temptations, but his heart was " so wrapped up in the 
 
 MOOT HALL, COURTHOUSE AND MANOR. 
 
LIFE OF BUN VAN. 27 
 
 glory of this excellent work " that they lost their power. Bunyan was no preacher of vague 
 generalities. Like Dante he had been in hell himself, and could speak as one who knew its terrors, 
 and could tell also of the blessedness of deliverance by the person and work of Christ. And this 
 consciousness gave him confidence and courage in declaring his message. "Oh, it Iiath been with 
 such power and heavenly evidence upon my own soul while I have been laboring to fasten it upon 
 the conscience of others, that I could not be content with saying, ' I believe and am sure.' 
 Methought I was more than sure, if it be lawful so to express myself, that the things I asserted 
 were true." 
 
 The fame of such a preacher, naturally, soon spread far and wide ; all the country flocked 
 eagerly to hear him. In some places the pulpits of parish churches were opened to him. 
 At Yelden the rector, Dr. William Dell, roused the indignation of his orthodox parishioners 
 by allowing " one Bunyan, of Bedford, a tinker," to preach in his parish church on Christmas day. 
 But generally the parochial clergy were his bitterest enemies. Many were envious of his success^ 
 where they had so signally failed. Slanders of the blackest dye against his moral character were 
 freely circulated and as readily believed. Such charges roused all the man in Bunyan. Few 
 passages in his writings show more passion than that in " Grace Abounding" in which he defends^ 
 himself from the " fools or knaves " who were their authors. 
 
 So bitter was the feeling aroused against him by the marvellous success of his irregular 
 ministry that his enemies endeavored to put the arm of the law in motion to restrain him. 
 It is an instructive fact that, even during the boasted religious liberty of the Protectorate, irregular 
 preaching, especially that of the much-dreaded Anabaptists, was an indictable offence. How 
 Bunyan came to escape we know not. But the danger he was in was imminent enough for the 
 church at Bedford to meet to pray "for counsail what to doe" in respect of it. 
 
 It was in these closing years of the Protectorate that Bunyan made his first attempt at author- ' 
 ship, impelled thereto by a long and tiresome controversy with the Quakers, who had recently 
 found their way to Bedford. It was a little volume in duodecimo of about two hundred pages, 
 entitled " Some Gospel Truths Opened, by that unworthy servant of Christ, John Bunyan, of Bed- 
 ford, by the grace of God, preacher of the gospel of His dear Son," published in 1656. Bunyan 
 being entirely unknown to the world, his first literary venture was introduced by a commendatory 
 "Epistle" written by Gifford's successor, John Burton, in which he speaks of the young author 
 as one who had "neither the greatness nor the wisdom of the world to commend him," "not being 
 chosen out of an earthly, but out of a heavenly university, the Church of Christ," where "through 
 grace he had taken three heavenly degrees, to wit, union with Christ, the anointing of the Spirit, 
 and experience of the temptations of Satan." This book must be pronounced a very remarkable 
 production for a young travelling tinker, under thirty, and without any literary or theological 
 training but such as he had gained for himself after attaining to manhood. It is a defence of 
 the historical truth of the articles of the creed relating to the Second Person of the Trinity, 
 against certain mystical teachings of George Fox, who made the gospel narrative a vehicle for 
 the representation of truths relating to the inner life of the believer. 
 
 Bunyan's denunciation of the tenets of the Quakers speedily elicited a reply This was 
 
 written by a certain Edward Burrough, a young man of three and twenty, fearless, devoted, and 
 ardent in the propagation of the tenets he professed. The reply, entitled " The Gospel of Peace 
 contended for in the Spirit of Meekness and Love, against the secret opposition of John Bunyan, 
 a professed minister in Bedfordshire," reveals some lack of the meekness professed. Bunyan 
 promptly published his rejoinder under the title of " A Vindication of Gospel Truths Opened," 
 
28 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 
 
 repaying Burrough in his own coin and defending himself from his charges. Yet he and his oppo- 
 nent were really not so far apart as they thought. 
 
 In his third book, published in 1658 at "the King's Head, in the Old Bailey," a few days 
 before Oliver Cromwell's death, Bunyan left the thorny domain of polemics for that of Christian 
 exhortation, in which his chief work was to be done. This work was an exposition of the parable 
 of the rich man and Lazarus, bearing the horror-striking title, "A Few Sighs from Hell, or the 
 Groans of a Damned Soul." In this work Bunyan, accepting the literal accuracy of the parable 
 as a description of the world beyond the grave, gives full scope to his vivid imagination in por- 
 traying the condition of the lost. It contains some touches of racy humor, especially in the 
 similes, and is written in the nervous, homespun English of which he is master. 
 
 The fourth production of Bunyan's pen, his last book before his twelve years of prison life 
 began, entitled " The Doctrine of Law and Grace Unfolded," was given to the world in 1659. 
 With a somewhat overstrained humility which is hardly worthy of him, he describes himself in the 
 title-page as "that poor, contemptible creature John Bunyan, of Bedford." It cannot be said that 
 this is one of Bunyan's most attractive writings. It is, as he describes it, " a parcel of plain yet 
 sound, true, and home sayings," in which, with that clearness of thought and accuracy of arrange- 
 ment which belong to him, and that marvellous acquaintance with Scripture language which 
 he had gained by his constant study of the Bible, he sets forth the two covenants, of works and 
 of grace, " in their natures, ends, bounds, together with the state and condition of them that are 
 under the one, and of them that are under the other." The treatise is somewhat wearisome, but 
 the pious reader will find much in it for spiritual edification. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IF any dreams of religious liberty were entertained at the restoration of monarchy in the 
 person of Charles II., they were speedily and rudely dispelled, and Bunyan was one of the first to 
 feel the shock of the awakening. The reaction from Puritanism pervaded all ranks, but in no - 
 class was its influence more powerful than among the country gentry. Most of them had been 
 sufferers both in purse and person during the Protectorate, and they were eager to retaliate on 
 their oppressors. This feeling goes far to explain the harshness which Bunyan experienced at 
 the hands of the administrators of justice at the crisis of his life at which we have now arrived. 
 Those before whom he was successively arraigned belonged to this very class which, having 
 suffered most severely during Puritan supremacy, was least likely to show consideration to a 
 leading teacher of the Puritan body. Nor were reasons wanting to justify their severity. The 
 circumstances of the times were critical. The public mind was still in an excitable state, agitated 
 by the wild schemes of political and religious enthusiasts plotting to destroy the whole existing 
 framework of Church and State and set up their own chimerical fabric. We cannot be surprised 
 that, as Southey has said, after all the nation had suffered from fanatical zeal, " The Government, 
 rendered suspicious by the constant sense of danger, was led as much by fear as by resentment to 
 severities which are explained by the necessities of self-defence," and which the nervous appre- 
 hensions of the nation not only condoned but incited. 
 
 No new enactment was required, to punish Nonconformists and silence their ministers. 
 The various Acts of Elizabeth supplied all that was needed. Under these Acts those who 
 absented themselves from the Liturgical service or who resorted to conventicles were to be 
 
LIFE OF BUN VAN. 
 
 29 
 
 BUNYAN'S ARREST. 
 
 imprisoned till they made their submissions ; if at the end of three months they refused to submit, 
 they were to be banished the realm ; and if they returned from banishment without permission 
 of the Crown, they were liable to execution as felons. 
 
 Early in October, 1660, the country magistrates meeting in Bedford issued an order for the 
 public reading of the Liturgy of the Church of England. Such an order Bunyan could not 
 regard as concerning him. Anyhow he would not give obeying it a thought. But Bunyan was 
 
30 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 
 
 now one of the most conspicuous of the Nonconformists of the neighborhood. He had 
 preached for five or six years with ever-growing popularity. No name was so rife in men's 
 mouths as his. At him, therefore, as the representative of his brother sectaries, the first blow 
 was levelled. On November 12 Bunyan had engaged to hold a religious service in the little 
 hamlet of Lower Samsell, near Harlington. His purpose becoming known, a warrant was issued 
 for his apprehension, the meeting being represented to the magistrate as one of seditious persons 
 bringing arms, with a view to the disturbance of the public peace. 
 
 The intention to arrest him oozed out, and on Bunyan's arrival the whisperings of his friends 
 warned him of his danger. He might have easily escaped if he " had been minded to play the 
 coward." But he had come to hold the meeting, and hold the meeting he would. He had given 
 out his text when the constable arrived with the warrant. Bunyan requested to be allowed to say < 
 a few parting words of encouragement to the terrified flock. This was granted, and he comforted 
 the little company with the reflection that it was a mercy to suffer in so good a cause. The 
 constable and the justice's servant soon grew weary of his exhortations, and "would not be quiet 
 till they had him away " from the house. 
 
 A few inquiries showed the magistrate who had issued the warrant that he had entirely mis- 
 taken the character of the Samsell meeting and its object. Instead of a gathering of " Fifth 
 Monarchy men " or other turbulent fanatics for the disturbance of the public peace, he learned 
 from the constable that they were only a few peaceable, harmless people, met together " to preach 
 and hear the Word," without any political meaning. But for the credit of his majesterial char- 
 acter the justice must do something to justify himself for having issued the warrant. So he 
 asked Bunyan what business he had there, and why it was not enough for him to follow his own 
 calling instead of breaking the law by preaching. Bunyan replied that his only object in coming 
 there was to exhort his hearers for their souls' sake to forsake their sinful courses and close in/ 
 with Christ, and this he could do and follow his own calling as well. At this the justice lost 
 temper, and declared that he would "break the neck of these unlawful meetings," and that 
 Bunyan must find securities for his good behavior or go to gaol. 
 
 To find security would be easy enough, but the real difficulty lay with Bunyan. No bond 
 would be strong enough to keep him from preaching, as he frankly avowed. This being the case, ' 
 a warrant was made out to commit him, and Bunyan in the constable's charge was on his way 
 to gaol, when he was met by two of his friends who begged the constable to wait while they 
 used their influence to get him released. They finally returned with the message that if Bunyan 
 would wait on the magistrate and "say certain words" to him, he might go free. To Harlington 
 House, therefore, they returned, and much time was spent in devising a form of words which 
 Bunyan would consent to utter. The magistrate evidently wished him to escape, but Bunyan 
 would make no promise of which, though he might keep the letter, he intended to violate the 
 spirit. He was asked to promise "that he would not call the people together," a form of words 
 purposely devised to meet his scrupulous conscience, but in vain. He was "at a point, and 
 would not be moved or persuaded " to evasion, and so at last the mittimus was again put into 
 the constable's hands, and he and his prisoner set forth on the thirteen-mile walk to the prison 
 which was to be Bunyan's home for twelve long years, and to which he went carrying, he says, 
 the " peace of God along with me and his comfort in my poor soul." 
 
LIFE OF BUNYAN. 31 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BUNYAN'S imprisonment, though protracted, was by no means harsh, as the times went. 
 Bedford gaol, though found by Howard a century later in what would now be justly deemed a 
 disgraceful condition, was better than some, and Bunyan in the narrative of his imprisonment 
 makes no complaint of it. Nor do we hear of his health suffering in any way from the condition 
 of his confinement, as was the case with not a few sufferers for religion in other English gaols at 
 that time. Bad as it must have been to be a prisoner, there is no evidence that his imprisonment 
 was aggravated by any special severity. 
 
 The arrest of one whose work as a preacher had been a blessing to so many was not at 
 once tamely acquiesced in by the religious body to which he belonged. Attempts were made to 
 bail him out, but in vain, the magistrate fearing to compromise himself by letting him go at large. 
 Seven weeks after his committal the Quarter Sessions came on, and John Bunyan, of the town of 
 Bedford, laborer, was indited in the customary form for having " devilishly and perniciously 
 abstained from coming to church to hear divine service/' and as " a common upholder of several " 
 unlawful meetings and conventions, to the great disturbance and distraction of the good subjects 
 of the kingdom." The chairman of the bench was the brutal and blustering Sir John Keeling, 
 the prototype of Banyan's Lord Hategood in Faithful's trial at Vanity Fair! Keeling had 
 suffered much from the Puritans during the great Rebellion, when, according to Clarendon, he 
 was "always in gaol," and was by no means disposed to deal leniently with an offender of that 
 persuasion. His brethren of the bench were like-minded, but even if that had not been, Bunyan's 
 attitude forbade any leniency. As the law stood he had indisputably broken it, and he expressed 
 his determination to take the first opportunity of breaking it again. " I told them that if I was 
 let out of prison to-day I would preach the gospel again to-morrow by the help of God." There 
 was no alternative but to sentence him, and though the sentence might have been pronounced 
 with less reluctance, there is no evidence of any desire on the part of the magistrates to push 
 matters to extremity. The sentence was for three months, after which, " if he still refused to go 
 to church and hear divine service and leave his preaching, he was to be banished the realm," and 
 if " he came back again without special royal license " he must "stretch by the neck for it." 
 
 The three months named in his sentence were fast drawing to an end without any sign of - 
 submission on his part, and Mr. Cobb, the Clerk of the Peace, was sent to reason with him, and 
 did his best to that end. But Cobb did not profess to be " a man that could dispute," and Bunyan 
 had the better of him in argument, though Cobb's position was unassailable. In the then state of 
 the realm there was danger to the public peace in permitting fanatical gatherings to assemble 
 unchecked, and loyalty forbade them, though there was no reason why Bunyan should not use his 
 gifts in a private way. But all Cobb's reasonings and expostulations were ineffectual to bring 
 Bunyan to this concession, and he at last said it was no use to prolong the argument. " At this," 
 writes Bunyan, " he sat down and said no more ; which when he had done, I thanked him for his 
 civil and meek discoursing with me ; and so we parted. Oh, that we might meet in heaven !" 
 
 The Coronation, which took place soon after this interview, April 13, 1661, afforded a prospect 
 of release without unworthy submission. The customary proclamation, which allowed prisoners 
 under sentence for any offence short of felony to sue out a pardon for twelve months from that 
 date, suspended the execution of the sentence of banishment and gave a hope that the prison doors 
 might be opened for him. The local authorities taking no steps to enable him to profit by the 
 
32 LIFE OF BUN VAN. 
 
 ""royal clemency, his second wife, Elizabeth, travelled up to London, and with dauntless courage 
 made her way to the House of Lords, where she presented her petition. She was treated kindly, 
 but was assured that the matter was beyond the province of the peers, and that the question 
 of her husband's release was committed to the judges at the next assizes. The judges of these 
 assizes were Twisden and Sir Matthew Hale, and from the latter Bunyan's case would be certain 
 to meet with sympathetic consideration; but the law rendered him powerless to relieve him. 
 Three several times did Bunyan's noble-hearted wife present her husband's petition, and when 
 we find Hale, confessedly the soundest lawyer of the time, thus summing up the matter : " I am 
 sorry, woman, that I can do thee no good. Thou must do one of these three things, viz., either 
 apply thyself to the king, or sue out his pardon, or get a writ of error," which last, he told 
 her. would be the cheapest course we may feel sure that Bunyan's petition was not granted 
 because it could not be granted legally. The blame of his imprisonment lay with the law, not 
 with its administrators. 
 
 At the next assizes, held in January, 1662, Bunyan made strenuous efforts to get his name put 
 on the calendar of felons, that he might have a regular trial before the king's judges and be able to 
 plead his cause in person. This attempt was thwarted by the county magistrates and the Clerk of 
 the Peace, Mr. Cobb, now become one of his chief enemies. " Thus," writes Bunyan, " was I hin- 
 dered and prevented at that time also from appearing before the judge, and left in prison." Of 
 this prison, the county gaol of Bedford, he remained an inmate, with one short interval in 1666, 
 for the next twelve years, till his release by order of the Privy Council, May 17, 1672. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE exaggeration of the severity of Bunyan's imprisonment long current, now that the facts 
 are better known, has led, by a very intelligible reaction, to an undue depreciation of it. It is 
 certainly true that during a portion of his captivity Bunyan had an amount of liberty which at the 
 present day would be impossible. But this indulgence extended over a very limited part of his im- 
 prisonment. Between the autumn assizes of 1661 and the spring assizes of 1662 he was treated 
 somewhat as if on parole, permitted to go even as far as London, to be occasionally present at 
 meetings of his church, and even to preach. " I followed," Bunyan says, writing of this period, 
 " my wonted course of preaching, taking all occasions that were put into my hand to visit the 
 people of God." But when these indulgences came to the magistrates' ears they were brought 
 sharply to an end. The jailer was all but " cast out of his place," and Bunyan's liberty so seriously 
 " straitened " that he was prohibited even " to look out at the door." 
 
 But though his imprisonment was not so severe as has sometimes been supposed, his condition U 
 was a dreary and painful one. The separation from his wife and children, especially from his 
 blind child Mary, was a continually renewed anguish to his loving heart. " The parting with . 
 them," he writes, " hath often been to me as pulling the flesh from the bones ; and that not only 
 because I am somewhat too fond of these great mercies, but also because I should often have 
 brought to my mind the many hardships, miseries, and wants my poor family was like to meet 
 with should I be taken from them, especially my poor blind child, who lay nearer to my heart 
 than all beside. Poor child, thought I, thou must be beaten, thou must beg, thou must suffer 
 hunger, cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, though I cannot now endure the wind should 
 
LIFE OF BUNYAN. 33 
 
 blow on thee. Oh, the thought of the hardships my blind one might go under would break my 
 heart to pieces." He was also greatly troubled by the thought, that "for aught he could tell," his 
 imprisonment might end at the gallows : not so much that he dreaded death, as that he feared that* 
 he might play the coward at the last, and so do discredit to the cause of religion. " I was ashamed 
 to die with a pale face and tottering knees for such a cause as this." Yet he was content to suffer 
 by the hangman's hand if thus he might have the opportunity of addressing the crowd that he 
 thought would come to see him die. " And if it must be so, if God will but convert one soul 
 by my very last words, I shall not count my life thrown away or lost." Yet on the whole 
 Bunyan's prison life, when the first bitterness of it was past and habit had done away with its 
 strangeness, was a quiet and, it would seem, not an unhappy one. A manly self-respect bore him 
 up, and forbade his dwelling on the darker features of his position or thinking or speaking harshly 
 of the authors of his durance. " He was," writes one who saw him at this time, " mild and affable 
 in conversation, not given to loquacity or to much discourse unless some urgent occasion required. 
 He was never heard to reproach or revile, whatever injury he received, but rather rebuked those 
 who did so. He managed all things with such exactness as if he had made it his study not to give 
 offence." 
 
 His spiritual comfort during this time, as might have been expected, was great. " I never 
 had in all my life so great an inlet into the Word of God as now. Those Scriptures that I saw 
 nothing in before were made in this place and state to shine upon me; Jesus Christ also was never 
 more real and apparent than now; here I have seen and felt him indeed. Oh, that word, 'We 
 have not preached unto you cunningly devised fables,' and that ' God raised Christ up from the 
 dead and gave him glory, that our faith and hope might be in God,' were blessed words unto me 
 in this condition, so that sometimes when I have enjoyed the favor of them I have been able to 
 laugh at destruction and to fear neither the horse nor his rider. 
 
 " I have had sweet sights of the forgiveness of my sins in this place, and of my being with 
 Jesus in another world. Oh, the mount Sion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company 
 of angels, and God the Judge of all, and the spirits of just men made perfect, and Jesus, have been 
 sweet unto me in this place. I have seen that here which I am persuaded I shall never while in 
 this world be able to express : I have seen a truth in this Scripture, ' Whom having not seen, ye 
 love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and 
 full of glory.' I never knew what it was for God to stand by me at all times and at every offer of 
 Satan to afflict me as I have found him since I came in hither ; for lo, as fears have presented 
 themselves, so have supports and encouragements; yea, when I have started, even as it were at 
 nothing else but my shadow, yet God, as being very tender of me, hath not suffered me to be 
 molested, but would with one Scripture or another strengthen me against all, insomuch that I have 
 often said, were it lawful, I could pray for greater t/ouble for the greater comfort's sake." 
 
 Bunyan being precluded by his imprisonment from carrying on his brazier's craft for the sup- 
 port of his family, he got himself taught how to make " long tagged laces," " many hundred 
 gross " of which, we are told, he made during captivity for his own and his family's necessities. 
 He still had abundant opportunity to exercise his ministerial functions, the prisoners for conscience' 
 sake furnishing at times a numerous and sympathetic congregation. " On these occasions," says 
 one who was present, " I have heard Mr. Bunyan both preach and pray with that mighty spirit of 
 faith, and plerophory of divine assistance that has made me stand and wonder." These sermons 
 addressed to his fellow-prisoners supplied, in many cases, the first outlines of the books which, in 
 rapid succession, flowed from his pen during the earlier years of his imprisonment. Bunyan him- 
 
 5 
 
34 fFE OF BUN VAN. 
 
 self tells us that this was the case with regard to his " Holy City," the first idea of which was 
 borne in upon his mind when addressing " his brethren in the prison chamber." Others than his 
 fellow-prisoners came to him for religious counsel. The time not employed in these various du- 
 ties was given to study and composition. For this his confinement secured him the leisure which 
 otherwise he would have looked for in vain. His library was, at least at one period, a very limited 
 one, consisting only of two books, the Bible and Foxe's " Book of Martyrs," but he studied them 
 indefatigably. His mode of composition was rapid, but not careless. It was, as he tells us, " first 
 with doing and then with undoing and then with doing again," that he brought to completion 
 books which for clearness of thought, lucidity of arrangement, felicity of language, rich even if 
 sometimes homely force of illustration, and earnestness of piety, have never been surpassed. 
 
 In 1666, the year of the Fire of London, after six years in Bedford gaol, Bunyan enjoyed 
 a short interval of liberty, which he used to the utmost in preaching. He was again arrested at a 
 meeting, just as he was beginning to preach, and was returned to gaol, where he spent another six 
 years, until the issuing of the " Declaration of Indulgence" in 1672 opened the long-closed doors, 
 and he walked out a free man, with liberty to deliver Christ's message as he himself understood it. 
 
 For some unknown cause, perhaps the depressing effect of protracted confinement, during 
 this second six years Bunyan's pen was far less prolific than during the former period. Only two 
 of his books are dated in those years. When once he became a free man again his pen recovered 
 its former copiousness of production, and the works by which he has been immortalized, " The 
 Pilgrim's Progress " which has been erroneously attributed to Bunyan's twelve years' imprison- 
 ment and its sequel, "The Holy War," and the " Life and Death of Mr. Badman," and a host of 
 more strictly theological works, followed one another in rapid succession. 
 
 Bunyan's second period of imprisonment was certainly less severe than that which preceded it. 
 We learn from the church book of his frequent services of the church, as if he were in the full 
 enjoyment of his liberty. Towards the end of the second period his confinement again became 
 more rigorous, but this was again changed by the secret plans of Charles II. for restoring the power 
 of the Pope in England, for which he found it necessary to pave the way by a general Declaration 
 of Indulgence. Under this declaration chapels were reopened, the gaols were emptied, men were 
 set free to worship God after their own fashion. More than three thousand licenses to preach were 
 at once issued. One of the earliest of these, dated May 9, 1672, four months before his formal 
 pardon under the Great Seal, was granted to Bunyan, who in the preceding January had been 
 chosen their minister by the little congregation at Bedford, and " giving himself up to serve Christ 
 and his church in that charge, had received of the elders the right hand of fellowship." The place 
 licensed for the exercise of Bunyan's ministry was "Josias Roughead's barn standing in an or- 
 chard." This primitive place of worship, in which Bunyan preached regularly until his death, was 
 pulled down in 1707, when a "three-ridged meeting-house" was erected in its place. This in 
 its turn gave way, in 1849, to the existing more seemly chapel, to which the present Duke of Bed- 
 ford, in 1876, presented a pair of noble bronze doors bearing scenes, in high relief, from " The Pil- 
 grim's Progress," the work of Mr. Frederick Krupp. In the vestry are preserved Bunyan's chair 
 and other relics of the man who has made the name of Bedford famous to the whole civilized 
 world. 
 
LIFE OF BUN VAN. 
 
 35 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BUNYAN was now half way through his forty-fourth year. Sixteen years still remained to him 
 before his career of indefatigable service in the Master's work was brought to a close. Of these 
 sixteen years we have only a very general knowledge. Details are wanting, nor is there any 
 known source from which they can be recovered. If he kept any diary it has not been preserved. 
 If he wrote letters and one who was looked up to by so large a circle of disciples as a spiritual 
 father and guide, and whose pen was so ready of exercise, cannot fail to have written many 
 not one has come down to us. But the little that is recorded of him is eminently characteristic. 
 We see him constantly engaged in the great work to which he felt God had called him, and 
 for which "with much content through grace" he had suffered twelve years' incarceration. In ad- 
 dition to the regular discharge of his pastoral duties to his own congregation, he took a general 
 oversight of the villages far and near which had been the scene of his earlier ministry, preaching 
 whenever opportunity offered, and ever unsparing of his own personal labor, making long 
 journeys into distant parts of the country for the furtherance of the gospel. 
 
 Almost the first thing Bunyan did, after his liberation from gaol, was to apply to Government /- 
 for licenses for preachers and preaching -places in Bedfordshire and neighboring counties under the 
 Declaration of Indulgence. Twenty-five preachers and thirty-one buildings are known to have 
 been licensed through his efforts. Over these religious communities Bunyan exercised a quasi- 
 episcopal superintendence which gained for him the playful title of " Bishop Bunyan." 
 
 With his time so largely occupied in his spiritual functions he could have had but small leisure / 
 
 to devote to his worldly calling. 
 This, however, one of so honest 
 and independent a spirit is sure 
 not to have neglected. He had a 
 family to maintain, and his con- 
 gregation were mostly of the poor 
 sort, unable to contribute much to 
 their pastor's support. It is be- 
 yond all doubt that though his 
 ministerial duties were his chief 
 concern, he prudently kept fast 
 hold of his handicraft as a certain 
 means of support for himself and, 
 those dependent on him. On the 
 whole, Bunyan's outward circum- 
 stances were probably easy. His 
 wants were few and easily sup- 
 plied. Having food and raiment 
 for himself, his wife, and his chil- 
 dren, he was " therewith content." His home was a small cottage such as laborers now occupy, 
 with three small rooms on the ground floor, and a garret with a diminutive dormer window under 
 the high-pitched tile roof. Behind stood an out-building which served as his workshop. One 
 who visited him found the contents of his study hardly larger than those of his prison cell. They 
 
 BUNYAN'S COTTAGE. 
 
LIFE OF BUNYAN. 
 
 were limited to a Bible and copies of " The Pilgrim's Progress " and a few other books, chiefly 
 his own works, " all lying on a shelf or shelves." 
 
 Bunyan's celebrity as a preacher continued to increase. Wherever he ministered sometimes, 
 when troublous days returned, in woods and dells and other hiding-places the announcement 
 that John Bunyan was to preach gathered a large and attentive auditory, hanging on his lips and 
 drinking from them the words of life. His earliest biographer, Charles Doe, the honest comb- 
 maker at the foot of London Bridge, tells us, " I have seen, by my computation, about twelve 
 hundred at a morning lecture by seven o'clock on a working-day, in the dark winter-time." This 
 was in London. " I also computed," he goes on, " about three thousand that came to hear him 
 one Lord's day in London, so that half were fain to go back again for want of room, and then him- 
 self was fain at a back door to be pulled almost over people to get up stairs to his pulpit." On 
 one of his occasional visits to London he delivered his striking sermon on " The Greatness of the 
 Soul and the Unspeakableness of the Loss thereof," first published in 1683. He often preached 
 in Dr. Owen's meeting-house, in White's Alley, or Moorfields, which was the gathering-place 
 for titled folk, city merchants, and other Nonconformists of position and degree. 
 
 Bunyan was more than once urged to leave Bedford and settle in the metropolis. But to all 
 these solicitations he turned a deaf ear. No prospect of a wider field of usefulness, still less of a 
 larger income, could tempt him to desert his " few sheep in the wilderness," his Bedford flock. 
 Some of them, it is true, were wayward sheep. Brother John Stanton had to be admonished "for 
 abusing his wife and beating her often for very light matters," and Sister Mary Foskett for " pri- 
 vately whispering of a horrid scandal, without culler of truth, against Brother Honeylove." But 
 though Bunyan's flock contained some whose fleeces were not as white as he desired, the congre- 
 gation must have been on the whole a quiet, God-fearing, spiritually-minded folk of whom their 
 pastor could think with thankfulness and satisfaction as "his hope and joy and crown of rejoicing." 
 At Bedford, therefore, he remained. 
 
 Bunyan's peace was not, however, altogether undisturbed. The Declaration of Indulgence, 
 under which Bunyan was liberated in 1672, was very short-lived. Granted on the fifteenth of 
 Match of that year, it was with- 
 drawn in March of the following 
 year, and Bunyan and his fellow- 
 Nonconformists were in a posi- 
 tion of greater peril, as far as the 
 letter of the law was concerned, 
 than ever before. Unhappily for 
 Bunyan, the parties in whose 
 hands the execution of the penal 
 statutes against Nonconformists 
 rested in Bedfordshire were not 
 likely to let them lie inactive. A 
 warrant was issued for his appre- 
 hension without delay. It is dated 
 the 4th of March, and bears the 
 signature of no fewer than thir- 
 teen magistrates, ten of them affixing their seals a significant indication of the importance at- 
 tached to Bunyan's imprisonment by the gentry of the country. 
 
 BEDFORD GAOL. 
 
LIFE OF BUNYAN. 37 
 
 Once more, then, Bunyan became a prisoner, and that, there can be little doubt, in his old 
 quarters in the Bedford gaol. This last imprisonment lasted only half as many months as his 
 former imprisonment had lasted years. At the end of six months he was again a free man, thanks 
 to the good offices of Owen, Cromwell's celebrated chaplain, with Barlow, Bishop of Lincoln. 
 This short imprisonment assumes great importance from the probability, now become almost a 
 certainty, that it was during this period that Bunyan began, if he did not also complete, the first 
 part of " The Pilgrim's Progress." The break which occurs in the narrative after the visit of the 
 Pilgrims to the Delectable Mountains, which so unnecessarily interrupts the course of the story r 
 " So I awoke from my dream ; and I slept and dreamed again " seems to indicate the point 
 Bunyan had reached when his six months' imprisonment ended, and from which he continued 
 the book after his release. 
 
 The First Part of "The Pilgrim's Progress" was issued from the press in 1678. A second 
 edition followed in the same year, and a third, with large and important additions, in 1679. The 
 Second Part, after an interval of seven years, followed early in 1685. Between the two parts 
 appeared two of his most celebrated works the " Life and Death of Mr. Badman," published 
 in 1680, originally intended to supply a contrast and a foil to " The Pilgrim's Progress" by 
 depicting a life which was scandalously bad; and, in 1682, that which Macaulay has said " would 
 have been our greatest allegory if the earlier allegory had not been written," " The Holy War made 
 by Shaddai upon Diabolus." 
 
 There is little more to record in Bunyan's life. Though never again seriously troubled for his 
 nonconformity, his preaching journeys were not always without risk. There is a tradition that 
 when he visited Reading to preach he disguised himself as a wagoner, carrying a long whip 
 in his hand to escape detection. The name of " Bunyan's Dell " in a wood not very far from 
 Hitchin, tells of the time when he and his hearers had to conceal their meetings from their enemies' 
 quest, with scouts planted on every side to warn them of the approach of the spies and informers 
 who for reward were actively plying their odious trade. Towards the close of the year 1685 
 the persecution of the Nonconformists raged with extreme fierceness. Never, not even under 
 the tyranny of Laud, had the condition of the Puritans been so deplorable. Dissenting ministers, 
 however blameless in life, however eminent in learning, could not venture to walk the streets for 
 fear of outrages which not only were not repressed, but were encouraged, by those whose duty it 
 was to preserve the peace. Richard Baxter was in prison. Howe was afraid to show himself in 
 London and had been driven to Utrecht. Not a few who had up to that time borne up boldly, 
 lost heart and fled the kingdom. Through many subsequent years the autumn of 1685 was re- 
 membered as a time of misery and terror. There is, however, no indication of Bunyan having 
 been molested. The " deed of gift " by which at this time he sought to avoid the confiscation 
 of his goods, conveying his " goods, chattels, debts, ready money, plate, rings, household stuff, 
 apparel, utensils, brass, pewter, bedding, and all other his substance whatsoever, to his well- 
 beloved wife Elizabeth Bunyan," was never called into exercise. Indeed its very existence was 
 forgotten. Hidden away in a recess in his house in St. Cuthbert's, this interesting document was 
 accidentally discovered at the beginning of the present century, and is preserved among the 
 most valued treasures of the congregation which bears his name. 
 
 Quieter times for Nonconformists were however at hand. James II., despairing of employing 
 the Tories and the Churchmen as his tools, turned, as his brother had turned before him, to the 
 Dissenters, the snare being craftily baited as before with a new Declaration of Indulgence. But 
 with all his ardent desire for religious liberty, Bunyan was too keen-witted not to see through 
 
38 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 
 
 James' policy, and too honest to give it any direct support. He clearly saw that it was not 
 for any love of the Dissenters that they were so suddenly delivered from their persecutions and 
 placed on a kind of equality with the Church. The king's object was the establishment of Popery. * 
 Zealous as Bunyan was for the liberty of prophesying, even that might be purchased at too high a 
 price. An attempt was made to buy his support by the offer of some place under Government. 
 The bribe was indignantly rejected. Bunyan even refused to see the Government agent who 
 offered it ; " he would by no means come to him, but sent his excuse." Behind the treacherous 
 sunshine he saw a dark cloud, ready to burst. The Ninevites' remedy he felt was now calico! for. '. 
 So he gathered his congregation together and appointed a day of fasting and prayer to avert 
 the danger that, under a specious pretext, again menaced their civil and religious liberties. A 
 true, sturdy Englishman, Bunyan, with Baxter and Howe, " refused an indulgence which could 
 only be purchased by the violent overthrow of the law." 
 
 Bunyan did not live to see the Revolution of 1688. In August of that year the pilgrim's 
 earthly progress ended, and he was bidden to cross the dark river which has no bridge. The 
 summons came to him in the very midst of his religious activity, both as a preacher and as a 
 writer. His pen had never been more busy than when he was bidden to lay it down finally. 
 Early in 1688, after a two years' silence, attributable perhaps to the political troubles of the time, 
 his "Jerusalem Sinner Saved, or a Help to Despairing Souls," one of the best known and most 
 powerfully characteristic of his works, had issued from the press, and had been followed by four 
 others, "The Work of Jesus Christ as an Advocate," a poetical composition entitled " The Build- 
 ing, Nature, and Excellency of the House of God," the " Water of Life," and " Solomon's Temple 
 Spiritualized." At the time of his death he was occupied in seeing through the press a sixth book, 
 " The Acceptable Sacrifice," which was published after his funeral. In addition to these Bunyan 
 left behind him no fewer than fourteen works in manuscript, all of which were subsequently 
 published. 
 
 Bunyan's end was in keeping with his life. He had ever sought to be a peacemaker and 
 to reconcile differences, and thus had " hindered many mishaps and saved many families from 
 ruin." His last effort of the kind indirectly caused his death. The father of a young man in 
 whom he took an interest had resolved, on some offence, real or supposed, to disinherit his son. 
 The young man sought Bunyan's mediation. Anxious to heal the breach, Bunyan mounted 
 his horse and took the long journey to Reading, where he pleaded the offender's cause so 
 effectually as to obtain a promise of forgiveness. Bunyan returned homeward through London, 
 where he was appointed to preach. His forty miles' ride to London was through heavy, driving 
 rain. He was weary and drenched to the skin when he reached the house of his "very loving 
 friend " John Strudwick, deacon of the Nonconformist meeting in Red Cross Street. A few 
 months before Bunyan had suffered from the sweating sickness. The exposure caused a return of 
 the malady, and though well enough to fulfil his pulpit engagement on Sunday the igth of August, 
 on the following Tuesday dangerous symptoms declared themselves, and in ten days the disease 
 proved fatal. He died within two months of completing his sixtieth year, on the 3ist of August, 
 1688, just a month before the publication of the Declaration of the Prince of Orange opened a new 
 era of civil and religious liberty. He was buried in Mr. Strudwick's newly purchased vault in the 
 burial-ground in Finsbury, a place which has been called the Campo Santo of Dissenters, where 
 Watts and Owen and the Wesleys and many others famous in the annals of Nonconformity await 
 the resurrection day. No account of Bunyan's funeral has been preserved, although doubtless, in 
 accordance with the custom of the time, it was an imposing one. The literary renown of the great 
 
LIFE OF BUN VAN. 
 
 BUNYAN'S TOMB. 
 
 39 
 
 Dreamer, and his great reputation 
 in London as a preacher, would 
 assuredly gather great numbers to 
 the mournful scene. But the only 
 record we have of any demonstra- 
 tion on the occasion of his death 
 is that of a sorrowful meeting of 
 his own Bedford flock on the 
 Wednesday following the news of 
 his death, and of the appointment 
 that the next Wednesday also 
 should be kept " in prayer and 
 humiliation on the same account." 
 The " new sepulchre " in which he 
 was laid was doubtless bought by 
 John Strudwick for his honored 
 friend. There, ten years later, his 
 own remains were laid. A tomb 
 was erected over the grave, and 
 was later replaced by one bearing 
 Bunyan's effigy. 
 
 By his first wife, whose Chris- 
 tian name is nowhere recorded, 
 Bunyan had four children two 
 
 
 sons and two daughters; and by his second wife, the heroic Elizabeth, one son and one 
 daughter. All of them survived except his eldest daughter Mary, his tenderly-loved blind child, 
 who died before him. His wife only survived him for a brief period, " following her faithful pil- 
 grim from this world to the other whither he was gone before her" either in 1691 or 1692. 
 
 Bunyan's character and person are thus described by his earliest biographer, Charles Doe : 
 " He appeared in countenance to be of a stern and rough temper. But in his conversation he was 
 mild and affable, not given to loquacity or much discourse in company, unless some urgent 
 occasion required it. Observing never to boast of himself or his parts, but rather to seem low 
 in his own eyes and submit himself to the judgment of others. Abhorring lying and swearing, 
 being just, in all that lay in his power, to his word. Not seeming to revenge injuries; loving 
 to reconcile differences and make friendship with all. He had a sharp, quick eye, with an excellent 
 discerning of persons, being of good judgment and quick wit. He was tall of stature, strong- 
 boned, though not corpulent ; somewhat of a ruddy face, with sparkling eyes, wearing his hair on 
 his upper lip after the old British fashion. His hair reddish, but in his later days time had 
 sprinkled it with gray. His nose well set, but not declining or bending. His mouth moderately 
 large, his forehead something high, and his habit always plain and modest. Not puffed up in 
 prosperity, nor shaken in adversity, always holding the golden mean." 
 
 We may add the portrait drawn by one who had been his companion and fellow-sufferer for 
 many years, John Nelson : " His countenance was grave and sedate, and did so to the life discover 
 the inward frame of his heart that it was convincing to the beholders, and did strike something of 
 awe into them that had nothing of the fear of God." 
 
40 LIFE OF BUN VAN. 
 
 An anecdote is told that one day when he had preached " with peculiar warmth and enlarge- 
 ment " one of his hearers remarked " what a sweet sermon " he had delivered. " Ay," was 
 Bunyan's reply, " you have no need to tell me that, for the devil whispered it to me before I was 
 well out of the pulpit." As an evidence of the estimation in which Bunyan was held by the highly- 
 educated, it is recorded that Charles II. expressed his surprise to Dr. Owen that " a learned man 
 such as he could sit and listen to an illiterate tinker." " May it please your majesty," Owen 
 replied, " I would gladly give up all my learning if I could preach like that tinker." 
 
 Although much of Bunyan's literary activity was devoted to controversy, he had none of the 
 narrowness or bitter spirit of a controversialist. It is true that his zeal for what he deemed to be 
 truth led him into vehemence of language in dealing with those whom he regarded as its perverters. 
 But the intensity of speech was coupled with the utmost charity of spirit towards those who differed 
 from him. External differences he regarded as insignificant when he found real Christian faith 
 and love. The only persons he scrupled to hold communion with were those whose lives were 
 openly immoral. " Divisions about non-essentials," he said, " were to churches what wars were to 
 countries. Those who talked most about religion cared least for it ; and controversies about 
 doubtful things and things of little moment ate up all zeal for things which were practical and 
 indisputable." His last sermon breathed the same catholic spirit, free from the trammels of narrow 
 sectarianism. Its closing words are such as deserve to be written in letters of gold as the sum of 
 all true Christian teaching : " Be ye holy in all manner of conversation. Consider that the holy 
 God is your Father, and let this oblige you to live like the children of God, that you may look 
 your Father in the face with comfort another day." By the catholic spirit which breathes through 
 his writings, especially through " The Pilgrim's Progress," the tinker of Elstow " has become 
 the teacher, not of any particular sect, but of the universal Church." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BUNYAN, as we have seen, was a very copious author. His collected works fill three bulky 
 
 quarto volumes, each of nearly eight hundred double-columned pages in small type. And this 
 
 copiousness of production is combined with a general excellence in the matter produced. While 
 
 . few of his books approach the high standard of " The Pilgrim's Progress " or " Holy War," none, 
 
 it may truly be said, sink very far below that standard. 
 
 The great charm which pervades all Bunyan's writings is their naturalness. You never feel 
 that he is writing for effect, still less to perform an uncongenial piece of task-work. He wrote as 
 /he spoke, because a necessity was laid upon him which he could not evade. His errand was 
 / much too serious, and the need and danger of others too urgent, to waste time in tricking out his 
 words with human skill. And it is just this which, with all their rudeness, their occasional bad 
 grammar, and homely colloquialisms, gives to Bunyan's writings a power of rivetting the attention 
 and stirring the affections which few writers have attained to. The pent-up fire glows in every 
 line and kindles the hearts of his readers. " Beautiful images, vivid expressions, forcible arguments 
 all aglow with passion, tender pleadings, solemn warnings, make those who read him all eye, 
 11 ear, all soul." 
 
 Bunyan's verse compositions, which are numerous, do not entitle him to high rank as a poet, 
 although they are far removed from doggerel. " His ear for rhythm," says Mr. Froude, " though 
 less true than in his prose, is seldom wholly at fault ; and whether in prose or verse, he had the 
 
 al 
 al 
 
LIFE OF BUNYAN. 41 
 
 superlative merit that he could never write nonsense." His earliest prison work, entitled 
 " Profitable Meditations," was in verse, but neither this nor his later metrical ventures before 
 hisT release his " Four Last Things," his " Ebal and Gerizim," and his " Prison Meditations " 
 show as much power as his later efforts in verse. The " Prison Meditations " are the most 
 interesting of his earlier poems, from the picture they present of Bunyan's prison life and of the 
 courageous faith that sustained him. His captivity was sweetened by the thought of what it was 
 
 that brought him there : 
 
 " I here am very much refreshed 
 
 To think, when I was out, 
 I preached life and peace and rest 
 To sinners round about. 
 
 " My business then was souls to save 
 
 By preaching grace and faith, 
 
 Of which the comfort now I hav? 
 
 And have it shall till death." 
 
 He is very content to suffer or even to die for his profession. 
 
 " The prison very sweet to me 
 
 Hath been since I came here, 
 And so would also hanging be 
 If God would there appear. 
 
 " To them that here for evil lie 
 
 This place is comfortless ; 
 But not to me, because that I 
 Lie here for righteousness." 
 
 As Bunyan advanced in his literary career his claim to the title of poet, though never of the 
 highest, was strengthened. The verses which diversify the narrative in the Second Part of " The 
 Pilgrim's Progress" are decidedly superior to those in the First Part, and some are of high 
 excellence. Who is ignorant of the charming little song of the Shepherd Boy in the Valley of 
 Humiliation, or of the still higher flight in Valiant-for-Truth's song, 
 
 " Who would true valor see, 
 Let him come hither " ? 
 
 All readers of "The Pilgrim's Progress" and "The Holy War" are familiar with the long metrical 
 compositions, giving the history of those works, by which they are prefaced and the latter work is 
 closed. No more characteristic examples of Bunyan's muse can be found. They show his 
 \ excellent command of his native tongue in racy vernacular, homely but never vulgar, and his power 
 of expressing his meaning " with sharp defined outlines and without the waste of a word." 
 
 A perusal of the little volume published three years after his death under the title of" Country 
 Rhymes for Children," later known as " Divine Emblems," with all its roughness and quaintness, 
 sometimes grating on the ear, but full of strong thought and picturesque images, cannot fail to raise 
 Bunyan's pretensions as a poet. His muse, it is true, as Alexander Smith has said, is a homely 
 one. She is " clad in russet, wears shoes and stockings, has a country accent, and walks along the 
 level Bedfordshire roads." But if the lines are unpolished, " they have pith and sinew, like the talk 
 of a shrewd peasant," with the "strong thought and the knack of the skilled workman who can 
 drive by a single blow the nail home to its head." 
 6 
 
42 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 
 
 By far the most important of the works written during Bunyan's long imprisonment is the 
 " Grace Abounding," in which with inimitable earnestness and simplicity he gives the story of his 
 early life and his religious history. This book, if he had written no other, would stamp Bunyan as 
 one of the greatest masters of the English language of his own or any other age. In graphic 
 delineation of the struggles of a conscience convicted of sin towards a hardly won freedom and 
 peace, the alternations of light and darkness, of hope and despair, which checkered its course, its 
 morbid, self-torturing questions of motive and action, this work of the travelling tinker as a 
 spiritual history has never been surpassed. Its equal can hardly be found save in the " Con- 
 fessions of St. Augustine," which however, though describing a like spiritual conflict, are couched 
 in a more cultured style and rise to a higher metaphysical region than Bunyan was capable of 
 attaining to. His level is a lower one, but on that level he is without a rival. Never has the 
 history of a soul been portrayed in more nervous and awe-inspiring language. And its awfulness 
 is enhanced by its self-evident truth. 
 
 It is impossible to overestimate the value of " Grace Abounding," both for the facts of 
 
 Bunyan's earlier life and for the spiritual experience of which those facts were, in his eyes, only 
 
 / the outward framework. Its importance for our knowledge of Bunyan as a man as distinguished 
 
 I from an author, and of the circumstances of his life, is seen by a comparison of our acquaintance 
 
 \ with his earlier and with his later years. When he laid down the pen no one took it up, and 
 
 beyond two or three facts and a few hazy anecdotes, we know little or nothing of all that happened 
 
 between his final release and his death. 
 
 The value of the " Grace Abounding" however, as a work of experimental religion, may be 
 easily overestimated. Bunyan's unhappy mode of dealing with the Bible as a collection of texts, 
 each containing a definite meaning entirely irrespective of its context, is utterly destructive of 
 the true purpose of the Holy Scripture as a revelation of God's loving and holy mind and will. 
 And it is not many who can study Bunyan's minute history of the various stages of his spiritual life 
 with real profit. Only those who have known by experience the force of Bunyan's spiritual combat 
 can fully appreciate and profit by Bunyan's narrative. For such the " Grace Abounding to the 
 Chief of Sinners " will ever prove most valuable. 
 
 As has been said, Bunyan's pen was almost idle during the last six years of his imprisonment. 
 Only two of his works were produced during this period, his " Confession of Faith " and his 
 "Defence of the Doctrine of Justification by Faith." The object of the former work was "to 
 vindicate his teachings and if possible to secure his liberty." His professed principles, he asserts, 
 are " faith, and holiness springing therefrom, with an endeavor so far as in him lies to be at peace 
 with all men." He will not quarrel about " things that are circumstantial." 
 
 The " Defence of the Doctrine of Justification by Faith " is entirely controversial, being 
 inspired by a book entitled, " The Design of Christianity," by Fowler, afterwards Bishop of 
 Gloucester. Fowler's doctrines as Bunyan understood them or rather misunderstood them 
 awoke the worst side of his impetuous nature. His vituperation of the author and his book is 
 coarse and unmeasured. No excuse can be offered for it, but it was much in the fashion of 
 the time. In this work Bunyan errs in unduly asserting the absolute, irredeemable corruption of 
 human nature, leaving nothing for grace to work upon, but demanding an absolutely fresh creation, 
 not a revivification of the divine nature grievously marred but not annihilated by Adam's sin. 
 
LIFE OF BUN VAN. 43 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ^^characteristics that distinguish Bunyan as a writer are most conspicuous in-the works-fey 
 which he is chiefly known, " The Pilgrim's Progress," the " Holy War," " Grace Abounding," and 
 we-may add, though from the repulsiveness of the subject the book is little read, "The Life and 
 Death of Mr. Badman." 
 
 One great charm of these works, especially of " The Pilgrim's Progress," lies in the pure Saxon 
 Engjish m^wtochrrfiey^fe-wntterr, which makes them models of English speech" "In no book," 
 
 writes Mr. J. R. Green, " do we see more clearly than in ' The Pilgrim's Progress ' the imaginative 
 force JwMchJiad heen given, to .the common life of Englishmen by their study of the Bible. Bun- 
 yan's English is the simplest and homeliest English that has ever been used by any great writer, 
 but it is the English of the Bible. His images are the images of prophet and evangelist. So 
 completely had the Bible become Bunyan's life that we feel its phrases as the natural expression of 
 his thoughts. He had lived in the Bible till its words became his own." 
 
 The chief characteristic of Bunyan's writings is the .richness of his imaginative power. A 
 lifelike power of characterization belongs in the highest degree to " The Pilgrim's Progress " and is 
 hardly inferior in the " Holy War." The secret of this graphic power is that Bunyan describes 
 men and women such as he had seen and known them. He had to do with every one of ^heni.^ 
 He could have given a personal name to most of them, and we could do the same to many. The 
 same reality characterizes the descriptive part of " The Pilgrim's Progress." The scenery and \ 
 surroundings of his allegory are part of his own everyday life. He had known what it was to 
 be in danger of falling into a pit and being dashed to pieces with Vain Confidence, of being / 
 V drowned in the flooded meadows with Christian and Hopeful. Vanity Fair is evidently drawn/ 
 \from the life: the great yearly fair of Stourbridge, close to Cambridge, furnished him with 
 materials for the picture. 
 
 " The Pilgrim's Progress " exhibits Bunyan in the character by which he would most have ^ 
 desired to be remembered, as one of the most influential of Christian preachers. Hallam, however, 
 claims for him another distinction which would have greatly startled and probably shocked him, as 
 the father of our English novelists. As an allegorist Bunyan had many predecessors, but he was 
 the first to break ground in the field of fictitious biography. Whatever its deficiencies, literary and 
 religious may be, the fact of its universal popularity with readers of all classes and all orders / 
 of intellect remains, and gives this book a unique distinction. 
 
 One secret of the universal acceptableness of " The Pilgrim's Progress " lies in the breadth of r 
 its religious sympathies. To quote from Mr. Froude : " The Pilgrim, though in Puritan dress, is a 
 genuine man. His experience is so truly human experience, that Christians of every persuasion can 
 identify themselves with him. We too, every one of us, are pilgrims on the same road ; and image's 
 and illustrations come back to us from so faithful an itineracy, as we encounter similar trials, and 
 learn for ourselves the accuracy with which Bunyan has described them. Time can not impair its 
 interest, or intellectual progress make it cease to be true to experience." 
 
 The Second Part of "The Pilgrim's Progress" partakes of the character of all continuations, 
 and is in a great measure only a reverberation of the first part. But though it is inferior on 
 the whole to the first, it is a work of striking originality and graphic power, such as Bunyan alone 
 could have written. Everywhere we find strokes of his peculiar genius, and though in a smaller 
 measure than the first, it has added not a few portraits to Bunyan's spiritual picture gallery which 
 
44 LIFE OF BUNYAN. 
 
 we should be sorry to miss, and supplied us with racy sayings which stick to the memory. But 
 with all its excellencies, and they are many, the general inferiority of the history of Christiana and 
 her children's pilgrimage must be acknowledged. The story is less skilfully constructed; the 
 interest is sometimes allowed to flag ; the dialogues that interrupt the narrative are in places dry 
 and wearisome too much of sermons in disguise. On the whole we may well be content that 
 Bunyan never carried out the idea hinted at in the closing words of his allegory : " Shall it be my 
 lot to go that way again, I may give those that desire it an account of what I am here silent about; 
 In the meantime I bid my reader Adieu." 
 
 Bunyan's second great allegorical work, " The Holy War," is an attempt to clothe what writers 
 on divinity call " the plan of salvation " in a figurative dress. In the nature of things such an 
 attempt cannot be perfectly successful ; the narrative, with all its vividness of description in parts, 
 its clearly drawn characters with their picturesque nomenclature, and the stirring vicissitudes of the 
 drama, is necessarily wanting in the personal interest which attaches to an individual man, like 
 Christian, and those who are linked with or follow his career. The narrative moves in a more 
 shadowy region ; an undefined sense of unreality pursues us through the story, which, however, 
 draws its scenes and circumstances, and to some extent its dramatis per s once, from the writer's own 
 surroundings in the town and corporation of Bedford, and his brief but stirring experience as 
 a soldier in the great Parliamentary War. The catastrophe, also, is eminently unsatisfactory. 
 After all the endless vicissitudes of the conflict, and the final and glorious victory of Emmanuel and 
 his forces, and the execution of the ringleaders of the mutiny, the issue still remains doubtful. 
 The town of Mansoul is left open to fresh attacks, and its worst enemies are still at large. 
 
 One more work of Bunyan's still remains to be briefly noticed, as bearing the characteristic 
 stamp of his genius, "The Life and Death of Mr. Badman." The original design of this book was 
 to furnish a contrast to " The Pilgrim's Progress." It is, however, totally unlike the latter both in 
 form and execution. The one is an allegory, the other a tale, describing, without imagery or 
 metaphor, in the plainest language, the career of a vulgar, middle-class, unprincipled scoundrel. 
 It is certainly a remarkable, if an offensive book. We can hardly believe that we have not a 
 real history before us. We feel that there is no reason why the events recorded should not 
 have happened. There are no surprises, no unlooked-for catastrophes, no providential interposi- 
 tions to punish the sinner or rescue the good man. Badman's pious wife is made to pay the 
 penalty of allowing herself to be deceived by a tall, good-looking, hypocritical scoundrel. He 
 himself pursues his evil way to the end, sinning on to the last, and dying with a heart that cannot 
 repent. 
 
PART I. 
 
'AS I SLEPT, I DREAMED A DREAM." 
 
THE 
 
 AUTHORS APOLOGY FOR HIS HOOK. 
 
 HEN at the first I took my pen in hand 
 Thus tor to write, I did not understand 
 That I at all should make a little book 
 In such a mode : nay, I had undertook 
 To make another, which when almost done, 
 Before I was aware, I this begun. 
 
 And thus it was: I, writing of the way 
 And race of saints^ in this our gospel day, 
 Fell suddenly into an_allegory 
 About their journey and the way to glory. 
 In more than twenty things which I set down. 
 This done, I twenty more had in my crown ; 
 And 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 
 \ knew not what : nor did I undertake 
 Thereby to please my neighbor ; no, not I ; 
 I did it my own self to gratify. <-~ 
 
 Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
 In this my 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 pulled it came, and so I penned 
 It down, until it came at last to be, 
 For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. 
 
 <J/ Lit 
 
48 THE A UTHOR'S APOLOGY. 
 
 Well, when I had thus put mine ends together, 
 I showed them others, that I might see whether 
 They would condemn them or them justify ; 
 And some said, Let them live ; some, Let them die : 
 Some said, John, print it ; others said, Not so : 
 Some said, It might do good ; others said, No. 
 
 Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
 Which was the best thing to be done by me : 
 At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided, 
 
 I print it will ; and so the case decided. 
 . 
 
 For, thought I, some I see would have it done. 
 
 Though others in that channel do not run : 
 To prove then who advis6d 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 which were not for its coming forth, 
 I said to them, Offend you I am loath ; 
 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 their fruit 
 None can distinguish this from that : they suit 
 Het well when hungry ; but if she be full, 
 She spews out both, and makes their blessing null. 
 
 You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
 To catch the fish what engines doth he make ! 
 Behold how he engageth all his wits, 
 Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets : 
 
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 49 
 
 Yet fish there be that neither hook nor line, 
 Nor snare, nor net, nor engine, can make thine ; 
 They must be groped for, and be tickled too, 
 Or they will not be catched, whate'er you do. 
 
 How does the fowler seek to catch his game 
 By divers means, all which one cannot name 
 His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell: 
 He creeps, he goes, he stands ; yea, who can tell 
 Of all his postures ? yet there 's none of these 
 Will make him master of what fowls he please. 
 Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this; 
 Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss. 
 If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, 
 And may be found too in an oyster-shell ; 
 If things that promise nothing do contain 
 What better is than gold, who will disdain, 
 That have an inkling of it, there to look, 
 That they may find it ? Now, my little book, 
 Though void of all these paintings that may make 
 It with this or the other man to take, 
 Is not without those things that do excel 
 What do in brave but empty notions dwell. 
 
 " Well, yet I am not fully satisfied 
 That this your book will stand, when soundly tried." 
 
 Why, what 's the matter ? " jt is dark." What though ? 
 
 " But it is feigned." What of that ? I trow 
 
 Some men by feigne'd words, as dark as mine, ^- 
 
 Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine. 
 
 " But they want sol'dness." Speak, man, thy mind. 
 
 " They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind." 
 
 Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
 Of him that writeth things divine to men ; 
 But must I needs want solidness because 
 By metaphors I speak ? Were not God's laws, 
 His gospel laws, in olden time held forth 
 By shadows, types, and metaphors ? Yet loath 
 Will any sober man be to find fault 
 
 With them, lest he be found for to aj/ault 
 
 '^ 
 
 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, 
 
50 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 
 
 God speaketh to him ; and happy is he 
 That finds the light and grace that in them be. 
 Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude 
 That I want solidness that I am rude : 
 All things solid in show not solid be ; 
 All things in parable despise not we, 
 Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, 
 And things that good are, of our soul bereave. 
 My dark and cloudy words they do but hold 
 The truth, as cabinets inclose the gold. 
 
 The prophets used much by metaphors 
 To set forth truth ; yea, whoso considers 
 Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see 
 That truths to this day in such mantles be. 
 
 Am I afraid to say that holy writ, 
 Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit, 
 Is everywhere so full of all these things, 
 Dark figures, allegories ? Yet there springs 
 From that same book that lustre and those rays 
 Of light that turn our darkest nights to days. 
 
 Come, let my carper to his life now 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 durst adventure ten 
 That they will take my meaning in these lines 
 Far better than his lies in silver shrines. 
 Come! Truth, although in swaddling-clothes, I find 
 Y Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind, 
 Pleases the understanding, makes the will 
 Submit ; the memory also it doth fill 
 With what doth our imagination please; 
 Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. 
 
 Sound words, I know, Timotky is to use, 
 And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; 
 But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid 
 The use of parables, in which lay hid 
 That gold, those pearls and precious stones, that were 
 Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. 
 
THE A UTHORS APOLOG Y. 5 1 
 
 Let me add one word more. O man of God, 
 Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had 
 Put forth my matter in another dress ; 
 Or that I had in things been more express ? 
 Three things let me propound ; then I submit 
 To those that are my betters, as is fit. 
 
 1. I find not that I am denied the use 
 Of this my method, so I no abuse 
 
 Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude 
 In handling figure or similitude, 
 In application ; but all that I may 
 Seek the advance of truth this or that way. 
 Denied, did I say ? Nay, I have leave 
 Example too, and that from them that have 
 God better 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 -Grxfc for who knows how, 
 Better than he that taught us first to plough, 
 To guide our minds and pens for his design ? 
 And he makes base things usher in divine. 
 
 3. I find that holy writ in many places 
 
 Hath semblance with this method, where the cases 
 Do call for one thing to set forth another : 
 Usejt 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 : */^ 
 
 It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes, 
 
52 THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 
 
 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 obtain ; 
 Here also you may see the reason why 
 They lose their labor and like fools do die. 
 
 This book will make a traveller of thee, 
 If by its counsel thou wilt ruleM be ; 
 It will direct thee to the Holy Land, 
 If thou wilt its directions understand : 
 Yea, it will make the slothful active be, 
 The blind also delightful things to see. 
 
 Art thou for something rare and profitable ; 
 Or would'st 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. 
 
 Would'st thou divert thyself from melancholy ? 
 Would'st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ? 
 Would'st thou read riddles and their explanation, 
 Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ? 
 Dost thou love picking meat ; or would'st thou see 
 A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee ? 
 Would'st thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ; 
 Or would'st thou in a moment laugh and weep ? 
 Wouldest thou lose thyself, and catch no harm, 
 And find thyself again without a charm ? 
 Would'st read thyself, and read thou know'st not what, 
 And yet know whether thou art blest or not 
 By reading the same lines ? Oh, then come hither, 
 And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. 
 
r l SAW A MAN CLOTHED WITH KAGS A BOOK IN HIS HAND AND A GREAT BURDEN ON HIS BACK." 
 
THE 
 
 IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. 
 
 THE FIRST STAGE. 
 
 As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place 
 Bedford Jan. where was a den, and laid me down in that place to sleep ; and as I slept, 
 I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags standing 
 in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great 
 burden upon his back. Isa. 64 : 6 ; Luke 14 : 33 ; Psalm 38 : 4. I looked, and saw him 
 open the book, and read therein ; and as he read, he wept and trembled ; and not 
 being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, " What shall 
 I do ?" Acts 2:37; 16 : 30 ; Hab. i : 2, 3. 
 
 In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained himself as long as he could, 
 that his wife and children should not perceive his distress ; but he could not be silent 
 long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind 
 to his wife and children ; and thus he began to talk to them : " Oh, my dear wife," said 
 he, " and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone 
 by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me. Moreover, I am certainly informed 
 This world, 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 this his relations were sore amazed ; not for that 
 they believed that what he had said to them was true, but because they thought that 
 
HE BRAKE HIS MIND TO HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN." 
 
CONVICTION OF SIN. 
 
 S7 
 
 some frenzy distemper had got into his 
 head ; therefore, it drawing towards night, 
 and they hoping that sleep might settle his 
 brains, with all haste they got him to bed. 
 But the night was as troublesome to him 
 as the day ; wherefore, instead of sleeping, 
 he spent it in sighs and tears. So when the 
 morning was come, they would know how 
 he did. He told them, "Worse and worse :" 
 lie also set to talking to them again ; but 
 camai physic tne 7 began to be hardened. 
 They also thought to drive 
 away his distemper by harsh and_surly 
 carriage to him ; sometimes they would 
 deride, sometimes they would chide, and 
 sometimes they would quite neglect him. 
 Wherefore he began to retire himself to 
 his chamber to pray for and pity them, and 
 also to condole his own misery ; he would 
 
 "GREATLY DISTRESSKD IN HIS MIND." 
 
 "HE RETIRED HIMSELF TO HIS CHAMBER TO PRAY." 
 
 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, 
 "What shall I do to be saved?" Acts 
 16:30, 31. 
 
 I saw also that he looked this way, 
 and that way, as if he would run ; yet 
 he stood still because (as I perceived) he 
 could not tell which way to go. I looked 
 then, and saw a man named Evangelist 
 coming to him, and he asked, <v Where- 
 fore dost thou cry ?" 
 
 He answered, " Sir, I perceive, by the 
 book in my hand, that I am condemned 
 
DO YOU SEE YONDER WICKET-GATE?" 
 
ENTERING ON PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 59 
 
 v 7-iiri<i : 
 
 out the \ord. 
 
 to die, and after that to come to judgment, Heb. 9:27; and I find that I am not willing 
 to do the first, Job 10 : 21, 22, nor able to do the second." Ezek. 22 : 14. 
 
 Then said Evangelist, " Why not willing to die, since this life is attended with 
 so many evils ?" The man answered, " Because I fear that this burden that is upon 
 my back will sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall into Tophet. Isa. 30 : 33. 
 And, sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence 
 to execution ; and the thoughts of these things make me cry." 
 
 conviction of Then said Evangelist, " If this be thy condition, why standest thou 
 
 the necessity of 
 
 fleeing, ^vjpr still? He answered, "Because I know not whither to go." Then he 
 gave liim a parchment roll, and there was written within, " Flee from the wrath to 
 come." Matt. 3 : 7. 
 
 The man therefore read it, and, looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said, 
 " Whither must I fly ?" Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a very 
 wide field), " Do you see yonder wicket-gate ?" Matt. 7:13, 14. The man said, " No." 
 
 iri<i :ind UK- Then said the other, " Do you see yonder shining light?" . Psa. 1 19 : 105 ; 
 2 Pet. i : 19. He said, " I think I do." Then said Evangelist, " Keep that 
 in your eye, and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate ; 
 at which when thou knockest, it shall be told 
 thee what thou shalt do." So I saw in my 
 dream that the man began to run. Now he 
 had not run far from his own door when his 
 wife and children, perceiving it, began to 
 cry after him to return ; but the man put 
 'his fingers in his ears and ran dn, crying. 
 " Life ! life ! eternal life !" Luke 14 : 26. So 
 he looked not behind him, Gen. 19: 17, but 
 fled towards the middle of the plain. 
 
 The neighbors also came out to see him 
 
 run, Jer. 20 : 10 ; and as he ran, some mocked, 
 
 others threatened, and some cried after him 
 
 They that flee to return ; and among those that 
 
 from tlie wrath to . 
 
 come are a pea- did SO P there Were two that re- 
 
 zing-stock to the . 
 
 world. solved to fetch him back by 
 
 force. The name of the one was Obstinate, 
 
 and the name of the other Pliable. Now by 
 
 this time the man was got a good distance 
 
 from them ; but, however, they were resolved 
 
 to pursue him, which they did, uid in a little 
 
 time they overtook him. Then said the man, 
 
 " Neighbors, wherefore are ye come ?" They 
 
 said. " To persuade you to go back with us." 
 
 But he said, " That can by no means be : you dwell," said he, " in the city of Destruc- 
 
 tion, the place also where I was born. I see it to be so ; and dying there, sooner or 
 
 OBSTINATE. 
 
6o 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 later you will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brim- 
 stone. Be content, good neighbors, and go along with me." 
 
 " What," said Obstinate, " and leave our friends and our comforts behind us !" 
 "Yes," said Christian (for that was his name), "because that all which you for- 
 sake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy, 2 Cor. 
 4:18; 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. Luke 15 : 17. Come away, and prove my 
 words." 
 
 OBST. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them ? 
 
 CHR. I seek an in-heritance incor-ruptibl^-iinde- 
 filed, and that-fadethnet -awayy-i Pet. 1:4; and it 
 is laid up in heaven, and safe there, Heb. 1 1 : 16, to be 
 bestowed, at the time appointed, on them that dili- 
 gently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book. 
 
 " Tush !" said Obstinate, "away with your book. 
 Will you go back with us, or no ?" 
 
 " No, not I," said the other, " because I have laid 
 my hand to the plough." Luke 9 : 62. 
 
 OBST. Come then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn 
 again and go home without him : there is a com- 
 pany of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that when they 
 take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes 
 than seven men that can render a reason. 
 
 Then said Pliable, " Do n't revile. If what good 
 Christian says is~true, the things he looks after are 
 better than ours. My heart inclines to go with my 
 neighbor." 
 
 OBST. What, more fools still ! Be ruled by me, 
 and go back ; who knows whither such a brain-sick 
 fellow will lead you ? Go back, go back, and be wise. 
 
 CHR. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbor Pliable. There are such things 
 to be had which I spoke of, and many more glories besides. If you Christian and 
 
 .... Obstinate pull for 
 
 believe not me, read here in this book ; and for the- truth of what is raawe's mm. 
 expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Him that made it. 
 Heb. 9 : 1 7-2 1 . 
 
 " Well, neighbor 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. 
 good companion, do you know the way to this desired place ?" 
 
 CHR. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evangelist, to speed me to a little 
 gate that is before us, where we shall receive instructions about the way. 
 
 PLI. Come then, good neighbor, let us be going. 
 
 " And I will go back to my place," said Obstinate : " I will be no companion of 
 such misled, fantastical fellows." 
 
 But, my Pliable con- 
 
 senteth to go with 
 Christian. 
 
OBSTINATE AND PLIABLE. 6l 
 
 Talk between Now I saw in my dream that when Obstinate was gone back, Chris. 
 
 Christian and Pli- . . 
 
 awe. tian and Pliable went talking over the plain ; and thus they began their 
 
 discourse : 
 
 CHR. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do ? I am glad you are persuaded to 
 go along with me. Had even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt of the 
 powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not thus lightly have given us 
 the back. 
 
 PLI. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are none but us two here, tell me now 
 farther what the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are going. 
 
 CHR. I can better conceive of them with my mind than speak of them with my 
 tongue : but yet, since you are desirous to know, I will read of them in my book. 
 
 PLI. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that cannot lie. Tit. i : 2. 
 
 PLI. Well said ; what things are they ? 
 
 CHR. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life to be Y 
 given us, that we may inhabit that kingdom for ever. Isa. 65 : 17 ; John 10 : 27-29. 
 
 PLI. Well said ; and what else ? 
 
 CHR. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that will make 
 us shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven. 2 Tim. 4:8; Rev. 22 : 5 
 Matt. 13:43- 
 
 PLI. This is very pleasant ; and what else ? 
 
 CHR. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow ; for he that is owner of the 
 place will wipe all tears from our eyes. Isa. 25 : 8 ; Rev. 7 : 16, 17 ; 21 : 4. 
 
 PLI. And what company shall we have there ? 
 
 CHR. There we shall be with seraphim and cherubim, Isa. 6:2;: Thess. 4 : 16, 
 17; Rev. 5:11; creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. There also 
 you shall meet with thousands and ten thousands that have gone before us to that 
 place : none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy ; every one walking in the sight 
 of God, and standing in his presence- with acceptance for ever. In a word, there we 
 shall see the elders with their golden crowns, Rev. 4:4; there we shall see the holy 
 virgins with their golden harps, Rev. 14: 1-5; there we shall see men that by the 
 world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas, for 
 the love they bore to the Lord of the place, John 12: 25, all well, and clothed with 
 immortality as with a garment. 2 Cor : 5 : 2. 
 
 PLI. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart. But are these things 
 to be enjoyed ? How shall we get to be sharers thereof ? 
 
 CHR. The Lord, the governor of the country, hath recorded that in this book, 
 Isa. 55 : I, 2 ; John 6 : 37 ; 7 : 37 ; Rev. 21:6; 22 : 17 ; the substance of which is, if we 
 be truly willing to have it, he will bestow it upon us freely. 
 
 PLI. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things. Come on, 
 let us mend our pace. 
 
 CHR. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is o'n my back. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that just as they had ended this talk, they drew nigh 
 
62 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 to a very miry slough that was in the midst of the plain : and they being heedless, 
 did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough was The Slough of 
 Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously Des P nd - 
 bedaubed with dirt ; and Christian, because of the burden that was on his back, 
 began to sink in the mire. 
 
 Then said Pliable, "Ah, neighbor Christian, where are you now ?" 
 
 " Truly," said Christian, " I do not know." 
 
 At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his fellow, " Is this 
 the happiness you have told me all this while of? If we have such ill speed at 
 our first setting out, what may we expect between this and our journey's end ? May 
 I 2"et out aeain with mv life, vou shall possess the brave country alone it is not 
 
 6 J J enough to Be pli- 
 
 for me." And with that he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got able. 
 
 out of the mire on that side of the slough which was next to his own house: so 
 
 away he went, and Christian saw him no more. 
 
 Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone : but 
 still he endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough that was Cnrlstian> , 
 farthest from his own house and next to the wicket-gate ; the which he SS&SrftS! 
 did, but could not get out because of the burden that was upon his back. his own house> 
 But I beheld in my dream that a man came to him, whose name was Help, and 
 asked him what he did there. 
 
 " Sir," said Christian, " I was bid to go this way by a man called Evangelist, 
 who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape the wrath to come. And 
 as I was going thither, I fell in here." 
 
 HELP. But why did not you look for the steps ? The promises. 
 
 CHR. Fear followed me so hard that I fled the next way, and fell in. 
 x Then said Help, "Give me thy hand." So he gave him his hand, and he drew 
 him out, Psa. 40 : 2, and he set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way. 
 
 Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, " Sir, wherefore, since 
 
 over this place is the way from the city of Destruction to yonder gate, is it that 
 
 this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with more security ?" 
 
 And he said unto me, " This miry slough is such a place as cannot what makes 
 
 (be mended: it is the descent whither the scum and filth that attends spond ug 
 
 ./ conviction for sin doth continually run, and therefore it is called the Slough of 
 
 Despond; for still, as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there arise 
 
 in his soul many fears and doubts, and discouraging apprehensions, which all of 
 
 them get together and settle in this place : and this is the reason of the badness 
 
 of this ground. 
 
 " It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so bad. 
 Isa. 35 : 3, 4. His laborers also have, by the direction of his Majesty's surveyors, been 
 for above these sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps 
 it might have been mended : yea, and to my knowledge," said he " there have been 
 swallowed up at least twenty thousand cartloads, yea, millions of wholesome instruc- 
 tions, that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's dominions 
 
11 CHRISTIAN STILL ENDEAVORED TO STRUGGLE TO THAT SIDE OF THE SLOUGH THAT WAS FARTHEST FROM HIS OWN HOUSE.' 
 
6 4 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 The promise8 
 
 (and they that can tell say that they are the best materials to make good ground 
 of the place), if so be it might have been mended ; but it is the Slough of Despond 
 still, and so will be when they have done what they can. 
 
 " True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and substantial 
 steps placed even through the very midst of this slough ; but at such 
 time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth against change 
 of weather, these steps are hardly seen ; or if they be, men, through ln Christ - 
 the dizziness of their heads, step beside, and then they are bemired to purpose, 
 notwithstanding the steps be there : but the ground is good when they are once 
 got in at the gate." i Sam. 12 : 23. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that by this time Pliable was got home to his house. 
 So his neighbors came to visit him ; and some of them called him wise puai>ie is vis- 
 man for coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding himself bon. 
 with Christian : others, again, did mock at his cowardliness, saying, " Surely, since 
 you began to venture, I would not have been so base as to have given out for a 
 few difficulties:" so Pliable sat 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 walk- 
 ing solitary by himself, he espied 
 one afar off come crossing over 
 the field to meet him ; and their 
 hap was to meet Mr. woruiiy 
 
 Wiseman meets 
 jUSt as they Were with Christian. 
 
 crossing the way of each other. 
 The gentleman's name that met 
 him was Mr. Worldly Wiseman : 
 he dwelt in the town of Carnal 
 Policy, a very great town, and 
 also hard by from whence Chris- 
 tian came. This man then meet- 
 ing with Christian, and having 
 some inkling of him (for Chris- 
 tian's setting forth from the city 
 f Destruction was much noised 
 abroad, not only in the town 
 where he dwelt, but also it be- 
 gan to be the town-talk in some 
 other places) Mr. Worldly Wise. 
 man, 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 after this burdened manner? 
 
 MR. WORLDLY WISEMAN. 
 
WORLDLY WISEMAN'S COUNSEL. 65 
 
 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 : methinks 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 speed get thyself rid cf 
 wondiy wise- thy burden ; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then : nor 
 
 man's counsel to . 
 
 Christian. canst thou enjoy the benefits of the blessings which God hath bestowed 
 
 upon thee till then. 
 
 CIIR. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden : but 
 get it off myself I cannot, nor is there any man in our country that can take it off 
 my shoulders ; therefore I am going this way, as I told you, that I may be rid of 
 my burden. 
 
 WORLD. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden ? 
 
 CIIR. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honorable person : his 
 name, as I remember, is Evangelist. 
 
 WORLD. I beshrew him for his counsel ! There is not a more dangerous and 
 Mr. wondiy troublesome way in the world than is that into which he hath directed 
 Sen! 1 Evi tnee '> and that tnou snalt find > if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel, 
 ounsei. Thou ^ ast met ^^ something, as I perceive, already ; for I see that 
 the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee : but that slough is the beginning of 
 the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way. Hear me ; I am older than 
 thou: thou art like to meet with, 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 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 all 
 The frame of these things which you have mentioned. Nay, methinks I care not 
 
 the heart of a * . J . . , . . 
 
 young Christian, what I meet with in the way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance 
 from my burden. 
 
 WORLD. How earnest thou by thy burden at first ? 
 
 CHR. By reading this book in my hand. 
 
 WORLD. I thought so ; and it has happened unto thee as to other weak men, 
 ne does not who, meddling with thingfs too high for them, do suddenly fall into 
 
 Ifke that men ' 
 
 should be serious thy distractions ; which distractions do not only unman men, as thine 
 
 in reading the Bi- J 
 
 I perceive have done thee, but they run them upon desperate ventures, 
 to obtain they know not what. 
 
 CHR. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease from my heavy burden. 
 9 
 
66 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 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 
 to the obtaining of what thou desirest without the dangers that thou in this way 
 wilt run thyself into. Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, that 
 instead of these dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content. 
 
 CHR. Sir, I pray open this secret to me. 
 
 WORLD. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality) there dwells 
 a erentleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man. and a man ne prefers 
 
 . & , . , morality before 
 
 of a very good name, that hath skill to help men on with such burdens the strait gate. 
 as thine is 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. There, I 
 say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden ; and if thou art hot minded to go back 
 to thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee), thou mayest send for 
 thy wife and children to this village, where there are houses now standing empty, 
 one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable rate. Provision is there also cheap 
 and good ; and that which will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure there 
 thou shalt live by honest neighbors, in credit and good fashion. 
 
 Now was Christian somewhat at a stand ; but presently he concluded, " If this 
 be true which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take Christian snared 
 
 ,. j - j -.if 4.-U 4. -u 4.-U r Vt. i by Mr. Worl.lry 
 
 his advice : and with that he thus farther spoke : Wiseman's words; 
 
 CHR. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house? 
 
 WORLD. Do you see yonder high hill ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, very well. 
 
 WORLD. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come at is his. 
 
 So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house for help 
 but behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, Christian afraid 
 and also that side of it that was next the wayside did hang so much *J** ld }jji on ^ 
 over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, lest the hill should heacL 
 fall on his head ; wherefore there he stood still, arid wotted not what to do. Also his 
 burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was in his way. There came 
 also flashes of fire, Exod. 19: 16, 18, out of the hill, that made Christian afraid that 
 he should be burnt: here therefore he did sweat and quake for fear. Heb. 12: 21. 
 And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel ; 
 , and with that he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom 
 he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer ; and coming 
 up to him,. he looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and -thus 
 began to reason with Christian: 
 
 " What doest thou here, Christian ?" said Evangelist : at which words Christian 
 knew not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. 
 
son 
 
 EVANGELISTS GOOD COUNSEL. 67 
 
 KvanjrHist rea- Then said Evangelist further, " Art not thou the man that I found crv- 
 
 ;ons afresh with ..--*,. * 
 
 Christian. ing without the walls of the city of Destruction?" 
 
 CHR. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 
 
 EVAN. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, dear sir. 
 
 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 laden 
 with the burden that is on my back that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly. 
 
 EVAN. And what said he then ? 
 
 CHR. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden ; and I told him it was ease that 
 I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate to receive further direc- 
 tion 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 
 in ; 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 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. 
 
 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 
 Evangelist, con- that speaketh ; for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on ' 
 
 vinces him of his . 
 
 error. earth, much more shall not we escape if we turn away from Him that 
 
 speaketh from heaven." Heb. 12 : 25. He said, moreover, " Now the just shall live by 
 faith ; but if any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him." Heb. 10: 38. 
 He also did thus apply them : " Thou art the man that art running into this misery ; 
 thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy foot 
 from the way of peace, even almost to the hazarding of thy perdition." 
 
 Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, " Woe is me, for I am un- 
 done !" At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, " All 
 manner of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men." Matt. 12:31. "Be not * 
 faithless, but believing." John 20 : 27. Then did Christian again a little revive, and 
 stood up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist. 
 
 Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, " Give more earnest heed to the things that I . 
 
 . ' 
 
68 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 shall tell thee of. I will now show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who it was 
 also to whom he sent thee. The man that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman, and 
 
 rightly is he so called ; partly because he savoreth only the doctrine of Mr. worimy 
 
 ". / * 1 Wiseman described 
 
 this world, i John 4 : 5 (therefore he always goes to the town of Morality by Evangelist. 
 to church), and partly because he loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him best from 
 the cross, Gal. 6:12: and because he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to 
 pervert my ways, though right. Now there are three things in this man's counsel 
 that thou must utterly abhor. 
 
 " i . His turning thee out of the way. 
 
 "2. His laboring to render the cross odious to thee. 
 
 " 3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto the administration of 
 death. 
 
 " First, thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way ; yea, and thine own 
 consenting thereto , because this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the 
 counsel of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, ' Strive to enter in at the strait gate,' 
 Luke 1 3 : 24, the gate to which I send thee ; ' for strait is the gate that leadeth unto 
 life, and few there be that find it.' Matt. 7:13, 14. From this little wicket-gate, and 
 from the way thereto, hath this wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee 
 almost to destruction : hate, therefore, his turning thee out of the way, and abhor thy- 
 self for hearkening to him. 
 
 " Secondly, thou must abhor his laboring to render the cross odious_unto the_e ; for 
 /thou art to prefer it before the treasures of Egypt. Heb. 11 125, 26. Besides, the 
 King of glory hath told thee that he tfrat-will-save bia life shalLlose-it. And he that 
 comes after Him, and hates not his father and mother and wife and children and 
 brethren and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be his disciple. Mark 8 : 38 ; 
 John 12:25; Matt. 10:39; Luke 14:26. I say, therefore, for man to labor to persuade 
 thee that that shall be thy death without which, the truth hath said, thou canst not 
 have eternal life, this doctrine thou must abhor. 
 
 " Thirdly, thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that leadeth to the 
 . ministration of death. And for this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and 
 also how unable that person was to deliver thee from thy burden. 
 
 " He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is the son of the 
 bond-woman which now is, and is in bondage with her children, Gal. 4:21-27, and is, 
 in a mystery, this Mt. Sinai which thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if 
 she with her children are in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made 
 free ? This Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man 
 was as yet ever rid of his burden by him ; no, nor ever is like to be. Ye cannot be 
 , justified by the works of the law ; for by the deeds of the law no man living can be 
 rid of his burden. Therefore Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien and Mr. Legality is a 
 cheat; and for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but a hypo- 
 crite, 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 turn- 
 ing thee from the way in which I had set thee." After this Evangelist called aloud to 
 
THE WA Y OF RETURN. 69 
 
 the heavens for confirmation of what he had said ; and with that there came words 
 and fire out of the mountain under which poor Christian stood, which made the hair of 
 his flesh stand up. The. words were thus pronounced : " As many as are of the works 
 of the law are under the curse ; for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth 
 not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them." Gal. 3 : 10. 
 
 Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out lamentably ; 
 even cursing the time in which he met with Mr. Worldly Wiseman ; still calling him- 
 self a thousand fools for hearkening to his counsel. He also was greatly ashamed to 
 think that this gentleman's arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the- 
 prevalency with him so far as to cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he 
 applied himself again to Evangelist in words and sense as follows : 
 
 CHR. Sir, what think you? Is there any hope? May I now go back, and go up 
 Christian in- to the wicket-gate ? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back 
 
 quires if he may . 
 
 yet be happy. from thence ashamed ? I am sorry I have hearkened to this man s coun- 
 sel ; but may my sin be forgiven ? 
 
 Then said Evangelist to him, "Thy sin is very great, for by it thou hast com- 
 mitted two evils ; thou hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden paths. 
 Yet will the man at the gate receive thee, for he has good-will for men: only," said 
 he, " take heed that thou turn not aside again, lest thou ' perish from the way, when, 
 his wrath is kindled but a little.' " Psa. 2:12. 
 
70 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 THE SECOND STAGE. 
 
 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 spoke he to any man by the way ; nor if any man asked him, would he vouch- 
 safe 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 had left to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel. So, in process of time, 
 Christian got up to the gate. Now, over the gate there was written, " Knock, and it 
 shall be opened unto you." Matt. 7 : 7. 
 
 He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying, 
 
 "May I now enter here? Will he within 
 Open to sorry me, though I have been 
 An undeserving rebel ? Then shall I 
 Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high." 
 
 At last there came a grave person to the 
 gate, named Goodwill, who asked who was 
 there, and whence he came, and what he 
 would have. 
 
 CHR. Here is a poor burdened sinner. 
 I come from the city of Destruction, but 
 am going to Mt. Zion, that I may be de- 
 livered from the wrath to come. I would 
 therefore, sir, since I am informed that by 
 this gate is the way thither, know if you 
 are willing to let me in. 
 
 " I am willing with all The ffate wjn 
 my heart," said Goodwill; g'^g^ b j: 
 and with that he opened the ners- 
 gate. 
 
 So, when Christian was stepping in, 
 the other gave him a pull. Then said 
 Christian, " What means that?" The other,/ 
 told him, " A little distance from this gate 
 there is erected a strong castle, of which 
 Beelzebub is the captain: from thence 
 both he and they that are with him shoot , 
 arrows at those that come up to this gate, 
 if haply they may die before they can 
 
 enter in." Then said Christian, " I rejoice and tremble." So when he was got in, the 
 man of the gate asked him who directed him thither. 
 
 'THERE CAME A GRAVE PERSON TO THE GATE, NAMED 
 GOODWILL." 
 
WITHIN THE GA TE. 
 
 Talk between CHR. Evangelist bid me 
 
 Goodwill and . T 
 
 Christian. come hither and knock, as I 
 
 did : and he said that you, sir, would tell 
 me what I must do. 
 
 GOOD. An open door is set before 
 thee and no man can shut it. 
 
 CHR. Now I begin\o reap the benefit 
 of my hazards. 
 
 GOOD. But how is it that you came 
 alone ? 
 
 CHR. Because none of my neighbors 
 saw their danger as I saw mine. 
 
 GOOD. Did any of them know of your 
 coming ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, my wife and children saw 
 me at the first, and called after me to 
 turn again: also, some of my neighbors 
 stood crying and calling after me to re- 
 turn ; but I put my fingers in my ears and 
 so came on my way. 
 
 'THEY THAT ARE WITH HIM SHOOT ARROWS." 
 
 " THK OTHER GAVE HIM A PULL." 
 
 GOOD. But did none of them follow 
 you to persuade you to go back ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, both Obstinate and Plia- 
 ble; but when they saw that they could 
 not prevail, Obstinate went railing back, 
 but Pliable came with me a little way. 
 
 GOOD. But why did he not come 
 through ? 
 
 CHR. We indeed came both together 
 until we came to the Slough of Despond, 
 into the which we also slid- 
 denly fell. And then was my * 
 neighbor Pliable discouraged, 
 and would not venture fur- 
 ther. Wherefore, getting out again on the 
 side next to his own house, he told me I 
 should possess the brave country alone for 
 him: so he went his way and I came 
 mine he after Obstinate and I to this 
 gate. 
 
 A man may 
 . 
 
 alone - 
 
72 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Then said Goodwill, "Alas, poor man; is the celestial glory of so little esteem 
 with him that he counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few difficulties to ob- 
 tain it?" 
 
 " Truly," said Christian, " I have said the truth of Pliable ; and if I should also say 
 all the truth of myself, it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him Christian ac- 
 and myself. It is true he went back to his own house, but I also turned fore etl the ln man l 'at 
 aside to go into the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal the gate- 
 argument of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman." 
 
 GOOD. Oh, did he light upon you ? What, he would have had you seek for ease 
 at the hands of Mr. Legality ! They are both of them a very cheat. But did you take 
 his counsel ? 
 
 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 was I forced to stop. 
 
 GOOD. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be^he death of many 
 more. It is 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 durnps ; but it was God's 
 mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am 
 come, such a one as I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain than thus to 
 stand talking with my Lord. But oh, what a favor is this to me that yet I am ad- 
 mitted entrance here ! 
 
 GOOD. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all that they have 
 done before they come hither; they in no wise are cast out. John 6:37. Christian com- 
 /And therefore, good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will [urec'tedyetonTs 
 ' teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee ; dost thou see way- 
 this narrow way ? That is the way thou must go. It was cast up by the patriarchs, 
 prophets, Christ, and his apostles, and it is as straight as a rule can make it ; this is the 
 way thou must go. 
 
 " But," said Christian, " are there no turnings nor windings by which a stranger 
 may lose his way ?" 
 
 GOOD. Yes, there are many ways but down upon this, and they are crooked and 
 wide : but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only be- 
 ing straight and narrow. Matt. 7:14. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that Christian asked him further if he could not help 
 him off with his burden that was upon his back. For as yet he had not got rid 
 thereof ; nor could he by any means get it off without help. 
 
 He told him, " As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou 
 
 * There is no de- 
 
 comest to the place of deliverance ; for there it will fall from thy back 
 
 nf itc^l-f^" of sin but h y the 
 
 1Lt > e11 - death and blood 
 
 Then Christian began to gird up his loins and to address himself to of Clmst - 
 his journey. So the other told him that by that he was gone some distance from the 
 gate, he would come to the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, 
 
IN THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 73 
 
 and he would show him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, 
 and he again bid him God speed. 
 
 Christian comes Then he went on till he came at the house of the Interpreter, where u/ 
 inter e pre < ter eof t t ul ne knocked over and over. At last one came to the door and asked who 
 
 Hoiy spirit.' ' wa s there. 
 
 CHR. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance of the good man of 
 this house to call here for my profit. I would therefore speak with the master of the 
 house. 
 
 So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came to Chris, 
 tian and asked him what he would have. 
 
 " Sir," said Christian, " I am a man that am come from the city of Destruction, 
 and am .going to the mount Zionj-and I was told by the man that stands at the gate 
 at the head of this way tKafTf I called here you would show me excellent things, such 
 as would be helpful to me on my journey." 
 
 Then said the Interpreter, " Come in ; I will show thee that which will be profit- 
 able to thee." So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian follow 
 him. vSo he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door ; the which 
 
 Christian sees wnen he had done, Christian saw the rjicture_of a very grave person hang / / 
 a i.rave picture. up a g a j nst the wall ; and this was the fashion of it : it had eyes lifted up 
 to heaven, the best of books in its hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the 
 world was behind its back ; it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did ^ 
 hang over its head. 
 
 Then said Christian, " What means this?" 
 
 INTER. The man whose picture this is is one of a thousand: he can beget chil- 
 dren, i Cor. 4:15, travail in birth with children, Gal. 4: 19, and nurse 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 ; even as also thou seest him 
 stand as if he pleaded with men. And whereas thou seest the world as cast behind 
 him, and that a crown hangs over his head, that is to show thee that slighting and 
 despising the things that are present, for the love that he hath to his Master's service, 
 why he showed he is sure in the world that comes next to have glory for his reward. 
 
 him this picture ,,.,...,., 
 
 flrst, Now, said the Interpreter, I have showed thee this picture first, because 
 
 the man whose picture this is is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither -, 
 thou art going hath authorized to be thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet J 
 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 deattu 
 
 Then he took him by the hand and led him into a very large parley that was full i^ 
 of dust, because never swept ; the which after he reviewed it a little while, the Inter- 
 preter called for a man to sweep. Now when he began to sweep the dust began so 
 abundantly to fly about^-that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then 
 said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, " Bring hither water and sprinkle 
 
 10 
 
74 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 the room;" the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with 
 pleasure. 
 
 Then said Christian, " What means this ?" 
 
 The Interpreter answered, " This parlor is the heart of a man that was never sanc- 
 tified by the sweet grace of the gospel. The dust is his original sin, and inward cor- 
 ruptions, that have denied the whole man. He that began to sweep at first is the 
 _^Law ; but she that brought water and did sprinkle it is the Gospel. Now, whereas 
 thou sawest that so soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the 
 room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith, this 
 is to show thee that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, 
 doth revive, Rom. 7:9, put strength into, i Cor. 15:56, and increase it in the soul, 
 Rom. 5 : 20, even as it doth discover and forbid it ; for it doth not give power to sub- 
 due. Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it 
 was cleansed with pleasure, this is to show thee that when the gospel comes in the 
 sweet and precious influences thereof to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the 
 damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and. sub- 
 dued, and the soul made clean, through the faith of it, and consequently fit for the 
 King of glory to inhabit." John 15 13; Eph. 5:26; Acts 15 19; Rom. 16:25, 26. 
 
 ~~i- saw moreover in my dream that the Interpreter took him by the hand and had 
 him into a little room where sat two little children, each one in his chair. He showed mm 
 The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience, 
 
 
 Passion seemed to be much discontented, but Patience was very quiet. Then Chris- 
 tian asked, "What is the reason of the discontent of Passion?" The Interpreter an- 
 swered, " The governor of them would have him stay for his best things till the be- 
 ginning of the next year, but he will have all now ; but Patience is willing to wait." 
 
 Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure, and 
 poured it down at his feet; the which he took up and rejoiced therein, 
 and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a little while, 
 and he had lavished all away and had nothing left him but rags. away< 
 
 Then said Christian to the Interpreter, " Expound this matter more fully to me." 
 
 So the Interpreter said, " These two lads are figures : Passion of the men of this 
 world, and Patience of the men of that which is to come ; for, as here thou seest, Pas- 
 sion will have all now, this year, that is to say, in this world. So are the men of this 
 world: they must have all their good things now; they cannot stay till the next year, 
 that is, until the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, ' A bird in the 
 hand is worth two in the bush,' is of more authority with them than are all the divine 
 testimonies of the good of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly 
 lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing but rags, so will it be with all 
 such men at the end of this world." 
 
 Then said Christian, "Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom, Patience had the 
 r and that upon many accounts, i. Because he stays for the 1 ,est things. best wisdom - 
 2. And also because he will have the glory of his when Ihe other has nothing but 
 rags." 
 
IN THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 75 
 
 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 
 Things tiiat are to laugh at Patience because he had his good thing's first as Patience 
 
 Orst must give 
 
 place; but things will have to laugh at Passion because he had his best things last- for 
 
 i lint (ire hi M {ire *^ 
 
 first must give place to last, because last must have his time to come : but 
 last gives place to nothing, for there is not another to succeed. He, therefore, that 
 hath his portion first must needs have a time to spend it ; but he that hath his portion 
 last must have it lastingly : therefore it is said of Dives, " In thy lifetime thou 
 receivedst thy good things, aricl likewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comforted, 
 and thou art tormented." Luke 16:25. 
 
 CHR. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are now, but to wait for 
 things to come. 
 
 INTER. You say truth ; for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things 
 that are not seen are eternal. 2 Cor. 4: 18. But though this be so, yet, since things 
 present and our fleshly appetite are such near neighbors one to another ; and again, 
 because things to come and carnal sense are such strangers one to another ; therefore 
 it is that the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so con- 
 tinued 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 niuch water upon it to quench it ; yet did the fire burn higher and 
 hotter. 
 
 Then said Christian, " What means this ?" 
 
 The fire of di- The Interpreter answered, " This fire is the work of grace that is 
 wrought in the heart. He that casts water upon it, to extinguish and 
 put it out, is the devil; but in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher 
 and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that." So 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, not- 
 withstanding what the devil can do, the souls of his people prove gracious still. 2 Cor. 
 12:9. And in that thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the 
 fire, this is to teach thee that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace 
 is maintained in the soul." 
 
 I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand and led him into a 
 pleasant place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful to behold; at the sight " 
 of which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw also upon the top thereof certain 
 persons walking, who were clothed all in gold. 
 
 Then said Christian, " May we go in thither ?" 
 
 Then the Interpreter took him and led him up towards the door of the palace ; 
 and behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst 
 
76 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 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 names of them that should enter therein ; 
 he saw also that in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being resolved 
 to do to the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now was 
 Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started back for fear of the 
 armed men, Christian saw a man of a very stout countenance come up to the man that 
 sat there to write, saying, "Set down my name, sir;" the which when he Tlie valiant 
 had done, he saw the man draw his sword and put a helmet on his head nnaiL 
 and rush towards 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, 
 Matt, ii : 12; Acts 14:22, he cut his way through them all and pressed forward into 
 the palace ; at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, 
 even of those that walked upon the top of the palace, saying, 
 
 "Come in, come in ! 
 Eternal glory thou shalt win !" 
 
 So in he went and was clothed with such garments as they. Then Christian smiled, 
 and said, " I think verily I know the meaning of this. 
 
 " Now," said Christian, " let me go hence." 
 
 " Nay, stay," said the Interpreter, " till I have showed thee a little more, and after 
 that thou shalt go on thy way." So he took him by the hand again and Despair like aa 
 led him into a very dark_iQoja, 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 Christian said, "What means this?" At which the Interpreter bid him talk 
 with the man. 
 
 Then said Christian to the man, " What art thou?" 
 -I The man answered, " I am what I was not once." 
 
 CHR. What wast thou once ? 
 
 The man said, "I was once a fair and flourishing professor, Luke 8:13, 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 ! 
 
 CHR. But how earnest thou into this condition ? 
 
 MAN. I left off to watch and be sober. I laid the reins upon the neck of my lusts ; 
 I sinned against the light of the Word and the goodness of God ; I have grieved the 
 Spirit, and he is gone ; I tempted the devil, and he is come to me ; I have provoked 
 God to anger, and he has left me ; I have so hardened my heart that I cannot repent. 
 
 Then said Christian to the Interpreter, " But is there no hope for such a man as 
 this?" 
 
"THERE SAT A MAN IN AN IRON CAGE." 
 
78 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " Ask him," said the Interpreter. 
 
 Then said Christian, " Is there no hope, but you must be kept in the iron cage of 
 despair?" 
 
 MAN. No, none at all. 
 
 CHR. Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful. 
 
 MAN. I have crucified him to myself afresh, Heb. 6:6; I have despised his per- 
 son, Luke 19:14; I have despised his righteousness; I have counted his blood an 
 unholy thing; I have done despite to the Spirit of grace, Heb. 10:29; therefore I 
 have shut myself out of all the promises, and there now remains to me nothing but 
 threatenings, dreadful threatenings, faithful threatenings, of certain judgment and 
 fiery indignation, which shall devour me as an adversary. 
 
 CIIR. 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. 
 
 CIIR. 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. Oh, eternity, eternity ! how shall I grapple with the misery that I 
 must meet with in eternity ? 
 
 Then said the Interpreter to Christian, " Let this man's misery be remembered by 
 thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee." 
 
 " Well," said Christian, " this is fearful ! God help me to watch and to 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 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 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 Vision of the 
 most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I looked up in my d *y of Judgment, 
 dream and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate ; upon which I heard a great sound 
 of a trumpet, and saw also a man sitting upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of 
 heaven : they were all in flaming fire ; also the heavens were in a burning flame, 
 heard then a voice, saying, ' Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment.' And with that 
 the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth. Some 
 of them were exceedingly glad, and looked upward ; and some sought to hide them- 
 selves under the mountains. Then I saw the man that sat upon the cloud open the 
 book and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame that 
 issued out and came from before him, a convenient distance between him and them, 
 
THE JUDGMENT DA Y, 
 
 79 
 
 as between the judge and the prisoners at the bar. i Cor. 15 ; i Thess. 4: 16; Jude 
 15; John 5:28, 29; 2 Thess. 1:8-10; Rev. 20:11-14; Lsa. 26:21; Micah 7:16, 17; 
 Psa. 5:4; 50: 1-3 ; Mai. 3 : 2, 3 : Dan. 7:9, 10. I heard it also proclaimed to them that 
 attended on the man that sat on the cloud, ' Gather together the tares, the chaff, and 
 stubble, and cast them into the burning lake.' Matt. 3:12; 18:30; 24:30; Mai. 4:1. 
 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.' 
 Luke 3:17. And with that I saw many catched up and carried away into the clouds, 
 but I was left behind, i Thess. 4: 16, 17. I also sought to hide myself, but I could 
 not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me ; my sins also ' 
 came into my mind, and my conscience did accuse me on every side. Rom. 2: 14, 15. 
 Upon this I awakened from my sleep." 
 
 CHR. But what was it that made you 
 so afraid of this sight ? 
 
 MAN. Why, I thought that the day of 
 judgment was come, and that I was not 
 ready for it: but this frighted me most, 
 that the angels gathered up several, and 
 left me behind ; also the pit of hell opened 
 her mouth just where I stood. My con- 
 science too afflicted me ; and, as I thought, 
 the Judge had always his eye upon me, 
 showing indignation in his countenance. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter to Christian, 
 " Hast thou considered all these things?" 
 
 CHR. Yes, and they put me in hope 
 and fear. 
 
 INTER. Well, keep all things so in thy 
 mind that they may be as a goad in thy\f 
 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 jour- 
 ney. Then said the Interpreter, "The 
 Comforter be always with thee, good 
 
 Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the city." So Christian went on his 
 way, saying, 
 
 " Here I have seen things rare and profitable, 
 Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable 
 In what I have begun to take in hand : 
 Then let me think on them, and understand 
 Wherefore they showed me were, and let me be 
 Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee." 
 
 "HELL OPENED HER MOUTH JUST WHRRE i STOOD.' 
 
'THE BURDEN FELL OFF HIS BACK AND BEGAN TO TUMBLE." 
 
AT THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 
 
 Si 
 
 THE THIRD STAGE. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that the highway up which Christian was to go was 
 fenced on either side withawajl, and that wall was called Salvation. Isa. 26:1. Up 
 this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, be- 
 cause 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_io_Jbimble, and so continued to do till it came 
 to the moutlbL .oL. the sepulchre, where it 
 fell in and I saw it no more. 
 
 Then was Christian glad and light- 
 when God re- some, and said with a merry 
 
 leases us of our 
 
 guilt and burden, heart, " He hath given me 
 
 wi: are as those 
 
 that leap for joy. rest by his sorrow, and life 
 by his death." Then he stood still a while 
 to look and wonder, for it was very sur- 
 prising to him that the sight of the cross 
 should thus ease him of his burden. He 
 looked, therefore, and looked again, even 
 till the springs that were in his head sent 
 the waters down his cheeks. Zech. 12 : 10. 
 Now as he stood looking and weeping, 
 behold, three Shining Ones_cam^ t<~> him 
 and saluted h i m. wi th . " Peace be to thee." 
 So the first said to him, " Thy_sins_he for- 
 given thee." Mark 2:5 ; the secqnd^stripped 
 him of iuSu-leigs and clothed^ him with 
 change of raiment, Zech. 3:4; the^ third 
 also set a mark on_ his forehead, Eph. 1:13, 
 and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, 
 which he bid him look on as he ran, and 
 A ruristian can that he should give it in at 
 
 Bing though atone, . m+ .^, ... ,-. 
 
 God doth the celestial gate. So they went their way. Then Christian gave three 
 
 give him joy 
 his heart. 
 
 leaps for joy, and went on .singing, 
 
 "Thus far did I come laden with my sin, 
 Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in, 
 Till I came hither. What a place is this ! 
 Must here be the beginning of my bliss? 
 
 II 
 
" BEHOLD, THREE SHINING ONES CAME TO HIM AND SALUTED HIM." 
 
FORMA US T AND H YPOCRIS Y. 
 
 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 the bottom, 
 where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep with fetters upon their 
 heels. The name of the one was Simple, of another Sloth, and of the third Pre- 
 sumption. 
 
 Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if perad venture he 
 
 might awake them, and cried, " You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, 
 
 Prov. 23 : 34, for the Dead Sea is under you. a gulf that hath no bottom. Awake, there- 
 
 fore, 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, i Pet. 5 : 8, comes by, you 
 
 will certainly become a prey to his teeth." With that they looked upon him, and 
 
 There is no per- began to re p!y in this sort : Simple said, "I see no danger;" Sloth said, 
 
 GwfTpeuelii'oot " Yet a little more slee P '" and Presumption said, " Every tub must stand 
 
 upon its own bottom." And so they lay down to sleep again, and Chris- 
 
 tian went on his way. 
 
 Yet he was troubled to think that men in 
 that danger should so little esteem the kind- 
 ness of him that so freely offered to help 
 them, both by awakening of them, counsel- 
 ling of them, and proffering to help them off 
 with their irons. And as he was troubled 
 thereabout, he espied two men come tum- 
 bling over the wall on the left hand of the 
 narrow way ; and they made up apace to him. 
 The name of the one was Formalist and the 
 name of the other was Hypocrisy. So, as I 
 said, they drew up unto him", Who thus en- 
 tered with them into discourse? 
 
 CHR. Gentlemen, whence came you, and 
 whither do you go ? 
 
 FORM, and HYP. We were born__in the 
 land of Vainglory, and arc going, for praise, 
 to Mt. Zion. 
 
 CHR. Why came you not in at the gate 
 which standeth at the beginning of the way ? 
 Know ye not that it is written that " he that 
 cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up 
 some other way, the same is a thief and a robber "? John 10: i. 
 
 Formalist and Hypocrisy 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 
 
 FORMALIST. 
 
8 4 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 make a short cut of it, and to climb over the 
 wall, as they had done." 
 
 CHR. But will it not be counted a trespass 
 against the Lord of the city whither we are 
 bound, thus to violate his revealed will ? 
 
 They told him that as for that, he needed 
 not to trouble his head thereabout; for what 
 they did they had custom for, and could pro- 
 duce, if need were, testimony that would wit- 
 ness it for more than a thousand years. . 
 
 "But," said Christian, "will you stand a 
 trial at law?" 
 
 They told him that " custom, it being of so 
 long standing as above a thousand 
 
 They that come 
 
 years, would doubtless now be ad- JJJJ" JJ C t ] y^!;)}. 1 
 mitted as a thing legal by an im- SKwS8.SS 
 partial judge; and besides," said P ractlce - 
 they, " if we get into the way, what matter is 
 it which way we get in? If we are in, we 
 are in. Thou art but in the way, who, as we 
 
 HYPOCRISY. . , 1 , 
 
 perceive, came in at the gate; and we also 
 
 are 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 another, save that these two men told Christian that as to laws and ordinances, 
 they doubted not but that they should as conscientiously do them as he. " Therefore," 
 said they, " we see not wherein thou differest from us but by the coat that is on thy 
 back, which was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neighbors to hide the shame 
 of thy nakedness." 
 
 CHR. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came not in by the 
 door. Gal. 2:16. And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given me by the 
 Lord of the place whither I go ; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. 
 And I take it as a token of kindness to me, for I had nothing but rags Christian has got 
 before. And besides thus I comfort myself as I go. Surely, think I, J|g ** <* f s 
 when I come to the gate of the city the Lord thereof will know me for SrtSfSSwSS 
 good, since I have his coat on my back, a coat that he gave me freely in mark ancl llis rou - 
 the day that he stripped me of my rags. I have, moreover, a mark in my forehead, of 
 which perhaps you have taken no notice, which one of my Lord's most intimate asso- 
 
THE HILL DIFFICULTY. 
 
 Christian come? 
 to the hill Diffi- 
 culty. 
 
 J 
 
 ciates fixed there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, 
 moreover, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to comfort me by reading as I go on 
 the way ; I was also bid to give it in at the celestial gate in token of my certain going 
 in after it ; all 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 all went on, save that Christian kept before, who 
 had no more talk but with himself, and that sometimes sighingly and sometimes com- 
 fortably ; also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones 
 gave him, by which he was refreshed. 
 
 I beheld then that they all went on till they came to the foot of the 
 hill Difficulty, at the bottom of which there was a spring. There were 
 also in the same place two other ways besides that which came straight from the gate. 
 One turned to the left hand and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill ; but 
 the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the name of the going up the side of the hill 
 is called Difficulty. Christian now went to the spring, Isa.~49 : 10, 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 is here. 
 Come, pluck up heart; let's neither faint nor fear. 
 Better, though difficult, the right way to go, 
 Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe." 
 
 The other two also came to the foot 
 of the hill. But when they saw that the 
 hill was steep and high and that there 
 were two other ways to go, and supposing 
 also that these two ways might meet again 
 with that up which Christian went, on the 
 Bother side of the hill, therefore they were 
 resolved to go in those ways. Now the 
 name_of one of those^ways was Danger 
 and the name of the other Destruction. So 
 The danger of the one took the way which is 
 
 turning out of the -,,-,-,->. 1 . \ 1 , 1 . 
 
 way. called Danger, which led him 
 
 into a great wood; and the other took 
 directly up the way to Destruction, which 
 led him into a wide field full of dark 
 mountains, where he stumbled and fell 
 and rose no more. 
 
 I looked then after Christian to see him go up the hill, where I perceived he fell 
 from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and knees, 
 
 ''HE FELL AND ROSR NO MORE." 
 
'HE FELL FROM RUNNING TO GOING, AND 
 
 FROM GOING TO CLAMBERING ON HIS KNEES." 
 
AN UNTIMEL Y SLEEP. 
 
 He that sleeps 
 
 
 because of the steepness of the place. Now about the midway to the top of the hill 
 was a pleasant Arbor, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary 
 travellers. Thither, therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him: 
 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 to him as he 
 stood by the cross. Thus pleasing him- 
 self a while, he at last fell into a slumber 
 and thence into a fast sleep, which de- 
 tained him in that place until it was 
 almost night; and in his sleep his roll 
 fell out of his hand. Now as 
 he was sleeping there came 
 one to him and awaked him, saying, 
 " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider 
 her ways, and be wise." Prov. 6:6. And' 
 with that Christian suddenly started up 
 and sped him on his way and went apace 
 till he came to the top of the hill. 
 
 Now when he was got up to the top 
 of the hill there came two men running 
 the name of the one 
 and of the 
 
 other Mistrust.. 'to whom Christian said, 
 "Sirs, what's the matter? You run the 
 wrong way." 
 
 Timorous answered that "they were 
 going to the city of Zion, and had got up 
 that difficult place; but," said he, "the 
 
 further we go the more danger we meet with ; wherefore we turned and are going 
 back again." 
 
 "Yes," said Mistrust, " for just before us lie a couple of lions in the way, whether 
 sleeping or waking we know not ; and we could not think, if we came within reach, 
 but they would presently pull us in pieces." 
 
 Then said Christian, " You make me afraid ; but whither shall I fly to be safe ? 
 
 If I go back to my 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 of death, and 
 
 life everlasting beyond it; I will yet go forward." So Mistrust and Timorous ran 
 
 t down the hill and Christian went on his way. But thinking again of what he had 
 
 Christian misses near d from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read 
 
 housed to b'e com 1 - 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 
 
 cimstian meets aman 
 
 with Timorous and 
 
 Mistrust. was Timorous 
 
 : HE FELL IN TO A FAST SLEEP." 
 
88 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 TIMOROUS. 
 
 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 be- 
 thought himself that he had 
 slept in the arbor that is on 
 the side of the hill; and fall- 
 ing down upon his knees, he 
 asked God's forgiveness for 
 that foolish act, and then went r 
 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, some- 
 times 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 from 
 his weariness. Thus, therefore, 
 he went back, carefully looking 
 on this side and on that, all the 
 way as he went, if happily he 
 might find his roll that had 
 been his comfort for so many 
 times in his journey. He went 
 thus till he came again within 
 sight of the arbor where he sat 
 and slept; but that sight re- 
 newed his sorrow the more, by 
 bringing again, even afresh, his 
 
 evil of sleeping unto his mind. Rev. 2:4; i Thess. 5 : 6-8. Thus, there- Christian be- 
 
 . . . . wails his foolish 
 
 fore, he now went on, bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, " Oh, wretched sleeping, 
 man that I am, that I should 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 taken in vain ! Thus it happened to Israel ; for their sin 
 they were sent back again by the way of the Red Sea ; and I am made to tread 
 those steps with sorrow which I might have trod with delight had it not been for 
 this sinful sleep. How far might I have been on my way by this time ! I am 
 
CHRISTIAN RECOVERS HIS ROLL. 
 
 89 
 
 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. Oh, that I had 
 not slept !" 
 
 Now by this time he was come to the arbor again, where for a while he sat down 
 Christian find- and w T ept ; but at last (as Providence would have it), looking sorrowfully 
 he lost it, down under the settle, there he espied his .roll, the which he with trem- 
 
 bling and haste catched up and 
 put into his bosom. But who can 
 tell how joyful this man was when 
 he had gotten his roll again? 
 For this roll was the assurance of 
 \ his life and acceptance at the de- 
 sired haven. Therefore he laid 
 it up in his bosom, gave thanks 
 to God for directing his eye to 
 the place where it lay, and with 
 joy and tears betook himself again 
 to his journey. But oh, how nim- 
 bly did he go up the rest of the 
 hill ! Yet before he got up the 
 sun went down upon Christian, 
 and this made him again recall 
 the vanity of his sleeping to his 
 remembrance ; and thus he again 
 began to condole with himself: 
 " Oh, thou sinful sleep, how for 
 thy sake am I like to be benighted 
 in my journey ! I must walk 
 without the sun, darkness must 
 cover the path of my feet, and I 
 must hear the noise of the dole- 
 ful creatures, because of my sin- 
 ful sleep." Now also he remem- 
 bered the story that Mistrust and 
 Timorous told him of, how they 
 were frightened with the sight of 
 the lions. Then said Christian to 
 himself again, "These beasts range 
 in the night for their prey ; and if 
 they should meet with me in the 
 dark, how should I shift them? 
 How should I escape being by them torn in pieces ?" Thus he went on his way. But 
 
 while he was bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lifted up his eyes and behold 
 12 
 
 MISTRUST. 
 
9 o 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 
 
 there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it 
 
 stood by the highway-side. 
 
 So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went forward, that if possible he 
 
 might get lodging there. Now before he 
 had gone far, he entered into a very nar- 
 row passage, which was about a furlong 
 off the porter's lodge ; and looking very 
 narrowly before him as he went, he espied 
 two lions in the way. Now, thought he, 
 I see the dangers that Mistrust and Tim- 
 orous were driven back by. (The lions 
 were chained, but he saw not the chains.) 
 Then he was afraid, and thought also him- 
 self to go back after them ; for he thought 
 nothing but death was before him. But 
 the porter at the lodge, whose name is 
 i Watchful, perceiving that Christian made 
 a halt, as if he would go back, cried unto 
 him, saying, "Is thy strength so small? 
 Mark 4 : 40. Fear not the lions, for they 
 are chained, and are placed there for trial 
 of faith where it is, and for discovery of 
 those that have none. Keep in the midst 
 of the path, and no hurt shall come unto 
 thee." 
 
 Then I saw that he went on, trem- 
 
 WATCHFUL, THE PORTER. 
 
 bling for fear of the lions, but taking 
 
 good heed to the directions of the porter ; he heard them roar, but they At the Palace 
 did him no harm. Then he clapped his hands and went on till he came T 
 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 Mt. Zion ; but 
 because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. 
 
 PORT. What is your name ? 
 
 i CHR. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless ; I came 
 of the race of Japheth, whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem. 
 Gen. 9:27. 
 
 PORT. But how doth it happen that you come so late ? The sun is set. 
 
 CHR. I had been here sooner but that, wretched man as I am, I slept in the arbor 
 that stands on the hillside ! 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 
 
'THE LIONS WERE CHAINED, BUT HE SAW NOT THE CHAINS." 
 
92 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 hill ; and then feeling for it, and not finding it, I was forced with sorrow of heart 
 to go back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I found it ; and now I am 
 come. 
 
 PORT. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will, if she likes 
 your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according to the rules of the house. 
 
 So Watchful the porter rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of the door of 
 the house a grave and beautiful damsel named Discretion, and asked why she was 
 called. 
 
 The porter answered, " This man is on a journey from the city of Destruction to 
 Mt. 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, may- 
 est do as seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the house." 
 
 Then she asked him whence he was arid whither he was going ; and he told her. 
 She asked him also how he got into the way ; and he told her. Then she asked him 
 what he had seen and met with in the way ; and he told her. And at last she asked 
 his name. So he said, " It is Christian ; and I have so much the more a desire to 
 lodge here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of 
 the hill for the relief and security of the 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 sat down, they gave him something to drink, and consented 
 together that, until supper was ready, some of them should have some particular 
 discourse with Christian, for the best improvement of time ; and they appointed Piety, 
 Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him ; and thus they began : 
 
 PIETY. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving to you as to receive 
 you into our house this night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves Pjety discourses 
 thereby, talk with you of all things that have happened to you in your withllim - 
 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 by a dreadful sound HOW Christian 
 
 <1111 . ,.-. .. was driven out of 
 
 that was in mine ears : to wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend his own country. 
 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 HOW he got 
 
 , ' T-\ f -I int tllC W!1 >' '" 
 
 to me, as I was trembling and weeping, whose name is Evangelist, and zion. 
 
 he directed me to the wicket-gate, which else I should never have found, and so set 
 
 me into the way that hath led me directly to this house. 
 
"THIS MAN IS ON A JOURNEY FROM THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION TO MT. ZION. 
 
 \ 
 
94 DISCOURSE AT THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 PIETY. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter ? 
 CHR. Yes, and did see such things there the remembrance of which will stick 
 bv me as long: as I live, especially three things : to wit, how Christ, in A rehearsal of 
 
 J . . ; wllilt >' e saw in 
 
 , despite of Satan, maintains his work of grace in the heart; how the man tneway. 
 had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's mercy ; and also the dream of him 
 that thought in his sleep the day of judgment was come. 
 
 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 this all you saw at the house of the Interpreter? 
 
 CHR. No ; he took me and had me where he showed me a stately palace, and 
 how the people were clad in gold that were in it ; and how there came a venturous 
 man and cut his way through the armed men that stood in the door to keep him 
 out ; and how he was bid to come in and win eternal glory. Methought those things 
 did ravish my heart. I would have 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 a tree ; and the very sight of him made my burden fall 
 off my back ; for I groaned under a very heavy burden, but then it fell down from off 
 me. It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before : yea, and 
 while I stood looking up (for then I could not forbear 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. 
 
 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 Formalist and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, 
 as they pretended, to Zion ; but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them, 
 but they would not believe. But above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill, 
 and as hard to come by the lions' mouths ; and truly, if it had not been for the good 
 man the porter, that stands at the gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might have 
 gone back again ; but I thank God I am here, and thank you for receiving me. 
 
 Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer 
 to them. 
 
 PRU. Do you not think sometimes of the country from whence you came ? 
 
 CHR. Yea, but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if I had Christian's 
 
 been mindful of that country from whence I came out, I might have tive country. 
 had opportunity to have returned; but now I desire a better country, that is, a 
 heavenly one. Heb. u : 15, 16. 
 
DISCOURSE AT THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL. 95 
 
 PRU. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were 
 conversant withal ? 
 
 CUR. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and carnal cogita- 
 tions, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. But now 
 all those things are my grief; and might I but choose mine own things, I would 
 choose never to think of those things more : but when I would be a-doing that which 
 is best, that which is. worst is with me. Rom. 7 : 15, 21. 
 
 PRU. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished which at 
 other times are your perplexity ? 
 
 Christian's CHR. Yes, but that is but seldom ; but they are to me golden hours 
 gouien hours. j n w ;h jcfo such things happen to me. 
 
 PRU. 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 will do it ; and when I look 
 upon my broidered coat, that will do it; and when I look into the roll that I carry 
 in my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither I 
 am going, that will do it. 
 
 PRU. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mt. Zion? 
 
 CHR. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross; 
 WHY Christian and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in \ 
 
 would be at Mt, . J J 
 
 /in. me an annoyance to me: there they say there is no death, Isa. 25:8; 
 
 Rev. 21:4; and there I shall dwell with such company as I like best. For, to tell 
 you the truth, I love him because I was by him eased of my burden ; and I am weary / 
 of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall die no more, and with the 
 company that shall continually cry, Holy, holy, holy. 
 
 Then said Charity to Christian, " Have you a family ; are you a married man ?" 
 
 CIIR. I have a wife and four small children. 
 
 CHAR. And why did you not bring them along with you ? 
 Christian's love Then Christian wept and said, " Oh, how willingly would I have 
 
 to his wife and , 
 
 children. done it! but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on 
 
 pilgrimage." 
 
 CHAR. But you should have talked to them, and have endeavored to show them 
 the danger of staying behind. 
 
 CHR. So I did ; and told them also wh#t God had shown to me of the destruction 
 of our city ; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed me not. 
 Gen. 19: 14. 
 
 CHAR. And did you pray to God that he would bless your counsel to them ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, and that with much affection ; for you must think that my wife and 
 poor children were very dear to me. 
 
 Christian's fear CHAR. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of de- 
 
 be reart'ln K? struction ? for I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you. 
 countenance. CHR. Yes, over and over and over. They might also see my fears 
 
 in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehension 
 
DISCOURSE ABOUT THE LORD OF THE HILL. 97 
 
 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? 
 The cause why CHR. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children 
 
 Jlren^ua^m/'go were given to the foolish delights of youth ; so, what by one thing, and. 
 with him. what by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone. 
 
 CHAR. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you, by words, used 
 by way of persuasion to bring them away with you ? 
 
 CHR. Indeed, I cannot commend my life, for I am conscious to myself of many 
 failings therein. I know also that a man, by his conversation, may soon overthrow 
 what, by argument or persuasion, he doth labor to fasten upon others for their good. 
 
 Christian's good Yet this l can sa ^' J was ver y war y of g ivin them occasion, by any 
 fiTO V wsM!rtte and unseemly action, to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, 
 for this very thing they would tell me I was too precise, and that I 
 denied myself of things (for their sakes) in which they saw no evil. Nay, I think 
 I may say that if what they saw in me did hinder them, it was my great tenderness 
 in sinning against God or of doing any wrong to my neighbor. 
 
 CHAR. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, because his own works were evil, and 
 his brother's righteous, i John 3:12; and if thy wife and children have been offended 
 with thee for this, they thereby show themselves to be implacable to good ; thou 
 hast delivered thy soul from their blood. Ezek. 3:19. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that thus they sat talking together until supper was 
 ready. So when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now the table was 
 furnished with fat things, and with wine that was well refined ; and all their talk at *^ 
 Their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill, as, namely, about what he had 
 done, and wherefore he did what he did, and why he had builded that 
 house ; and by what they said, I perceived that he had been a great warrior, and had 
 fought with and slain him that had the power of death, Heb. 2 : 14, 15 ; but not without 
 great danger to himself, which made me love him the more. 
 
 For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, he did it with the loss of much 
 blood. But that which put the 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 been and spoke with him since he did die on the cross; and they 
 have attested that they had it from his own lips that he is such a lover of poor 
 pilgrims that the like is not to be found from the east to the west. They, moreover, 
 gave an instance of what they affirmed ; and that was, he had stripped himself of his 
 glory that he might do this for the poor, and that they heard him say and affirm that 
 he would not dwell in the mountain of Zion alone. They said, moreover, that he had 
 made many pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their 
 original had been the dunghill. 2 Sam. 2:8; Psa. 113:7. 
 
 Thus they discoursed together till late at night : and after they had committed . 
 themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim 
 they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sun-rising. 
 13 
 
98 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 A The name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, Christian's bea 
 and then he awoke and sang, chamber. 
 
 " Where am I now? Is this the love and care 
 Of Jesus for the men that pilgrims are, 
 Thus to provide that I should be forgiven, 
 And dwell already the next door to heaven !" 
 
 So in the morning they all got up ; and, after some more discourse, they told him that 
 ^ he should not depart till they had shown him the rarities of that place. Christian had 
 And first they had him into the study, where they showed him records of what he 8 he dy ' saw 
 the greatest antiquity ; in which, as I remember my dream, they showed l 
 him the pedigree of the Lord of the hill, that he was the Son of the Ancient of days, 
 and came by eternal generation. Here also was more fully recorded the acts that he 
 had done, and the names of many hundreds that he had taken into his service ; and 
 how he had placed them in such habitations that could neither by length of days 
 nor decays of nature be dissolved. 
 
 Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his servants had 
 done; as how they had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, 
 stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the 
 sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight 
 the armies of the aliens. Heb. 11:33, 34- 
 
 Then they read again another part of the records of the house, where it was 
 shown how willing their Lord was' to receive into his favor any, even any, though 
 they in time past had offered great affronts to his person and proceedings. Here also 
 were several other histories of many other famous things, of all which Christian had a 
 view ; as of things both ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions 
 of things that have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement of 
 enemies and the comfort and solace of pilgrims. 
 
 \ The next day they took him and had him into the armory, where Christian had 
 they showed him all manner of furniture which their Lord had provided l 
 for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not 
 wear out. And there was here enough of this to harness out as many men for the 
 service of their Lord as there be stars in the heaven for multitude. 
 
 They also showed him some of the engines with which some of his servants had 
 4 done wonderful things. The) r showed him MqsesI, rod ; the hammer jmd_nail with 
 which Jael slewjSisera ; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon^ put 
 to flight the' armies of Midian. Then they showecTTiim the ox-goad wherewith 
 Shamgar slew six hundred men. They showed him also the jawbone .with which 
 Samsonjlid such mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the sling, .ajidjstone- with 
 which David slew Goliath of Gath ; and the sword also with which their Lord will kill 
 the man of sin, in the day that he shall rise up to the prey. They showed him besides 
 many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. This done they 
 went to their rest again. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but 
 
"THEY READ TO HIM SOME ov THE WORTHY ACTS THAT SOME OK HIS SERVANTS HAD DONE.' 
 
ioo PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 they desired him to stay till the next day also. "And then," said they, "we will, if the 
 day be clear, show you the Delectable mountains ;" which, they said, would yet further 
 add to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where 
 at present he was; so he consented and stayed. When the morning was up, they 
 
 had him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he did, c'msuan 
 
 ed the Delectable 
 
 and behold, at a great distance, he saw a most pleasant mountainous mountains. 
 country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs 
 and fountains, very delectable to behold. Isa. 33: 16, 17. Then he asked the name 
 of the country. They said it was Immanucl s land; "and it is as common," said they, 
 "as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there, from thence 
 thou mayest see to tlie 'gate of the celestial city, as the shepherds that live there 
 will make appear." 
 
 Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he should. 
 But first, said they, let us go again into the armory. So they did ; and when he came 
 there, they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps 
 he should meet with assaults in the way. He being therefore thus ciiristian sent 
 accoutred, walked out with his friends to the gate ; and there he asked away anncd - 
 the porter if he saw any pilgrim pass by. Then the porter answered, " Yes." 
 
 " Pray, did you know him?" said Christian. 
 
 PORT. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful. 
 
 " Oh," said Christian, " I know him ; he is my townsman, my near neighbor ; 
 he comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think he may be 
 before ?" 
 
 PORT. He is got by this time below the hill. 
 
 " Well," said Christian, " good porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to all thy 
 blessings much increase for the kindness that thou hast showed me." 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 101 
 
 THE FOURTH STAGE. 
 
 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 
 TUG vaiiey of i nto the valley of Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip 
 Humiliation. j^y fa Q wa y . therefore," said they, "we are come out to accompany thee 
 down the hill." So he began to go down, but very warily; yet he caught a slip 
 or two. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when Christian was got 
 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. 
 
 While 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. 
 
 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 Apollyotu- Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to 
 
 cast in his mind whether to go back or to stand his ground. But he considered, 
 
 Christian has again, that he had no armor for his back, and therefore thought that 
 
 no armor for his _ . . . . 
 
 back. to turn the back to him might give him greater advantage with ease 
 
 to pierce him with his darts ; therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground. 
 " For," thought he, " had I no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would 
 be the best way to stand." 
 
 So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was hideous to beholdp 
 he was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are hTs~pride ; he had wings like 
 a dragon and feet like_a~ JbecKTTaTTtt' 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 him : 
 
 Discourse' ApOL. Whence came you, and whither are you bound ? 
 
 between Christian . f T^ . -U--U-.LI.-I 
 
 and Apoiiyon. CHR. I am come from the city of Destruction, which is the place 
 
 of all evil, and I am going to the city of Zion. 
 
 APOL. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects ; for all that country 
 is mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is it, then, that thou hast run 
 away from thy king? Were it not that I hope thou mayest do me more service, 
 I would strike thee now at one blow to the ground. 
 
 CIIR. I was indeed born in your dominions, but your service was hard, and your 
 wages such as a man could not live on ; for the wages of sin is death, Rom. 6:23; 
 
102 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 therefore, when I was come to years, I did as other considerate persons do, look out 
 if perhaps I might mend myself. 
 
 APOL. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, neither will 
 I as yet lose thee ; but since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content 
 to go back, and what our coantry will afford I do here promise to give thee. 
 
 CIIR. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes; and how 
 can I with fairness go back with thee ? 
 
 APOL. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, " changed The service 
 a bad for a worse ;" but it is ordinary for those that have professed them- vaiueJTby Tpou- 
 selves his servants, after a while to give him the slip and return again you - 
 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 by me, and yet I am willing to pass by all, if now 
 thou wilt yet turn again and go back. 
 
 CHR. What I promised thee was in my nonage ; and besides, I count that the 
 Prince under whose banner I now stand is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon 
 also what I did as to my compliance with thee. And besides, O thou destroying 
 Apollyon, to speak truth, I like his service, his wages, his servants, his government, 
 his company and country, better than thine ; therefore leave off to persuade me 
 farther : I am his servant, and I will follow him. 
 
 APOL. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, what thou art Apoiiyon 
 
 like to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the <ms ends or cims- 
 
 M1 .. .. tians, to dissuade 
 
 most part his servants come to an ill end, because they are transgressors Christian irom 
 
 persisting in his 
 
 against me and my ways. How many of them have been put to shame- way. 
 ful deaths! And besides, thou countest his service better than mine; whereas he 
 never yet came from the place where he is, to deliver any that served him out of 
 their enemies' 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 will I deliver thee. 
 
 CHR. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to try their love, 
 whether they will cleave to him to the end ; and as for the ill end thou sayest they 
 come to, that is most glorious in their account. For, for present deliverance, they 
 do not much expect it ; for they stay for their glory ; and then they shall have it, when 
 their Prince comes in his and the glory of the angels. 
 
 APOL. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him ; and how dost 
 thou think to receive wages of him ? 
 
 CHR. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to him? 
 
 APOL. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost Apollyon pleadg 
 choked in the gulf of Despond. Thou didst attempt wrong ways to n aa again fl st 
 be rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince him- 
 had taken it off. Thou didst sinfully sleep, and lose thy choice things. Thou wast 
 almost persuaded also to go back at the sight of the lions. And when thou talkest 
 
THE SORE BA TTLE WITH APOLL YON. 
 
 103 
 
 Christian 
 
 wounded in his un- 
 derstanding, faith, 
 and conversation. 
 
 of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard, thou art inwardly desirous of 
 vainglory in all that thou sayest or doest. 
 
 CHR. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out ; but the Prince 
 
 whom I serve and honor is merciful and ready to 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. 
 
 Apoiiyon, in Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, " I am an 
 
 rage, falls upon . . 
 
 Christian. enemy to this Prince; I hate his person, his laws and people: I am 
 
 come out on purpose to withstand thee." 
 
 CHR. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King's highway, the way 
 of holiness ; therefore take heed to yourself. 
 
 Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, 
 " I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die ; for I swear by my infernal 
 den that thou shalt go no 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 it was time to bestir him ; and Apollyon as 
 fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail ; by the which, notwithstanding all 
 Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, 
 hand and foot. This 
 Christian give a little 
 back; Apollyon therefore followed his 
 work amain, and Christian again took 
 courage and resisted as manfully as he 
 could. This sore combat lasted for above 
 half a day, even till Christian was almost 
 quite spent ; for you must know that Chris- 
 tian, by reason of his wounds, must needs 
 grow weaker and weaker. 
 
 Then Apollyon, espying his opportu- 
 nity, began to gather up close to Christian, 
 and wrestling with him, gave him a dread- 
 ful fall; and with that Christian's sword 
 flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, 
 "I am sure of thee now;" and with that 
 he had almost pressed him to death, so 
 that Christian began to despair of life. 
 But, as God would have it, while Apollyon 
 was fetching his last blow, thereby to 
 make a full end of this good man, Chris- 
 tian nimbly reached out his hand for his 
 sword, and caught it, saying, " Rejoice not 
 against me, O mine enemy : when I fall, J 
 
 "APOLLYON SPREAD FORTH HIS DRAGON WINQS." 
 
IO4 
 
 PIL G RIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 shall arise," Mic. 7:8; and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which Christian's vie 
 made him give back, as one that had received his mortal wound. Chris- yon. 
 tian perceiving that, made at him again, saying, " Nay, in all these things we are 
 more than conquerors through Him that loved us." Rom. 8:37. And with that 
 Apollyon spread forth his dragon wings and sped him away, that Christian saw him 
 no more. James 4 : 7. 
 
 In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard, as I did, what 
 yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight ; he spoke like a 
 dragon : and on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I 
 never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look till he perceived he 
 had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile and 
 look upward. But it was the dreadfulest sight that I ever saw. 
 
 So when the battle was over Christian said, " I will here give thanks Christian gives 
 
 ' God thanks for his 
 
 to Him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion, to Him that deliverance. 
 
 did help me against Apollyon." 
 
 THEREFORE TO HIM LET ME GIVE LASTING PRAISE. 
 
 And so he did, saying, 
 
 " Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, 
 Designed my ruin ; therefore to this end 
 He sent him harnessed out ; and he, with rage 
 That hellish was, clicl 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 
 soine jjfjtlie-.leayes-^f-the tree of life, the 
 which Christian . took and applied to the 
 wounds that he had received in the battle, 
 and was healed immediately. He also sat 
 down in that place to eat bread and to 
 drink of the bottle that was given him a 
 little before: so, being refreshed, he ad- 
 dressed himself to his journey with his sword 
 drawn in his hand ; for he said, " I know not 
 but some other enemy may be at hand." 
 But he met with no other affront from Apoll- 
 yon quite through this valley. 
 
 Now at the end of this 
 valley was another, called the shadow or Death, 
 valley of the Shadow of Death; 
 
 The valley of the 
 hadow of Death. 
 
 and Chris- 
 tian must needs go through it, because the 
 way to the Celestial City lay through the midst of it. Now this valley is a very 
 solitary place. The prophet Jeremiah thus describes it: "A wilderness, a land of 
 deserts and pits, a land of drought and of the Shadow of Death, a land that no man.' 
 but a Christian, "passeth through, and where no man dwelt." Jer. 2:60 
 
THE SHADOW OF DEA 77 f. 105 
 
 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 
 The children Shadow of Death, there met him two men, children of them that brought 
 
 of the spies go ^"fe" 1 
 
 ba( *- up an evil report of the good land, Num. 13 : 32, making haste to go back ; 
 
 to whom Christian spoke as follows : 
 
 CHR. Whither are you going? 
 
 The men said, " Back, back ; and we would have you do so too, if either life or 
 peace is prized by you." 
 
 "Why, what 's the matter?" said Christian. 
 
 " Matter!" said they. " We were going that way as you are going, and went as far 
 as we durst : and indeed we were almost past coming back ; for had we gone a little 
 farther, we had not been here to bring the news to thee." 
 
 " But what have you met with?" said Christian. 
 
 MEN. Why, we were almost in the valley of the Shadow of Death, but that by "good 
 hap we looked before us and saw the danger before we came- to it. Psa. 44 : 19 ; 107 : 19. 
 
 " 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 hang the discouraging clouds of confusion ; 
 Death also doth always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, 
 being utterly without order. Job 3:5; 10:22. 
 
 " Then," said Christian, " I perceive not yet, by what you have said, but that 
 this is my way to the desired haven." Psa. 44: 18, 19; Jer. 2:6. 
 
 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 quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no 
 bottom for his foot to stand on : into that quag king David once did fall, and had no 
 doubt therein been smothered, had not He that is able plucked -him out. Psa. 69: 14. 
 
 The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and therefore good Christian was 
 the more put to it ; for when he sought in the dark to shun the ditch on the one hand, 
 he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other ; also when he sought to escape 
 the mire, without great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he 
 went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly ; for besides the danger mentioned above, 
 the pathway was here so dark that ofttimes, when he lifted up his foot to go for- 
 ward, he knew not where or upon what he should set it next. 
 
 About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and it stood 
 also hard~l3y the wayside. "Now," thought Christian, "what shall I do?" And ever 
 
io6 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and 
 hideous noises (things that cared not for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), 
 that he was forced to put up his sword and betake himself to another weapon called 
 All-prayer, Eph. 6: 18; so he cried, in my hearing, "O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver 
 my souTr Psa. 116:4. Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would 
 
 be reaching towards him ; also he heard 
 doleful voices, and rushings to and fro, so 
 that sometimes he thought he should be 
 torn in pieces or trodden down like mire in 
 the street. This frightful sight was seen 
 and these dreadful noises were heard by 
 him for several miles together; and coming 
 to a place where he thought he heard a 
 company of fiends coming forward to meet 
 him, he stopped and began to muse what 
 he had best to do. Sometimes cimstian put 
 
 to ;i stand for a 
 
 he had half a thought to go while. 
 back ; then, again, he thought he might be 
 halfway through the valley. He remem- 
 bered also how he had already vanquished 
 many a danger, and that the danger of 
 going back might be much more than for 
 to go forward. So he resolved to go on ; 
 yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and 
 nearer. But when they were come even 
 almost at him, he cried out with a most ve- 
 hement voice, " I will walk in the strength 
 of the Lord God." So they gave back, and 
 
 " A COMPANY OK FIENDS COMING FORWARD TO MEET HIM." CB.TC\.Q UO farther. 
 
 One thing I would not let slip. I took 
 
 notice that now poor Christian was so confounded that he did not know his own 
 voice ; and thus I perceived it. Just when he was come over against the mouth of 
 the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him and stepped up softly to 
 him. and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, ' Christy made 
 which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put he^ 
 Christian more to it than anything he had met with before, even to think sat. 
 that he should now blaspheme Him that he loved so much before. Yet * is mind - 
 if he could have helped it he would not have done it ; but he had not the discretion 
 either to stop his ears or to know from whence these blasphemies came. 
 
 When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition some considerable 
 time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, " Though I 
 walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with 
 me." Psa. 23 : 4. 
 
 
I o8 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 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 that attends this place, I cannot perceive it." Job. 9:11. 
 
 Thirdly, for that he hoped, could he overtake them, to have company by-and-by. 
 So he went on, and called to him that was before ; but he knew not what to answer, 
 for that he also thought himself to be alone. And by-and-by the day broke ; then said 
 Christian, " He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning." Chr i St jan giad 
 
 AmOS 5: 8. at break of day. 
 
 Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return, but to see, 
 by the light of the day, what hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw 
 more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand and the quag that was on the 
 other ; also how narrow the way was which led between them both. Also now he saw 
 the hobgoblins and satyrs and dragons of the pit, but all afar off ; for after break of 
 day they came not nigh ; yet they were discovered to him, according to that which is 
 written, " He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the 
 shadow of death." Job 12:22. 
 
 Now was Christian much affected with this deliverance from all the dangers ot 
 his solitary way; which dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he saw 
 them more clearly now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him. 
 And about this time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to Christian ; for 
 you must note that, though the first part of the valley of the Shadow of The second par 
 Death was dangerous, yet this second part, which he was yet to go, was, dangerous, 
 if possible, far more dangerous ; for, from the place where he now stood, even to the 
 end of the valley, the way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets 
 here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings-down there, that had it 
 now been dark, as it was when he came the first part of the way, had he had a thou- 
 sand souls, they had in reason been cast away ; but, as I said, just now the sun was 
 rising. Then said he, " His candle shineth on my head, and by his light I go through 
 darkness." Job 29 : 3. 
 
 In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now I saw in my 
 dream that at the end of the valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of 
 men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly ; and while I was musing what 
 should be the reason, I espied a little before me a cave, where two giants, TWO ancient en- 
 
 ~ - emies of Christ's 
 
 Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old times; by whose power and tyranny the pilgrims, 
 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, 
 
CHRISTIAN'S SONG OF THANKSGIVING. 
 
 109 
 
 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 at the mouth of the cave, he could not 
 tell what to think, especially because he 
 spoke to him, though he could not go 
 after him, saying, " You will never mend 
 till more of you be burned." But he held 
 his peace and set a good face on it; and 
 so went by, and catched no hurt. 
 
 Then sang Christian, 
 
 "Oh, world of wonders I can say no less 
 That I should be preserved in that distress 
 That I have met with here ! Oh, blessed be 
 That hand that from it hath delivered me! 
 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 catched, entangled, and cast 
 
 down; 
 But since I live, let Jesus wear the crown." 
 
 " HK CAN DO LITTLE MORE THAN SIT IN HIS CAVE'S MOUTH." 
 
i io PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 THE FIFTH STAGE. 
 
 Now, as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent which was cast 
 ap on purpose that pilgrims might see before them : up there, therefore, Christian 
 went ; and looking forward, he saw Faithful before him on his journey. Then said 
 Christian aloud, "Ho, ho! soho! 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 qtiickly 
 got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him; so the last was first. nmsthm over- 
 Then did Christian vaingloriously smile, because he had gotten the start t:lkes Fllilllful - 
 of his brother; but not taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, 
 and could not rise again until Faithful came up to help him. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream they went very lovingly on together, and had sweet 
 discourse of all things that had happened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus 
 Christian began : 
 
 CHR. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that I have 
 overtaken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as com- 
 panions in this so pleasant a path. 
 
 FAITH. I had thought, my dear friend, to have had your company quite from 
 our town, but you did get the start of me ; wherefore I was forced to come thus much 
 of the way alone. 
 
 CHR. How long did you stay in the city of Destruction before you set out after 
 me on your pilgrimage ? 
 
 FAITH. Till I could stay no longer ; for there was a great talk presently after you 
 were gone out that our city would, in a short time, with fire from heaven Tiieir talk about 
 
 tlie country from 
 be burnt down to the ground. \vliencetlieycame. 
 
 CHR. What, did the neighbors talk so? 
 
 FAITH. Yes, it was for a while in everybody's mouth. 
 
 CHR. What, and did no more of them but you come put to escape the danger? 
 
 FAITH. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, 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 my escape. 
 
 CHR. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable ? 
 
 FAITH. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he came to the slough of 
 Despond, where, as some said, he fell in ; but he would not be known to have so done ; 
 but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt. 
 
"HE COULD NOT RISE AGAIN UNTIL FAITHFUL CAME UP TO HELP HIM." 
 
ii2 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 CHR. And what said the neighbors to him ? 
 
 FAITH. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in derision, and thai 
 among all sorts of people ; some do mock and despise him, and scarce How Pliabl( 
 will any set aim on work. He is now seven times worse than if he had when acc T e me(1 got 
 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 ? 
 
 FAITH. Oh, they say, " Hang him ; he is a turncoat ; he was not true to his 
 profession !" I think God has stirred up even His enemies to hiss at him and make 
 him a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way. Jer. 29: 1 8, 19. 
 
 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 spoke 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 has happened to him according to the 
 true proverb, " The clog is turned to his vomit again, and the sow that was washed to 
 her wallowing in the mire." 2 Pet. 2 : 22. 
 
 FAITH. These are my fears of him too ; but who can hinder that which will be ? 
 
 "Well, neighbor Faithful," said Christian, "let us leave him, and talk of things 
 that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now 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, who Faithful as- 
 
 J saultcd by Wan- 
 
 had like to have done me mischief. ton. 
 
 CHR. It was well you escaped her net : Joseph was hard put to it by her, and 
 he escaped her as you did; but it had like to have cost him his life. Gen. 39: 11-13. 
 But what did she do to you ? 
 
 FAITH. You cannot think (but that you know something) what a flattering 
 * tongue she had ; she lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner 
 of content. 
 
 CHR. Nay, she_did not promise you the content of a good conscience. 
 
 FAITH. You know that I mean all c.anial and .fleshly^ content,-, _ 
 
 CHR. Thank God that you escaped her : the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into 
 her pit. Prov. 22 : 14. 
 
 FAITH. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no. 
 
 CHR. Why, I trow you did not consent to her desires. 
 
 FAITH. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing that I had 
 seen, which said, " Her steps take hold on hell." Prov. 5:5. So I shut mine eyes, 
 because I would not be bewitched with her looks. Job. 31:1. 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 
 
ADAM THE FIRST TEMPTS FAITHFUL. 113 
 
 Faithful was very aged man, who asked me what I was and whither bound I told 
 
 assaulted by Adam . . 
 
 tue First. him that I was a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the 
 
 old. man, " Thou lookest like an honest fellow. Wilt thou be content to dwell with 
 me for the wages that I shall give thee?" Then I asked his name and where he 
 dwelt. He said his name was Adam the First, and that he dwelt in the town of 
 Deceit. Eph. 4:22. 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 of the world, and that his servants were those of his own begetting. Then 
 I asked how many children he had. He said that he had but three daughters, the 
 Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life, i John 2: 16; 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. 
 
 CIIR. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last? 
 
 FAITH. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, 
 for I thought he spoke very fair ; but looking in his forehead as I talked with him, 
 I saw there written, " Put off the old man with his deeds." 
 
 CIIR. And how then ? 
 
 FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind that, whatever he said and 
 however he flattered, when he got me home to his house he would sell me for a 
 slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door of his house. 
 Then he reviled me, and told me that he would send such a one after me that should 
 make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from him ; but just as I 
 turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such 
 a deadly twitch back that I thought he had pulled part of me after himself: this 
 'made me cry, " Oh, wretched man !" Rom. 7 : 24. So I went on my way up the hilL 
 
 Now, when I had got about half way up, I looked behind me, and saw one 
 coming after me, swift as the wind ; so he overtook me just about the place w aere 
 the settle stands. 
 
 "Just there," said Christian, "did I sit down to rest me; but being overcome 
 with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my bosom." 
 
 FAITH. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, it- 
 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 feet as dead as before. So when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy: 
 but he said, "I know not how to show mercy;" and with that he knocked me down 
 again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by and bid him 
 forbear. 
 
 CIIR. Who was that that bid him forbear ? 
 
 FAITH. I did not know him at first : but as he went by I perceived the holes 
 
 15 
 
114 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 in his hands and in his side ; then I concluded that he was our Lord. So I went 
 up the hill. 
 
 CHR. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none; The temper of 
 neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that transgress the law. Moses - 
 
 FAITH. I know it very well : it was not the first time he has met with me. 'T was 
 he who came to me when I dwelt securely at home and that told me that 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 the 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 that you had called 
 at the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities that you would scarce 
 have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell me, did you meet nobody 
 
 in the valley of Humility ? 
 
 FAITH. Yes, I met with one Fattiifui as- 
 
 saulted by l)is- 
 
 Discontent who would willingly content, 
 have persuaded me to go back again with 
 him : his reason was, for that the valley was 
 altogether without honor. He told me, 
 moreover, that to go there was the way to 
 disoblige all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, 
 Self-Conceit, Worldly Glory, with others who 
 he knew, as he said, would be very much 
 offended if I made such a fool of myself as 
 to wade through this valley. 
 
 CHR. Well, and how did you answer 
 him? 
 
 FAITH. I told him that although all 
 these that he named might claim a kindred 
 of me (for indeed they were my relations 
 according to the flesh), yet since I have be- 
 come a pilgrim they have disowned me and 
 I also have rejected them ; and therefore 
 they were to me now no more than if they 
 had never been of my lineage. I told him, 
 moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite 
 misrepresented the thing ; for before honor 
 
 is humility, and a haughty spirit before a fall. " Therefore," said I, " I had rather go 
 through this valley to the honor that was so accounted by the wisest, than choose that 
 which he esteemed most worthy of our affections." 
 CHR. Met you with nothing else in that valley ? 
 
 DISCONTENT. 
 
ii6 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 FAITH. Yes, I met with Shame; but of all the men that I met with He is assaulte( , 
 on my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong name. The others would by SUame - 
 be said nay after a little argumentation and somewhat else ; but this bold-faced Shame 
 would never have done. 
 
 CiiR. Why, what did he say to you? 
 
 FAITH. What ! Why, he objected against religion itself. He said it was a pitiful, 
 low, sneaking business for a man to mind religion. He said that a tender conscience 
 was an unmanly thing ; and that for a man to watch over his words and ways so 
 as to tie himself up from that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times 
 accustom themselves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected 
 also that but few of the mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my opinion nor any of 
 them, neither, before they were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fond- 
 ness to venture the loss of all for nobody knows what. i Cor. i : 26 ; 3:18; 
 Phil. 3 : 7-9 ; John 7 : 48. He, moreover, objected the base and low estate and con- 
 dition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived ; also 
 their ignorance and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did hold 
 me to it at that rate also about a great many more things than here I relate ; as, 
 that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to 
 come sighing and groaning home ; that it was a shame to ask my neighbor forgive- 
 ness for petty faults, or to make restitution where I have taken from any. He said 
 also that religion made a man grow strange to the great because of a few vices, which 
 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 ?" 
 
 CIIR. 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 abomination in the sight of God. Luke 16: 15. And I thought again, 
 " This Shame tells me what men are, but he tells me nothing what God or the Word 
 of God is." And I thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed 
 to death or life according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the 
 wisdom and law of the Highest. " Therefore," thought I, "what God says is best 
 is indeed best, though all the men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that 
 God prefers his religion ; seeing God prefers a tender conscience ; seeing they that 
 make themselves fools for the kingdom of heaven are wisest, and that the poor man 
 that loveth Christ is richer than the greatest man in the world that hates him, Shame, 
 depart; thou art an enemy to my salvation. Shall I entertain thee against my 
 sovereign Lord ? How then shall I look him in the face at his coming ? Mark 8 : 38. 
 Should I now be ashamed of his ways and his servants, how can I expect the blessing ?" 
 But indeed this Shame was a bold villain ; I could scarcely 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 that it was but in vain to attempt further in this "business, for those things 
 
FAITHFUL MEETS TALKATIVE. n; 
 
 that he disdained, in those did I see most glory ; and so at last I got past this impor 
 ttmate one. And when I had shaken him off then I began to sing, 
 
 " The trials that those men do meet withal 
 That are obedient to the heavenly call, 
 Are manifold and suited to the flesh, 
 And come and come and come again afresh, 
 That now, or some time else, we by them may 
 Be taken, overcome, and cast away. 
 Oh, let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then 
 Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men." 
 
 CIIR. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villain so bravely, for 
 of all, as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name ; for he is so bold as to follow 
 us in the streets and to attempt, to put us to shame before all men ; that is, to make 
 us ashamed of that which is good. But if he was not himself audacious he would 
 never attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him ; for, notwithstanding all 
 his bravadoes, he promoteth the fool and none else. " The wise shall inherit glory," 
 said Solomon ; " but shame shall be the promotion of fools." Prov. 3 : 35. 
 
 FAITH. I think that 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 otherwise with me. I had for a 
 long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that 
 foul fiend Apollyon ; yea, I thought verily that 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 that 
 he was sure of me ; but I cried to God, and he heard me and delivered me out of 
 all my troubles. Then I entered into the valley of the Shadow of Death and had 
 no light for almost half the way through it. I thought I should have been killed 
 there over and over ; but at last day broke and the sun rose, and I went through that 
 which was left 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 was Talkative walking at a distance beside 
 
 Talkative cie- them ; for in this place there was room enough for them all to walk. 
 
 He was a tall man, and something more comely at a distance than at 
 
 hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this manner : 
 
 FAITH. Friend, whither away ? Are you going to the heavenly country ? 
 
 TALK. I am going to the same place. 
 
 FAITH. That is well ; then I hope we shall have your good company ? 
 
 TALK. With a very good will will I be your companion. 
 
 FAITH. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in 
 discoursing of things that are profitable. 
 
 TALK. To talk of things that are good to me is very acceptable,' with you or with 
 
' A MAN WHOSE NAME IS TALKATIVE." 
 
TALK A TIVE PROMISES MUCH. 1 19 
 
 any other; and I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a 
 xaikative's work ; for, to speak the truth, there are but few who care thus to spend 
 
 dislike of bad dis- ... 
 
 course. their time as they are in their travels, but choose much rather to be 
 
 speaking of things to no profit ; and this hath been a trouble to me. 
 
 FAITH. That is indeed a thing to be lamented ; for what thing so worthy of the 
 use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth as are the things of the God of heaven ! 
 
 TALK. I like you wonderful well, for your saying is 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 mys- 
 tery 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 ? 
 
 FAITH. That is true ; but to be profited by such things in our talk should be our 
 chief design. 
 
 TALK. That 's it that I said ; for to talk of such things is most profitable ; for by 
 so doing a man may get knowledge of many things, as of the vanity of earthly 
 
 Taikative's things and the benefit of things above. Thus in general; but more 
 fine discourse. particularly by this a man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the 
 insufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's righteousness, etc. Besides, by this 
 a man may learn what it is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like; by this 
 also a man may learn what are the great promises and consolations of the gospel, 
 to his own comfort. Further, by this a man may learn to refute false opinions, to 
 vindicate the truth, and also to instruct the ignorant. 
 
 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 
 Jaith and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul in order to eternal life, but 
 ignorantly live in the works of the law, by 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 1 know very well; for a man can receive nothing 
 
 Un, DravG 
 
 except it be given him from heaven: all is of grace, not of works. I 
 could give you a hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this. 
 
 "Well, then," said Faithful, "what is that one thing that we shall at this time 
 found our discourse upon?" 
 
 TALK. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly, or things earthly ; things 
 on brave mor al, or things evangelical ; things sacred, or things profane ; things 
 Talkative i ' p ast> or things to come ; things foreign, or things at home ; things more 
 essential, or things circumstantial ; provided that all be done to our profit. 
 
 Now did Faithful begin to wonder ; and stepping to Christian (for he walked all 
 this while by himself), he said to him, but softly, " What a brave companion have we 
 got ! Surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrirn." 
 
120 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 At this Christian modestly smiled and said, " This man with whom Christian ten 
 you are so taken will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them he was. 
 that know him not." 
 
 FAITH. Do you know him, then ? 
 
 CHR. Know him ? Yes, better than he knows himself. 
 
 FAITH. Pray what is he ? 
 
 CHR. His name is Talkative : he dwelleth in our town. I wonder you should be 
 a stranger to him, only I consider that our town is large. 
 
 FAITH. Whose son is he ? And whereabout doth he dwell ? 
 
 CIIR. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in Prating-row ; and he is known 
 to all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating-row ; and 
 notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow. 
 
 FAITH. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. 
 
 CHR. That is to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him, for he 
 is best abroad ; near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man 
 brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of a painter whose pictures 
 show best at a distance ; but very near, more unpleasing. 
 
 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 company and for any talk : as he talketh now with you, so will he talk 
 when he is on the ale-bench; and the more drink he hath in his crown the more 
 of these things he hath in his mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart or house 
 or 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 maybe sure of it. Remember the proverb, Talkative talks 
 "They say, and do not;" but the kingdom of God is not in word, but in butdoe8not - 
 power. Matt. 23:3; i Cor. 4: 20. He talketh of prayer, of repentance, of faith, and 
 of the new birth ; but he knows but only to talk of them. I have been in his family 
 and have observed him both at home and abroad ; and I know what I say of him 
 is the truth. His house is as empty of religion as the white of an egg is of savor. 
 There is there neither prayer nor sign of repentance for sin ; yea, the brute in his 
 kind serves God far better than he. He is the very stain, reproach, and IIe ig a stain to 
 shame of religion to all that know him, Rom. 2:23, 24; it can hardly rell ion - 
 have a good word in all that end of the town where he dwells, through him. Thus 
 say the common people that know him, "A saint abroad and a devil at home." His 
 poor family finds it so ; he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with 
 his servants that they neither know how to do for or speak to him. Men that have 
 any dealings with him say it is better to deal with a Turk than with him, Men shnn to 
 for fairer dealings they shall have at their hands. This Talkative, if it deal with him - 
 be possible, will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides, he 
 brings up his sons to follow his steps ; and if he finctc in any of them a foolish timorous 
 
TALKATIVE 'S TRUE CHARACTER. 121 
 
 ness (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 commenda- 
 tion before others. For my part I am of opinion that he has, by his wicked life, 
 caused many to stumble and fall ; and will be, if God prevents not, the ruin of 
 many more. 
 
 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. 
 
 CIIR. Had I known him no more than you, I might perhaps have thought of him 
 as at the first you did ; yea, had I received this report at their hands only that are 
 enemies to religion, I should have thought it had been a slander a lot that often 
 falls from bad men's mouths upon good men's names and professions. But all these 
 things, yea, and a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge I can prove him 
 guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed of him ; they can neither call him brother 
 nor friend; the very naming of him among them makes them blush, if they 
 know him. 
 
 FAITH. Well, I see that saying and doing arc two things, and hereafter I shall 
 better observe this distinction. 
 
 CIIR. They are two things indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul and the 
 Tiie carcass of body ; for, as the body without the soul is but a dead carcass, so saying, if 
 it be alone, is but a dead carcass also. The soul of religion is the prac- 
 tical part. " Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit 
 the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the 
 world." See Jas. 1:22-27. This Talkative is not aware of: he thinks that hearing 
 and saying will make a good Christian ; and thus he deceivath iis. 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. Matt. 13:23. It will not be said then, Did you 
 believe? but, Were you doers, or talkers only? and accordingly shall they be judged. 
 The end of the world is compared to our harvest, Matt. 13 : 30, 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. Lev. 1 1 ; Deut. 14. He is such a one that parteth the hoof and chew- 
 eth the cud ; not that parteth the hoof only, or that chcweth the cud only. The hare 
 cheweth the cud, but yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. And this truly 
 Faithful con- resembleth Talkative: he cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge; he 
 
 vinced of the bad- ,."..,', ... .. ,. TT ... 
 
 ness of Talkative, 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 the dog or bear, and 
 therefore he is unclean. 
 
 CIIR. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true gospel sense of these texts. 
 16 
 
122 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 And I will add another thing : Paul calleth some men, yea, and those great talkers 
 too, sounding brass and tinkling cymbals, i Cor. 13:1, 3 ; that is, as he expounds them 
 in another place, things without life giving sound, i Cor. 14:7. Things without life ; 
 that is, without the true faith and grace of the gospel ; and consequently things that 
 shall never be placed in the kingdom of heaven among those that are the children of 
 life ; though their sound, by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice of an angel. 
 
 FAITH. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as sick of it now. 
 What shall we do to be rid of him ? 
 
 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. 
 
 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 : Hpw_^oJtli _the savin^_^rj^_oj_^^.,<iiscover itself 
 when it is in the heart of man ? 
 
 TALK. I perceive then that our talk must be about the power of things. Well, it 
 is a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you. And take Talkative'* raise 
 my answer in brief, thus: First, where the grace of God is in the heart, work or grace. 
 it causeth there a great outcry against sin. Secondly 
 
 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 virtue of a godly antipathy against it. I have TO cry out 
 
 i M. i. -u-j -i. 11 ^ainst sin no 
 
 heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who can yet abide it well sign or grace. 
 enough in the heart, house, and conversation. Gen. 39:15. Joseph's mistress cried 
 out with a loud voice, as if she had been very holy; but she would willingly, not- 
 withstanding 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 shoutcr-nave beeii~nTst: but first or last, it is also Great knowi- 
 
 . _ , .. edge no sign of 
 
 false ; for knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries grace. 
 
TRUE SIGNS OF GRACE. 123 
 
 of the gospel, and yet no work of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have all knowledge 
 he may yet be nothing, and so, consequently, be no child of God. i Cor. 13:2. When 
 Christ said, " Do you know all these things?" and the disciples had answered, Yes, he 
 added, " Blessed are ye if ye do them." He_dotlijnot lay the blessing in the knowing 
 of jhem,Jh>ut in thejJQing-nLthem.^ For there is a knowledge that is not attended with 
 doing: " He that knoweth his Master's will and doeth it not." A man may know like 
 an angel, and yet be no Christian ; therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to 
 know is a thing^that pleaseth talkers and boasters ; but to do is that which pleaseth 
 God. Not that the heart can be good without knowledge, for without that the heart is 
 naught. There are therefore two sorts of knowledge knowledge that resteth in the 
 bare speculation of things, and knowledge that is ^ccompanied.,with the grace of faith 
 True knowledge and love, which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the 
 
 attended with en- rjr: - :; 
 
 heart. The first of these will serve the talker ; but without the other, the 
 
 true Christian is not content. " Give me understanding, and I shall keep thy law ; 
 yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart." Psa. 1 19 : 34. 
 
 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 dis- 
 covereth itself where it is. 
 
 TALK. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. 
 
 FAITH. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it ? 
 
 TALK. You may use your liberty. 
 
 FAITH. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself, either to him that hath it 
 or to stand ers-by. 
 
 To him that hath it, thus : It gives him conviction of sin, especially the defile- 
 one good sign ment ofjiis nflt1 irpi ^nH fVl ^ sin of unbelief, for the sake of which he is 
 sureTto be damned if he findeth not mercy at God's hand by__faith in 
 Jesus Christ. This sight and sense of things" wofketh in him sorrow and shame for 
 sin. Psa. 38:18; Jer. 31:19; Johni6:8; Rom. 7 : 24 ; Mark 16: 16; Gal. 2 : 16; Rev. 
 i : 6. He findeth, moreover, revealed in him the Saviour of the world, and the abso- 
 lute necessity of closing with him for life ; at the which he findeth hungerings and 
 thirstings after him, to which hungerings and thirstings 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 cor- 
 ruptions 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. John 16:9; Gal. 2:15, 16; 
 Acts 4:12; Matt. 5:6; Rev. 21:6. 
 
 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 holiness (if he hath 
 a family), and by conversation holiness in the world ; which in the general teacheth 
 
124 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 him inwardly to abhor his sin and himself for that, in secret, to suppress it in his 
 family, and to promote holiness in the world : not by talk only, as a hypocrite or talk- 
 ative person may do, but by a practical subjection in faith and love to the power of 
 the Word. Job 42:5,6; Psa. 50:23; Ezek. 20:43; 36:25; Matt. 5:8; John 14:15; 
 Rom. 10: 10; Phil, i : 27 ; 3: 17-20. 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 this first part of the description of it ; and 
 doth your life and conversation testify the same ? Or_ standeth_your Another good 
 religion in word or tongue, and not in deed and truth? Pray, if you in- sigu Ol ferrace - 
 cline 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 com- 
 mendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to say I am 
 thus and thus, when my conversation and all my neighbors tell me I lie, is great 
 wickedness. 
 
 Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but recovering himself, thus he replied : 
 " You come now to experience, to conscience, and to God, and to appeal to him for 
 justification of what is spoken. This kind of discourse I did not expect ; Talkative not 
 
 -.-..,. . -r pleased wit.li FaitH- 
 
 nor am I disposed to give an answer to such questions, because I count furs question, 
 not myself bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a catechizer ; and though 
 you should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But I pray, will you tell 
 me why you ask me such questions ?" 
 
 FAITH. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that you had 
 aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have heard of you that you 
 are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation gives this your 
 mouth-profession the lie. They say you are a spot among Christians, and that 
 religion fareth the worse for your ungodly conversation ; that some have already 
 stumbled at your wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed there- 
 by : your religion and an ale-house and covetousness and uncleanness and swearing 
 and lying and vain company keeping, etc., will stand together. The proverb is true 
 of you which is said of a harlot, to wit, " That she is a shame to all women ;" so are 
 you a shame to all professors. 
 
 . TALK. Since you are so ready to take up reports and to judge so Ta ,i ka tive was 
 rashly as you do, I cannot but conclude you are some peevish or melan- Faitllful adieu - 
 choly man, not fit to be discoursed with ; and so adieu. 
 
 Then up came Christian and said to his brother, "I told you how it would 
 happen ; your words and his lusts could not agree. He had rather leave your com- 
 pany than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said : let him go ; the loss is no man's 
 but his own. He has saved us the trouble of going from him ; for he continuing (as 1 
 suppose he will do) as he is, would have been but a blot in our company ; besides, 
 the apostle says, ' From such withdraw thyself.' " 
 
RESULTS OF FAITHFUL DEALING. 125 
 
 FAITH. But I am glad we had this little discourse with him ; it may happen that 
 he will think of it again ; however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of 
 his blood if he perisheth. 
 
 CIIR. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did. There is but little of this 
 faithful dealing with men now-a-days, and that makes religion to stink so in the nos- 
 trils of many as it doth ; for they are these talkative fools whose religion is only in 
 word, and who are debauched and vain in their conversation, that (being so much 
 admitted into the fellowship of the godly) do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, 
 and grieve the sincere. I wish that all men would deal with such as you have done ; 
 then should they either be made more conformable to religion, or the company of 
 iaints would be too hot for them. 
 
 Then did Faithful say, 
 
 "How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes; 
 How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes 
 To drive down all before him ! But so soon 
 As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon 
 That 's past the full, into the wane he goes ; 
 And so will all but he that heart-work knows." 
 
 Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by the way, and so made that 
 way easy, which would otherwise, no doubt, have been tedious to them, for now they 
 went through a wilderness. 
 
126 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 THE SIXTH STAGE. 
 
 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 't was he that set me on the 
 
 Way tO the gate." Evangelist over- 
 
 Now was Evangelist come up to them, and thus saluted 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 thy ancient kindness and unwearied labors for my eternal 
 good. 
 
 " And a thousand times welcome," said good Faithful, " thy company, O sweet 
 Evangelist; how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims." 
 
 Then said Evangelist, " How hath it fared with you, my friends, since the time of 
 our last parting? What have you met with, and how have you 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. 
 
 "Right glad am I," said Evangelist, "not that you have met with trials, but 
 that you have been victors, and for that you have, notwithstanding nis exhortation 
 many weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day. 
 
 " I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine own sake and yours. 
 I have sowed and you have reaped ; and the day is coming when ' both he that 
 soweth and they that reap shall rejoice together,' John 4: 36; that is, if you hold out: 
 'for in due season ye shall reap, if ye faint not.' Gal. 6: 9. The crown is before you, 
 and it is an incorruptible one : ' so run that ye may obtain ' it. i Cor. 9 : 24-27. Some 
 there be that set out for this crown, and after they have gone far for it, another 
 comes in and takes it from them : ' hold fast, therefore, that you have ; let no man take 
 your crown.' Rev. 3:11. You are not yet out of the gunshot of the devil : ' you have 
 not resisted unto blood striving against sin.' Let the kingdom be always before you, 
 and believe steadfastly concerning the 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 desper- 
 ately wicked.' Set your faces like a flint ; you have all power in heaven and earth on 
 your side." 
 
 Then Christian thanked him for his exhortations ; but told him They do thank 
 
 . 11 - 11-1 -, f ci-11 h' m f r hi 8 exhor- 
 
 withal that they would have him speak further to them for their help tations. 
 
 the . rest of the way ; and the rather, for that they well knew that he was a prophet, 
 
 and could tell them of things that might happen unto them, and also how they might 
 
THE Y RE A CH VANITY FAIR. 127 
 
 resist and overcome them. To which request Faithful also consented. So Evan-v/ 
 gelist began as followeth : 
 
 EVAN. My sons, you have heard in the Word of the truth of the gospel that you 
 
 He predicted must " through many tribulations enter into the kingdom of heaven ;" 
 SuStttovS and a ain ' that " in ever y cit Y bonds and afflictions abide you ;" and there- 
 couraSh1hem e to fore y ou cannot expect that you should go long on your pilgrimage 
 without them in some sort or other. You have found something of the 
 truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more will immediately follow ; for 
 now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness, and therefore you will soon 
 come into a town that you will by-and-by 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 will yet have the better of his fellow ; not only because he will be arrived 
 at the celestial city soonest, but because he will escape many miseries that the other 
 will meet with in the rest of his journey. But when you are come to the town, and 
 shall find fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your Friend and quit 
 yourselves like men, and commit the keeping of your souls to God in well-doing as 
 unto a faithful Creator. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that when they were got out of the wilderness they 
 presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town is Vanity ; and at the 
 town there is a fair kept, called Vanjty_Eair. It is kept all the year long. It beareth ^ ^ 
 the name of Vanity Fair because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, J 
 Psa. 62 : 9 ; 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." Keel. n:8; see also 
 Eccl. i : 2-14; 2 : 11-17; I sa - 4 O: J 7- 
 
 The antiquity This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of ancient standing. 
 
 of tills fair. j wm show you the original of it 
 
 Almost five thousand years ago there were pilgrims walking to the celestial city, -. 
 as these two honest persons are; and Beelzebub, Appllyoiij and Legion, with their *\ 
 companions, perceiving by the path 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 
 slioujclj^sold^all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long. Therefore 
 The mercimn- a ^ this ^ r are a ^ such merchandise sold as houses, lands, trades, places, 
 r tins fair. honors, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures; and 
 delights of a' l sorts, as harlots, wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, 
 blood, bodif , souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not. 
 
 And - jreover at this fair there are at all times to be seen jugglings, cheats, 
 games, p'^ays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of every kind. 
 
 H> /e are to be seen too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false- 
 sweai*crs, and that of a blood-red color. 
 
 And, as in other fairs of less moment, there are the .several rows and streets under 
 
A GREAT STIR IN THE FAIR. 129 
 
 their proper names where such and such wares are vended ; so here, likewise, you 
 have the proper places, rows, streets (namely, countries and kingdoms) where the 
 rue streets or wares f tfos_fair_]are soonest to be found. Here is the Britain-row, the 
 this fair. French-row, the Italian-row, the Spanish-row, the German-row, where 
 
 several sorts of vanities are to be sold. But, as in other fairs, some one commodity 
 is as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of Rome and her merchandise is greatly 
 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 through this town where 
 this lusty fair is kept ; and he that would go to the city, and yet not go through this 
 town, "must needs go out of the world." i Cor. 4: 10. The Prince of princes him- 
 curist went se ^ wnen here, went through this town to his own country, and that 
 through this fair. 11 p On a fair-day too ; yea, and as I think, it was Beelzebub, the chief 
 lord of this fair, that invited him to buy of his vanities, yea, would have made him 
 lord of the fair, would he but have done him reverence as he went through the town. 
 Yea, because he was such a person of honor, Beelzebub had him from street to street 
 and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, that he might, if 
 possible, allure that blessed One to cheapen and buy some of his vanities ; but he had 
 no mind to the merchandise, and therefore left the town without so much as laying 
 out one farthing upon these vanities. Matt. 4: 1-8; Luke 4: 5-8. This fair, there- 
 fore, is an ancient thing of long standing and a very great fair. 
 
 Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair. Well, so they 
 The pilgrims did : but, behold, even as they entered into the fair, all the people in 
 enter the fair. ^ e j air were moved, and the town itself , as it were, in a hubbub about 
 them, and that for several reasons : for, 
 
 First, the pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was diverse from 
 
 The first cause tne raiment of any that traded in that fair. The people, therefore, of 
 
 the fair made a great gazing upon them : some said they were fools ; 
 
 some, they were bedlams; and some, they were outlandish men. Job 12:4; 
 
 i Cor. 4 : 9. 
 
 Secondly, and as they wondered at their apparel, so they did likewise at their 
 
 The second speech, for few could understand what they said. They naturally spoke 
 
 cause of the hub- | J 
 
 bub. the language of Canaan ; but they that kept the fair were the men of 
 
 _this_wprld : so that from one end of the fair to the other they seemed barbarians each 
 to the other, i Cor. 2:7, 8. 
 
 Thirdly, but that which did not a little amuse the merchandisers was, that these 
 
 Third cause of pilgrims set very light by all their wares. They cared not so much 
 
 as to look upon them ; and if they called upon them to buy they would 
 
 put their fingers in their ears and cry, " Turn away mine eyes from beholding 
 
 vanity," Psa. 119: 37, and look upward, signifying that their trade and traffic was 
 
 in heaven. Phil. 3 : 20, 21. 
 
 One chanced, mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men, to say unto them, 
 " What will ye buy ?" But they, looking gravely upon him, said, " We buy the truth." 
 17 
 
130 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Prov. 23 : 23. At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men the more ; some 
 mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some calling Fourt i, cause of 
 upon others to smite them. At last things came to a hubbub and great the llubbub - 
 stir in the fair, insomuch that all order was confounded. Now was word presently 
 brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly came down and deputed some of his 
 
 most trusty friends to take those men into 
 examination about whom the fair was 
 almost overturned. So the men were 
 brought to examination; and they that 
 sat upon them asked them whence they 
 came, whither they went, and what they 
 did there in such an unusual garb. The 
 men told them they were pil- They ten 
 
 .. . . who they are and 
 
 grims and strangers in the whence they came. 
 world, and that they were going to their 
 own country, which was the heavenly 
 Jerusalem, Heb. 11: 13-16; and that they 
 had given no occasion to the men of the 
 town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to 
 abuse them, and to let them in their jour- 
 ney, except it was for that, when one asked 
 them what they would buy, they said they 
 would buy the truth. But they that were 
 appointed to examine them did not be- 
 lieve them to be any other than bedlams 
 and mad, or else such as came to put all 
 things into a confusion in the fair. There-, 
 fore they took them and beat them, and 
 besmeared them with dirt, and then put 
 
 them into the cage that they might be made a spectacle to all the men 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, Their behavior 
 but contrariwise blessing," and giving good words for bad, and kindness mtheca # e - 
 for injuries done, some men in the fair, who were more observing and less prejudiced 
 than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for their continual abuses done 
 by them to the men. They, therefore, in an angry manner let fly at them again, 
 counting them as bad as the men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed 
 confederates and should be made partakers of their misfortunes. The others 
 replied that, for aught they could see, the men were quiet and sober and intended 
 nobody any harm; and that there were many that traded in their fair that were 
 more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men that 
 they had abused. Thus, after divers words had passed on both sides (the men 
 
 "SOME MOCKING AND CALLING ON OTHERS TO SMITE THEM." 
 
 
THEY ARE BROUGHT TO TRIAL. 131 
 
 behaving themselves all the while very wisely and soberly before them), they fell 
 to some blows among themselves and did harm one to another. Then were these 
 They are macie two poor men brought before their examiners again, and were charged^- 
 as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been in the fair. So they 
 
 beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains up and v 
 down the fair for an example and terror to others, lest any should speak in their 
 behalf or join themselves unto them. But Christian and Faithful behaved them- 
 selves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was cast upon 
 some men or them with so much meekness and patience that it won to their side 
 
 the fair won over ,,.,.,..,.. c ,-, , N i r ,-, 1 s 
 
 to them. (though but few in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the>/ 
 
 fair. This put the other party yet into a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded 
 the death of these two men. Wherefore they threatened that neither cage nor irons 
 should serve their turn, but that they should die for the abuse they had done and for 
 deluding the men of the fair. 
 
 They are again Then were they remanded to the cage again, until further order 
 and int aftei e s should be taken with them. So they put them in, and made their feet 
 
 brought to trial. fagt in the stoc k s< 
 
 Here also they called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful 
 friend Evangelist, and were the more confirmed in their way and sufferings by what 
 he told them would happen to them. They also now comforted each other that whose 
 lot it was to suffer, even he should have the best of it : therefore each man secretly ^ 
 wished that he might have that preferment. But committing themselves to the all- 
 wise disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the con- 
 dition in which they were until they should be otherwise disposed of. 
 
 Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to their trial, 
 in order to their condemnation. When the time was come, they were brought before 
 their enemies and arraigned. The judge's name was Lord Hate-good ; their indite- 
 ment was one and the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form ; the 
 contents whereof was this : " That they were enemies to, and disturbers of, the trade ; 
 that they had made commotions and divisions in the town, and had won a party to 
 their own most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their prince." 
 Faithful answers Then Faithful began to answer that he had only set himself against 
 that which had set itself against Him that is higher than the highest. 
 "And," said he, "as for disturbance, I make none, being myself a man of peace: the 
 parties that were won to us were won by beholding our truth and innocence, and they 
 are only turned from the worse to the better. And as to the king you talk of, since ^ 
 he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our Lord, I defy him and all his angels." 
 
 Then proclamation was made that they that had aught to say for their lord 
 the king against the prisoner at the bar should forthwith appear and give in their 
 evidence. So there came in three witnesses, to wit, Envy, Superstition, and Pick- -^ 
 thank. They were then asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar, and what they 
 had to say for their lord the king against him. 
 
 Envy begins. Then stood forth Envy and said to this effect: "My lord, I have 
 
ENVY AND SUPERSTITION TESTIFY. 
 
 133 
 
 Then did the judge say to him, " Hast 
 them any more to say?" 
 
 ENVY. My lord, I could say much 
 more, only I would not be tedious to the 
 court. Yet if need be, when the other 
 gentlemen have given in their evidence, 
 rather than anything shall be wanting 
 that will dispatch him, I will enlarge my 
 testimony against him. 
 
 So he was bid to stand by. 
 
 Then they called Superstition and bid 
 
 superstition him look u P on the prisoner. 
 They also asked what he 
 could say for their lord the king against 
 him. Then they swore him ; so he began : 
 SUPER. My lord, I have no great 
 acquaintance with this man, nor do I de- 
 sire to have further knowledge of him. 
 However, this I know, that he is a very 
 pestilent fellow, from some discourse that 
 
 follows. 
 
 known this man a long time, and will 
 attest upon my oath before this honorable 
 bench that he is 
 
 JUDGE. Hold ; give him his oath. 
 
 So they swore 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 doeth all 
 that he can to possess all men with cer- 
 tain 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." 
 
 SUPERSTITION. 
 
134 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 I had with him the other day in this town ; for then, talking with him, I heard 
 
 j Jiim say that our religion was naught, and such by which a man could by no means 
 
 'please God. Which saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows what 
 
 necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we still do worship in vain, are yet in our 
 
 sins, and finally shall be damned : and this 
 is that which I have to say. 
 
 Then was Pickthank sworn and bid 
 say what he knew in the behalf of their 
 lord the king against the prisoner at the 
 bar. 
 
 PICK. My lord, and you gentlemen 
 all, this fellow I have known nckt hank's 
 of a long time, and have testllllon y- 
 heard him speak things that ought not to 
 be spoken ; for he hath railed on our no- 
 ble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken 
 contemptibly of his honorable friends, 
 whose names are, the Lord Old Man, the 
 Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord Luxurious, 
 the Lord Desire-of-vain-glory, my old Lord 
 Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the 
 rest of our nobility; and he hath said, 
 moreover, that if all men were of his 
 mind, if possible, there is not one of these 
 noblemen should have any longer a being 
 in this town. Besides, he hath not been 
 afraid to rail on you, my lord, who are 
 now appointed to be his judge, calling you 
 
 an ungodly villain, with many other such like vilifying terms with which he hath be- 
 spattered most of the gentry of our town. 
 
 When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge directed his speech to the pris- 
 oner at the bar, saying, " Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard what 
 these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee ?" 
 
 FAITH. May I speak a few words in my own defence ? 
 
 JUDGE. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain imme- 
 diately upon the place ; yet, that all men may see our gentleness towards thee, let us 
 hear what thou, vile runagate, hast to say. 
 
 FAITH. First I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken, Faithful's ae- 
 I never said aught but this, that what rule or laws or custom or people fence 
 were flat against the Word of God are diametrically opposite to Christianity. If I 
 have said amiss in this, convince me of my error, and I am ready here before you to 
 make my recantation. 
 
 As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and his charge against me, I said only 
 
 PICKTHANK. 
 
VERDICT OF THE JURY. 135 
 
 this, that in i the ^worship of God there is required a divine faith; but there can be no , 
 divine faith without a divine revelation of the will of God. Therefore, whatever is 
 thrust into the worship of God that is not agreeable to divine revelation cannot be 
 done but by a human faith ; which faith will not be profitable to eternal life. 
 
 Third, 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. 
 
 The juke's Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by to 
 speech to the jury. h ear an d observe), " Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about 
 whom so great an uproar hath been made in this town ; you have also heard what 
 these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against him ; also, you have heard his reply 
 and confession : it lieth now in your breasts to hang him or save his life ; but yet I 
 think meet to instruct you in our law. 
 
 " There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the Great, servant to our prince, 
 that lest those of a contrary religion should multiply and grow too strong for him, 
 their males should be thrown into the river. Exod. i : 22. 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 fur- 
 nace. Dan. 3 : 6. There was also an act made in the days of Darius that whoso for 
 some time called upon any god but him should be cast into the lions' den. Dan. 6 : 7. 
 Now the substance of these laws this rebel has broken, not only in thought (which 
 is not to be borne), but also in word and deed; which must, therefore, needs be 
 intolerable. 
 
 " For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposition to prevent mischief, 
 no crime being yet apparent; but here is a crime apparent. For the second and third, ^ 
 you see he disputeth against our religion ; and for the treason that he hath already / * 
 confessed, he deserveth to die the death." 
 
 Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr. Blindman, Mr. No-good, Mr. 
 
 Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. 
 
 Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable ; who every one gave in his 
 
 They bun- him private verdict against him among themselves, and afterwards unani- 
 
 in guilty of death. motl sly 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 a heretic." 
 
 Then said Mr. No-good, " Away with such a fellow from the earth." 
 
 " Ay," said Mr. Malice, " for I hate the very looks of him." 
 
 Then said Mr. Love-lust, " I could never endure him." 
 
 " Nor I," said Mr. Live-loose, " for he would always be condemning my way." 
 
 " Hang him, hang him," said Mr. Heady. 
 
 " A sorry scrub," said Mr. High-mind. 
 
 " My heart riseth against him," said Mr. Enmity. 
 
 " He is a rogue," said Mr. Liar. 
 
FAITHFULS CRUEL DEATH. 
 
 137 
 
 " Hanging is too good for him," said Mr. Cruelty. 
 
 " Let us despatch him out of the way," said Mr. Hate-light. 
 
 Then said Mr. Implacable, " Might I have all the world given me, I could not be 
 reconciled to him ; therefore let us forthwith bring him in. guilty of death." 
 
 And so they did ; therefore he was presently condemned to be had from the place 
 where he was to the place from whence he came, and there to be put to the most 
 cruel death that could be invented. 
 
 They therefore brought him out to do with him according to their law ; and first 
 
 fthey scourged him, then they buffeted him, 
 :hen they lanced his flesh with knives; 
 ifter that they stoned him with stones, 
 TIM? crneuieaih tlien pricked him with their 
 or Famirui. swords ; and last of all they 
 
 burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus 
 came Faithful to his end. 
 
 Now I saw that there stood behind 
 the multitude a chariot and a couple of 
 horses waiting for Faithful, who (so soon 
 ' as his adversaries had despatched him) was 
 taken up into it and straightway was car- 
 ried up through the clouds, with sound of 
 trumpet, the nearest way to the celestial 
 gate. But as for Christian, he had some 
 respite, and was remanded back to prison, 
 so he there remained for a space. But 
 He who overrules all things, having the 
 power of their rage in his own hand, so 
 Christian wrought it about that Qiris-_ 
 
 escapes. t | aQ for ^^ ^ mQ escape( J 
 
 \ / -- - 
 
 /them, and went his way. 
 
 And as he went he sang, saying, 
 
 "THEY BURNED HIM TO ASHES AT THK STAKE." 
 
 "Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully professed 
 Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blessed, 
 When faithless ones, with all their vain delights, 
 Are crying out under their hellish plights : 
 Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive ; 
 For though they killed thee, thou art yet alive." 
 
 18 
 
138 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 THE SEVENTH STAGE. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that Christian went not forth alone ; for there was one 
 whose name was Hopeful-(being so made by the beholding of Christian Christian has 
 and Faithful in their words and behavior, in their sufferings at the fair), ion. 
 who joined himself unto him, and entering into a brotherly covenant, told him that 
 he would be his companion. Thus one died to bear testimony to the truth, and 
 another rises out of his ashes to be a companion with Christian in his pilgrimage. 
 This Hopeful also told Christian that there were many more of the men in the fair 
 that would take their time and follow after. 
 
 So I saw that quickly after they were got out of the fair, they overtook one that 
 was going before them, whose name was By-ends^ so they said to him, . They overtake 
 "What countryman, sir; and how far go you this way?" He told them B y- end8 - 
 that he came from the town of Fair-speech, and he was going to the celestial city ; but 
 told them not his name. 
 
 " From Fair-speech ?" said Christian. " Is there any good that lives there ?" 
 Prov. 26: 25. 
 
 "Yes," said By-ends, "I hope so." 
 
 CHR. Pray, sir, what may I call you ? 
 
 BY-ENDS. I am a stranger to you and you to me ; if you be going this way I shall 
 be glad of your company ; if not, I must be content. 
 
 " This town of Fair-speech," said Christian, " I have heard of ; and, as I remem- 
 ber, they say it 's a wealthy place." 
 
 BY. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have very many rich kindred there. 
 
 CHR. Pray, who are your kindred there, if a man may be so bold ? 
 
 BY. Almost the whole town ; and in particular my Lord Turn-about, my Lord 
 Time-server, my Lord Fair-speech, from whose ancestors that town first took its 
 name ; also Mr. Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Anything ; and the parson of 
 our parish, Mr. Two-tongues, was my mother's own brother by father's side ; and to 
 tell you the truth, I am become a gentleman of good quality, yet my great-grandfather 
 was but a waterman, looking one way and rowing another, and I got most of my 
 estate by the same occupation. 
 
 CHR. Are you a married man ? 
 
 BY. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of a virtuous 
 woman: she was my Lady Feigning's daughter; therefore she came of a very 
 honorable family, and is arrived to such a pitch of breeding that she knows how 
 to carry it to all, even to prince and peasant. 'Tis true we some- where By-emis 
 
 * . differs from others 
 
 what differ in religion from those of the stricter sort, yet but in two in religion, 
 small points : First, we never strive against wind and tide. Secondly, we are always 
 most zealous when religion goes in his silver slippers ; we love much to walk with 
 him in the street if the sun shines and the people applaud him. 
 
' THERE WAS ONE WHOSE NAME WAS HOPEFUL, WHO JOINED HIMSELF UNTO HIM." 
 
140 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful, saying, " It runs in 
 my mind that this is one By-ends of Fair-speech ; and if it be he, we have as very a 
 knave in our company as dwelleth in all these parts." Then said Hopeful, "Ask him. 
 Methinks he should not be ashamed of his name." So Christian came up with him 
 again, and said, " Sir, you talk as if you knew something more than all the world 
 doth ; and, if I take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you. Is not 
 your name Mr. By-ends of Fair-speech ?" 
 
 BY. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nickname that is given me by some 
 that cannot abide me, and I must be content to bear it as a reproach, as other good 
 men have borne theirs before me. 
 
 CHR. But did you never give an occasion to men to call you by this name ? 
 
 BY. Never, never. The worst that ever I did to give them an occasion to give 
 me this name was, that I had always the luck to jump in my judgment How Bv . enda 
 with the present way of the times, whatever it was, and my chance was g thlsname - 
 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. 
 
 CHR. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard of; and to tell you 
 what I think, I fear this name belongs to you more properly than you are willing we 
 should think it doth. 
 
 BY. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it ; you shall find He desires to 
 
 , . 1 .. M1 .... , . . keep company 
 
 me a fair company-keeper if you will still admit me your associate. with Christian. 
 
 CHR. If you will go with us you must go against wind and tide ; the which, I 
 perceive, is against your opinion ; you must also own religion in his rags, as well as 
 when in his silver slippers ; and stand by him too when bound in irons, as well as 
 when he walketh the streets with applause. 
 
 BY. You must not impose nor lord it over my faith ; leave me to my liberty, and 
 let me go with you. 
 
 CHR. Not a step farther, unless you will do, in what I propound, as we. 
 
 Then said By-ends, " I shall never desert my old principles, since they are harm- 
 less and profitable. If I may not go with you, I must do as I did before you over- 
 took me, even go by myself until some overtake me that will be glad of my com- 
 pany." 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that Christian and Hopeful forsook him, and kept their 
 distance before him ; but one of them, looking back, saw three men following Mr. By- 
 ends ; and behold, as they came up with him, he made them a very low conge ; and 
 they also gave him a compliment. The men's names were Mr. Hold-the- B y-ends has new 
 world, Mr. Money-love, and Mr. Save-all, men that Mr. By-ends had for- companions, 
 merly been acquainted with ; for in their minority they were schoolfellows, and were 
 taught by one Mr. Gripeman, a schoolmaster in Lovegain, which is a market-town in 
 the county of Coveting, in the North. This schoolmaster taught them the art of 
 getting, either by violence, cozenage, flattering, 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. 
 
142 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. Money-love said to 
 Mr. By-ends, " Who are they upon the road before us ?" for Christian and Hopeful 
 were yet within view. 
 
 BY. They are a couple of far-countrymen, that, after their mode, are B y-ends' charac- 
 going on pilgrimage. ter of the P u rim8 - 
 
 MONEY. Alas, why did they not stay, that we might have had their good com- 
 pany ? for they and we and you, sir, I hope, are all going on pilgrimage. 
 
 BY. We are so, indeed ; but the men before us are so rigid, and love so much 
 their own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the opinions of others, that let a man 
 be ever so godly, yet if he jumps not with them in all things, they thrust him quite 
 out of their company. 
 
 SAVE. That is bad ; but we read of some that are righteous overmuch, and such 
 men's rigidness prevails with them to judge and condemn all but themselves. But I 
 pray, what and how many were the things wherein you differed ? 
 
 BY. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, conclude that it is their duty to 
 rush on their journey all weathers ; and I am for waiting for wind and tide. They are 
 for hazarding all for God at a clap ; and I am for taking all advantages to secure my 
 life and estate. They are for holding their notions, though all other men be against 
 them ; but I am for religion in what and so far as the times and my safety will bear 
 it. They are for religion when in rags and contempt ; but I am for him when he 
 walks in his silver 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. It is best to make hay while the 
 sun shines. You see how the bee lieth still in winter and bestirs her only when she 
 can have profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain and sometimes sunshine : 
 if they be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather 
 along with us. For my part, I like that religion best that will stand with the security 
 of God's blessings upon us ; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, since 
 God has bestowed upon us the good things of this life, but that he would have us 
 keep them for his sake ? Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion ; and Job says 
 that a good man shall lay up gold as dust ; but he must not be such as the men before 
 us, if they be as you have described them. 
 
 SAVE. I think that we are all agreed in this matter ; and therefore there needs no 
 more words about it. 
 
 MONEY. No, there needs no more words about this matter, indeed ; for he that 
 believes neither Scripture nor reason (and you see we have both on our side), neither 
 knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety. 
 
 BY. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage ; and for our better 
 diversion from things that are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this ques- 
 tion: 
 
 Suppose a man, a minister or a tradesman, etc., should have an advantage lie be- 
 fore him to get the good blessings of this life, yet so as that he can by no means come 
 
MONEY-LOVES SOPHISTRY. 143 
 
 by them except, in appearance at least, he becomes extraordinarily zealous in some 
 points of religion that he meddled not with before ; may he not use this means to 
 attain his end, and yet be a right honest man ? 
 
 MONEY. I see the bottom of your question; and with these gentlemen's good 
 leave, I will endeavor to shape you an answer. And first, to speak to your question as 
 it concerneth a minister himself : suppose a minister, a worthy man, possessed but of 
 a very small benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat and plump by far ; he has 
 also now an opportunity of getting it, yet so as by being more studious, by preaching 
 more frequently and zealously, and, because the temper of the people requires it, by 
 altering some of his principles ; for my part, I see no reason why a man may not do 
 this, provided he has a call, ay, and more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest 
 man. For why ? 
 
 1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful (this cannot be contradicted), since it 
 is set before him by Providence ; so then he may get it if he can, making no question 
 for conscience' sake. 
 
 2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, a more zealous 
 preacher, etc., and so makes him a better man, yea, makes him better improve his 
 parts, which is according to the mind of God. 
 
 3. Now as for his complying with the temper of his people by deserting, to serve 
 them, some of his principles, this argueth, first, that he is of a self-denying temper; 
 second, of a sweet and winning deportment ; and third, so more fit for the ministerial 
 function. 
 
 4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small fora great should not, 
 for so doing, be judged as covetous; but rather, since he is improved in his parts and 
 industry thereby, be counted as one that pursues his call and the opportunity put into 
 his hand to do good. 
 
 And now to the second part of the question, which concerns the tradesman you 
 mentioned. Suppose such a one to have but a poor employ in the world, but by be- 
 coming religious he may mend his market, perhaps get a rich wife, or more and far 
 better customers to his shop ; for my part, I see no reason but this may be lawfully 
 done. For why ? 
 
 1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever a man becomes so. 
 
 2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife or more custom to my shop. 
 
 3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets that which is \ 
 good of them that are good, by becoming good himself; so then, here is a good 
 wife and good customers and good gain, and all these by becoming religious, which I 
 is good: therefore, to become religious to get all these is a good and profitable' 7 
 design. 
 
 This answer thus made by Mr. Money-love to Mr. By-ends' question was highly 
 applauded by them all ; wherefore they concluded, upon the whole, that it was most 
 wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they thought, no man was able tc 
 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 
 
144 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 
 
 rather, because they had opposed Mr. By-ends before. So they called after them, and 
 they stopped and stood still till they came up to them ; but they concluded, as they 
 went, that not Mr. By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-the-world, should propound the question 
 to them, becau,se, as they supposed, their answer to him would be without the remain- 
 der of that heat that was kindled between Mr. By-ends and them at their parting a 
 little before. 
 
 So they came up to each other, and after a short salutation Mr. Hold-the-world 
 propounded the question to Christian and his fellow, and then bid them to answer if 
 they could. 
 
 Then Christian said, " Even a babe in religion may answer ten thousand such 
 questions. For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves, as it is, John 6 : 26, how 
 much more abominable is it to make of him and religion a stalking-horse to get and 
 enjoy the world ! Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and 
 wizards that are of this opinion. 
 
 " i. Heathens: for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind to the daughter and 
 cattle of Jacob, and saw that there was no way for them to come at them but by being 
 circumcised, they said to their companions, ' If every male of us be circumcised, as 
 they are circumcised, shall not their cattle and their substance and every beast of 
 theirs be ours ?' Their daughters and their cattle were that which they sought to 
 obtain, and their religion the stalking-horse they made use of to come at them. Read 
 the whole story, Gen. 34 : 20-24. 
 
 " 2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion : long prayers were their 
 pretence, but to get widows' houses was their intent ; and greater damnation was from 
 God their judgment. Luke 20 : 46, 47. 
 
 " 3. Judas the devil was also of this religion ; he was religious for the bag, that he 
 might be possessed of what was put therein ; but he was lost, cast away, and the very 
 son of perdition. 
 
 " Simon the wizard was of this religion too ; for he would have had the Holy 
 Ghost, that he might have got money therewith : and his sentence from Peter's mouth 
 was according. Acts 8 : 19-22. 
 
 "5. Neither will it go out of my mind but that that man who takes up religion 
 for the world will throw away religion for the world ; for so surely as Judas 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 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; so there 
 was a great silence among . them. Mr. By-ends and his company also staggered and 
 kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might outgo them. Then said Christian to 
 his fellow, " If these men cannot stand before the sentence of men, what will they do 
 with the sentence of God ? And if they are mute when dealt with by vessels of clay, 
 what will they do when they shall be rebuked by the flames of a devouring fire ?" 
 
DEMAS AND THE SILVER-MINE. 145 
 
 Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went till they came .at a 
 delicate plain called Ease, where they went with much content; but that plain was 
 but narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now at the farther side of that plain 
 was a little hill called Lucre, and in that hill a silver-mine, which some of them that 
 had formerly gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see; but 
 going too near the brim of the pit, the ground, being deceitful 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. 
 
 De.nas at the Then I saw in my dream that a little off the road, over against the 
 silver-mine, stood Demas (gentleman-like) to call passengers to come and 
 see ; who said to Christian and his fellow, " Ho, turn aside hither and I will show you 
 a thing." 
 
 CIIR. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way to see it? 
 
 DEMAS. Here is a silver-mine and some digging in it for treasure. If "you will 
 come, with a little pains you may richly provide for yourselves. 
 
 Hopemi tempted Then said Hopeful, " Let us go see." 
 
 ICiif"' holds C1 him " Not I," said Christian. " I have heard of this place before now, and 
 
 how many there have been slain ; and besides, that treasure is a snare to 
 those that seek it, for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage." 
 
 Then Christian called to Demas, saying, " Is not the place dangerous ? Hath it 
 not hindered many in their pilgrimage ?" Hosea 9 : 6. 
 
 " Not very dangerous," said Demas, " except to those that are careless ;" but 
 withal he blushed as he spoke. 
 
 Then said Christian to Hopeful, " Let us not stir a step, but still keep on our 
 way." 
 
 HOPE. I will warrant you when By-ends comes up, if he hath the same invitation 
 as we, he will turn in thither to see. 
 
 CHR. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way, and a hundred to 
 one but he dies there. 
 
 Then Demas called again, saying, " But will you not come over and see ?" 
 
 Then Christian roundly answered, saying, " Demas, thou art an enemy to the 
 right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast been already condemned for thine own 
 turning aside by one of his Majesty's judges, 2 Tim. 4: 10; 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. 
 
 Then said Christian, " What is thy name ? Is it not the same by which I have 
 called thee ?" 
 
 DEMAS. Yes, my name is Demas ; I am the son of Abraham. 
 
 CHR. I know you: Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your father, 
 and you have trod in their steps ; it is but a devilish prank that thou usest. Thy father 
 19 
 
146 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest no better reward. 2 Kings 5 : 20-27 
 Matt. 26:14, 15 ; 27 : 3-5. Assure thyself that when we come to the King we will tell 
 him of this thy behavior. 
 
 Thus they went their way. 
 
 By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within sight, and they 
 at the first beck went over to Demas. Now, whether they fell into the j ? y. em is goes 
 pit by looking over the brink thereof, or whether they went down to over to Uemas - 
 dig, or whether they were smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly 
 arise, of these things I am not certain ; but this I observed, that they were never seen 
 again in the way. Then sang Christian, 
 
 ' ' By-ends and silver Demas both agree ; 
 One calls, the other runs, that he may be 
 A sharer in his lucre : so these two 
 Take up in this world, and no farther go." 
 
 Now I saw that just on the other side of this plain the pilgrims Tluiy sce a strange 
 came to a place w^here stood an old monument, hard by the highway- monument - 
 side, at the sight of which they were both concerned because of the strangeness of the 
 form thereof : for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman transformed into the 
 shape of a pillar. Here, therefore, they stood looking and looking upon it, but could 
 not for a time tell what they should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied, written 
 above the head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand ; but he, being no scholar, called 
 to Christian (for he was learned) to see if he could pick out the meaning : so he came, 
 and after a little laying of letters together, he found the same to be this, " Remember 
 Lot's wife." So he read it to his fellow; after which they'both concluded that that was 
 the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was turned, for her looking back with a covetous 
 heart when she was going from Sodom for safety. Gen. 19:26. Which sudden and 
 amazing sight gave them occasion for this discourse : 
 
 CHR. Ah, my brother, this is a seasonable sight : it came opportunely to us after 
 the invitation which Demas gave us to come over to view the hill Lucre ; and had we 
 gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast inclined to do, my brother, we had, for. 
 aught I know, been made like this woman a spectacle for those that came 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 between 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 my heart. 
 
 CHR. Let us take notice of what we see here for our help for time to come. This 
 woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom ; yet she 
 was destroyed by another, as we see : she is turned into a pillar of salt. 
 
 HOPE. True, and she may be to us both caution and example : caution, that we 
 should shun her sin, or a sign of what judgment will overtake such as shall not be 
 prevented by this caution ; so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, with the two hundred and 
 fifty men that perished in their sin, did also become a sign or example to others to 
 
"REMEMBER LOT'S WIFE." 
 
148 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 beware. Num. 16:31, 32; 26:9, 10. But above all, I muse at one thing, to wit, how 
 Demas and his fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for that treasure which 
 this woman but for looking behind her after (for we read not that she stepped one 
 foot out of the way), was turned into a pillar of salt ; especially since the judgment 
 which overtook her did make her an example within sight of where they are ; for 
 they cannot choose but see her, did they but lift up their eyes. 
 
 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 gal- 
 lows. It is said of the men of Sodom that they were "sinners exceedingly," because 
 they were sinners " before the Lord," that is, in his eyesight, and notwithstanding the 
 kindnesses that he had showed them ; for the land of Sodom was now like the garden 
 of Eden heretofore. Gen. 13 : 10-13. This therefore provoked him the more to jeal- 
 ousy, 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 con- 
 tinually 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 it is that neither 
 thou, but especially I, am not made myself this example ! This ministereth occasion 
 to us to thank God, to fear before him, and always to remember Lot's wife. 
 
 I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant river, which A river. 
 David the king called " th_rivej:. of God ;" but John, "the river of the water of life." 
 Psa. 65 : 9 ; Rev. 22 : i ; Ezek. 47 : 1-9. Now their way lay just upon the bank of this 
 river ; here, therefore, Christian and his companion walked with great delight ; they 
 drank also of the water of the river, which was pleasant and enlivening to their weary 
 spirits. Besides, on the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees with all 
 manner of fruit ; and the leaves they ate to prevent surfeits and other diseases that 
 are incident to those that heat their blood by travel. On either side of A meadow, in 
 
 V. ...' T~~- Which they lie 
 
 the river was also a meadow, curiously beautified with lilies; and it was down to sleep. 
 green all the year long. In this meadow they lay down and slept, for here they 
 might lie down s'afely. Psa. 23:2; Isa. 14:30. When Lliey aWoke Uliiy-gathered 
 again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again -of the water xiiLtli_jiyjer^ajid 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 who can tell 
 What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves these trees do yield, 
 Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field." 
 
 So when they were disposed to go on (for they were not as yet at their journey's 
 end), they ate and drank arid departed. 
 
 Now I beheld in my dream that they had not journeyed far, but the river and 
 
IN BY-PA TH MEADOW. 
 
 149 
 
 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. Num. 21:4. Wherefore, still as they went on they wished for a better 
 By-path meadow, way. Now, a little before them, there was on the left hand of the road 
 a meadow and a stile to go over into it, and that meadow is called By-path meadow. 
 Then said Christian to his fellow, "If this meadow lieth along by our wayside, let 's 
 go over into it." Then he went to the stile to see, and behold, a path lay along by 
 the way on the other side of the fence. " It is according to my wish," said Christian ; 
 " here is the easiest going. Come, good Hopeful, and let us go over." 
 
 HOPE. But how if this path should lead us out of the way ? 
 
 " That is not likely," said Christian. " Look, doth it not go along by the way- 
 side ?" 
 
 stron dins- ^ Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the 
 wl'-'ik- o!u s V <,ut ea of s^ile- When they were gone over and were got into the path, they found 
 it very easy for their feet : and withal, looking before them, they espied 
 a man walking as they did, and his name was Vain-confide,n,Qej _so they called after 
 him and asked him whither that way led. 
 He said, " To the celestial gate." 
 
 " Look," said Christian, "did not I tell 
 
 See what it is Y OU SO ? B Y this Y OU ma Y See 
 
 rail ^Hran we are right." So they fol- 
 
 lowed, and he went before 
 them. But behold, the night came on 
 and it grew very dark ; so that they that 
 went behind lost sight of him that went 
 iefore. 
 
 He therefore that went before (Vain- 
 confidence by name), not seeing the way 
 before him, fell into a deep pit, which 
 
 was on purpose there made by 
 
 the vainglorious -,.,,. 
 
 ~irn the prince of those grounds, 
 to catch vainglorious fools withal, and was 
 dashed in pieces with his fall. Isa. 9: 16. 
 
 Now Christian and his fellow heard 
 him fall. So they called to know the mat- 
 ter, but there was none to answer, only 
 they heard a groaning. 
 
 Then said Hopeful, " Where are we 
 now ?" 
 
 Then was his fellow silent, as mis- 
 trusting that he had led him out of the way ; and now it began to rain and thunder 
 and lighten in a most dreadful manner, and the water rose amain. 
 
 
 VAIN-CONFIDKNCE. 
 
150 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, " Oh, that I had kept on my way !" 
 
 CHR. Who could have thought that this path should have led us out of the 
 way? 
 
 HOPE. I was afraid on 't at the very first, and therefore gave you that gentle 
 caution. I would have spoken plainer, but that you are older than I. 
 
 CHR. Good brother, be not offended ; I am sorry I have brought thee Chri8t ian's re- 
 out of the way and that I have put thee into such imminent danger, 
 Pray, my brother, forgive me ; I did not do it of an evil intent. 
 
 HOPE. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee ; and believe, too, that this 
 shall be for our good. 
 
 CHR. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother. But we must not stand here ; 
 let us try to go back again. 
 
 HOPE. But, good brother, let me go before. 
 
 CHR. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there be any danger I may be first 
 therein, because by my means we are both gone out of the way. 
 
 "No," said Hopeful, "you shall not go first, for your mind being troubled may 
 lead you out of the way again." Then for their encouragement they heard the voice 
 of one saying, " Let thy heart be towards the highway, even the way that thou went- 
 est: turn again." Jer. 31:21. But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by 
 reason of which the way of going back was very dangerous. Then I T]ie pilgrimg in 
 thought that it is easier going out of the way when we are in than going jng nge a r s of th C e W g 
 in when we are out. Yet they adventured to go back ; but it was so dark, oack- 
 and the flood was so high, that in their going back they had like to have been 
 drowned nine or ten times. 
 
 Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile that night. 
 Wherefore at last, lighting under a little shelter, they sat down there till They sleep in 
 
 , the grounds of 
 
 the day broke ; but being weary, they fell asleep. Now there was, not Giant Despair. 
 far from the place where they lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, the ownerja^kereof 
 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 Chris- 
 tian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and surly voice he bid 
 them awake, and asked them whence they were and what they did in his grounds. 
 They told him they ^vere pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. He flndstiiemin 
 Then said the giant, " You have this night trespassed on me by tram- c^ Ti est l hem into 
 pling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along with Doubtin g Castle - 
 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 Juto his castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty and stinking 
 to the spirits of tfiese two men. Here then they lay from Wednesday morning till 
 Saturday night, without one bit of bread or drop of drink or light or any to ask how 
 they did ; they were therefore here in evil case, and were far from friends and 
 acquaintance. Psa. 88:18. Now in this place Christian had double sorrow, because 
 it was through his unadvised counsel that they were brought into this distress. 
 
GIANT DESPAIR. 
 
152 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 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 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 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 them and beats 
 them* fearfully, in such sort that they were not able to help themselves ()n Tlnirsrta 
 or to turn them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws and leaves j;^ ll ' j |, c p^j^ 
 them there to condole their misery and to mourn under their distress : (>1S - 
 so all that day they spent their time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. 
 The next night, she, talking with her husband further about them, and under- 
 standing that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away with 
 themselves. So when the 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 like to come out of that place, 
 their only way would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either On FrWa 
 
 with knife, halter, or poison. " For why," said he, " should you choose to ^0^1? "em* to 
 live, seeing it is attended with so much bitterness ?" But they desired v 
 him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them had 
 doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits (for he 
 sometimes in sunshiny weather fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his hands; 
 wherefore he withdrew and left them as before to consider what to do. Then did the 
 prisoners consult between themselves whether it was best to take his counsel or no 
 and thus they began to discourse : 
 
 "Brother," said Christian, "what shall we do? The life that we now live is 
 miserable. For my part I know not whether it is best to live thus or to die out 
 of hand. My soul chooseth strangling rather than life, and the grave niriRtlan sorolv 
 is more easy for me than this dungeon. Job 7:15. Shall we be ruled dislieimened - 
 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 nopefui com- 
 the hell whither for certain the murderers go? for "no murderer hath f 
 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 hands. Who knows but that God who 
 
20 
 
 " THIS DONK, HE LEAVES THEM THERE TO CONDOLE THEIR MISERY." 
 
154 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 made the world may cause that Giant Despair may die ; or that, at some time or 
 other, he may forgot to lock us in ; or that he may in a short time have another of his 
 fits before us and may lose the use of his limbs ? And if ever that should come to 
 pass again, for my part I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man and to try my 
 utmost to get from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it before. 
 But, however, my brother, let us be patient and endure a while : the time may come 
 that may give us a happy release ; but let us not be our own murderers. 
 
 With these words 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 whether yet they had best take it or no. Now Christian again seemed 
 for doing it ; but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth : 
 
 " My brother," said Hopeful, " rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been 
 heretofore ? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst pipeful com- 
 hear or see or feel in the valley of the Shadow of Death. What hard- caron* nfrmer 
 
 .. 1 - tilings to reniein- 
 
 ship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone through ; and art brance. 
 thou now nothing but fears ? Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far 
 weaker man by nature than thou art. Also this giant hath wounded me as well as thee 
 and hath also cut off the bread and water from my mouth, and with thee I mourn 
 without the light. But let us exercise a little more patience. Remember how thou 
 playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain nor cage nor 
 yet of bloody death : wherefore let us (at least to avoid the shame that it becomes 
 not a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as well as we can." 
 
 Now night being come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed, she asked 
 him concerning the prisoners and if they had taken his counsel : to which he replied, 
 "They are sturdy rogues; they choose rather to bear all hardships than to make 
 away with themselves." Then said she, " Take them into the castle-yard to-morrow 
 and show them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already despatched, and 
 make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou wilt tear them in pieces as thou 
 hast done their fellows before them." 
 
 So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them again and takes them 
 into the castle-yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. on Saturday 
 
 OM. " -J -U -1 i J.-L. j tne iant threat- 
 
 " These, said he, "were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed enwi that shortly 
 on my grounds as you have done ; and when I thought fit I tore them in them in pieces. u 
 pieces; and so within ten days I will do you : get you down to your den again." And 
 
THE PILGRIMS ESCAPE. 155 
 
 with that he beat them all the way thither. They lay therefore all day on Saturday 
 in a lamentable case as before. Now when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffi- 
 dence and her husband 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 with that his wife replied, "I fear, ".said she, 
 " that they live in hopes that some will come to relieve them ; or that they have pick- 
 locks about them by the means of which they hope to escape." 
 
 "And sayest thou so, my dear?" said the giant. " I will therefore search them in 
 the morning." 
 
 Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer 
 till almost break of day. 
 
 Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, broke out into 
 
 this passionate speech: "What a fool," quoth he, "am I, thus to lie in a stinking 
 
 A key in ciiris- dungeon when I may as well walk at liberty ! I have a key in my bosom, 
 
 tian's bosom, call- 11 , - . , M1 T , , ^ 
 
 ed Promise, opens called Promise, that will, 1 am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting 1 
 
 any lock in Doubt- _. J 
 
 ing Castle. Castle. 
 
 Then said Hopeful, " That is good news ; good brother, pluck it out of thy bosom 
 and try." 
 
 Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom and began to try at the dungeon-door, 
 whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and 
 Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door that leads 
 into the castle-yard, and with his key opened that door also. After that he went 
 to the iron gate, for that must be opened too ; but that lock went desperately hard, yet 
 the key did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with 
 speed ; but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking that it waked Giant Despair, 
 who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took him 
 again so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on and came 
 to the King's highway, and so were safe because they were out of his jurisdiction. 
 
 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 shall come after from falling 
 
 into the hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to en- 
 
 A piiiar erected grave upon the side thereof this sentence : " Over this stile is the way to 
 
 hv Oliristiin *ind 
 
 his feiiow. Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the 
 
 King of the celestial country and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims." Many there- 
 fore that followed after, read what was written and escaped the danger. This done, 
 they sang as follows : 
 
 " Out of the way we went, and then we found 
 
 What 't was to tread upon forbidden ground ; 
 
 And let them that come after have a care, 
 
 Lest heedlessness make them as we to fare ; 
 
 Lest they, for trespassing, his prisoners are 
 
 Whose castle 's Doubting and whose name 's Des"pair." 
 
156 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 THE EIGHTH STAGE. 
 
 THEY went then till they came to the Delectable mountains, which The Delectable 
 mountains belong to the Lord of that hill of which we have spoken mountaius - 
 before. So they went up to the mountains to behold the gardens and orchards, the 
 vineyards and fountains of water ; where also they drank and washed themselves, and 
 did freely eat of the vineyards. Now there were on the tops of these mountains 
 shepherds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the highway-side. The pilgrims 
 therefore went to them, and leaning on their staffs (as is common with Talk with tlie 
 weary pilgrims when they stand to talk with any by the way), they she P' iei ' ds - 
 asked, " Whose Delectable mountains are these ; and whose be the sheep that feed 
 upon them ?" 
 
 SHEP. These mountains are Emmanuel's land, and they are within sight of his 
 city ; and the sheep also are his, and he laid down his life for them. John 10: 1 1, 15. 
 
 CHR. Is this the way to the celestial city ? 
 
 SHEP. You are just in your way. 
 
 CHR. How far is it thither? 
 
 SHEP. Too far for any but those who shall get thither indeed. 
 
 CHR. Is the way safe or dangerous? 
 
 SHEP. are tor tnose for whom it is to be safe, but transgressors shall fall therein, 
 Hosea 14:9. 
 
 CHR. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that are weary and faint in the 
 way r 
 
 SHEP. The Lord of these mountains hath given us charge not to be forgetful to 
 entertain strangers, Heb. 13:2; therefore the good of the place is before you. 
 
 I saw also in my dream that when the shepherds perceived that they were way- 
 faring men, they also put questions to them (to which they made answer as in other 
 places), as, " Whence came you ?" and, " How got you into the way ?" and, " By what 
 means have you so persevered therein ? for but few of them that begin to come hither 
 do show their face on these mountains." But when the shepherds heard their answers, 
 being pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, " Welcome 
 to the Delectable mountains." 
 
 The shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, The names of 
 Watchful^ and Sincere, took them by the hand and had them to their the she P Uerds - 
 tents and made them partake of that which was ready at present. They said, more- 
 over, " 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." Then they 
 told them that they were content to stay. So they went to their rest that night, be- 
 cause 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. 
 
IN THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 157 
 
 shown 
 the mountain oi 
 Error. 
 
 and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the shep- 
 herds one to another, "Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders?" So 
 when they had concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of a hill 
 
 called Error, which was very steep on the 
 farthest side, and bid them look down to 
 the bottom. So Christian and Hopeful 
 looked down and saw at the bottom sev- 
 eral 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 Hymencus and I'hiletus, 
 as concerning the faith of the resurrection 
 of the body?" 2 Tim. 2:17, 18. They 
 answered, " Yes." Then said the shep- 
 herds, " 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 
 MI. caution, top of another niountain, and 
 the name of that is Caution, and bid them 
 
 'SHALL WE SHOW THESE PILGRIMS SOME WONDERS?' 
 
 look afar off; which when they did they 
 
 perceived, as they thought, several men walking up and down among the tombs that 
 were there ; and they perceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled some- 
 times 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 until they came 
 to that same stile. And because the right way was rough in that place, they chose to 
 go out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair and cast into 
 Doubting Castle ; where, after they had a while been kept in the dungeon, he at last 
 did put out their eyes and led them among the tombs, where he has left them to 
 wander to this very day, that the saying of the wise man might be fulfilled : ' He-that 
 wandereth out of the way of understanding shall remain in the congregation of the 
 
158 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 dead.'" Prov. 21:16. Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another with 
 tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the shepherds. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that the shepherds had them to another place in a 
 bottom, where was a door on 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, " This is a by-way to hell, a way that hypo- A by-way to hen. 
 crites go in at ; namely, such as sell their birthright, with Esau ; such as sell their 
 Master, with Judas ; such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alexander ; and that lie and 
 dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife." 
 
 Then said Hopeful to the shepherds, " I perceive that these had on them, even 
 every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have now ; had they not?" 
 
 SHEP. Yes, and held it a long time too. 
 
 HOPE. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their day, since they, notwith- 
 standing, were miserably cast away ? 
 
 SHEP. Some farther and some not so far as these mountains. 
 
 Then said the pilgrims one to the other, " We had need cry to the Strong for 
 strength." 
 
 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 forward, and the shepherds a desire 
 they should ; so they walked together towards the end of the mountains. Then said 
 the shepherds one to another, " Let us here show the pilgrims the gates of the celestial 
 city, if they have skill to look through our perspective-glass." The pil- The perspective- 
 
 * glass of the sliep- 
 
 gnms lovingly accepted the motion : so they had them to the top of a hems, 
 high hill called Clear, and gave them the glass to look. 
 
 Then they tried to look; but the remembrance of that last thing that the shep- 
 herds had shown them made their hands shake, by means of which Tllc fl . uit of ser . 
 impediment they could not look steadily through the glass ; yet they Vlle fcar> 
 thought they saw something like the gate, and also some of the glory of the place. 
 Then they went away and sang, 
 
 "Thus by the shepherds secrets are revealed 
 Which from all other men are kept concealed : 
 Come to the shepherds then, if you would see 
 Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be." 
 
 When they were about to depart one of the shepherds gave them a A twofold caution, 
 note of the way. Another of tnem bid them beware~T5f~the Flatterer. The third_ 
 bid them take heed that they slept not upon the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth 
 bidjthgm-Gnd spe&d. So I awoke from my dream. 
 
A LAD NAMED IGNORANCE. 
 
 159 
 
 THE NINTH STAGE. 
 
 AND I slept and dreamed again, and saw the same two pilgrims going down the 
 The country of mountains along the highway towards the city. Now, a little below these 
 ' mountains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Conceit, from which 
 
 country there comes into the way in which the pilgrims walked a little 
 crooked lane. Here therefore they met 
 with a very brisk lad that came out of 
 that country, and his name was Ignorance. 
 So Christian asked him from what parts 
 he came and whither he was going. 
 
 IGNORANCE. Sir, I was born in the 
 country that lieth off there, a little on the 
 left hand, and I am going to the celestial 
 city. 
 
 CHR. But how do you think to get in 
 at the gate? for you may find some diffi- 
 culty there. 
 
 " As other good people do," said Igno- 
 rance. 
 
 CHR. But what have you to show at 
 that gate that the gate should be opened 
 to you ? 
 
 The grounds of IGNO - J know m Y Lord's 
 
 Icrnorance's hone '11 j 1 1 T 
 
 *fe llv " mv^ u u*jjn* "\\'1 I I O n ti nOTTO r\iO'fl O fY/~\/~\/H 
 VV JLJLJLa L 11 1 ^ 1 1 1 1 t \ \.s U\>s\sH. d ii vJwH. 
 
 liver ; I pay every man his own ; I pray, 
 fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and have 
 left my country for whither I am going. 
 
 CHR. But thou earnest not in at the 
 wicket-gate that is at the head of this way ; 
 
 thou earnest in hither through that same crooked lane, and therefore I fear, however 
 thou mayest think of thyself, when the reckoning-day shall come, thou wilt have laid 
 to thy charge that thou art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance into 
 the city. 
 
 IGNO. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me ; I know you not : be content to 
 follow the religion of your country, and I will follow the religion of mine. I hope all 
 will be well. And as for the gate that you talk of, all the world knows that it 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. 
 
 IGNORANCE. 
 
i6o 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 When Christian saw that the man was wise in his own conceit, he said to Hopeful 
 whisperingly, " ' There is more hope of a fool than of him.' " Prov. 26 : 12. And said, 
 moreover, " ' When he that is a fool walketh by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and 
 he saith to every one that he is a fool.' Eccl. 10: 3. What, shall we talk HOW to carry it 
 further with him, or outgo him at present, and so leave him to think of toaf o1 - 
 what he hath heard already, and then stop again for him afterwards, and see if by 
 degrees we can do any good to him ?" 
 
 Then said Hopeful, 
 
 "Let 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." 
 
 Hopeful further added, " It is not good, I think, to say so to him all at once ; let 
 us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him anon, even as he is able to bear it." 
 
 So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now, when they had passed 
 
 him a little way, they entered into a very 
 dark lane where they met a man whom 
 seven devils had bound with seven strong 
 cords, and were carrying him back to the 
 door that they saw on the side of the 
 hill. Matt. 12 : 45 ; Prov. 5 : 22. Now good 
 Christian began to tremble, and so did 
 Hopeful his companion ; yet, as the devils 
 led away the man, Christian looked to see 
 if he knew him ; and he thought it might 
 be one Turn-away, that dwelt in the town 
 of Apostasy. But he did not perfectly see 
 his face, for he did hang his 
 head like a thief that is found; 
 but being gone past, Hopeful looked after 
 him and espied on his back a paper with 
 this inscription, " Wanton professor and 
 damnable apostate." 
 
 Then said Christian to his fellow, 
 " Now I call to remembrance that which 
 was told me of a thing that happened to 
 a good man hereabout. The 
 name of the man was Little- 
 faith, but a good man, and he 
 dwelt in the town of Sincere. The thing was this. At the entering in at this passage 
 there comes down from Broadway-gate a lane called Dead-man's lane, so called be- 
 
 The destruction 
 
 " A MAN WHOM SRVEN DEVILS HAD BOUND." 
 
 Christian telleth 
 
 /* co TTi'ttie a 
 
21 
 
 " SO THEY CAME UP ALL TO HIM AND WITH THREATENING LANGUAGE BID HIM STAND.' 
 
162 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 cause of the murders that are commonly done there ; and this Little-faith, going on 
 pilgrimage, as we do now, chanced to sit down there and sleep. Now there happened 
 at that time to come down the 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 was getting up to go on his journey. So they came 
 up all to him and with threatening language bid him stand. At this Little-faith 
 looked as white as a sheet, and had power neither to fight nor fly. Then Lit tie-faun robbed 
 
 ... T-N 1 i 1 1 l) .V Faint-heart, Mis- 
 
 said Faint-heart, ' Deliver thy purse ; but he making no haste to do it trust, ami (\\\\\\. 
 (for he was loath to lose his money), Mistrust ran up to him and thrusting his hand 
 into his pocket, pulled out thence a bag of silver. Then he cried out, ' Thieves, 
 thieves !' With that, Guilt, with a great club that was in his hand, struck Little-faith 
 on the head, and with that blow felled him flat to the ground, where he lay bleeding 
 as one that would bleed to death. All this while the thieves stood by. But at last 
 they, hearing that some were upon the road, and fearing lest it should be one Great- 
 grace that dwells, in the town 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 ? 
 
 CIIR. No ; the place where his jewels were they never ransacked; so Littie-raith lost 
 those he kept still. But, as I was told, the good man was much afflicted not llis best tllillgs> 
 for his loss ; for the thieves got most of his spending-money. That which they got 
 not, as I said, were jewels ; also, he had a little odd money left, but scarce enough to 
 bring him to his journey's end. Nay (if I was not misinformed), he was Littie-faith forced 
 forced to beg as he went, to keep himself alive, for his jewels he might neys end. 
 not sell ; but beg and do what he could, he went, as we say, with many a hungry belly 
 the most part of the rest of the way. i Pet. 4:18. 
 
 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. It is a wonder ; but they got not that, though they missed it He kept not ins 
 
 ; . , . - ., . -,. -,1 . best ihiiifj-s 'n his 
 
 not through any good cunning of his ; for he, being dismayed by their own cunning. 
 coming upon him, had neither power nor skill to hide anything: so it was more by 
 good providence than by his endeavor that they missed of that good thing. 2 Tim. 
 i : 12-14; 2 Pet- 2 : 9. 
 
 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 their taking away his money. Indeed, 
 he forgot it a great part of the rest of his journey ; and besides, when at any time it 
 came into his mind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then would fresh 
 thoughts of his loss come again upon him, and these thoughts would swallow up all. 
 
LITTLE-FAITH BETTER THAN ESA U. 163 
 
 He is pitied by HOPE. Alas, poor man, this could not but be a great grief to him. 
 
 them botu. CHR G r ief? ay> a gr i e f indeed! Would it not have been so to any 
 
 of us had we been used as he to be robbed and wounded too, and that in a strange 
 place, as he was ? It is a wonder he did not die with grief, poor heart. I was told 
 that he scattered almost all the rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter 
 complaints ; telling also to all that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way as he 
 went, where he was robbed, and how ; who they were that did it, and what he had 
 lost ; how he was wounded, and that he hardly escaped with life. 
 
 HOPE. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not put him upon selling or 
 pawning some of his jewels, that he might have wherewith to relieve himself in his 
 journey. 
 
 Christian reprov- CHR.. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is a shell to this very 
 unlJvi^uy^pea^ da 7- For wnat should he pawn them ? or to whom should he sell them ? 
 In all that country where he was robbed his jewels were not accounted of; 
 nor did he want that relief which could from thence be administered to him. Besides, 
 had his jewels been missing at the gate of the celestial city, he had (and that he knew 
 well enough) been excluded from an inheritance there, and that would have been 
 worse to him than the appearance and villany of ten thousand thieves. 
 
 HOPE. Why art thou so tart, my brother ? Esau sold his birthright, and that for 
 a mess of pottage, Heb. 12:16; and that birthright was his greatest jewel: and if he, 
 why might not Little-faith do so too ? 
 
 CHR. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do many besides, and by so do- 
 Discourse about ing exclude themselves from the chief blessing , as also that caitiff did ; 
 
 Esau and Little- 
 faith, but you must put a difference between Esau and Little-faith, and also be- 
 tween their estates. Esau's birthright was typical ; but Little-faith's jewels were not 
 so. Esau's belly was his god ; but Little-faith's belly was not so. Esau's want lay in 
 his fleshly appetite ; Little-faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could see no further than 
 to the fulfilling of his lusts : " Behold, I am at the point to die," said he, " and what 
 profit shall this birthright do to me?" Gen. 25 : 32. 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 birth- 
 right. You read not anywhere that Esau had faith, no, not so much as a little ; there- 
 fore no marvel, where the flesh only bears sway (as it will in that man where no faith 
 is to resist), if he sells his birthright and his soul and all, and that to the devil of hell. 
 For it is with such as it is with the ass, who in her occasion cannot be turned away, 
 Jer. 2 -.24: when their minds are set upon their lusts, they will have them, whatever 
 they cost. But Little-faith was of another temper ; his mind was on things divine ; 
 his livelihood was upon things that were spiritual and from above : therefore to what 
 end should he that is of such a temper sell his jewels (had there been any that would 
 have bought them) to fill his mind with empty things ? Will a man give a penny to 
 fill his belly with hay ; or can you persuade the turtledove to live upon carrion like 
 the crow? Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn or mortgage or sell 
 what they have, and themselves outright to boot; yet they that have faith, saving 
 
164 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 faith, though but a little of it, cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy 
 mistake. 
 
 HOPE. I acknowledge it ; but yet your severe reflection had almost made me angry. 
 
 CHR. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds that are of the brisker 
 sort, who will run to and fro in untrodden paths with the shell upon their heads : but 
 pass by that and consider the matter under debate, and all shall be well between thee 
 and me. 
 
 HOPE. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my heart, are but a 
 company of cowards. Would they have run else, think you, as they did, Hopeful swa-r- 
 at the noise of one that was coming on the road ? Why did not Little- gers- 
 faith pluck up a greater heart? He might, methinks, have stood one brush with 
 them, and have yielded when there had been no remedy. 
 
 CHR. That they are cowards many have said, but few have found it so in the 
 time of trial. As for a great heart, Little-faith had none ; and I perceive by thee, my 
 brother, hadst thou been the man concerned, thou art but for a brush and Wc ]i . ive more 
 then to. yield. And verily, since this is the height of thy stomach now ^^tiSfwhln 
 they are at a distance from us, should they appear to thee as they did to we are in - 
 him, they might put thee to second thoughts. 
 
 But consider, again, that they are but journeymen thieves ; they serve under the 
 king of the bottomless pit, who, if need be, will come to their aid himself, Christian tens 
 
 J-L.- -L-U r 1- -ni. or -ir -L. hls ow " ex P eri ' 
 
 and his voice is as the roaring of a lion, i Pet. 5:8. I myself have been ence in this case. 
 engaged as this Little-faith was, and I found it a terrible thing. These three villains 
 set upon me, and I, beginning like a Christian to resist, they gave but a call, and in 
 came their master. I would, as the saying is, have given my life for a penny, 
 but that, as God would have it, I was clothed with armor of proof. 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 marvel, for he is the King's champion. But I trow you 
 will put some difference between Little-faith and the King's champion. All the 
 King's subjects are not his champions ; nor can they, when tried, do such feats 
 of war as he. Is it meet to think that a little child should handle Goliath as David 
 did ; or that there should be the strength of an ox in a wren ? Some are strong, 
 some are weak ; some have great faith, some have little ; this man was one of the 
 weak, and therefore he went to the wall. 
 
 HOPE. I would it had been Great-grace for their sakes. 
 
 CHR. If it had been he, he might have had his hands full ; for I must tell you 
 that though Great-grace is excellent .good at his weapons, and has, and can, so long as 
 he keeps them at sword's point, do well enough with them ; yet if they get within 
 him, even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or the other, it shall go hard but they will throw 
 up his heels. And when a man is down, you know, what can he do ? 
 
PILGRIMS NEED DIVINE SUCCOR. 165 
 
 Whoso looks well upon Great-grace's face will see those scars and cuts there that 
 shall easily give demonstration of what I say.* Yea, once I heard that he should say 
 (and that when he was in the combat), " We despaired even of life." How did these 
 sturdy rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar ! Yea, Heman, 
 Psalm 88, and Hezekiah too, though champions in their days, were forced to bestir 
 them when by these assaulted ; and yet notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly 
 brushed by them. Peter, tipon 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 
 
 Leviathan's sa ^' " The swor d f n i m that layeth at him cannot hold : the spear, the 
 stuniincss. dart, nor the habergeon. He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as 
 
 rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him fly ; sling-stones are turned with him into 
 stubble. Darts are counted as stubble; he laugheth at the shaking of a spear." 
 Job 41 : 26-29. What can a man do in this case? It is true, if a man could at every 
 turn have Job's horse, and had skill and courage to ride him, he might do notable 
 The excellent things. " For his neck is clothed with thunder. He will not be afraid 
 job's horse. as a grasshopper : the glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the 
 valley and rejoiceth in his strength ; he goeth on to meet the armed men. He 
 mocketh at fear and is not affrighted ; neither turneth he back from the sword. The 
 quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the shield. He swalloweth the 
 ground with fierceness and rage; neither believeth he that it is the sound of the 
 trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha! and he smelleth the battle afar 
 off, the thunder of the captains and the shouting." Job 39 : 19-25. 
 
 But for such footmen as 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 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 those 
 villains as he ? 
 
 When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on the King's highway, 
 two things become us to do : 
 
 i . To go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield with us : for it was for 
 want of that that he who laid so lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield ; for, 
 indeed, if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. Therefore, he that had skill hath 
 said, "Above all, take the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the 
 fiery darts' of the wicked." Epn. 6: 16. 
 
 it is good to 2 - It; is g od also that we desire of tne Kin S a conv y> Y ea > tnat ne 
 
 have a convoy. w j^ g O with us himself. This made David rejoice when in the valley 
 
 of the Shadow of Death; and Moses was rather for dying where he stood than to 
 go one step without his God. Exod, 33 : 15. Oh, my brother, if he will but go along 
 
166 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 with us, what need we be afraid of ten thousands that shall set themselves against 
 us? Psa. 3: 5-8; 27: 1-3. But without* him the proud helpers fall under the slain. 
 Isa. 10:4. 
 
 I, for my part, have been in the fray before now ; and though (through the 
 goodness of Him that is best) I am, as you see, alive, yet I cannot boast of any man- 
 hood. Glad shall I be if I meet with no more such brunts, though I fear we are not 
 got beyond all danger. However, since the lion and the bear have not as yet 
 devoured me, I hope God will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised Philis- 
 tine. 
 
 Then sang Christian, 
 
 " Poor Little-faith ! hast been among the thieves ? 
 Wast robbed ? Remember this, whoso believes, 
 And get more faith ; then shall you 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 way put itself into their way, and seemed withal A way aml a 
 to lie as straight as the way which they should go ; and here they knew way - 
 not which of the two to take, for both seemed straight before them ; therefore here 
 they stood still to consider. And as they were thinking about the way, behold, a 
 man black of flesh, but covered with a very light robe, came to them and asked them 
 why they stood there. They answered that they were going to the celestial city, but 
 knew not which of these ways to take. " Follow me," said the man ; "it is thither that 
 I am going." So they followed him in the way that but now came into the road, 
 which by degrees turned, and turned them so far from the city that Christian ami 
 
 his fellow are ta- 
 
 they desired to go to, that in a little time their faces were turned away ken in a not. 
 from it ; yet they followed him. But by-and-by, before they were aware, he led them 
 both within the compass of a net, in which they were both so entangled that they 
 knew not what to do ; and with that the white robe fell off the black man's back. 
 Then they saw where they were. Wherefore there they lay crying some time, 
 for they could not get themselves out. 
 
 Then said Christian to his fellow, " Now do I see myself in an error. Did not the 
 shepherds bid us beware of the Flatterer? As is the saying of the wise man, so we 
 have found it this day : ' A man that flattereth his neighbor spreadeth a net for his 
 Prov. 29: 5. 
 
 HOPE. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our more sure 
 finding thereof ; but therein we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept our- 
 selves from the paths of the destroyer. Here David was wiser than we ; for saith he, 
 " Concerning the works of men, by the word of thy lips I have kept me from the 
 paths of the destroyer." Psa. 17:4. 
 
 Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they espied comes to ms them 
 
 ... , . ,. 11 j -L with a whip in his 
 
 a Shining One coming towards them with a whip or small cords in his hand. 
 
 hand. When he was come to the place where they were, he asked them whence they 
 
 came and what they did there. They told him that they were poor pilgrims going to 
 
IN THE FLATTERER'S NET. 167 
 
 Zion,Jbut were led out of their way by a black man clothed in white, " who bid us," 
 IsaTcfthey, " follow him, for he was going thither too." 
 
 Then said he with the whip, " It is Flatterer, a false apostle, that hath trans- 
 formed himself into an angel of light." Dan. 11 132; 2 Cor. 11 : 13, 14. 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 
 They are exam- the Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, "Where did you lie the 
 
 ined, and convicted . , ..,. * 
 
 of forgetfulness. last night ? 
 
 They said, " With the shepherds upon the Delectable mountains." 
 
 He asked them then if they had not of the shepherds a note of direction for the 
 
 r_ 
 
 They answered, " Yes." 
 
 " But did you not," said he, " when you were at a stand, pluck out and read your 
 note?". 
 
 They answered, " No." 
 
 He asked them, " Why ?" 
 
 They said they forgot. 
 
 He asked them, moreover, if the shepherds did not bid them beware of the 
 Flatterer. 
 
 They answered, " Yes. But we did not imagine," said they, " that this fine-spoken 
 man had been he." Rom. 16: 17, 18. 
 They are whipped, Then I saw in my dream that he commanded them to lie down; 
 
 and sent on their - . - , -, i i i 1 
 
 way. which when they did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good 
 
 way wherein they should walk, Deut. 25:2; 2 Chron. 6 : 27 ; and as he chastised them 
 he said, " As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten ; be zealous, therefore, and repent." 
 Rev. 3:19. This done, he bids them go on their way, and take good heed to the other 
 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 entangled net, 
 'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget. 
 'Tis true, they rescued were ; but yet, you see, 
 They're scourged to boot : let this your caution be." 
 
 Now, after a while, they perceived afar off one coming softly and alone all along 
 the highway to meet them. Then said Christian to his fellow, " Yonder is a man 
 with his back towards Zion, and he is coming to meet us." 
 
 HOPE. I see him. Let us take heed to ourselves now, lest he should prove a Flat- 
 terer also. 
 
 Atheist meets So ne drew nearer and nearer, and at last came up to them. His 
 them - name was Atheist, and he asked them whither they were going. 
 
 " We are going to Mt Zion," said Christian. 
 
 Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. 
 
" THEN ATHEIST FELL INTO A VERY GREAT LAUGHTER.' 
 
ATHEIST, AND THE ENCHANTED GROUND. 169 
 
 " What 's the meaning of your laughter?" said Christian. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 ATHEIST. Received ! There is not such a place as you dream of in all this world. 
 
 " But there is in the world to come," said Christian. 
 
 ATHEIST. When I was at home in my own country I heard as you now affirm, 
 and from that hearing went out to see, and have been seeking this city these twenty 
 years, but find no more of it than I did the first day I set out. Eccl. 10:15; 
 Jer. 17:15. 
 
 CIIR. 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 yet I should had there been such a place to be found, for I 
 
 Atheist taucs up have gone to seek it farther than you), I am going back ag-ain and will 
 
 his content in this /--, 1 .. 11 ... 
 
 world. seek to refresh myself with the things that I then cast away for hopes of 
 
 that which I now see is not. 
 
 Then said Christian to Hopeful his companion, " Is it true which this man hath 
 said ?" 
 
 HOPE. Take heed ; he is one of the Flatterers. Remember what it cost us once 
 already for our hearkening to such kind of fellows. What, no Mt. Zion? Did 
 Remembrance we not see f rom the Delectable mountains the gate of THe city? Also, 
 SLjReui'S^t ar e we not now to walk by faith? 2 Cor. 5:7. Let us go on, lest the 
 n - man with the whip overtake us again. You should have taught me that 
 lesson, which I will sound in your ears withal: "Cease, my son, to hear the instruc- 
 tion that causeth to err .from the words of knowledge." Prov. 19:27. 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 to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of the 
 honesty of thy heart. As for this man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this 
 world. Let thee and me go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth ; and no lie 
 is of the truth, i John 2:21. 
 
 HOPE. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 
 
 So they turned away from the man ; and he, laughing at them, went his way. 
 
 I then saw in my dream that they went on until they came into a certain country 
 They come to whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy if he came a stranger 
 
 the Enchanted ... 
 
 oiwmd. mto it. And here Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy to sleep: 
 
 wherefore he said unto Christian, " I do now begin to grow so drowsy that I can 
 scarcely hold open mine eyes ; let us lie down here and take one nap." 
 
 " By no means," said Christian ; "lest, sleeping, -we never wake more." 
 HOPE. Why, my brother, sleep is sweet to the laboring man ; we may be re- 
 freshed if we take a nap. 
 
 CHR. Do you not remember that one of the shepherds bid us beware of 
 the Enchanted Ground ? He meant by that that we should beware of sleeping; 
 
1 70 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 wherefore " let us not sleep, as do others ; but let us watch and be sober." i Thess. 
 5:6. 
 
 HOPE. I acknowledge myself in a fault ; and had I been here alone, He is thankful. 
 I had by sleeping run the danger of death. I see it is true that the wise man saith, 
 " Two are better than one." Eccl. 4 : 9. Hitherto hath thy company been my mercy ; 
 and thou shalt have a good reward for thy labor. 
 
 "Now, then," said Christian, "to prevent drowsiness in this place, Good discourse 
 
 preventetn drow- 
 
 let us fall into good discourse. siness. 
 
 " With all my heart," said Hopeful. 
 CHR. Where shall we begin ? 
 
 HOPE. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if you please. 
 CHR. I will sing you first this song : 
 
 "When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither 
 And hear how these two pilgrims talk together ; 
 Yea, let them learn of them in any wise, 
 Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumbering eyes. 
 Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 
 Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell." 
 
 Then Christian began and said, " I will ask you a question. How came you to 
 think at first of doing what you do now ?" 
 
 HOPE. Do you mean how I came at first to look after the good of my soul ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, that is my meaning. 
 
 HOPE. I continued a great while in the delight of those things which were seen 
 and sold at our fair ; things which I believe now would have, had I continued in them 
 still, drowned me in perdition and destruction. 
 
 CHR. What things were they ? 
 
 HOPE. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also I delighted Hopeful's life 
 much in rioting, revelling, drinking, swearing, lying, uncleanness, Sab- before conversion - 
 bath-breaking, and what not, that tended to destroy the soul. But I found at last, by 
 hearing and considering of things tAat are divine, which, indeed, I heard of you, as 
 also of beloved Faithful that was put to death for his faith and good living in Vanity 
 Fair, that the end of these things is death, Rom. 6: 21-23 : an d that for these things' 
 sake the wrath of God cometh upon the children of disobedience. Eph. 5 : 6. 
 
 CHR. And did you presently fall under the power of this conviction ? 
 
 HOPE. No, I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin, nor the damnation 
 that follows upon the commission of it ; but endeavored, when my mind at first began 
 to be shaken with the word, to shut mine eyes against the light thereof. 
 
 CHR. But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to the first workings of 
 God's blessed Spirit upon you ? 
 
 HOPE. The causes were, first, I was ignorant that this was the work of God upon 
 me. I never thought that by awakenings for sin God at first begins the Reasons for re- 
 conversion of a sinner. Second, sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and s 
 I was loath to leave it. Third, I could not tell how to part with my old companions, 
 
HOPEFULS EXPERIENCE. i;i 
 
 their presence and actions were so desirable unto me. Fourth, the hours in which 
 convictions were upon me were such troublesome and such heart-affrighting hours 
 that I could not bear, no, not so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart. 
 
 CHR. Then, 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 ? 
 
 When he lost H PE ' Mall y thin g S : aS > 
 
 that* brought 81 u i. If I did but meet a good man in the street; or 
 
 back - 2. If I have heard any read in the Bible ; or, 
 
 3. If my head did begin to ache ; or, 
 
 4. If I were told that some of my neighbors 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 judg- 
 ment. 
 
 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 do then ? 
 when he could HOPE. I thought I must endeavor to mend my life; or else, thought 
 
 SiSS# J l am sure to be damned - 
 
 he ende s a e vors lie to CHR - And did y ou endeavor to mend ? 
 
 HOPE. Yes, and fled from, not only my sins, but sinful company 
 too, and betook me to religious duties, as praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking 
 truth to my neighbors, etc. These things did I, with many others, too much here 
 to relate. 
 
 CHR. And did you think yourself well then? 
 
 HOPE. Yes, for a while ; but at the last my trouble came tumbling upon me again 
 and that over the neck of all my reformations. 
 
 CHR. How came that about, since you were now reformed ? 
 Reformation at HOPE. There were several things brought it upon me, especially 
 
 last could not help, . c-ui. 
 
 and why. such sayings as these : All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags. 
 
 Isa. 64 : 6. " By the works of the law shall no flesh be justified." Gal. 2:16. " When 
 ye have done all these things, say, We are unprofitable," Luke 17: 10; with many 
 more such like. From whence I began to reason with myself thus : If all my right- 
 eousnesses are as filthy rags ; if by the deeds of the law no man can be justified ; and 
 if, when we have done all, we are yet unprofitable, then is it but a folly to think of 
 HIS being a debtor heaven by the law. I further thought thus : If a man runs a hundred 
 
 to the law troubled - ., / 11 j-i 
 
 wm. _ pounds into the shop-keeper s debt, and after that shall pay for all that 
 
i; 2 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 he shall fetch, yet if his old debt stand still in the book uncrossed, the shopkeeper 
 may sue him for it, 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 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 ever since my late ]Ijscs , ino . ))ad 
 amendments is, that if I look narrowly into the best of what I do now, I J, 1 }, 1 , 1 }^ la Babied 
 still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with the best of that I do ; so that now lliliu 
 I am forced to conclude that notwithstanding my former fond conceits of myself and 
 duties, I have committed sin enough in one day to send me to hell, though my former 
 life had been faultless. 
 
 CHR. And what did you do then ? 
 
 HOPE. Do? I could not tell what to do until I broke my mind to Tins marie Mm 
 Faithful ; for he and I were well acquainted. And he told me that unless Faithful, who tow 
 
 . - ., ~~ \ , . Mm the way to be 
 
 I could obtain the righteousness of a man that never had sinned, neither saved. 
 my own, HOT ail the righteousness of the world, could save me. 
 
 CHR. And did you think he spoke true ? 
 
 HOPE. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied with my own amend- 
 ments, I had called him fool for his pains ; but now, since I see my own infirmity, 
 and the sin which cleaves to my best performance, I have been forced to be of his 
 opinion. 
 
 CHR. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to you, that there was 
 such a man to be found of whom it might justly be said that he never committed 
 sin? 
 
 HOPE. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely ; but after a little more 
 talk and company with him, I had full conviction about it. 
 
 CHR. And did you ask him what man this was, and how you must be justified 
 by him ? 
 
 HOPE. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth on the right 
 hand of the Most High. Heb. 10: 12-21. "And thus," said he, "you must A more particu- 
 
 . .......... lar discourse of t lie 
 
 be justified by him, even by trusting to what he hath done by himself in way to be saved. 
 the days of his flesh, and suffered when he did hang on the tree." Rom. 4:5; Col. 
 i : 14; i Pet. i : 19. I asked him, further, how that man's righteousness could be of that 
 efficacy to justify another before God. And he told me he was the mighty God, and 
 did what he did, and died the death also, not for himself, but for me ; to whom his 
 doings, and the worthiness of them, should be imputed, if I believed on him. 
 
 CHR. And what did you do then ? 
 
 HOPE. I made my objections against my believing, for that I thought he was not 
 willing to save me. 
 
 CHR. And what said Faithful to you then ? 
 
HO W HOPEFUL FOUND CHRIST. 
 
 173 
 
 HOPE. He bid me go to him and see. 
 Then I said it was presumption. But he 
 said, " No ; for I was invited to come." 
 Matt. 1 1 : 28. Then he gave me a book of 
 Jesus' inditing, to encourage me the more 
 freely to come ; and he said concerning 
 that book that every jot and tittle thereof 
 stood firmer than heaven and earth. Matt. 
 24 : 35. Then I asked him what I must do 
 when I came ; and he told me I must en- 
 treat upon my knees, Psa. 95 :6; Dan. 6: 10, 
 with all my heart and soul, Jer. 29: 12, 13, 
 the Father to reveal him to me. Then I 
 asked him, further, how I must make my 
 supplications to him ; and he said, " Go, 
 and thoti shalt find him upon a mercy- 
 seat, where he sits all the year long to 
 give pardon and forgiveness to them that 
 come." Exod. 25 : 22 ; Lev. 16:2; Num. 
 7 : 89 ; Heb. 4:16. I told him that I knew 
 not what to say when I came ; and he bid 
 me say to this effect : " God be merciful 
 to me a sinner and make me to know and 
 believe in Jesus Christ; for I see that if 
 
 his righteousness had not been, or I have not faith in that righteousness, I am utterly 
 cast away. Lord, I have heard that thoti art a merciful God, and hast ordained that 
 thy Son Jesus Christ should be the Saviour of the world ; and moreover, that thou art 
 willing to bestow him upon such a poor sinner as I am and 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." 
 CIIR. And did you do as you were bidden ? 
 HOPE. Yes, over and over and over. 
 CIIR. 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. 
 CIIR. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying? 
 HOPE. Yes ; and a hundred times twice told. 
 CHR. And what was the reason you did not ? 
 Hopeful durst HOPE. I believed that it was true which hath been told me, to wit, 
 
 not leave off pray- 
 ing, and why. that without the righteousness of this Christ, all the world could not save 
 
 me ; and therefore, thought I with myself, if I leave off I die, and I can but die at the 
 
 "BUT HE SAID, 'NO; FOR I WAS INVITED TO COME.' ; 
 
174 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 throne of grace. And withal this came into my mind, " If it tarry wait for it, because 
 it will surely come and will not tarry." Hab. 2:3. So I continued praying until the 
 Father showed me his Son. 
 
 CHR. And how was he revealed unto you ? 
 
 HOPE. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes of Christ is reveale(] 
 my understanding, Eph. i : 18, 19; and thus it was. One day I was very to llim> and how - 
 sad, I think sadder than at any one time in my life ; and this sadness was through a 
 fresh sight of the greatness and vileness of my sins. And as I was then looking for 
 nothing but hell and the everlasting damnation of my soul, suddenly, as I thought, I 
 saw the Lord Jesus looking down from heaven upon me, and saying, " Believe on the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Acts 16: 31. 
 
 But I replied, " Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner;" and he answered, " My 
 grace is sufficient for thee." 2 Cor. 12:9. Then I said, "But, Lord, what is believ- 
 ing?" And then I saw from that saying, " He that cometh to me shall never hunger, 
 and he that believeth on me shall never thirst," John 6: 35, that believing and coming 
 was all one : and that he that came, that is, that ran out in his heart and affections 
 after salvation by Christ, he indeed believed in Christ. Then the water stood in mine 
 eyes, and I asked further, " But, Lord, may such a great sinner as I am be indeed 
 accepted of thee and be saved by thee ?" And I heard him say, " And him that 
 cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." John 6:37. Then I said, " But how, Lord, 
 must I consider of thee in my coming to thee, that my faith may be placed aright 
 upon thee ?" Then he said, " Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, i Tim. 
 1:15. He is the end -of the law for righteousness to every one that believes. Rom. 
 10:4, and chap. 4. He died for our sins and rose again for our justification. Rom. 
 4: 25. He loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood. Rev. 1:5. He is 
 Mediator between God and us. i Tim. 2:5. He ever liveth to make intercession for 
 us." Heb. 7:25. 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 indeed. But tell me particu- 
 larly 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 my own ignor- 
 ance ; for there never came a thought into my heart before now that showed me so 
 the beauty of Jesus Christ. It made me love a holy life and long to do something 
 for the honor and glory of the name of the Lord Jesus. Yea, I thought that had I 
 now a thousand gallons of blood in my body, I could spill it all for the sake of the 
 Lord Jesus. 
 
DISCOURSE WITH IGNORANCE. 
 
 175 
 
 Young Igno- 
 rance comes up 
 again. 
 
 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 is true ; but I warrant you he thinketh otherwise. 
 
 HOPE. That I think he doth ; but, however, let us tarry for him. 
 
 So they did. 
 
 Then good Christian said to him, " Come away, man ; why do you 
 stay so behind ?" 
 
 IGNOR. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a great deal than in 
 company, unless I like it 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 solitary place." 
 
 Then, directing his speech to Igno- 
 rance, he said, "Come, how do you do? 
 How stands it between God and your soul 
 now?" 
 
 IGNOR. I hope, well; for I am always 
 
 ignorance's full of good motions that come 
 
 hope, and the . .. ,. 
 
 ground or it, into my mind to comfort me 
 as I walk. 
 
 CHR. What good motions? Pray tell 
 us. 
 
 IGNOR. Why, I think of God and 
 heaven. 
 
 CHR. So do the devils and damned 
 souls. 
 
 IGNOR. But I think of thorn and desire 
 them. 
 
 CHR. So do many that are never like to 
 come there. "The soul of the sluggard 
 desireth and hath nothing." Prov. 13:4. 
 
 IGNOR. But I think of them and leave 
 all for them. 
 
 CHR. That I doubt; for to leave all is 
 a very hard matter; yea, a harder matter 
 than many are aware of. But why or by 
 what art thou persuaded that thou hast left all for God and heaven ? 
 
 IGNOR. My heart tells me so. . 
 
 CHR. The wise man says, " He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool." Prov. 28 : 26, 
 
 'l AM ALWAYS FULL OF GOOD MOTIONS. 
 
176 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 IGNOR. That is spoken of an evil heart ; but mine is a good one. 
 
 CHR. But how dost thou prove that? 
 
 IGNOR. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. 
 
 CHR. That may be through its deceitfulness ; for a man's heart may ministei 
 comfort to him in the hopes of that thing for which he has yet no ground to hope. 
 
 IGNOR. But my heart and life agree together; and therefore my hope is well 
 grounded. 
 
 CHR. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together ? 
 
 IGNOR. My heart tells me so. 
 
 CHR. "Ask my fellow if I be a thief." Thy heart tells thee so! 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 hath 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 commandments ; but it is one thing indeed to have these, 
 and another thing only to think so. 
 
 IGNOR. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life according to God's com- 
 mandments ? 
 
 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? Wliat are good 
 
 CHR. Such as agree with the Word of God. ** a * a * 
 
 IGNOR. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with the Word of God ? 
 
 CHR. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves which the Word passes. 
 To explain myself : the Word of God saith of persons in a natural condition, " There 
 is none righteous, there is none that doeth good." It saith also that " every imagina- 
 tion of the heart of man is only evil, and that continually." Gen. 6:5; Rom. 3. And 
 again, "The imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth." Gen. 8:21. 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 passe th a judgment upon our hearts, so it 
 passe th a judgment upon our ways ; and when the 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 men are naturally out of the good way, that they have not 
 known it. Psa. 125 : 5 ; Prov. 2:15; Rom. 3 : 12. 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. 
 
DISCOURSE WITH IGNORANCE. 177 
 
 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 have we right thoughts of God when we 
 think that he knows us better than we know ourselves, and can see sin in us when and 
 where we can see none in ourselves ; when we think he knows our inmost thoughts, 
 and that our heart with all ^ 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 hifii in any confidence, even in all our best perform- 
 ances. \. 
 
 IGNOR. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think that God can see no 
 farther than I ; or that I would comW to God in the best of my performances ? 
 
 CHR. Why, how dost thou thinkan this matter? 
 
 IGNOR. Why, to be short, I think\[ must believe in Christ for justification. 
 
 CHR. How? think thou must believe in Christ when thou seest not thy need of 
 him? Thou neither seest thy origir^l 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 the 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 
 
 The faitu or God from the curse through his gracious acceptance of my obedience to 
 his laws. Or thus, Christ makes my duties, that are religious, 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 belie vest with a fantastical faith ; for this faith is nowhere described in 
 the Word. 
 
 2. Thou believest with a false faith; because it taketh justification from the 
 personal righteousness of Christ and applies it to thy own. 
 
 3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, but of thy actions, and 
 of thy person for thy actions' sake, which is false. 
 
 4. Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave thee under wrath in 
 the day of God Almighty ; for true justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its 
 lost condition by the law, upon flying for refuge unto Christ's righteousness which 
 righteousness of his is not an act of grace by which he maketh, for justification, thy 
 obedience accepted with God, but his personal obedience to the law, in doing and 
 suffering for us what that required at our hands this righteousness, I say, true faith 
 accepteth ; under the skirt of which the soul being shrouded, and by it presented as 
 spotless before God, it is accepted and acquitted 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 
 
 23 
 
i;8 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 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 righteous- 
 ness is, and as ignorant how to secure thy soul, through the faith of it, from the heavy 
 wrath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith in this 
 righteousness of Christ, which is to bow and win over the heart to God in Christ, to 
 love his name, his Word, ways, and people, and not as thou ignorantly imaginest. 
 
 HOPE. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him from heaven. 
 
 IGNOR. What, you are a man for revelations ! I do believe that what both you 
 and all the rest of you say about that matter is but the fruit of distracted brains. 
 
 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 him. 
 
 IGNOR. That is your faith, but not mine : yet mine, I doubt not, is ignorance 
 
 as good as yours, though I have not in my head so many whimsies as ISfiflt r what ac he 
 
 you. knows not. 
 
 CHR. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought not so slightly to speak of this 
 matter ; for this I will boldly affirm, even as my good companion hath done, that no 
 man can know Jesus Christ but by the revelation of the Father ; yea, and faith too, by 
 which the soul layeth hold upon Christ (if it be right), must be wrought by the 
 exceeding greatness of his mighty power, Matt. 11 :27; i Cor. 12:3; Eph. i: 17-19; 
 the working of which faith I perceive, poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant of. Be 
 awakened, then ; see thine own wretchedness and fly to the Lord Jesus ; and by his 
 righteousness, which is the righteousness of God (for he himself is God), thou shalt be 
 delivered from condemnation. 
 
 IGNOR. You go so fast I cannot keep pace with you; do you go on -rue talk is 
 
 before : I must stay a while behind. broken up. 
 
 Then they said, 
 
 " Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be, 
 To slight good counsel ten times given thee ? 
 And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know 
 Erelong the evil of thy doing so. 
 Remember, man, in time ; stoop, do not fear ; 
 Good counsel, taken well, saves ; therefore hear. 
 But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
 The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee." 
 
THE TRUE FEAR OF GOD. 179 
 
 THE TENTH STAGE. 
 
 THEN Christian addressed himself thus 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 a pace before, and Ignorance he came 
 hobbling after. Then said Christian to hL companion, " I much pity 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 
 many, think you, must there be in the place where he was born ? 
 
 CHR. Indeed, the Word saith, " He hath blinded their eyes, lest they should 
 see," etc. 
 
 But, now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such men ? Have they at no 
 time, think you, convictions of sin, and 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 continue to flatter themselves 
 in the way of their own hearts. 
 
 The good use HOPE. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to men's good, 
 of fear - and to make them right at their beginning to go on pilgrimage. 
 
 CHR. Without all doubt it doth if it be right ; for so says the Word, " The fear of 
 the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." Job 28 : 28 ; Psa. 1 1 1 : 10 ; Prov. 1:7; 9:10. 
 
 HOPE. How will you describe right fear? 
 
 mght rear. CHR. True or right fear is discovered by three things : 
 
 1. By its rise : it is caused by saving convictions for sin. 
 
 2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for salvation. 
 
 3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence of God, his Word and 
 ways, keeping it tender, and making it afraid to turn from them to the right hand or 
 to the left, to anything that may dishonor God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or 
 cause the enemy to speak reproachfully. 
 
 HOPE. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth. Are we now almost got past 
 the Enchanted Ground ? 
 
 CHR. Why ? Are you weary of this discourse ? 
 
 HOPE. No, verily, but that I would know where we are. 
 
 CHR. We have not now above two miles farther to go thereon. But let us return 
 
 Why ignorant to OUr matter, 
 persons stifle con- __ . ,., , . ,. ., , 
 
 viction. Now the ignorant know not that such convictions as tend to put 
 
 them in fear are for their good, and therefore they seek to stifle them. 
 
i8o PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 HOPE. How do they seek to stifle them ? 
 
 ^y CHR. First, they think that those fears are wrought by the devil (though indeed 
 they are wrought of God), and thinking so, they resist them as things that directly 
 tend to their overthrow. Second, 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. Third, they presume they ought 
 not to fear, and therefore, in despite of them, wax presumptuously confident. Fourth, 
 they see that those 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 neighbor Ignorance by himself, and 
 fall upon another profitable question. 
 
 HOPE. With all my heart ; but you shall still begin. 
 
 CHR. Well, then, did you know, about ten years ago, one Temporary Talk about one 
 in your parts, who was a forward man in religion then ? Temporary. 
 
 HOPE. Know him ? Yes ; he dwelt in Graceless, a town about two miles off of 
 ijpnesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turn-back. 
 
 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 were due thereto. 
 
 HOPE. I am of your mind, for (my house not being above three miles from him) 
 he would ofttimes come to me, and that with many tears. Truly I pitied the man, 
 and was not altogether without hope of him ; but one may see it is not every one that 
 cries, " 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 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 : 
 
 i. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their minds are not 
 changed: therefore, when the power of guilt weareth away, that which provoked 
 them to be religious ceaseth ; wherefore they naturally turn to their old course again, 
 even as we see the dog that is sick of what he hath eaten, so long as his sickness 
 prevails he vomits and casts up all : not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may 
 say a dog has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach. But now, when his 
 sickness is over and so his stomach eased, his desires being not at all alienated from 
 his vomit, he turns him about and licks up all ; and so it is true which is written, " The 
 dog is turned to his own vomit again." 2 Pet. 2 : 22. Thus, I say, being hot for 
 heaven by virtue only of the sense and fear of the torments of hell, as their sense 
 of hell and fear of damnation chills and cools, so their desires for heaven and salvation 
 
ABOUT APOSTASY. 181 
 
 cool also. So then it comes to pass that when their guilt and fear are gone their 
 desires for heaven and happiness die, and they return to their course again. 
 
 2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster them : I speak 
 now of the fears that they have of men ; "for the fear of man bringeth a snare." 
 Prov. 29 : 25. So then, though they seem to be hot for heaven so long as the flames 
 of hell are about their ears, yet, when that terror is a little over, they betake them- 
 selves to second thoughts, namely, that it is good to be wise, and not to run (for they ^ 
 know not what) the hazard of losing all, or at least of bringing themselves into 
 unavoidable and unnecessary troubles ; and so they fall in with the world again. 
 
 3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in their way : they are v* 
 proud and haughty, and religion in their eye is low and contemptible ; therefore when 
 they have lost their sense of hell and the wrath to come, they return again to their 
 former course. 
 
 4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them. They like not to see their ^- 
 misery before they come into it, .though perhaps the sight of it at first, if they loved 
 that sight, might make them fly whither the righteous 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 stand- 
 ethT)efore 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 it 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 other- 
 wise. 
 
 HOPE. Now I have showed you the reason of their going back, do you show me 
 the manner thereof. 
 
 CHR. So I will willingly. V\ 
 
 1 . They draw off their thoughts all that they may from the remem- Ilow thc apos . 
 brance of God, death, and judgment to come. tate goes back - 
 
 2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet prayer, curbing their 
 lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, and the like. 
 
 3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm Christians. 
 
 4. After that they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, reading, godly conference, 
 and the like. 
 
 5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats of some of the godly, 
 and that devilishly, that they may have a seeming color to throw religion, for the 
 sake of some infirmities they have espied in them, behind their backs. 
 
 6. Then they begin to adhere to and associate themselves with carnal, loose, and 
 wanton men. 
 
 7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in secret ; and glad are 
 
1 82 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 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 entering into the country of Beulah, whose air The land of 
 was very sweet and pleasant, Isa. 62:4-12; Song 2 : 10-12, the way lying Beulah - 
 directly through it, they solaced themselves there for a season. Yea, here they heard 
 continually the singing of birds and saw every day the flowers appear in the earth 
 and heard the voice of the turtle in the land. In this country the sun shineth night 
 and day :. wherefore this was beyond the valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out 
 of the reach of Giant Despair; neither could they from this place so much as see 
 Doubting Castle. Here they were within sight of the city they were going to ; also 
 here met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the Angeis. 
 Shining Ones commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of heaven. In this 
 land also the contract between the bride and the Bridegroom was renewed ; yea, here 
 " as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so doth their God rejoice over them." 
 Here they had no want of corn and wine ; for in this place they met with abundance 
 of what they had sought for in all their pilgrimage. Here they heard voices from out 
 the city, loud voices, saying, " Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation 
 cometh ! Behold, his reward is with him." Here all the inhabitants of the country 
 called them " the holy people, the redeemed of the Lord, sought out," etc. 
 
 Now as they walked in this land they had more rejoicing than in parts more 
 
 remote from the kingdom to which they were bound ; and drawing near to the city, 
 
 ' they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded of pearls and precious 
 
 stones, also the streets thereof were paved with gold ; so that, by reason of the natural 
 
 glory of the city and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell 
 
 sick ; Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease ; wherefore here they lay by it 
 
 ,, a while, crying out because of their pangs, " If you see my Beloved, tell him that I am 
 
 sick of love." 
 
 But, being a little strengthened and better able to bear their sickness, they walked 
 on their way and came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and 
 gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now as they came up to these 
 places, behold the gardener stood in the way ; to whom the pilgrims said, " Whose 
 goodly vineyards and gardens are these ?" 
 
 He answered, " They are the King's, and are planted here for his own delight 
 and also for the solace of pilgrims." So the gardener had them into the vineyards 
 and bid them refresh themselves with the dainties, Deut. 23 : 24; he also showed them 
 there the King's walks and arbors where he delighted to be ; and here they tarried 
 and slept. 
 
 Now I beheld in my dream that they talked more in their sleep at this time than 
 
CROSSING THE RIVER. 183 
 
 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.' " Song' 7 : 9. 
 
 So I saw that when they awoke they addressed themselves to go up to the city. 
 But, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the city (for the city was pure gold, Rev. 
 21 : 1 8) was so extremely gloi:ous that they could not as yet with open face behold it, 
 but through an instrument made for that purpose. 2 Cor. 3: 18. 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 with in the way ; and they told them. Then said the men 
 that met them, " You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in 
 the city." 
 
 Christian then and his companion asked the men to go along with them ; so they 
 told them that they would. " But," said they, " you must obtain it by your own faith." 
 So I saw in my dream that they went on together till they came in sight of the 
 gate. 
 
 Now I further saw that between them and the gate was a river ; but there was noy 
 
 Death. bridge to go over, and the river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, 
 of this river the pilgrims were much stunned ; but the men that went with them said, 
 " You must go through or you cannot come at the gate." 
 
 The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the gate. To 
 which they answered, " Yes ; but there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and 
 Elijah, been permitted to tread that path since the foundation of the world, nor shall 
 
 Death notwei- until the last trumpet shall sound." The pilgrims then, especially Chris- 
 come to nature, . . i i < i < 
 
 though by it we tian, began to despond in their mind, and looked this way and that, but 
 
 pass out of this r ' 
 
 world into giory. 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 say, " No ;" yet 
 they could not help them in that case; "for," said they, "you shall find it deeper orV" 
 shallower as you believe in the King of the place." 
 
 They then addressed themselves to the water, and entering, Christian began to 
 sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, " I sink in deep waters ; the 
 billows go over my head ; all his waves go over me. Selah." 
 
 Then said the other, " Be of good cheer, my brother : I feel the bottom and it is 
 good." 
 
 Then said Christian, " Ah, my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed me 
 about ; I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey." 
 Christian's con- And with that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian so 
 
 flict at the hour of , 1 * 1 1 i 1 
 
 death. that he could not see before him. Also here he in a great measure lost 
 
 his senses, so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of those sweet 
 refreshments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words 
 
CHRISTIAN BRAKE OUT WITH A LOUD VOICE, ' OH! I SEE HIM AGAIN!'" 
 
THEY CROSS THE RIVER. 
 
 185 
 
 . 
 
 that he spoke still tended to discover that he had horror of mind and heart-fears that 
 he should die in the 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 ; 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 did also endeavor to comfort him, saying, " Brother, I see 
 the gate and men standing by to receive us." 
 
 But Christian would answer, " It is you, it is you they wait for ; for you have been 
 hopeful ever since I knew you." 
 
 "And so have you," said he to Christian. 
 
 " Ah, brother," said Christian, " 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 are no bands in their death, but their strength is firm ; they are 
 not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued like other men.' Psa. 73:4, 5. 
 
 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 heretofore you have received of his 
 goodness, and live upon him in your dis- 
 tresses." 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that Chris- 
 tian was in a muse a while. To whom 
 also Hopeful added these words, "Be of 
 good cheer; Jesus Christ maketh thee 
 Christian cieiiv- whole." And with that Chris- 
 
 erecl from liis fears . , 
 
 IB death. tian broke out with a loud 
 
 voice, " Oh, I see him again ; and he tells 
 me, ' When thou passest through the wa- 
 ters, I will be with thee ; and through the 
 rivers, they shall not overflow thee.' " Isa.- 
 43 : 2. Then they both took courage, and y 
 the enemy was after that as still as a 
 stone, until they were gone over. Chris- 
 tian therefore presently found ground to 
 stand upon, and so it followed that the 
 rest of the river was but shallow. Thus , 
 they got over. 
 
 Now upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two shining 
 24 
 
 "THUS THKY GOT OVER." 
 
1 86 PIL GRIM 'S PROGRESS. 
 
 men again, who there waited for them. Wherefore, being come out of The angeis <j 
 
 ... ,-, -, , , ,-, ,, TTT . . , . ... , wait for them so 
 
 the river, they saluted them, saying, " We are ministering spirits, sent soon as they are 
 forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of salvation." Thus they worm, 
 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 ; 
 they had likewise left their mortal garments behind them in the river ; for though 
 they went in with them, they came out without them. They therefore went up here 
 with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the city was framed 
 was higher than the clouds ; they therefore went up through the region of the air, 
 sweetly talking as they went, being comforted because they safely got over the river 
 and had such glorious companions to attend them. 
 
 The talk that they had with the Shining Ones was about the glory of the place ; 
 who told them that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. " There," said they, 
 vj' is ' Mt. Sion the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and 
 the spirits of just men made perfect.' Heb. 12:22-24. You are going now," said 
 they, " to the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life and eat of the 
 never-fading fruits thereof: and when you come there you shall have white robes 
 given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the 
 days of eternity. Rev. 2:7; 3:4, 5; 22:5. There you shall not see again such 
 things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, 
 sickness, affliction, and death; 'for the former things are passed away.' Rev. 21 14. 
 You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac and Jacob, and to the prophets, men that 
 God hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now 'resting upon their 
 beds, each one walking in his righteousness.' " 
 
 The men then asked, " What must we do in the holy place ?" 
 
 To whom it was answered, " You must there receive the comfort of all your toil, 
 and have joy for all your sorrow ; you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit 
 of all your prayers and tears and sufferings for the King by the way. Gal. 6:7, 8. In 
 that place you must wear crowns of gold and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of 
 the Holy One; for 'there you shall see him as he is.' i John 3:2. There also you 
 shall serve him continually with praise, with shouting and thanksgiving, whom you 
 desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of 
 your flesh. There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hear- 
 ing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends again 
 that are gone thither before you ; and there you shall with joy receive even every one 
 that follows into the holy place after you. There also you shall be clothed with glory 
 and majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King of glory. When 
 he shall come with sound of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, 
 you shall come with him ; and when he shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you 
 shall sit by him ; yea, and when he shall pass sentence upon 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 
 
THEIR WELCOME A T THE GA TE. 
 
 187 
 
 go too with sound of trumpet, and be ever with him." i Thess. 4: 14-17 ; Jude 14, 15 ; 
 Dan. 7 : 9, 10 ; i Cor. 6:2, 3. 
 
 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 Their welcome 
 two Shining Ones, "These are the men that have loved our Lord when toheaven - 
 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." Rev. 19 : 9. 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 thousands! 
 welcomes from the world ; and this they 
 did with shouting and sound of trumpet. 
 
 This done, they compassed them round 
 on every side ; some went before, some be- 
 hind, and some on the right hand, and 
 some on the left (as it were to guard them 
 through the upper regions), continually 
 sounding as they went, with melodious / 
 noise, in notes on high ; so that the very 
 sight was to them that could behold it as 
 if heaven itself was .come down to meet 
 them. Thus, therefore, they walked on 
 together ; and as they walked, ever and 
 anon these trumpeters, even with joyful 
 sound, would, by mixing their music with 
 looks and gestures, still signify to Chris- 
 tian and his brother how welcome they 
 were into their company, and with what 
 gladness they came to meet them. And 
 now were these two men as it were in 
 
 heaven before they came to 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 ! 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, 
 
 "WITH SHOUTING AND SOUND OF TRUMPET." 
 
188 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " BLESSED ARE THEY THAT DO HIS COMMANDMENTS, THAT THEY MAY HAVE 
 
 RIGHT TO THE TREE OF LIFE, AND MAY ENTER IN THROUGH THE 
 
 GATES INTO THE CITY." 
 
 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 received in the 
 beginning ; those therefore were carried in unto the King, who, when he had read 
 them, said, "Where are the men?" To whom it was answered, "They are standing 
 without the gate." The King then commanded to open the gate, "That the righteous 
 nation," said he, " that keepeth the truth may enter in." Isa. 26 : 2. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate ; and lo, as they 
 entered they were transfigured ; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. 
 There were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them the 
 harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor. Then I heard in my dream 
 that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, 
 
 J "ENTER YE INTO THE JOY OF YOUR LORD." 
 
 I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, 
 
 "BLESSING AND HONOR AND GLORY AND POWER BE UNTO HIM THAT SITTETH UPON 
 THE THRONE, AND UNTO THE LAMB, FOR EVER AND EVER." 
 
 Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and 
 behold, the city shone like the sun ; the streets also were paved with gold ; and in 
 them walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden 
 harps to sing praises withal. 
 
 There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without 
 intermission, saying, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord." And after that they shut up the 
 gates ; which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them. 
 
 Now while I was gazing upon all these things I turned my head to look back, 
 . and saw Ignorance come up to the river side ; but he soon got over, and i gn0 rance comes 
 4 that without half the difficulty which the other two men met with. For up to the river - 
 
 it happened that there was then in that place one Vain-hope, a ferryman, that with 
 ^ his boat helped him over ; so he, as the others I saw, did ascend the hill to come up 
 to the gate ; only he came alone, neither did any man meet him with the least encour- 
 agement. 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 come you ? and what would you have ?" 
 
190 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 He answered, " I have ate and drank 
 id the presence of the King, and he has 
 taught in our streets." 
 
 Then they asked him for his certifi- 
 cate, 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 wor;d. 
 
 So they told the King, but he" would 
 not come down to see him, but command- 
 ed 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 gate of heaven as well as from 
 the city of Destruction. 
 
 
 
 "BEHOLD, IT WAS A DREAM." 
 
 So I awoke, and behold, it was a dream. 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee, 
 
 See if thou canst interpret it to me, 
 
 Or to thyself or neighbor: but take heed 
 
 Of misinterpreting; for that, instead 
 
 Of doing good, will but thyself abuse : 
 
 By misinterpreting, evil ensues. 
 
 Take heed, also, that thou be not extreme 
 
 In playing with the outside of my dream ; 
 
 Nor let my figure or similitude 
 
 Put thee into a laughter or a feud. 
 
 Leave this for boys and fools ; but as for thee, 
 
 Do thou the substance of my matter see. 
 
 Put by the curtains, look within my veil, 
 
 Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail. 
 
 There, if thou seekest them, such things thou 'It find 
 
 As will be helpful to an honest mind. 
 
 What of my dross thou findest there, be bold 
 
 To throw away, but yet preserve the gold. 
 
 What if my gold be wrapped up in ore ? 
 
 None throws away the apple for the core : 
 
 But if thou shall cast all away as vain, 
 
 I know not but 't will make me dream again. 
 
THE 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 FROM 
 
 THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME ; 
 
 DELIVERED 
 
 UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 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. 
 
 I HAVE USED SIMILITUDES. HOSEA 12:10. 
 
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 knowest 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 these related were 
 Unto him ; yea, his wife and children are. 
 
 Tell them that they have left their house and home, 
 Are turned Pilgrims, seek a world to come : 
 That they have met with hardships in the way ; 
 That they do meet with troubles night and day ; 
 That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils, 
 Have also overcome a many evils : 
 Yea, tell them also of the next who have, 
 Of love to 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. 
 
196 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Let them acquainted be, too, how they are 
 Beloved of their King, under his care ; 
 What goodly mansions he for them provides ; 
 Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides, 
 How brave a calm they will enjoy at last 
 Who to their Lord and by his ways hold 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. 
 
 OBJECTION I. 
 
 But how if they will not believe of me 
 That I am truly thine ? 'cause some there be 
 That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name, 
 Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same ; 
 And by that means have wrought themselves into 
 The hands and houses of I know not who. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 'T is 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 books, to make them do. 
 But yet they, by their features, do declare 
 Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are. 
 
 If such thou meetest, then thine only way 
 Before them all is to say out thy say 
 In thine own native language, which no man 
 Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can. 
 
 If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, 
 Thinking that you, like gypsies, go about 
 In naughty wise the country to defile, 
 Or that you seek good people to beguile 
 With things unwarrantable, send for me, 
 And I will testify you pilgrims be; 
 Yea, I will testify that only you 
 My pilgrims are, and that alone will do. 
 
 OBJECTION II. 
 
 But yet, perhaps I may inquire for him 
 Of those who wish him damned life and limb. 
 What shall I do when I ac such a door 
 For pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more ? 
 
AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 Fright not thyself, my Book, for such bugbears 
 Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. 
 My Pilgrim's book has travelled sea and land, 
 Yet could I never come to understand 
 That it was slighted or turned out of door 
 By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 
 In France and Flanders, where men kill each other, 
 My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother. 
 
 In Holland, too, 'tis said, as I am told, 
 My Pilgrim is, with some, worth more than gold. 
 Highlanders and wild Irish can agree 
 My Pilgrim should familiar with them be. 
 
 T is in New England under such advance, 
 Receives there so much loving countenance, 
 As to be trimmed, new clothed, and decked with gems, 
 That it might show its features and its limbs. 
 Yet more, so comely doth my Pilgrim walk, 
 That of him thousands daily sing and talk. 
 
 If you draw nearer home, it will appear 
 My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear: 
 City and country will him entertain 
 With, Welcome, Pilgrim ; yea, they can't refrain 
 From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by, 
 Or shows his head in any company. 
 
 Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love, 
 Esteem it much, yea, value it above 
 Things of a greater bulk ; yea, with delight 
 Say my lark's leg is better than a kite. 
 Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too, 
 Do not 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. 
 
 197 
 
1 9 8 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 They that have never seen him, yet admire 
 What they have heard of him, and much desire 
 To have his company and hear him tell 
 Those pilgrim stories which he knows so well. 
 
 Yea, some that did not love him at the first, 
 But called him fool and noddy, say they must, 
 Now they have seen and heard him, him commend, 
 And to those whom they love they do him send. 
 
 Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be 
 Afraid to show thy head : none can hurt thee 
 That wish but well to him that went before ; 
 'Cause thou comest after with a second store 
 Of things as good, as rich, as profitable, 
 For young, for old, for staggering, and for stable. 
 
 OBJECTION III. 
 
 But some there be that say, He laughs too loud ; 
 And some do say, His head is in a cloud. 
 Some say, His words and stories are so dark, 
 They know not how, by them, to find his mark. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 One may, I think, say, Both his laughs and cries 
 May well be guessed at by his watery eyes. 
 Some things are of that nature as to make 
 One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache : 
 When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, 
 He did at the same time both kiss and weep. 
 
 Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head ; 
 That doth but show his wisdom 's covered 
 With his own mantle and to stir the mind 
 To search well 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 curious fancy more 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. 
 
A UTHORS IN TROD UCTION. 199 
 
 Besides, what my first Pilgrim left concealed, 
 Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast revealed ; 
 What Christian left locked up, and went his way, 
 Sweet Christiana opens with her key. 
 
 OBJECTION IV. 
 
 But some love not the method of your first 
 Romance they count it ; throw 't away as dust. 
 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 't is nature, or some ill report, 
 Has made them thus despise or thus retort. 
 
 Some love no fish, some love no cheese, and some 
 Love not their friends, nor their own house or home ; 
 Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl 
 More than they love a cuckoo or an owl. 
 Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice, 
 And seek those who to find thee will rejoice; 
 By no means strive, but, in most humble wise, 
 Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise. 
 
 Go then, my little Book, and show to all 
 That entertain and bid thee welcome shall, 
 What thou shall keep close shut up from the rest; 
 And wish what thou shall show them may be blessed 
 To ihem for good, and make ihem choose to be 
 Pilgrims, by betler far than thee or me. 
 Go then, I say, lell all men who ihou art: 
 Say, " I am Chrisliana ; and my part 
 Is now, with my four sons, to lell you what 
 It is for men lo lake a pilgrim's lot." 
 
 Go, also, tell ihem who and whal ihey be 
 That now do go on pilgrimage with thee : 
 Say, " Here 's my neighbor Mercy ; she is one 
 Thai has long time wilh me a pilgrim gone : 
 Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn 
 'Twixl idle ones and pilgrims lo discern. 
 Yea, lei young damsels learn of her lo prize 
 The world which is lo come, in any wise. 
 
200 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 When little tripping maidens follow God, 
 
 And leave old doting sinners to his rod, 
 
 'T is like those days wherein the young ones cried 
 
 Hosanna ! when the old ones did deride." 
 
 Next, tejl them of old Honest, whom you found 
 With his white hairs treading the pilgrim's ground ; 
 Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was ; 
 How after his good Lord he bore the cross. 
 Perhaps with some gray head this may prevail 
 With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail. 
 
 Tell them also how Master Fearing went 
 On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent 
 In solitariness, with fears and cries ; 
 And how, at last, he won the joyful prize. 
 He was a good man, though much down in spirit: 
 He is a good man, and doth life inherit. 
 
 Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also, 
 Who not before, but still behind, would go. 
 Show them also how he had like been slain, 
 And how one Great-heart did his life regain. 
 This man was true of heart ; though weak in grace, 
 One might true godliness read in his face. 
 
 Then tell them too 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 opinion much agree ; 
 And let all know, though weakness was their chance, 
 Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance. 
 
 Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth, 
 That man of courage, though a very youth : 
 Tell every one his spirit was so stout, 
 No man could ever make him face about ; 
 And how Great-heart and he could not forbear^ 
 But pull down Doubting Castle, slay Despair. 
 
 Overlook not Master Despondency, 
 Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie 
 Under such mantles as may make them look, 
 With some, as if their God had them forsook. 
 They softly went, but sure ; and, at the end, 
 Found that the Lord of pilgrims was their friend. 
 
AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 201 
 
 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. 
 
 Those riddles that lie couched within thy breast, 
 Freely propound, expound ; and for the rest 
 Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain 
 For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain. 
 
 Now may this little book a blessing be 
 To those who love this little book and me ; 
 And may its buyer have no cause to say 
 His money is but lost or thrown away. 
 Yea, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit 
 As may with each good pilgrim's fancy suit ; 
 And may it some persuade, that go astray, 
 To turn their feet and heart to the right way, 
 Is the hearty prayer of 
 
 The author, 
 
THE 
 
 IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM- 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE FIRST STAGE. 
 
 COURTEOUS COMPANIONS : Some time since, to tell you my dream that I had of 
 Christian the pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey towards the celestial country, was 
 pleasant to me and profitable to you. I told you then also what I saw concerning his 
 wife and children and how unwilling they were to go with him on pilgrimage, inso- 
 much that he was forced to go on his progress without them ; for he durst not run the 
 danger of that destruction which he feared would come by staying with them in the 
 city of Destruction : wherefore, as I then showed you, he left them and departed. 
 
 Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of business, that I have been 
 much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those parts whence he 
 went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry after 
 those whom he left behind, that I might give you an account of them. But having 
 had some concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward. Now, having 
 taken up my lodging 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; 
 
 The author and because he was to go some part of the way that I was travelling, 
 methought I got up and went with him. So, as we walked, and as 
 travellers usually do, I was as if we fell into a discourse ; and our talk happened to 
 be about Christian and his travels ; for thus I began with the old man : 
 
 meets Mr. Sagac- 
 ity. 
 
THE AUTHOR AND MK. SAGACITY. 
 
THE FAME OF CHRISTIAN. 205 
 
 "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." 
 
 SAGACITY. Too true. I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them that 
 dwell therein. 
 
 " Well, sir," quoth I, " then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man, and so one 
 that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear 
 what happened to a man some time ago of this town, whose name was Christian, that 
 went on a pilgrimage up towards the higher regions ? 
 
 SAG. Hear of him ? Ay, and I also heard of the molestations, troubles, wars," cap- 
 tivities, cries, groans, frights, and fears that he met with and had on 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 records of his 
 Christians are pilgrimage : yea, I think I may say that his hazardous -journey has got 
 
 wcl1 S "" kl ' U " f 11 ' -U -U- f 4.1, t, t, t, t, i. 
 
 when gone, though many well-wishers to his ways ; for though when he was here he was 
 
 called fools while J J . . 
 
 they are here. " fool in every man s mouth, yet now he is gone he is highly commended 
 of all. For 't is said he lives bravely where he is : yea, many of them that are resolved 
 never to run his hazards, yet have their mouths water at his gains. 
 
 " They may," quoth I, " well think, if they think anything that is true, that he 
 liveth well where he is ; for he now lives at and in the Fountain of life, and has what 
 he has without labor and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed therewith. But pray, 
 what talk have the people about him?" 
 
 SAG. Talk ? The people talk strangely about him : some say that he now walks in 
 white, Rev. 3 : 4, that he has a chain of gold about his neck, that he has a crown of 
 gold beset with pearls upon his head ; others say that the shining ones, who some- 
 times 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 neighbor is with 
 another. Besides, it is confidently affirmed concerning him that the King of the 
 place where he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant dwelling 
 at court, and that he every day eateth and drinketh and walketh and talketh with 
 him, and receiveth of the smiles and favors of him that is Judge of all there. 
 Zech. 3:7; Luke 14: 14, 15. Moreover, it is expected of some that his Prince, the 
 Lord of that country, will shortly come into these parts, and will know the reason, 
 if they can give any, why his neighbors set so little by him, and had him so much in 
 derision when they perceived that he would be a pilgrim. Jude 14, 15. For they 
 
 Christian's sa Y tnat now he is so m tne affections of his Prince that his Sovereign 
 King honors inn.. | g go muc | 1 concerned with the indignities that were cast upon Christian 
 when he became a pilgrim, that he will look upon all as if done unto himself, 
 Luke 10 : 16; and no marvel, for it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he 
 ventured as he did. 
 
2O6 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " I dare say," quoth I. " I am glad on 't ; I am glad for the poor man's sake, for 
 that now he has rest from his labor, and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his 
 tears with joy, and for that he has got beyond the gunshot of his enemies and is out 
 of the reach of them that hate him. Rev. 14: 13 ; Psa. 126: 5, 6. I also am glad for 
 that a rumor of these things is noised abroad in this country ; who can tell but that it 
 may work some good effect on some that are left behind ? But pray, sir, while it is 
 fresh in my mind, do you hear anything of his wife and children ? Poor hearts, I 
 wonder in my mind what they do." 
 
 SAG. Who ? Christiana and her sons ? They are like to do as well as Christian 
 did himself ; for though they all played the fool at first, and would by oood tidings of 
 
 . , , , . . Christian's wife 
 
 no means be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of Christian, ana children. 
 
 yet second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them ; so they have packed up, 
 
 and are also gone after him. 
 
 " Better and better," quoth I ; " but what, wife and children and all?" 
 
 SAG. .It is true ; I can give you an account of the matter, for I was upon the spot 
 
 at the instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair. 
 
 "Then," said I, "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 being 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 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 to work in her mind. 
 First, for that she had lost her husband, 
 and for that the loving bond of that rela- 
 tion was utterly broken between them. For 
 you know, said he to me, nature can do 
 no less but entertain the living with many 
 a heavy cogitation, in the remembrance of 
 the loss of loving relations. This, there- 
 fore, of her husband did cost 
 her many a tear. But this was 
 not all ; for Christiana did also 
 begin to consider with herself whether her 
 
 unbecoming behavior towards her husband was not one cause that she saw him no 
 
 more, and that in such sort he was taken away from her. And upon this came into 
 
 "HER THOUGHTS HKGAN TO WORK IN HKR MIND.' 
 
 Mark this, you 
 tlxit are churls to 
 your godly rela- 
 tions. 
 
'THEN SAID SHE TO HER CHILDREN, 'SONS, WE ARE ALL UNDONE!'" 
 
2oS PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 her mind, by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carnage to her dear 
 friend; which also clogged her conscience and. did load her with guilt. She was, 
 moreover, much broken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish 
 tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, and how she did harden her heart against 
 all his entreaties and loving persuasions of her and her sons to go with him ; yea, 
 there was not anything that Christian either said to her or did before her all the 
 while that his burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of 
 lightning and rent the caul of her heart in sunder ; especially that bitter outcry of 
 his, " What shall I do to be saved ?" did ring in her ears most dolefully. 
 
 Then said she to her children, " Sons, we are all undone. I have sinned away 
 your father, and he is gone: he would have had us with him, but I would not go 
 myself: I also have hindered you of life." With that the boys fell into tears and 
 cried out to go after their father. " Oh," said Christiana, " that it had been our lot to 
 go with him ! then had it fared well with us beyond what it is like to do now. For 
 though I formerly foolishly imagined, concerning the troubles of your father, that 
 they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, or for that he was overrun with 
 melancholy humors, yet now it will not out of my mind but that they sprang from 
 another cause; to wit, for that the light of life was given him, James 1:23-25;' 
 John 8: 12; by the help of which, as I perceive, he has escaped the snares of death." 
 Prov. 14 : 27. 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 parch- 
 ment was opened before her, in which were recorded the sum of her Christiana's 
 ways ; and the crimes, as she thought, looked very black upon her. Then ( 
 she cried out aloud in her sleep, " Lord have mercy upon me a sinner!" Luke 18 : 13 ; 
 and the little children heard her. 
 
 After this she thought she saw two very ill-favored ones standing by her bedside, 
 and saying, " What shall we do with this woman ? for she cries out for Mark mis : this 
 
 , . i t . /. < 4 n- .is the quintessence 
 
 mercy, waking and sleeping : if she be suffered to go on as she begins, oi hen. 
 we shall lose her as we have lost her husband. Wherefore we must, by one way or 
 other, seek to take her off from the thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else all the 
 world cannot help but she will become a pilgrim." 
 
 Now she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling was upon her ; but after a while 
 she fell to sleeping again. And then she thought she saw Christian, IIelp against de . 
 her husband, in a place of bliss among many immortals, with a harp in P ression - 
 his hand, standing and playing upon it before One that sat on a throne with a rain- 
 bow about his head. She saw also as if he bowed his head with his face to the paved 
 work that was under his Prince's feet, saying, " I heartily thank my Lord and King 
 for bringing me into this place." Then shouted a company of them that stood round 
 about and harped with their harps ; but no man living could tell what they said but 
 Christian and his companions. 
 
 Next morning when she was up, had prayed to God and talked with her children 
 a while, one knocked hard at the door ; to whom she spoke out, saying, " If thou 
 comest in God's name, come in." So he said "Amen," and opened the door, and 
 
A HEA VENL Y SUMMONS. 
 
 209 
 
 saluted her with, " Peace be to this house." The which when he had done, he said, 
 "Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come?" Then she blushed and trembled ; 
 also her heart began to wax warm with desires to know from whence he came and 
 what was his errand to her. So he said unto her, " My name is Secret ; I dwell with 
 convictions those that are on high. It is talked of where I dwell as if thou hadst a 
 
 seconded bv ti- . . 
 
 dinars or cod's desire to go thither : also there is a report that thou art aware of the evil 
 
 readiness to par- 
 
 d<jn. thou hast formerly done to thy husband, in hardening of thy heart 
 
 against his way, and in keeping of these babes in their ignorance. Christiana, the 
 Merciful One hath sent me to tell thee that he is a God ready to forgive, and that 
 he taketh delight to multiply the pardon of offences. He also would have thee to 
 know that he inviteth thee to come into his presence, to his table, and that he will 
 feed thee with the fat of his house and with the heritage of Jacob thy father. 
 
 " There is Christian, thy husband that was, with legions more, his companions, 
 ever beholding that face that doth minister life to beholders, and they will all be glad 
 when they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's threshold." 
 
 Christiana at this was greatly abashed 
 in herself, and bowed her head to the 
 ground. This 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 per- 
 fume. Song 1:3. Also it was written in 
 letters of gold. The contents of the letter 
 were these: that "the King would have 
 her do as did Christian her 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 woman was quite 
 Christiana quite overcome ; so she cried out 
 
 vis i tor> r> W you 
 
 carry me and my children with you, that 
 we may also go and worship the King?" 
 
 Then said the visitor, " Christiana, the 
 bitter is before the sweet. Thou must 
 through troubles, as did he that went be- 
 fore thee, enter this celestial city. Where- 
 fore I advise thee to do as did Christian, 
 thy husband ; go to the wicket-gate yon- 
 
 der, over the plain, for that stands at 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 heart ; for i 
 
 HERE IS ALSO A LETTER FOR THEE.' 
 
210 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 is one of the songs that thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgrimage, 
 Psa. 1 19: 54; also this thou must deliver in at the further gate." 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that this old gentleman, as he told me the story, did 
 himself seem to be greatly affected therewith. He moreover proceeded Christiana prays 
 and said, So Christiana called her sons together, and began thus to ad- tiieir journey. 
 dress herself unto them : " My sons, I have, as you may perceive, been of late under 
 much exercise in my soul about the death of your father : not for that I doubt at all 
 of his happiness, for I am satisfied now that he is well. I have also been much 
 affected with the thoughts of my own state and yours, which I verily believe is by 
 nature miserable. My carriage also to your father in his distress is a great load to my 
 conscience ; for I hardened both my heart and yours against him, and refused to go 
 with him on pilgrimage. 
 
 " The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but for a dream 
 which I had last night, and but for the encouragement which this stranger has given 
 me this morning. Come, my children, let us pack up and be gone to the gate that 
 leads to the celestial country, that 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 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 Timorous and 
 were Christiana's neighbors came up to her house and knocked at her Christiana, 
 door. To whom she said as before, " If you come in God's name, come in." At this 
 the women were stunned ; for this kind of language they used not to hear or to per- 
 ceive to drop from the lips of Christiana. Yet they came in : but behold, they found 
 the good woman preparing to be gone from her house. 
 
 So they began and said, " Neighbor, pray what is your meaning by this?" 
 
 Christiana answered and said to the eldest of them, whose name was Mrs. Timor- 
 ous, " I am preparing for a journey." 
 
 This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon the hill of Difficulty 
 and would have had him go back for fear of the lions. 
 
 TIM. For what journey, I pray you? 
 
 CHR. Even to go after my good husband. 
 
 And with that she fell a-weeping. 
 
 TIM. I hope not so, good neighbor ; pray, for your poor children's sake, do not so 
 unwomanly cast away yourself. 
 
 CHR. Nay, my children shall go with me ; not one of them is willing to stay 
 behind. 
 
 TIM. I wonder in my very heart what or who has brought you into this mind. 
 
 CHR. O neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you would 
 go along with me. 
 
 TIM. 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 ? 
 
MRS. TIMOROUS AND MERCY. 
 
 211 
 
 Then Christiana replied, " I have been sorely afflicted since my husband's de- 
 parture from me ; but specially since he went over the river. But that which troubleth 
 me most is my churlish carriage to him when he was under his distress. Besides, I 
 am now as he was then ; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. I was 
 dreaming last night that I saw him. Oh, that my soul was with him ! He dwelleth 
 in the presence of the King of the country ; he sits and eats with him at his table ; he 
 is become a companion of immortals, and has a house now given him to dwell in 
 to which the best palace on earth, if compared, seems to me but a dunghill. 2 Cor. 
 5:1-4. The Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promise of entertainment, 
 if I shall come to him ; his messenger was here even now and has brought me a letter 
 which invites me to come." And with that she plucked out 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 meet with, 
 even in a manner at the first step that he took on his way, as our neighbor Obstinate 
 can yet testify, for he went along with him ; yea, and Pliable too, until they, like wise 
 The reasonings meri , were afraid to go any further. We also heard, over and above, how 
 of tne flesu. -^ Q me f. w {{h the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other 
 things. Nor is the danger that he met with in Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee. 
 For if he, though a man, was so hard put up to it, what canst thou, being but a poor 
 woman, do ? Consider also that these four sweet babes are thy children, thy flesh 
 and thy bones. Wherefore, though thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself, 
 yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep thou at home. 
 
 But Christiana said unto her, " Tempt me not, my neighbor. I have now a price 
 
 put into my hands to get gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest size if I should 
 
 A pertinent re- have no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that you tell me 
 
 ply to fleshly rea- r -,-, ,, -, -, -, -, T v , .... . ^ ' 
 
 of all these troubles which I am like to meet with in the way, they are so 
 
 Mercy's bowels 
 yearn over Chris- 
 
 far from being to me a discouragement that they show I am in the right. The bitter 
 must_come -before the sweet, and that also will make the sweet, the sweeter. Where- 
 foreTsince you camelidTTcTmy house in God's name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, 
 and not to disquiet me further." 
 
 Then Timorous reviled her, and said to her fellow, " Come, neighbor Mercy, let 
 us leave her in her own hands, since she scorns our counsel and company." 
 
 But Mercy was at a stand and could not so readily comply with her 
 
 . 
 
 neighbor ; and that for a twofold reason. First, her bowels yearned over 
 Christiana. So she said within herself, " If my neighbor will needs be gone, I will go 
 a little way with her and help her." Second, her bowels yearned over her own soul; 
 for what Christiana had said had taken some hold upon her mind. Wherefore she 
 said within herself again, " I will yet have more talk with this Christiana ; and if I 
 find truth and life in what she shall say, I myself with my heart shall also go with 
 her." Wherefore Mercy began thus to reply to her neighbor Timorous : 
 
 MER. Neighbor, I did indeed come with you to see Christiana this morning ; and 
 since she is, as you see, taking her last farewell of the country, I think to walk this 
 
212 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 sunshiny morning a little with her, to 
 help her on her way. 
 
 But she told her not of her second 
 reason, but kept it to herself. 
 
 TIM. Well, I see you have a mind to 
 go a-fooling too ; but take heed in time, 
 and be wise. While we are out of danger, 
 we are out ; but when we are in, we are in. 
 
 So Mrs. Timorous returned to her 
 house, and Christiana betook herself to 
 her journey. But when Timorous was got 
 home to her house, she sends for some of 
 her neighbors, to wit, Mrs. Bat's-eyes, Mrs. 
 Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-mind, and Mrs. 
 
 Know-nothing. So when they Timorous ac- 
 quaints her friends 
 were come to her house, she what the good 
 
 Christiana intends 
 
 falls to telling of the story of to ao. 
 Christiana, and of her intended journey. 
 And thus she began her tale : 
 
 TIM. Neighbors, having had little to 
 do this morning, I went to give Christiana 
 a visit ; and when I came at the door I 
 knocked, as you know it is our custom ; and 
 she answered, " If you come in God's name, come in." So in I went, thinking all was 
 well ; but when I came in I found her preparing herself to depart the town, she and 
 also her children. So I asked her what was her meaning by that. And she told me, 
 in short, that she was now of a mind to go on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She 
 told me also of a dream that she had, and how the King of the country where her 
 husband was had sent her an inviting letter to come thither. 
 
 Then said Mrs. Know-nothing, " And what ! do you think she will Mrs Know . 
 
 g O p" nothing. 
 
 TIM. Ay, go she will, whatever comes on't; and methinks 1 know it by this: for 
 that which was my great argument to persuade Jier to stay at home, to wit, the 
 troubles she was like to meet with on the way, is one great argument with her to put 
 her forward on her journey. For she told me in so many words, " The bitter goes 
 before the sweet ; yea, and forasmuch as it doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter." 
 
 " Oh, this blind and foolish woman !" said Mrs. Bat's-eyes ; " and will Mrs. Bat's-eyes. 
 she not take warning by her husband's afflictions ? For my part, I see, if he were 
 here again, he would rest himself content in a whole skin, and never run so many 
 hazards for nothing." 
 
 Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying, "Away with such fantastical Mrs. inconsiderate 
 fools from the town ; a good riddance, for my part, I say, of her. Should she stay 
 where she dwells and retain this her mind, who could live quietly by her ? for she 
 
 "j SEE YOU HAVE A MIND TO GO A-FOOLING TOO." 
 
214 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 will either be dumpish or unneighborly, or talk of such matters as no wise body can 
 abide. Wherefore, for my part, I shall never be sorry for her departure ; let her go, 
 and let better come in her room ; it was never a good world since these whimsical 
 fools dwelt in it." 
 
 Then Mrs. Light-mind added as followeth : " Come, put this kind of Mrs. Light-mind, 
 talk away. I was yesterday at Madam Wanton's, where we were as merry as the 
 maids. For who do you think should be there but I and Mrs. Love-the-flesh and three 
 or four more, with Mrs. Lec-hery, Mrs. Filth, and some others. So there we had 
 music and dancing and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And I dare say, 
 my lady herself is an admirable well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is as pretty 
 a fellow. 
 
MERCY JOINS THE BAND. 215 
 
 THE .SECOND STAGE. 
 
 BY this time Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy went along with her ; so 
 Discourse be- as they went, her children being there also, Christiana beean to dis- 
 
 tween Mercy and _** -i <^i -r 
 
 gooa Christiana, course. " And, Mercy, said Christiana, " I take this as an unexpected 
 favor, that thou shouldest set forth out of doors with me to accompany me a little in 
 the way." 
 
 Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), " If I thought it would be to 
 purpose to go with you, I would never go near the town any more." 
 
 " Well, Mercy," said Christiana, " cast in thy lot with me ; I well know what will be 
 the end of our pilgrimage ; my husband is where he would not but be for all the gold 
 in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but upon my 
 invitation. The King, who hath sent for me and my children, is one that delighteth 
 in mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou should go along with me as 
 my servant. Yet we will have all things in common between thee and me ; only go 
 along with me." 
 
 Mercy doubts or MER. But how shall I be ascertained that I also should be enter- 
 acceptance. tained ? Had I this hope but from one that can tell, I would make no 
 stick at all, but would go, being helped by Him that can help, though the way was 
 never so tedious. 
 
 Christiana aiiures CHR. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt .do. Go 
 
 her to the gate, ... . n1 T-H/-I- - * 
 
 which is Christ, and with me to the wicket-gate, and there 1 will further inquire for thee ; and 
 
 promises there to 
 
 inquire for her. if there thou shalt not meet with encouragement, I will be content that 
 thou return to thy place. I will also pay thee for thy kindness which thou showest 
 to me and my children in accompanying of us in our way as thou dost. 
 
 MER. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall follow ; and the Lord 
 grant that my lot may there fall even as the King of heaven shall have his heart 
 upon me. 
 
 Christiana giad Christiana then was glad at heart, not only that she had a compan- 
 of Mercy-s company. j on> ^ut also for that she had prevailed with this poor maid to fall in 
 love with her own salvation. So they went on together and Mercy began to weep. 
 Then said Christiana, " Wherefore weepeth my sister so?" 
 
 " Alas," said Mercy, " who can but lament that shall but rightly consider what a 
 state and condition my poor relations are in that yet remain in our sinful town ? And 
 that which makes my grief the more heavy is, because they have no instructor nor 
 any to tell them what is to come." 
 
 CHR. Pity becomes pilgrims ; and thou dost weep for thy friends as my good 
 
 Christian's prayers Christian did for me when he left me : he mourned for that I would not 
 
 hisreiations a e fter f he heed nor regard him ; but his Lord and ours did gather up his tears and 
 
 put them into his bottle ; and now both I and thou and these my sweet 
 
 babes are reaping the fruit and benefit of them. I hope, Mercy, that these tears of 
 
2l6 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 thine will not be lost ; for the truth hath said that " they that sow in tears shall reap 
 in joy." And " he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubt- 
 less come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." Psa. 126: 5, 6. 
 Then said Mercy, 
 
 "Let the Most Blessed be my guide, 
 
 If 't be his blessed will, 
 Unto his gate, into his fold, 
 Up to his holy hill. 
 
 "And let him never suffer me 
 
 To swerve or turn aside 
 From his free grace and holy ways, 
 What e'er shall me betide. 
 
 "And let him gather them of mine 
 
 That I have left behind ; 
 Lord, make them pray they may be thine 
 With all their heart and mind." 
 
 Now my old friend proceeded and said, But when Christiana came to the Slough 
 of Despond, she began to be at a stand. " For," said she, " this is the place in which 
 
 my dear husband had liked to have been 
 smothered with mud." She perceived also 
 that notwithstanding the command of the 
 King to make this place for pilgrims 
 good, yet it was rather worse than for- 
 merly. So I asked if that was true. 
 
 "Yes," said the old gentleman, "too 
 true; for many there be that pretend to 
 be the King's laborers, and 
 
 tVmt QSV fhpv 
 inai say uiey 
 
 ing the King's highways, who of llfe- 
 bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and 
 so mar instead of mending." 
 
 Here Christiana therefore, with her 
 boys, did make a stand. 
 
 " But," said Mercy, " come, let us ven- 
 
 ture: Onlv let US be Wary." Mercy the bold- 
 
 J eat at the Slough 
 
 Then they looked well to or Despond. 
 their steps, and made a shift to get stag- 
 gering over. 
 
 Yet Christiana had like to have been 
 in, and that not once or twice. Now they 
 had no sooner got over but they thought 
 they heard words that said unto them, 
 
 " Blessed is she that believeth ; for there shall be a performance of those things which 
 
 were told her from the Lord." Luke 1 :45 
 
 Thelrowncar . 
 
 for mend- nal conclusions in- 
 iui menu- gtea(I of the word 
 
 "COME, LET us VENTURE; ONLY LET us uis WARY." 
 
AT THE WICKET-GATE. 217 
 
 Then they went on again ; and said Mercy to Christiana, " Had I as good ground 
 to hope for a loving reception at the wicket-gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond 
 would discourage me." 
 
 " Well," said the other, " you know your sore and I know mine ; and, good friend, 
 we shall all have enough evil before we come to our journey's end. For can it be 
 imagined that the people who design to attain such excellent glories as we do, and 
 who are so envied that happiness as we are, but that we shall meet with what fears 
 and snares, with what troubles and afflictions, they can possibly assault us with that 
 hate us?" 
 
 And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream by myself. Wherefore, 
 iTiver should be methought I saw Christiana and Mercy and the boys go all of them up to 
 amuear.'nsweifas the g ate 5 to which, when they were come, they betook themselves to a 
 in faith and hope. S '^ OT ^ debate about how they must manage their calling at the gate, and 
 what should be said unto him that did open to them ; so it was concluded, since Chris- 
 tiana was the eldest, that she should knock for entrance, and that she should speak, to 
 him that did open, for the rest. So Christiana began to knock, and as her poor hus- 
 band did, she knocked and knocked again. But instead of any that answered, they 
 all thought that they heard as if a dog came barking upon them ; a dog, and a great 
 one too ; and this made the women and children afraid. Nor durst they for a while 
 Christiana and to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should fly upon them. Now, 
 with y doubt" rb iii therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and down in their minds, and 
 knew not what to do. Knock they durst not, for fear of the dog ; go back 
 they durst not, for fear the keeper of that gate should espy them as they so went and 
 should be offended with them. At last they thought of knocking again, and knocked 
 more vehemently than they did at first. 
 
 Then said the keeper of the gate, " Who is there?" So the dog left off to bark, 
 and he opened unto them. 
 
 Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, " Let not our Lord be offended 
 with his handmaidens for that we have knocked at his princely gate." 
 
 Then said the keeper, " Whence come ye ? And what is it that you would 
 have?" 
 
 Christiana answered, " We are come from whence Christian did come, and upon 
 the same errand as he ; to wit, to be, if it shall please you, graciously admitted by this 
 gate into the way that leads into the celestial city. And I answer, my Lord, in the 
 next place that I am Christiana, once the wife of Christian, that now is gotten 
 above." 
 
 With that the keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, " What, is she now become 
 a pilgrim that but a while ago abhorred that life ?" 
 
 Then she bowed her head and said, "Yea; and so are these my sweet babes 
 also." 
 
 HOW christi- Then he took her by the hand and led her in, and said also, " Suffer 
 
 ana is entertained . , - , 1 .. ,-r,, . 
 
 at the gate. little children to come unto me ; and with that he shut up the gate. 1 his 
 
 done, he called to a trumpeter that was above, over the gate, to entertain Christiana 
 
 28 
 
THE KING'S TRUMPETER. 
 
MERCY ALSO IS WELCOMED. 219 
 
 with shouting and the sound of trumpet, for joy. So he obeyed, and sounded and 
 filled the air with his melodious notes. 
 
 Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without, trembling and erying for fear 
 that she was rejected. But when Christiana had got admittance for herself and her 
 boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy. 
 
 Christiana's And Christiana said, " My Lord, I have a companion of mine that 
 
 friend" Mercy. *' r stands yet without, that has come hither upon the same account as 
 myself : one that is much dejected in her mind, for that she comes, as she thinks, 
 without sending for; whereas I was sent for by my husband's King to come." 
 
 Now Mercy began to be very impatient, and each minute was as long to her as 
 
 Delays make the an hour ; wherefore she prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding 
 
 more icu-vent. for her by knocking at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud 
 
 that she made Christiana to start. Then said the keeper of the gate, " Who is 
 
 there?" 
 
 And Christiana said, " It is my friend." 
 
 So he opened the gate and looked out, but Mercy was fallen down without in a 
 swoon ; for she fainted and was afraid that no gate should be opened to her. 
 
 Then he took her by the hand and said, " Damsel, I bid thee arise." 
 
 " Oh, sir," said she, " I am faint ; there is scarce life left in me." But he answered, 
 that one once said, " When my soul fainted within me I remembered the Lord ; and 
 my prayer came unto thee, into thy holy temple. Jonah 2 : 7. Fear not, but stand 
 upon thy feet and tell me wherefore thou art come." 
 
 MER. I am come for that unto which I was never invited, as my friend Christiana 
 was. Hers was from the King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I fear I 
 presume. 
 
 KEEP. Did she desire thee to come with her to this place ? 
 
 MER. Yes ; and as my Lord sees, I am come. And if there is any grace and 
 forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech that thy poor handmaid may be a partaker 
 thereof. 
 
 Then he took her again by the hand and led her gently in, and said, " I pray for 
 all them that believe on me, by what means soever they come unto me." Then said 
 he to those that stood by, " Fetch something and give it to Mercy to smell on, thereby 
 to stay her faintings ;" so they fetched her a bundle of myrrh, and a while after she 
 was revived. 
 
 And now were Christiana and her boys and Mercy received of the Lord at the 
 head of the way and spoken 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 informa- 
 tion what we must do." 
 
 "I grant pardon," said he, "by word and deed; by word in the promise of for- 
 giveness, by deed in the way I obtained it. Take the first from my lips with a kiss, 
 and the other as it shall be revealed." Song 1:2; John 20 : 20. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that he spoke many good words unto them, whereby 
 they were greatly gladdened. He also had them up to the top of the gate, and 
 
'MERCY WAS FALLEN DOWN WITHOUT IN A SWOON. 
 
IMPORTUNA TE PR A YER. 221 
 
 Christ crucified 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. 
 
 Talk between So ne ^ e ^ them a while in a summer parlor below, where they 
 
 entered into talk by themselves ; and thus Christiana began : " Oh, how 
 glad am I that we are got in hither!" 
 
 MER. So you well may ; but I, of all, have cause to leap for joy. 
 
 CIIR. I thought one time as I stood at the gate, because I had knocked and none 
 did answer, that all our labor had been lost, especially when that ugly cur made such 
 a heavy barking against us. 
 
 MER. But my worst fear was after I saw that you was taken into his favor and 
 that I was left behind. Now, thought I, it is fulfilled which is written, " Two women 
 shall be grinding at the mill ; the one shall be taken, and the other left." Matt. 24:41. 
 I had much ado to forbear crying out, Undone ! And afraid I was to knock any 
 more ; but when I looked up to what was written over the gate I took courage. I also 
 thought that I must either knock again or die ; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how, 
 for my spirit now struggled between life and death. 
 
 Christiana CUR. ^ an y ou not tel l h w y ou knocked ? I am sure your knocks 
 pinion i''ni.vs'' ( i'ei- were so earnest that the very sound of them made me start ; I thought 
 I never heard such knocking in all my life ; I thought you would come 
 in by a violent hand or take the kingdom by storm. Matt. 11:12. 
 
 MER. Alas, to be in my case, who that so was could but have done so ? You saw 
 that the door was shut upon me, and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout. 
 Who, I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, would not have knocked with all their 
 might ? But pray, what said my Lord to my rudeness ? Was he not angry with me ? 
 
 CHR. When he heard your lumbering noise, he gave a wonderful innocent 
 
 smile ; I believe what you did pleased him well, for he showed no sign to the con- 
 
 ir the soul at trary. But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a doer: had I known 
 
 first did know all 
 
 it should meet witu that before, I should not have had heart enough to have ventured mv- 
 
 in its journey to . J 
 
 heaven, it would self in this manner. But now we are in, we are in, and I am eflad with 
 
 hardly ever set 
 
 ut - all my heart. 
 
 MER. I will ask, if you please, next time he comes down, why he keeps such a 
 filthy cur in his yard ; I hope he will not take it amiss. 
 
 "Do so," said the children, "and persuade him to hang him; for we are afraid 
 he will bite us when we go hence." 
 
 So at last he came down to them again, and Mercy fell to the ground on her face 
 before him and worshipped, and said, " Let my Lord accept the sacrifice of praise 
 which I now offer unto him with the calves of my lips." 
 
 So he said unto her, " Peace be to thee ; stand up." 
 
 But she continued upon her face and said, " Righteous art thou, O Lord, when I 
 Mercy expos- plead with thee ; vet let me talk with thee of thy judgments. Ter. 12:1. 
 
 tulates about the ^ J J J 
 
 dog. Wherefore dost thou keep so cruel a dog in thy yard, at the sight of 
 
 which such women and children as we are ready to fly from thy gate for fear?" 
 
222 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 He answered and said, "That dog has another owner; he also is 
 kept close in another man's ground, only my pilgrims hear his barking. He belongs 
 to the castle which you see there at a distance, but can come up to the walls of this 
 place. He has frighted many an honest pilgrim from worse to better by the great 
 voice of his roaring. Indeed, he that owneth him doth not keep him out of any good 
 will to me or mine, but with intent to keep the pilgrims from coming to me, and that 
 they may be afraid to come and knock at this gate for entrance. Sometimes also he 
 has broken out, and has worried some that I loved ; but I take all at present patiently 
 I also give my pilgrims timely help, so that they are not delivered to his power to 
 do with them what his doggish nature would prompt him to. But what, my pur- 
 chased one, I trow hadst thou known never so much beforehand, thou wouldest not 
 have been afraid of a dog. The beggars that go from door to door will, A check to ttio 
 
 carnal fear of the 
 
 rather than lose a supposed alms, run the hazard of the bawling, barking, pilgrims. 
 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, and my darling from the power of the dog." Psa. 22 : 21, 22. 
 
 Then said Mercy, " I confess my ignorance ; I spoke what I under- Christjans wlien 
 stood not ; I acknowledge that thou doest all things well." jSLd^tSeirt^ 
 
 Then Christiana began to talk of their journey and to inquire after tlom of tlieir '' or(1 - 
 the way. So he fed them and washed their feet, and set them in the way of his steps 
 according as he had dealt with her husband before. 
 
EA TING FORBIDDEN FRUIT. 
 
 223 
 
 THE THIRD STAGE. 
 
 So I saw in my dream that they walked on their way and had the weather very 
 comfortable to them. 
 
 Then Christiana began to sing, saying, 
 
 " Blessed be the day that I began 
 
 A pilgrim for to be, 
 And blessed also be the Man 
 That thereto move'd me. 
 
 " 'T is true, 'twas long ere I began 
 
 To seek to live for ever ; 
 But now I run fast as I can : 
 'Tis better late than never. 
 
 "Our tears to joy, our fears to faith, 
 
 Are turned, as we see ; 
 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 
 The devirs garden, which Christiana and her 
 companions were to go, a garden, and 
 that garden belonged to him whose was 
 that barking dog of whom mention was 
 made before. And some of the fruit- 
 trees that grew in that garden shot their 
 branches over the wall ; and being mel- 
 low, they that found them did gather 
 them up and eat of them to their hurt. 
 So Christiana's boys, as boys are apt to 
 
 The children eat do, being pleased with the trees, and with the fruit that hung thereon, 
 did pluck them and began to eat. Their mother did also chide them for 
 so doing, but still the boys went on. 
 
 "Well," said she, "my sons, you transgress, for that fruit is none of ours;" but 
 she did not know that it belonged to the enemy. I '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 bow-shots from the place that led them 
 
 'AND BLESSED ALSO BE THK MAN 
 THAT THKRKTO MOVI?D ME." 
 
 Of 
 
 fruit. 
 
' SO CHRISTIANA'S BOYS DID PLUCK THEM AND BEGAN TO EAT." 
 
SUCCOR IN TIME OF NEED. 
 
 22$ 
 
 into the way, they espied two very ill- 
 favored ones coming- down apace to meet 
 them. With that Christiana and Mercy 
 her friend covered themselves with their 
 TWO iii-favored veils, and so kept on their 
 
 ones assault Chris- . ' 
 
 tiaua ami Mercy, 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 as you 
 should." Yet these two, as men that are 
 deaf, regarded not Christiana's words, but 
 began to lay hands upon them. At that 
 Christiana, waxing very wroth, spurned at 
 them with her feet. Mercy also, as well 
 as she could, did what she could to shift 
 them. Christiana again said to them, 
 " Stand back and be gone, for we have no 
 money to lose, being pilgrims, as you see, 
 and such too as live upon the charity of 
 our friends." 
 
 Then said one of the two men, " We 
 make no assault upon you for money, but are come 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." 
 
 Now Christiana, imagining what they should mean, made answer again, "We 
 will neither hear nor regard nor yield to what you shall ask. We are in haste, 
 and cannot stay ; our business is a business of life and death." So again she and 
 her companion made a fresh essay to go past them ; but they letted them in 
 their way. 
 
 And they said, " We intend no hurt to your lives ; it is another thing we would 
 have." 
 
 "Ay," quoth Christiana, "you would have us body and soul, for I know it is for 
 that you are come ; but we will die rather upon the spot than to suffer ourselves to be 
 They cry out. brought into such snares as shall hazard our well-being hereafter." And 
 with that they both shrieked out, and cried, " Murder, murder !" and so put them- 
 selves under those laws that are provided for the protection of women. ' Deut. 
 22 : 25-27. But the men still made their approach upon them, with 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 whence they were, thither. Wherefore some of the house came 
 The Reliever comes, out, and knowing that it was Christiana's tongue, they made haste to her 
 29 
 
 TWO ILL-FA VORKD ONKS. 
 
226 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 relief. But by that they were got within sight of them, the women were in a very 
 great scuffle ; and the children also stood crying by. 
 
 Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the ruffians, saying, " What 
 is that thing you do? Would you make my Lord's people to transgress?" He also 
 attempted to take them, but they did make their escape over the wall into the garden 
 of the man to whom the great dog belonged ; so the dog became their protector. 
 This Reliever then came up to the women and asked them how they did. 
 
 So they answered, " We thank thy Prince, pretty well, only we have been some- 
 what affrighted. We thank thee also for that thou earnest in to our help, otherwise we 
 had been overcome." 
 
 So, after a few more words, this Reliever said as followeth: "I mar- T |, K ( ,i ie voriiUks 
 veiled much, when you were entertained at the gale above, seeing ye tolll(>xvollR '"- 
 knew that ye were but weak women, that you petitioned not the Lord for a conduc- 
 tor ; then might you have avoided these troubles and dangers ; for he would have 
 granted you one." 
 
 "Alas," said Christiana, "we were so taken with our present bless- Mark tins! 
 ing that dangers to come were forgotten by us. Besides, who could have thought 
 that so near the King's palace there could have lurked such naugjity ones ? Indeed, 
 it had been well for us had we asked our Lord for one ; but since our Lord knew it 
 would be for our profit, I wonder he sent not one along with us." 
 
 REL. It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for, lest by Wp lose for not 
 so doing they become of little esteem ; but when the want of a thing is ask1 "-- 
 felt, it then comes under, in the eyes of him that feels it, that estimate that properly 
 is its due, and so consequently will be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a 
 conductor, you would not either so have bewailed that oversight of yours in not ask- 
 ing for one as now you have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and tend to 
 make you more wary. 
 
 CHR. Shall we go back again to my Lord and confess our folly, and ask one ? 
 
 REL. Your confession of your folly I will present him with. To go back again 
 you need not, for in all places where you shall come you will find no want at all ; for 
 in every one of my Lord's lodgings, which he has prepared for the reception of his 
 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. 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. 
 
 Then said Mercy, " What a sudden blank is here ! I made account The mlstake of 
 that we had been past all danger, and that we should never see sorrow Mercy- 
 more." 
 
 "Thine innocency, my sister," said Christiana to Mercy, "may excuse thee much; 
 but as for me, my fault is so much the greater, for that I saw this danger before I 
 came out of the doors, and yet did not provide for it when provision might have been 
 had. I am much to be blamed." 
 
FOES ARE TO BE EXPECTED. 
 
 227 
 
 mi pilgrimage. 
 
 Then said Mercy, " How knew you this before you came from home ? Pray open 
 to me this riddle." 
 
 Christiana's CHR. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of doors, one night 
 
 dream repeated. as j ] a y j n m y ^ e( j j ^^ a d ream about this; for methought I saw two 
 men, as like these as ever any in the world could look, stand at my bed's foot, plotting 
 how they might prevent my salvation. I will tell you their very words. They said 
 (it was when I was in my troubles), " What shall we do with this woman ? for she 
 cries out, waking and sleeping, for forgiveness. If she be suffered to go on as she 
 begins, we shall lose her as we have lost her husband." This you know might have 
 made me take heed, and have provided when provision might have been had. 
 
 Mercy makes " Well," said Mercy, " as by this neglect we have an occasion minis- 
 
 good use of their -LIU r^- T _J t. A 1 
 
 m-jried of duty, tered unto us to behold our own imperfections, so our Lord has taken 
 occasion thereby to make manifest the riches of his grace ; for he, as we see, has fol- 
 lowed us with unasked kindness, and has delivered us from their hands that were 
 stronger than we, of his mere good pleasure." 
 
 Thus now, when they had talked away a little more time, they drew near to a 
 house which stood in the way, which house was built for the relief of pilgrims, as you 
 T-nk in inter- w ^ ^ n< ^ more fully related in the first part of these records of the Pil- 
 ch e ristiana's se going gritti's Progress. So they drew on towards the house (the house of the 
 Interpreter) ; and when they came to the door they heard a great talk in 
 
 the house. Then they gave ear, and heard, 
 as they thought, Christiana mentioned by 
 name ; for you must know that there went 
 along, even before her, a talk of her and 
 her children's going on pilgrimage. And 
 this was the more pleasing to them be- 
 cause they had heard that she was Chris- 
 tian's wife, that woman who was some 
 time ago so unwilling to hear of going 
 on pilgrimage. Thus, therefore, they 
 stood still, and heard the good people 
 within commending her who they little 
 thought stood at the door. At last Chris- 
 tiana knocked, as she had done at the gate 
 The door is before. Now, when she had 
 
 opened to them , . ., 
 
 by innocent. knocked, there came to the 
 door a young damsel, and opened the 
 door, and looked, and behold, two women 
 were there. 
 
 Then said the damsel to them, " With 
 whom would you speak in this place ?" 
 
 Christiana answered, " We understand 
 that this is a privileged place for those 
 
 INNOCENT. 
 
228 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 that are become pilgrims, and we now at this door are such. Wherefore we pray that 
 we may be partakers of that for which we at this time are come ; for the day, as thou 
 seest, is very far spent, and we are loath to-night to go any further." 
 
 DAM. Pray, what may I call your name, that I may tell it to my Lord within ? 
 
 CHR. My name is Christiana ; I was the wife of that pilgrim that some years ago 
 did travel this way, and these be his four children. This maiden also is my compan- 
 ion, and is going on pilgrimage too. 
 
 Then Innocent ran in (for that was her name), and said to those within, " Can 
 you think who is at the door ? There is Christiana and her children and her com- 
 panion, all waiting for entertainment here." Then they leaped for joy, Joy in the house 
 and went and told their Master. lV'1-ffilK Is 
 
 So he came to the door, and looking upon her, he said, " Art thou turued pilgrim< 
 that Christiana whom Christian the good man left behind him when he betook him- 
 self to a pilgrim's life ?" 
 
 CHR. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight my husband's 
 troubles, and that left him to go on his journey alone, and these are his four 
 children. But now I also am come, for I am convinced that no way is right 
 but this. 
 
 INTER. Then is fulfilled that which is written of the man that said to his son, " Go 
 work to-day in my vineyard ; and he said to his father, I will not ; but afterwards 
 repented and went." Matt. 21 : 29. 
 
 Then said Christiana, " So be it : Amen. God make it a true saying upon me, 
 and grant that I may be found at the last of him in peace, without spot and 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 into the house. 
 
 So when they were within, they were bidden to sit down and rest them ; the 
 which when they had done, those that attended upon the pilgrims in the Okl saillts Rhu] 
 house came into the room to see them. And one smiled, and another onefwaiunSl 
 smiled, and they all smiled for joy that Christiana was become a pilgrim. ways> 
 They also looked upon the boys ; they stroked them over their faces with the hand, in 
 token of their kind reception of them. They also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid 
 them all welcome into the Master's house. 
 
 After a while, because supper was not ready, the Interpreter took them into his 
 Significant-rooms and showed them what Christian, Christiana's husband, had seen 
 some time before. Here, therefore, they saw the man in the cage, the man and his 
 dream, the man that cut his way through his enemies, and the picture of the biggest 
 of them all, together with the rest of those things that were then so profitable to 
 Christian. 
 
 This done, and after those things had been somewhat digested by Christiana and 
 her company, the Interpreter takes them apart again and has them first into a room 
 
'A MAN THAT COULD LOOK NO WAY BUT DOWNWARDS, WITH A MUCK-RAKE IN HIS HAND. 
 
230 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 where was a man that could look no way but downwards, with a muck-rake in his 
 hand. There stood also one over his head with a celestial crown in The man with 
 
 the muck-rake ex- 
 
 his hand, and proffered him that crown for his muck-rake ; but the man pounded. 
 
 did neither look up nor regard, but raked to himself the straws, the small sticks, and 
 
 dust of the floor. 
 
 Then said Christiana, " I persuade myself that I know somewhat the meaning of 
 this ; for this is the figure of a man of this world, is it not, good sir?" 
 
 " Thou hast said right," said the Interpreter ; " and his muck-rake doth show his 
 carnal mind. And whereas thou seest him rather give heed to rake up straws and 
 sticks and the dust of the floor than to do what he says that calls to him from above 
 with the celestial crown in his hand, it is to show that heaven is but as a fable to some, 
 and that things here are counted the only things substantial. Now, whereas it was 
 also showed thee that the man could look no way but downwards, it is to let thee 
 know that earthly things, when they are with power upon men's minds, quite carry 
 their hearts away from God." 
 
 Then said Christiana, " Oh, deliver me from this muck-rake !" Prov. Christiana's 
 
 prayer against the 
 3Q : 8. muck-rake. 
 
 "That prayer," said the' Interpreter, "has lain by till it is almost rusty. 'Give 
 me not riches,' is scarce the prayer of one in ten thousand. Straws and sticks and 
 dust, with most, are the great things now looked after." 
 
 With that Christiana and Mercy wept, and said, " It is, alas, too true." 
 
 When the Interpreter had showed them this, he had them into the very best 
 room in the house ; a very brave room it was. So he bid them look round about, and 
 see if they could find anything profitable there. Then they looked round and round ; 
 for there was nothing to be seen but a very great spider on the wall, and that they 
 overlooked. 
 
 Then said Mercy, " Sir, I see nothing ;" but Christiana held her peace. 
 
 " But," said the Interpreter, " look again." 
 
 She therefore looked again, and said, " Here is not anything but an Talk about the 
 ugly spider, who hangs by her hands upon the wall." 
 
 Then said he, " Is there but one spider in all this spacious room ?" 
 
 Then the water stood in Christiana's eyes, for she was a woman quick of appre- 
 hension ; and she said, " Yea, Lord, there are more here than one ; yea, and spiders 
 whose venom is far more destructive than that which is in her." 
 
 The Interpreter then looked pleasantly on her, and said, " Thou hast said the 
 truth." 
 
 This made Mercy to blush and the boys to cover their faces ; for they all began 
 now to understand the riddle. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter again, " The spider taketh hold with her hands,' as you 
 see, 'and is in kings' palaces.' Prov. 20:38. And wherefore is this recorded but to 
 show you that, how full of the venom of sin soever you be, yet you may, by the hand 
 of faith, lay hold of and dwell in the best room that belongs to the King's house 
 above ?" 
 
IMPRESSIVE OBJECT-LESSONS. 231 
 
 " I thought," said Christiana, " of something of this ; but I could not imagine it at 
 all. I thought that we were like spiders, and that we looked like ugly creatures, in 
 what fine rooms soever we were; but that by this spider, that venomous and ill- 
 favored creature, we were to learn how to act faith, that came not into my thoughts ; 
 and yet she hath taken hold with her hands, and, as I see, dwelleth in the best room 
 in the house. God has made nothing in vain." 
 
 Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the water stood in their eyes ; yet they 
 looked one upon another, and also bowed before the Interpreter, 
 or the hen and He had them into another room where were a hen and chickens, and 
 
 bid them observe a while. So one of the chickens went to the trough to 
 drink, and every time she drank she lifted up her head and her eyes towards heaven. 
 " See," said he, "what this little chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge whence 
 your mercies come, by receiving them with looking up. Yet again," said he, "observe 
 and look." So they gave heed and perceived that the hen did walk in a fourfold 
 method towards her chickens. First, she had a common call, and that she hath all 
 the day long ; second, she had a special call, and that she had but sometimes ; third, 
 she had a brooding note. Matt. 23:37; and fourth, she had an outcry. 
 
 " Now," said he, " compare this hen to your King and these chickens to his obe- 
 dient ones ; for, answerable to her, he himself hath his methods which he walketh in 
 towards his people. By his common call he gives nothing ; by his special call he 
 always has something to give ; he has also a brooding voice for them that are under 
 his wing ; and he has an outcry, to give the alarm when he seeth the enemy come. 
 I choose, my darlings, to lead you into the room where such things are, because you 
 are women, and they are easy for you." 
 
 " And, sir," said Christiana, " pray let us see some more." 
 
 or the butcher So ^ e ^^ them into the slaughter-house, where was a butcher killing 
 ana the sheep. a s h ee p . an( j behold, the sheep was quiet and took her death patiently. 
 Then said the Interpreter, " You must learn of this sheep to suffer, and to put up with 
 wrongs without murmurings and complaints. Behold how quietly she takes her death, 
 and, without objecting, she suffereth her skin to be pulled over her ears. Your King 
 doth call you his sheep." 
 
 of the garden. After this he led them into his garden, where was great variety of 
 flowers ; and he said, " Do you see all these ?" 
 
 So Christiana said, " Yes." 
 
 Then said he again, " Behold, the flowers are diverse in stature, in quality and 
 color and smell and virtue, and some are better than others ; also, where the gardener 
 has set them, there they stand, and quarrel not one with another." 
 
 of the Held. Again, he had them into his field, which he had sown with wheat 
 
 and corn ; but when they beheld, the tops of all were cut off, and only the straw 
 remained. He said again, " This ground was dunged and ploughed and sowed, but 
 what shall we do with the crop ?" 
 
 Then said Christiana, " Burn some, and make muck of the rest." 
 
 Then said the Interpreter again, " Fruit, you see, is that thing you look for : and 
 
232 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 for want of that you condemn it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of men : 
 beware that in this you condemn not yourselves." 
 
 Then as they were coming in from abroad, they espied a little robin or the robin and 
 with a great spider in his mouth. So the Interpreter said, "Look thes P ider - 
 here." 
 
 So they looked and Mercy wondered ; but Christiana said, " What a disparage- 
 ment is it to such a pretty little bird as the robin-redbreast ; he being also a bird 
 above many, that loveth to maintain a kind of sociableness with men ! I had thought 
 they had lived upon crumbs of bread, or upon other such harmless matter : I like him 
 worse than I did." 
 
 The Interpreter then replied, "This robin is an emblem very apt to set forth 
 some professors by ; for to sight they are, as this robin, pretty of note, color, and 
 carriage. They seem also to have a very great love for professors that are sincere, 
 and above all others to desire to associate with them and to be in their company, 
 as if they could live upon the good man's crumbs. They pretend also that there- 
 fore it is that they frequent the house of the godly and the appointments of the 
 Lord ; but when they are by themselves, as the robin, they can catch and gobble 
 up spiders they can change their diet, drink iniquity, and swallow down sin like 
 water." 
 
 So, when they were come again into the house, because supper as yet pra and 
 was not ready, Christiana again desired that the Interpreter would either wii!cif e -et a iies t un- 
 show or tell some other things that are profitable. revealed. 
 
 Then the Interpreter began and said, "The fatter the sow is, the more she 
 desires the mire ; the fatter the ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; 
 and the more healthy the lustful man is, the more prone he is unto evil. There is a 
 desire in women to go neat and fine ; and it is a comely thing to be adorned with that 
 which in God's sight is of great price. 'T is easier watching a night or two than to 
 sit up a whole year together ; so 't is easier for one to begin to profess well than to 
 hold out as he should to the end. Every shipmaster when in a storm will willingly 
 cast that overboard which is of the smallest value in the vessel ; but who will throw 
 the best out first ? None but he that feareth not God. One leak will sink a ship and 
 one sin will destroy a sinner. He that forgets his friend is ungrateful unto him ; but 
 he that forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to himself. He that lives in sin and looks 
 for happiness hereafter, is like him that soweth cockle and thinks to fill his barn with 
 wheat or barley. If a man would live well, let him fetch his last day to him, and 
 make it always his company-keeper. Whispering, and change of thoughts, prove that 
 sin is in the world. If the world, which God sets light by, is counted a thing of that 
 worth with men, what is heaven that God commendeth ! If the life that is attended 
 with so many troubles is so loath to be let go by us, what is the life above ? Every- 
 body will cry up the goodness of men ; but who is there that is, as he should be, 
 affected with the goodness of God ? We seldom sit down to meat but we eat and 
 leave ; so there is in Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the whole world 
 lias nee4 of," 
 
AT THE SUPPER-TABLE. 233 
 
 When the Interpreter had done he takes them out into his garden again, and had 
 or the tree rot- tnem to a tree whose inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it grew and 
 ten at heart. had i eaves . Then said Mercy, " What means this ?" 
 
 " This tree," said he, " whose outside is fair and whose inside is rotten, is that to 
 which many may be compared that are in the garden of God ; who with their mouths 
 speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will do nothing for him ; whose leaves are 
 fair, but their heart good for nothing but to be tinder for the devil's tinder-box." 
 
 They are at Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set on the 
 supper. board ; so they sat down and did eat when one had given thanks. And 
 
 the Interpreter did usually entertain those that lodged with him with music at meals ; 
 so the minstrels played. There was also one that did sing, and a very fine voice he 
 had. His song was this : 
 
 "The Lord is only my support, 
 And he that doth me feed ; 
 How can I then want anything 
 Whereof I stand in need ?" 
 
 When the song and music were ended, the Interpreter asked Christiana what it 
 
 was that at first did move her thus to betake herself to a pilgrim's life. Christiana 
 
 A repetition answered, " First, the loss of my husband came into my mind, at which I 
 
 or Christian's ex- J J . 
 
 . 
 
 was heartily grieved ; but all that was but natural affection. Then after 
 that came the troubles and pilgrimage of my husband into my mind, and also how 
 like a churl I had carried it to him as to that. So guilt took hold of my mind and 
 would have drawn me into the pond, but that opportunely I had a dream of the well- 
 being of my husband, and a letter sent me by the King of that country where my 
 husband dwells, to come to him. The dream and the letter together so wrought upon 
 my mind that they forced me to this way." 
 
 INTER. But met you with no opposition before you set out of doors ? 
 
 CHR. Yes, a neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timorous: she was akin to him that 
 would have persuaded my husband to go back for fear of the lions. She also befooled 
 me, for, as she called it, my intended desperate adventure ; she also urged what she 
 could to dishearten me from it, the hardships and troubles that my husband met with 
 in the way ; but all this I got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of two ill- 
 looking ones that I thought did plot how to make me miscarry in my journey, that 
 hath troubled me much ; yea, it still runs in my mind and makes me afraid of every 
 one that I meet, lest they should meet me to do me a mischief and to turn me out 
 of my way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would not have everybody know of 
 it, that, between this and the gate by which we got into the way, we were both so 
 sorely assaulted that we were made to cry out murder ; and the two that made this 
 assault upon us were like the two that I saw in my dream. 
 
 A question put Then said the Interpreter, " Thy beginning is good ; thy latter end 
 
 shall greatly increase." So he addressed himself to Mercy, and said unto 
 her, "And what moved thee to come hither, sweetheart ?" 
 
 Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while continued silent. 
 
234 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter, " Be not afraid ; only believe and speak thy mind." 
 
 So Mercy began, and said, ''Truly, sir, my want of experience is that which 
 makes me covet to be in silence, and that also that fills me with fears of coming short 
 at last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams as my friend Christiana can, nor know I 
 what it is to mourn for my refusing the counsel of those that were good relations." 
 
 INTER. What was it then, dear heart, that hath prevailed with thee to do as thou 
 hast done ? 
 
 MER. Why, when our friend here was packing up to be gone from our town, I 
 and another went accidentally to see her. So we knocked at the door and went in. 
 When we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we asked her what was her 
 meaning. She said she was sent for to go to her husband ; and then she up and told 
 us how she had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious place among immortals, 
 wearing a crown, playing upon a harp, eating 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, 
 ^nd will go, if I may, with Christiana unto her husband and his King. 
 
 INTER. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given credit to the truth ; thou art 
 a Ruth, who did, for the love she 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." 
 Ruth 2:11, 12. 
 
 Now supper was ended and preparation was made for bed; the women were 
 laid singly alone, and the boys by themselves. Now when Mercy was in Mercy's good 
 bed she could not sleep for joy, for that now her doubts of missing at last nigllt ' s rest ' 
 were removed further from her than ever they were before. So she lay blessing and 
 praising God who had such favor for her. 
 
 In the morning they arose with the sun and prepared themselves for their 
 departure ; but the Interpreter would have them tarry a while. " For," said he, " you 
 must orderly go from hence." Then said he to the damsel that first opened unto 
 them, " Take them and have them into the garden to the bath, and there The bath or 
 
 wash them and make them clean from the soil which they have gathered Sanctiflcation - 
 by travelling." Then Innocent, the damsel, took them and led them into the garden 
 and brought them to the bath ; so she told them that there they must wash and be 
 clean, for so her Master would have the women to do that called at his house as they 
 were going on pilgrimage. Then they went in and washed, yea, they and the boys 
 and all ; and they came out of that bath not only sweet and clean, but also much 
 
PILGRIM GARMENTS. 235 
 
 enlivened and strengthened in their joints. So when they came in they looked fairer 
 a deal than when they went out to the washing. 
 
 When they were returned out of the garden from the bath, the Interpreter took 
 them and looked upon them, and said unto them, " Fair as the moon." Then he 
 
 The piiorims ca ^ e( ^ for the seal wherewith they used to be sealed that were washed in 
 are sealed. ^jg bath. g o th e sea j was brought and he set his mark upon them, that 
 
 they might be known in the places whither they were yet to go. Now the seal was 
 the contents and sum of the passover which the children of Israel did eat, 
 Exod. 13:8-10, when they came out of the land of Egypt; and the mark was set 
 between their eyes. This seal greatly added to their beauty, for it was an ornament 
 to their faces. It also added to their gravity and made their countenances more like 
 those of angels. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that waited upon these women, 
 "Go into the vestry and fetch out garments for these people." So she went and 
 
 The ii rims fetched out white raiment and laid it down before him ; so he corn- 
 are clothed. manded them to put it on : it was fine linen, white and clean. When 
 the women were thus adorned, they seemed to be a terror one to the other; for that 
 they could not see that glory each one had in herself which they could see in each 
 True immiiity. other. Now therefore they began to esteem each other better than them- 
 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. 
 
MR- GREAT-HEART. 
 
HOW PARDON IS OBTAINED. 237 
 
 THE FOURTH STAGE. 
 
 THE Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great-heart, and bid 
 Great heart is hi m ta ^ e a swor d and helmet and shield, and, " Take these my daughters," 
 
 escort. said he . tt con d uc t them to the house called Beautiful, at which place they 
 will rest next." So he took his weapons and went before them; and the Interpreter 
 said "God speed." Those also that belonged to the family sent them away with 
 many a good wish. So they went on their way and sang, 
 
 This place hath been our second stage: 
 
 Here we have heard and seen 
 Those good things that from age to age 
 
 To others hid have been. 
 
 The dung-hill raker, spider, hen, 
 
 The chicken too, to me 
 Have taught a lesson : let me then 
 
 Conformed to it be. 
 
 The butcher, garden, and the field, 
 
 The robin and his bait, 
 Also the rotten tree, doth yield 
 
 Me argument of weight, 
 
 To move me for to watch and pray, 
 
 To strive to be sincere, 
 To take my cross up day by day, 
 
 And serve the Lord with fear. 
 
 Now I saw in my drearn. that these went on and Great-heart before them. So 
 they went and came to the place where Christian's burden fell off his back and 
 tumbled into a sepulchre. Here then they made a pause ; 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 some- 
 thing; but what it is to have pardon by deed, or in the way that it was obtained, 
 Mr. Great-heart, I suppose you know; wherefore, if you please, let us hear your 
 discourse thereof." 
 
 GREAT-HEART. Pardon by the deed done is pardon obtained by some one for 
 
 A comment an ther that hath need thereof ; not by the person pardoned, but in the 
 sal?" at v the gate* wa y> saith another, in which I have obtained it. So then, to speak to the 
 ourVing 'justified question more at large, the pardon that you and Mercy and these boys 
 have attained was obtained by Another ; to wit, by him that let you in at 
 the gate. And he hath obtained it in this double way ; he hath performed righteous- 
 ness to cover you, and spilt his blood to wash you in. 
 
 CHRISTIANA. But if he parts with his righteousness to us, what will he have for 
 himself ? 
 
238 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 GREAT. He has more righteousness than you have need of, or that he needeth 
 himself. 
 
 CHR. Pray make that appear. 
 
 GREAT. With all my heart : but first I must premise that He of whom we are 
 now about to speak is one that has not his fellow. He has two natures in one person, 
 plain to be distinguished, impossible to be divided. Unto each of these natures a 
 righteousness belongeth, and each righteousness is essential to that nature ; so that 
 one may as easily cause the nature to be extinct as to separate its justice or righteous- 
 ness from it. Of these righteousnesses, therefore, we are not made partakers so 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 distin- 
 guished from the Godhead ; but a righteousness which standeth in the union of both 
 natiires and may properly be called the righteousness that is essential to his being 
 prepared of God to the capacity of the mediatory office which he was intrusted with. 
 If he parts with his first righteousness, he parts with his Godhead ; if he parts with 
 his second righteousness, he parts with the purity of his manhood ; if he parts with 
 his third, he parts with that perfection which capacitates him for the office of media- 
 tion. He has therefore another righteousness, which standeth in performance or 
 obedience to a revealed will ; and that is what he puts upon sinners, and that by which 
 their sins are covered. Wherefore he saith, "As by one man's disobedience many were 
 made sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous." Rom. 5:19. 
 
 CHR. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us? 
 
 GREAT. Yes ; for though they are essential to his natures and office, and cannot 
 be communicated unto another, yet it is by virtue of them that the righteousness that 
 justifies is for that purpose efficacious. The righteousness of his Godhead giveth 
 virtue to his obedience ; the righteousness of his manhood giveth capability to his 
 obedience to justify ; and the righteousness that standeth in the union of these two 
 natures to his office giveth authority to that righteousness to do the work for which 
 it was ordained. 
 
 So then here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has no need of ; for he is God 
 without it. Here is a righteousness that Christ, as man, has no need of to make him 
 so ; for he is perfect man without it. Again, here is a righteousness that Christ, as 
 God-man, has no need of ; for he is perfectly so without it. Here then is a righteous- 
 ness that Christ, as God and as God-man, has no need of with reference to himself, 
 and therefore he can spare it ; a justifying righteousness that he for himself wanteth 
 not and therefore giveth it away. Hence it is called the gift of righteousness. 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. Rom. 5:17. Wherefore he must, or ought by the law, if he hath two 
 coats, to give one to him that hath none. Now our Lord indeed hath two coats, one 
 for himself and one to spare ; wherefore he freely bestows one upon those that have 
 
THE JO Y OF PARDON. 239 
 
 none. And thus, Christiana and Mercy and the rest of you that are here, doth your 
 pardon come by deed, or by the work of another man. Your Lord Christ is he that 
 worked and hath given away what he wrought for to the next poor beggar he 
 meets. 
 
 But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must something be paid to God as a 
 price as well as something prepared to cover us withal. Sin has delivered us up to 
 the just curse of a righteous law ; now from this curse we must be justified by way 
 of redemption, a price being paid for the harms we have done ; and this is by the 
 blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead and died your death 
 for your transgressions. Thus has he ransomed you from your transgressions by 
 blood, and covered your polluted and deformed souls with righteousness, Rom. 8: 34; 
 for the sake of which God passeth by you and will not hurt you when he comes to 
 judge the world. Gal. 3:13. 
 
 CUR. This is brave ! Now I see that there was something to be learned by our 
 Christiana af- bem g" pardoned by word and deed. Good Mercy, let us labor to keep this 
 S e<1 of w redemp s in min d ; and, my children, do you remember it also. But, sir, was not 
 this it that made my good Christian's burden fall from off his shoul- 
 ders, and that made him give three leaps for joy ? 
 
 HOW the cords GREAT. Yes, it was the belief of this that cut those string's that could 
 
 that fastened 
 
 Christian's bur- not be cut by other means; and it was to give him a proof of the virtue 
 
 /len to him were .,..,, 
 
 cut. of this that he was suffered to carry his burden to the cross. 
 
 CHR. I thought so ; for though my heart was lightsome and joyous before, yet it 
 is ten times more lightsome and joyous now. And I am persuaded by what I have 
 felt, though I have felt but little as yet, that if the most burdened man in the world 
 was here, and did see and believe as I now do, it would make his heart the more 
 merry and blithe. 
 
 GREAT. There is not only comfort and the ease of a burden brought to us by the 
 HOW affection sight and consideration of these, but an endeared affection begot in 
 
 to Christ is begot fe 
 
 us by it; for who can, if he doth but once think that pardon comes not 
 only by promise, but thus, but be affected with the way and means of his redemption, 
 and so with the Man that hath wrought it for him ? 
 
 CHR. True ; methinks it makes my heart bleed to think that He should bleed for 
 
 me. Oh, thou loving- One! Oh, thou blessed One! Thou deservest to have me; 
 
 cause or ad- t^ 1011 hast bought me. Thou deservest to have me all : thou hast paid 
 
 for me ten thousand times more than I am worth. No marvel that this 
 made the tears stand in my husband's eyes, and that it made him trudge so nimbly 
 on. I am persuaded he wished me with him ; but, vile wretch that I was, I let him 
 come all alone. Oh, Mercy, that thy father and mother were here; yea, and Mrs. 
 Timorous also ; nay, I wish now with all my heart that here was Madam Wanton too. 
 Surely, surely, their hearts would be affected ; nor could the fear of the one nor the 
 powerful lusts of the other prevail with them to go home again and refuse to become 
 good pilgrims. 
 
 GREAT. You speak now in the warmth of your affections : will it, think you, be 
 
240 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 always thus with you ? Besides, this is not communicated to every one, nor to every 
 one that did see your Jesus bleed. There were that stood by, and that saw the blood 
 run from his heart to the ground, and yet were so far off this that instead of lament- 
 ing: they laughed at him, and instead of becoming his disciples did TO be affected 
 
 n . ~ , , 1 with Christ and 
 
 harden their hearts against him. bo that all that you have, mv daugh- with what he has 
 
 i j -u i 1 * tlone ' is a tllin S 
 
 ters, you have by peculiar impression made by a divine contemplating special. 
 upon what I have spoken to you. Remember that 't was told you that the hen, by 
 her common call, gives no meat to her chickens. This you hav? therefore by a 
 special grace. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that they went on till they were come to the place that 
 Simple and Sloth and Presumption lay and slept in when Christian went by on 
 pilgrimage ; and behold they were hanged up in irons a little way off on the other 
 side. 
 
 Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor, " What simple, sioth, 
 
 and Presumption 
 
 are these three men ; and for what are they hanged there ? hanged; ami why. 
 
 GREAT. These three were men of bad qualities ; they had no mind to be pilgrims 
 themselves, and whomsoever they could 
 they hindered. They were sloth and folly 
 themselves and whomsoever they could 
 persuade they made so too, and withal 
 taught them to presume that they should 
 do well at last. They were asleep when 
 Christian went by; and now you go by, 
 they are hanged. 
 
 MER. But could they persuade any to 
 be of their opinion ? 
 
 GREAT. Yes, they turned several out of 
 the way. There was Slow-pace that they 
 persuaded to do as they. They also pre- 
 vailed with One Short -wind, Their crimes. 
 
 with one No-heart, with one Linger -after 
 lust, and with one Sleepy-head, and with a 
 young woman, her name was Dull, to turn 
 out of the way and become as they. Be- 
 sides they brought up an ill-report of your 
 Lord, persuading others that he was a hard 
 taskmaster. They also brought up an evil 
 report of the good land, saying it was not 
 half so good as some pretended it was. 
 They also began to vilify his servants and 
 to count the best of them meddlesome, 
 troublesome busybodies. Further, they would call the bread of God husks, the com 
 forts of his children fancies, the travel and labor of pilgrims things to no purpose. 
 
 SHORT WIND. 
 
PILGRIMS IN PRETENCE. 
 
 241 
 
 'Nay," said Christiana, "if they were 
 such, they should never be bewailed by me : 
 they have but what they deserve ; and I 
 think it is well that they stand so near the 
 highway that others may see and take 
 warning. But had it not been well if their 
 crimes had been engraven in some plate of 
 iron or brass, and left here where they did 
 their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad 
 men?" 
 
 GREAT. So it is, as you may well per- 
 ceive 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 favor 
 that they were hanged before we came 
 hither : who knows else what they might 
 have done to such poor women as we are ? 
 
 Then she turned it into a song, say- 
 ing, 
 
 NO-HEART. 
 
 "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 to 
 the foot of the hill Difficulty, where again 
 the good Mr. Great-heart took an occasion 
 to tell them what happened there when 
 Christian himself went by. So he had 
 them first to the spring. "Lo," saith he, 
 "this is the spring that Christian drank of 
 it is difficult before he went up this hill: 
 
 doctrine n K and then & was clear and 
 neous times. 
 
 SLEEPY-HEAD. 
 
 the feet of some that are not desirous that 
 pilgrims here should quench their thirst." 
 Ezek. 34: 1 8, 19. 
 
 Thereat Mercy said, "And why so en 
 vious, trow?" 
 
242 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " But," said their guide, "it will do if taken up and put into a vessel that is sweet 
 and good ; for then the dirt will sink to the bottom and the water come out by itself 
 more clear." Thus therefore Christiana and her 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 
 Formalist and Hypocrisy lost themselves. "And," said he, "these are dangerous 
 paths. Two were here cast away when Christian came by ; and although, The paths, 
 
 , . , ' vu -u j though barred up, 
 
 as you see, these ways are since stopped up with chains, posts, and a wm not keep an 
 ditch, yet there are those that will choose to adventure here rather than them, 
 take the pains to go up this hill." 
 
 CHR. " The way of transgressors is hard." Prov. 13:15. It is a wonder that they 
 can get into these ways without danger of breaking their necks. 
 
 GREAT. They will venture ; yea, if at any time any of the King's servants do 
 happen to see. them, and do call upon them and tell them that they are in the wrong 
 way and do bid them beware of the danger, then they railingly return them answer, 
 and say, "As for the word that thou hast 
 spoken unto us in the name of the King, 
 we will not hearken unto thee ; but we 
 will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth 
 out of our own mouth." Jer. 44: 1 6, 17. 
 Nay, if you look a little further you shall 
 see that these ways are made cautionary 
 enough, not only by these posts and 
 ditch and chain, but also by being 
 hedged up ; yet they will choose to go 
 there. 
 
 CIIR. They are idle; they love not 
 to take pains ; up-hill way is 
 
 pleasant to them. So it 
 fulfilled unto them as it 
 is written, " The way of the slothful man 
 is as a hedge of thorns." Prov. 15: 19. 
 Yea, they will rather choose to walk 
 upon a snare than to go up this hill and 
 the rest of this way to the city. 
 
 Then they set forward and began to 
 go up the hill, and up the hill they went. 
 But before they got to the top, Christi- 
 ana began to pant and said, The hjll puts 
 "I dare say this is a breath- the pilgrims to jt - 
 
 ing hill ; no marvel if they that love their ease more than their souls choose to them- 
 selves a smoother way." 
 
 The reason 
 why some do 
 choose to go in 
 by-ways. 
 
 HE TOOK THE LITTLE BOY BY THE HAND AND LED 
 HIM UP THERETO." 
 
REFRESHMENT BY THE WAY. 243 
 
 Then said Mercy, " I must sit down ;" also the least of the children began 
 to cry. 
 
 ''Come, come," said Great -heart, "sit not down here; for a little above is the 
 Prince's arbor." Then he took the little boy by the hand and led him up thereto. 
 
 They sit m the When they were come to the arbor, they were very willing to sit 
 
 arbor - down, for they were all in a pelting heat. Then said Mercy, " How 
 
 sweet is rest to them that labor, Matt. 1 1 : 28 ; and how good is the Prince of pilgrims 
 to provide such resting-places for them ! Of this arbor I have heard much ; but I 
 never saw it before. But here let us beware of sleeping ; for, as I have heard, it cost 
 poor Christian dear." 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart to the little ones, " Come, my pretty boys, how do you 
 do? What think you now of going on pilgrimage?" 
 
 "Sir," said the least, "I was almost beat out of heart; but I thank 
 
 1116 llttlC DOy S 
 
 guide er andaiso t to y ou ^ or lending me a hand at my need. And I remember now what my 
 Mercy. mother hath told me, namely, that the way to heaven is as a ladder, 
 
 and the way to hell is as down a hill. But I had rather go up the ladder to life than 
 down the hill to death." 
 
 Then said Mercy, " But the proverb is, 'To go down the hill is easy.' " 
 But James said (for that was his name), " The day is coming when, in my opinion, 
 going down the hill will be the hardest of all." 
 
 " 'Tis a good boy," said his master; "thou hast given her a right answer." Then 
 Mercy smiled, but the little boy did blush. 
 
 They refresh "Come," said Christiana, "will you eat a bit to sweeten your mouths 
 
 themselves. while you sit here to rest your legs ? for I have here a piece of pome- 
 
 granate which Mr. Interpreter put into my hand just when I came out of his door ; 
 he gave me also a piece of a 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," said Christiana, "it shall be still as I said 
 it should when at first we came from home ; thou shalt be a sharer in all the good that 
 I have, because thou so willingly didst become my companion." Then she gave to^ 
 them and they did eat, both Mercy and the boys. And said Christiana to Mr. Great 
 heart, "Sir, will you do as we?" 
 
 But he answered, "You are going on pilgrimage, and presently I shall return; 
 much good may what you have do you; at home I eat the same every day." 
 
244 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 THE FIFTH STAGE. 
 
 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 Christiana for- 
 forgot to take her bottle of spirits with her, so she sent her little boy spirits, 
 back to fetch it. 
 
 Then said Mercy, " I think this is a losing place ; here Christian lost his roll, and 
 here Christiana left her bottle behind her. Sir, what is the cause of this?" 
 
 So their guide made answer and said, " The cause is sleep, or forgetfulness : some 
 sleep when they should keep awake, and some forget when they should remember ; 
 and this is the very cause why often, at the resting-places, some pilgrims in some 
 things come off losers. Pilgrims should watch and remember what they have already 
 received under their greatest enjoyments ; but for want of doing so, often- Mark this, 
 times their rejoicing ends in tears and their sunshine in a cloud : witness the story of 
 Christian at this place." 
 
 When they were come to the place where Mistrust and Timorous met Christian 
 to persuadfe him to go back for fear of the lions, they perceived as it were a stage, and 
 before it, towards the road, a broad plate with a copy of verses written thereon, and 
 underneath the reason of raising up that stage in that place rendered. The verses 
 
 were, 
 
 " Let him that sees this stage take heed 
 
 Unto his heart and tongue ; 
 
 Lest, if he do not, here he speed 
 
 As some have long agone." 
 
 The words underneath the verses were, " This stage was built to punish those 
 upon who, through timorousness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go further on pilgrim- 
 age. Also, on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous were burned through the tongue 
 with a hot iron for endeavoring to hinder Christian on his journey." 
 
 Then said Mercy, " This is much like to the saying of the Beloved : ' What shall 
 be given unto thee, or what shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue ? Sharp arrows 
 of the mighty, with coals of juniper.' " Psa. 120 : 3, 4. 
 
 So they went on till they came within sight of the lions. Now Mr. Great-heart 
 was a strong man, so he was not afraid of a lion. But yet when they were come up to 
 the place where the lions were, the boys, that went before, were now glad to cringe 
 behind, for they were afraid of the lions ; so they stepped back and went An emblem of 
 
 "h^T-iinr! those tllat S on 
 
 L11U - bravely when 
 
 At this their guide smiled, and said, " How now, my boys ; do you tS'AjS^JSS 
 love to go before when no danger doth approach, and love to come be- trouble 
 hind so soon as the lions appear?" 
 
 Now, as they went on, Mr. Great-heart drew his sword with intent to make a way 
 
GRIM, THE GIANT, SLAIN. 
 
 245 
 
 for the pilgrims in spite of the lions, 
 or Grim, the Then there appeared one 
 
 giant, and of his . 1-1-1 
 
 backing the nous, 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 was of the race of the 
 giants. 
 
 Then said the pilgrims' guide, 
 " These women and children are going 
 on pilgrimage, and this is the way they 
 must go ; and go it they shall, in spite 
 of thee and the lions." 
 
 GRIM. This is not their way, neither 
 shall they go therein. I am come forth 
 to withstand them, and to that end will 
 back the lions. 
 
 Now, to say 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 grown over with grass. 
 
 Then said Christiana, " Though the highways have been unoccupied heretofore, 
 and though the travellers have been made in times past to walk through by-paths, it 
 must not be so now I am risen, now I am risen a mother in Israel." Judges 5 : 6, 7. 
 
 Then Grim swore by the lions that it should ; and therefore bid them turn aside, 
 for they should not have passage there. 
 A flght between But Great-heart their guide made first his approach unto Grim, and 
 
 Grim and Great- ., . > r i t 
 
 heart. laid so heavily on him with his sword that he forced him to retreat. 
 
 Then said he that attempted to back the lions, " Will you slay me upon my own 
 ground?" 
 
 GREAT. It is the King's highway that we are in, and in this way it is that thou 
 hast placed the lions ; but these women and these children, though weak, shall hold 
 .on their way in spite of thy lions. 
 
 And with that he gave him again a downright blow and brought him upon his 
 knees. With this blow also he broke his helmet, and with the next he cut off an arm. 
 Then did the giant roar so hideously that his voice frightened the women, and yet 
 TUB victory, 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." 
 
 "SO THEY STEPPED BACK AND WENT BEHIND.*' 
 
GIANT GRIM. 
 
WELCOMED AT THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL, 247 
 
 They pass by They therefore went on, but the women trembled as they passed by 
 
 the Hons. them ; the boys also looked as if they would die ; but they all got by 
 
 without further hurt. 
 
 Now, when they were within sight of the porter's lodge, they soon came up unto 
 it ; but they made the more haste after this to go thither, because it is dangerous 
 They come to travelling there in the night. So when they were come to the gate the 
 the porter's lodge. g U ide knocked, and the porter cried, " Who is there?" 
 
 But as soon as the guide had said, " It is I," he knew his voice and came down, 
 for the guide had oft before that come thither as a conductor of pilgrims. 
 
 When he was come down he opened the gate, and seeing the guide standing just 
 before it (for he saw not the women, for they were behind him), he said unto him, 
 " How now, Mr. Great-heart, what is your business here so late at night ?" 
 
 "I have brought," said he, "some pilgrims hither, where, by my Lord's com- 
 mandment, 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." 
 
 FOR. Will you not go in and stay till morning? 
 Great-heart at- GREAT. No, I will return to my Lord to-night. 
 
 tempts to go back. CHR. O sir, I know not how to be willing you should leave us in our 
 
 pilgrimage. You have been so faithful and so loving to us, you have fought so stoutly 
 for us, you have been so hearty in counselling of us, that I shall never forget your 
 favor towards us. 
 
 The pilgrims Then said Mercy, " Oh, that we might have thy company to our jour- 
 
 implore his com- 111,- rur 
 
 pany stiii. ney s end ! How can such poor women as we hold out in a way so lull or 
 
 troubles as this way is, without a friend and defender?" 
 
 Then said James, the youngest of the boys, " Pray, sir, be persuaded to go with 
 us and help us, because we are so weak and the way so dangerous as it is." 
 
 GREAT. I am at my Lord's commandments; if he shall allot me to be your guide 
 Help mst for quite through, I will willingly wait upon you. But here you failed at 
 
 wantofaski r ^^ _ ^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ cQme ^^ ^ ^^ yo ^ then y(m should haye 
 
 begged me of him to have gone quite through with you, and he would have granted 
 your request. However, at present I must withdraw ; and so, good Christiana, Mercy, 
 and my brave children, adieu. 
 
 Then the porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her country and of her kin- 
 dred. And she said, " I came from the city of Destruction. I am a widow woman, 
 and my husband is dead ; his name was Christian the pilgrim." 
 
 " How," said the porter, " was he your husband ?" 
 
 " Yes," said she, " and these are his children ; and this," pointing to Mercy, " is 
 one of my townswomen." 
 
 Then the porter rang his bell, as at such times he was wont, and there came to 
 the door one of the damsels, whose name was Humble-mind; and to her the porter 
 joy at the news said, " Go tell it within that Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her 
 pilgrim9 ' children, are come hither on pilgrimage." She went in therefore and 
 
248 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 told it. But oh, what noise for gladness was there within when the damsel did but 
 drop that 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 companions. Now 
 when they were gone in they were had into a large room where they were bidden tc 
 sit down ; so they sat down and the chief of the house were called to see and welcome 
 the guests. Then they came in, and understanding who they were, did Christians' love 
 salute each other with a kiss, and said, " Welcome, ye vessels of the grace ^g^^o^oue an- 
 of God ; welcome to us, your friends." other * 
 
 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, 
 they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to go to rest. 
 
 " Nay," said those of the family, " refresh yourselves first with a morsel of meat;" 
 for they had prepared for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce belonging thereto, 
 Exod. 12:21 ; John 1:29; for the porter had heard before of their coming, and had 
 told it to them within. So when they had supped and ended their prayer with a 
 psalm, they desired they might go to rest. 
 
 " But let us," said Christiana, " if we may be so bold as to choose, be in that cham- 
 ber that was my husband's when he was here ;" so they had them up thither, and they 
 all lay in a room. When they were at rest, Christiana and Mercy entered into dis- 
 course about things that were convenient. 
 
 CHR. Little did I think once, when my husband went on pilgrimage, Christ's bosom 
 that I should have followed him. is for an pilgrims. 
 
 MER. And you as little thought of lying in his bed and in his chamber to rest, as 
 you do now. 
 
 CHR. And much less did I ever think of seeing his face with comfort, and of 
 worshipping the Lord the King with him ; and yet now I believe I shall. 
 
 MER. Hark ; do n't you hear a noise ? 
 
 CHR. Yes ; it is, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy that we are here. Music. 
 
 MER. Wonderful! Music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in 
 heaven, for joy that we are here. 
 
 Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to sleep. 
 
 So in the morning when they were awake, Christiana said to Mercy, Mercy ]aughea 
 " What was the matter, that you did laugh in your sleep to-night ? I sup- in her 8leep * 
 pose you were in a dream." 
 
 MER. So I was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are you sure I laughed? 
 
 CHR. Yes, you laughed heartily ; but prithee, Mercy, tell me thy dream. 
 
 MER. I was dreaming that I sat all alone in a solitary place, and was Mercy's dream, 
 bemoaning of the hardness of my heart. Now I had not set 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 
 
MERCY'S COMFORTING DREAM. 
 
 249 
 
 dream was. 
 
 laughed at me, some called me a fool, and 
 some began to thrust me about. With that, 
 what Mercys methought I looked up and 
 saw one coming with wings 
 towards me. So he came directly to me, 
 and said, " Mercy, what aileth thee ?" 
 
 Now when he had heard me make 
 my complaint, he said, " Peace be to thee ;" 
 he also wiped my eyes with his handker- 
 chief and clad me in silver and gold. 
 Ezek. 16 : 8-1 1. He put a chain about my 
 neck and ear-rings in my 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 fol- 
 lowed 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 hus- 
 band there ; so I awoke from my dream. But did I laugh ? 
 
 CHR. Laugh ? Ay, and well you might to see yourself so well. For you must 
 give me leave to tell you that it was a good dream, and that as you have begun to 
 find the first part true, so you shall find the second at last. " God speaks once, yea, 
 twice, yet man perceiveth it not ; in a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep 
 falleth upon men in slumberings upon the bed." Job 33: 14, 15. We need not, when 
 abed, to lie awake to talk with God ; he can visit us while we sleep and cause us then 
 to hear his voice. Our heart oftentimes wakes when we sleep, and God can speak to 
 that either by words, by proverbs, by signs and similitudes, as well as if one was awake. 
 Mercy giad of MER. Well, I am glad of my dream ; for I hope erelong to see it ful- 
 
 her dream. fiUed> tQ the making . me laugh again . 
 
 CHR. I think it is now high time to rise and to know what we must do. 
 
 MER. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us willingly accept of the proffer. 
 I am the more willing to stay a while here, to grow better acquainted with these maids ; 
 methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity have very comely and sober countenances. 
 
 CHR. We shall see what they will do. 
 
 So when they were up and ready, they came down, and they asked one another of 
 their rest, and if it was comfortable or not. 
 
 "Very good," said Mercy; "it was one of the best night's lodgings that ever I 
 had in my life." 
 
 32 
 
 "l WENT ON BKMOANING THE HARDNESS OF MY HEART." 
 
250 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Then said Prudence and Piety, " If you will be persuaded to stay here a while, 
 you shall have what the house will afford." 
 
 " Ay, and that with a very good will," said Charity. They stay here 
 
 So they consented and stayed there about a month or above, and be- 80me tune> 
 came very profitable one to another. And because Prudence would see how Chris- 
 tiana had brought up her children, she asked leave of her to catechize prudence desires 
 
 to catecliize Chris- 
 
 them. So she gave her free consent. tiaua's children. 
 
 Then she began with the youngest, whose name was James. 
 
 PRUDENCE. Come, James, canst thou tell me who made thee? James catechized. 
 
 JAMES. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. 
 
 PRUD. Good boy. And canst thou tell me who saved 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 commended for thus bringing 
 up your children. I suppose I need not ask the rest these questions, since the young- 
 est of them can answer them so well. I will therefore now apply myself to the next 
 youngest." 
 
 Then Prudence said, "Come, Joseph," for his name was Joseph, Joseph catechized, 
 "will you let me catechize you?" 
 
 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, 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 ? 
 
 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 so loving to man as to pull him indeed 
 out of this miserable state. 
 
 PRUD. What is God's design in saving poor men ? 
 
 JOSEPH. The glorifying of his name, of his grace and justice, etc., and the ever- 
 lasting happiness of his creature. 
 
 PRUD. Who are they that will be saved ? 
 
 JOSEPH. They that accept of his salvation. 
 
 PRUD. Good boy, Joseph ; thy mother hath taught thee well, and thou hast heark- 
 ened unto what she has said unto thee. 
 
 Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest but one, " Come, samuei catechized. 
 Samuel, are you willing that I should catechize you ?" 
 
252 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 SAMUEL. Yes, forsooth, if you please. 
 
 PRUD. What is heaven ? 
 
 SAM. A place and state most blessed, because God dwelleth there. 
 
 PRUD. What is hell? 
 
 SAM. A place and state most woful, because it is the dwelling-place of sin, the 
 devil, and death. 
 
 PRUD. Why wouldest thou go to heaven? 
 
 SAM. That I may see God and serve him without weariness ; that I may sec 
 Christ and love him everlastingly ; that I may have that fulness of the Holy Spirit in 
 me which I can by no means here enjoy. 
 
 PRUD. A very good boy, and one that has learned well. 
 
 Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose name was Matthew ; Matthew catechized, 
 and she said to him, " Come, Matthew, shall I also catechize you?" 
 
 MATTHEW. With a very good will. 
 
 PRUD. 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 God is eternal 
 himself, that had a being until the beginning of the first day. For *? d an Sfn^Cd 
 in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in f 
 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 places therein that you do not under- 
 stand ? 
 
 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 teach you more. You must also diligently give ear to what good talk PriKlence , s con . 
 you shall hear from others ; for your sakes do they speak good things. ffiSSsffrf tile 
 Observe also, and that with carefulness, what the heavens and the earth l 
 do teach you ; but especially be much in the meditation of that book which was the 
 cause of your father's becoming a pilgrim. I, for my part, my children, will teach 
 you what I can while you are here, and shall be glad if you will ask me questions that 
 tend to godly edifying." 
 
 Now by that these pilgrims had been at this place a week, Mercy had a visitor 
 that pretended some good-will unto her, and his name was Mr. Brisk, a Mercy has a 
 man of some breeding, and that pretended to religion, but a man that sweetheart 
 
MERCY'S SUITOR, MR 
 
254 
 
 PIL GRIM 'S PROGRESS. 
 
 stuck very close to the world. So he came once or twice or more to Mercy and 
 offered love unto her. 
 
 Now Mercy was of a fair countenance, and therefore the more alluring. Her 
 mind also was to be always busying of herself in doing ; for when she had nothing to 
 do for herself, she would be making hose and garments for others, and would bestow 
 them upon those that had need. And Mr. Brisk, not knowing where or how she dis- 
 posed 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. 
 
 Mercv then revealed the business to the maidens that were of the Mercy inquires 
 
 J .............. of the maids con- 
 
 house, and inquired of them concerning him, for they did know him ceming Mr. Brisk, 
 better than she. So they told her that he was a very busy young man, and one who 
 pretended to religion, but was, as they feared, a stranger to the power of that which 
 is good. 
 
 " Nay, then," said Mercy, " I will look no more on him, for I purpose never to 
 have a clog to my soul." 
 
 Prudence then replied that there needed no matter of great 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, making Talk between 
 
 Mercy and Mr. 
 
 things for the poor. Then said he, "What, always at it?" unst. 
 
 "Yes," said she, "either for myself or for others," 
 
 "And what canst thou earn a day?" said he. 
 
 " I do these things," said she, "that I may be rich in good works, laying up in 
 store for myself a good foundation against the time to come, that I may lay hold on 
 eternal life." i Tim. 6: 17-19. 
 
 " Why, prithee, what doest thou with them ?" said he. 
 
 "Clothe the naked," said she. With that his countenance fell. So H e forsakes her, 
 he forbore to come at her again. And when he was asked the reason aildwh y- 
 why, he said that Mercy was a pretty lass, but troubled with ill conditions. 
 
 When he had left her Prudence said, " Did I not tell thee that Mercy m the 
 Mr. Brisk would soon forsake thee ? Yea, he will raise up an ill report of is rejected, while 
 
 . -11. . Mercy in the name 
 
 thee : for, notwithstanding his pretence to religion and his seeming love of mercy is iiked. 
 to Mercy, yet Mercy and he are of tempers so different that I believe they will 
 never come together." 
 
 MER. I might have had husbands before now, though I spoke 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 but 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. 
 
 "Well," said Mercy, "if nobody will have me, I will die unmarried, Mer cy's resoiu- 
 or my conditions shall be to me as a husband, for I cannot change my tlon- 
 nature ; and to have one who lies cross to me in this, that I purpo.se never to admit 
 of as long as I live. I had a sister named Bountiful that was married to one of these 
 
MR. SKILL, AN ANCIENT AND WELL-APPROVED PHYSICIAN. 
 
256 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 churls, but he and she could never agree ; but because my sister was resolved tc 
 do as she had begun, that is. to show kindness to the poor, therefore HOW Mercy's 
 
 . sister was served 
 
 her husband first cried her down at the cross and then turned her out of by uer husband. 
 his doors." 
 
 PRUD. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you. 
 
 MER. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as he the world is now full ; but I 
 am for none of them all. 
 
 Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, and his sickness Matthew fans 
 was sore upon him, for he was much pained in his bowels, so that he was sick- 
 with it at times pulled as it were both ends together. There dwelt also not far from 
 thence one Mr. Skill, an ancient and well-approved physician. So Christiana desired 
 it and they sent for him and he came. When he was entered the room and had a 
 little observed the boy he concluded that he was sick of the gripes. Gl . ipes of con . 
 Then he said to his mother, " What diet has Matthew of late fed upon ?" 
 
 " Diet?" said Christiana, " Nothing but what is wholesome." 
 
 The physician answered, " This boy has been tampering with some- T1 , e pnysiclan > 8 
 thing that lies in his stomach undigested, and that will not away without J U(1 s meut - 
 means. And I tell you he must be purged or else he will die." 
 
 Then said Samuel, " Mother, what was that which my brother did 
 
 &U,milCI plllS IllS 
 
 gather up and eat as soon as we were come from the gate that is at the jjj *^ ^"^ 
 head of this way ? You know that there was an orchard on the left hand brother did eat> 
 on the other side of the wall, and some of the trees hung over the wall, and my 
 brother did pluck and eat." 
 
 " True, my child," said Christiana, " he did take thereof and did eat : naughty 
 boy as he was, I chid him, and yet he would eat thereof." 
 
 SKILL. I knew he had eaten something that was not wholesome food ; and that 
 food, to wit, that fruit, is even the most hurtful of all. It is the fruit of Beelzebub's 
 orchard. I do marvel that none did warn you of it ; many have died thereof. 
 
 Then Christiana began to cry ; and she said, " Oh, naughty boy ! and, oh, care- 
 less mother ! What shall I do for my son ?" 
 
 SKILL. Come, do not be too much dejected ; the boy may do well again, but he 
 must purge and vomit. 
 
 CHR. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, whatever it costs. 
 
 SKILL. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. 
 
 So he made him a purge, but it was too weak ; it was said it was made of the 
 blood of a goat, the ashes of a heifer, and some of the juice of hyssop. Heb. 9:13, 19 ; 
 10:1-4. When Mr. Skill had seen that that purge was too weak he The Latin i 
 made one to the purpose. It was made ex carne et sanguine Christi* 
 John 6:54-57; Heb. 9:14 (you know physicians give strange medicine to their 
 patients): and it was made into pills with a promise or two and a proportionate 
 quantity of salt. Mark 9 : 49. Now, he was to take them three at a time, fasting, in 
 half a quarter of a pint of the tears of repentance. Zech. 12 : 10. 
 
 * Of the flesh and blood of Christ. 
 
THE UNIVERSAL REMEDY. 257 
 
 The boy loath When the potion was prepared and brought to the boy he was loath 
 
 to take the physic. to take ^ though torn with the gripes ag if he should be pulled to pieces. 
 
 "Come, come," 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. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said Christiana to Mr. Skill, "how does it taste?" 
 
 " It has no ill taste," said the doctor; and with that she touched one of the pills 
 
 The mother with the tip of her tongue. 
 
 tastes it and per- . .. 
 
 suadesMm. "Oh, Matthew, said she, "this potion is sweeter than honey. If 
 
 thou lovest thy mother, if thou lovest thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest 
 thy life, take it." So with much ado, after a short prayer for the blessing of God 
 upon it, he took it, and it wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge; it 
 caused him to sleep and to rest quietly ; it put him into a fine heat and breathing 
 A word of God sweat, and did quite rid him of his gripes. So in a little time he got up 
 
 in the hand of 
 
 faith. and walked about with a staff, and would go from room to room and talk 
 
 with Prudence, Piety, and Charity of his distemper and how he was healed. 
 
 So when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, saying, " Sir, what will 
 content you for your pains and care to and of my child ?" 
 
 And he said, " You must pay the Master of the College of Physicians, Heb. 
 13 : 11-15, according to rules made in that case and provided." 
 
 " But, sir," said Christiana, " what is this pill good for else?" 
 
 The pin a uni- SKILL. It is a universal pill ; it is good against all the diseases that 
 pilgrims are incident to ; and when it is well prepared it will keep good 
 time out of mind. 
 
 CHR. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of them, for if I get these I will never 
 take other physic. 
 
 SKILL. These pills are good to prevent diseases as well as to cure when one is 
 sick. Yea, I dare say it, and stand to it, that if a man will but use this physic as he 
 should, it will make him live for ever. John 6:51. But, good Christiana, thou must 
 give these pills no other way but as I have prescribed ; for if you do they will do no 
 good. 
 
 So he gave unto Christiana physic for herself and her boys and for Mercy ; and 
 bid Matthew take heed how he ate any more green plums; and kissed them and 
 went his way. 
 
 It was told you before that Prudence bid the boys, that if at any time they would, 
 they should ask her some questions that might be profitable, and she would say some- 
 thing to them. 
 
 Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her why for the most part physic 
 of physic. should be bitter to our palates. 
 
 PRUD. To show how unwelcome the Word of God and the effects thereof are to 
 a carnal heart. 
 
 MATT. Why does physic, if it does good, purge and cause to vomit? 
 
 33 
 
258 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 PRUD. To show that the Word, when it works effectually, cleanse th the heart 
 and mind. For look, what the one doth to the body the other doth to the soul. 
 
 MATT. What should we learn by seeing the flame of our fire go up- of flre and Ol 
 wards, and by seeing the beams and sweet influences of the sun strike tllc sun- 
 downwards ? 
 
 PRUD. By the going up of the fire we are taught to ascend to heaven by fervent 
 and hot desires. And by the sun sending his heat, beams, and sweet influences 
 downwards, we are taught that the Saviour of the world, though high, reaches down 
 with his grace and love to us below. 
 
 MATT. Whence have the clouds their water ? ortiieciouds. 
 
 PRUD. Out of the sea. 
 
 MATT. What may we learn from that ? 
 
 PRUD. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from God. 
 
 MATT. Why do they empty themselves upon the earth ? 
 
 PRUD. To show that ministers should give out what they know of God to the world. 
 
 MATT. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun ? or uie rainbow. 
 
 PRUD. To show that the covenant of God's grace is confirmed to us in Christ. 
 
 MATT. Why do the springs come from the sea to us through the or tne springs. 
 earth ? 
 
 PRUD. To show that the grace of God comes 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 ? or the canaie. 
 
 PRUD. To show that unless grace doth kindle upon the heart there will be no 
 true light of life in us. 
 
 MATT. Why are the wick and tallow and all spent to maintain the light of the 
 candle ? 
 
 PRUD. To show that body and soul and all should be at the service of, and spend 
 themselves to maintain in good condition, that grace of God that is in us. 
 
 MATT. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast with her bill ? or tiie pelican. 
 
 PRUD. To nourish her young ones with her blood, and thereby to show that 
 Christ the blessed so loved his young (his people) as to save them from death by his 
 blood. 
 
 MATT. What may one learn by hearing the cock crow? or the cock. 
 
 PRUD. Learn to remember Peter's sin and Peter's repentance. The cock's crow- 
 ing shows also that day is coming on : let then the crowing of the cock put thee in 
 mind of that last and terrible day of judgment. 
 
 Now about this time their month was out ; wherefore they signified to those of 
 the house that it was convenient for them to up and be going. Then The weak may 
 said Joseph to his mother, " It is proper that you forget not to send to the tiT eti ron g a to 
 house of Mr. Interpreter, to pray him to grant that Mr. Great-heart P ra r ers - 
 should be sent unto us, that he may be our conductor for the rest of the way." 
 
MORE WONDERS SHOWN. 259 
 
 " 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 had a purpose to go for- 
 
 ey provide ward, they called the whole house together, to give thanks to their King 
 
 way. for sending of them such profitable guests as these. Which done, they 
 
 said unto Christiana, "And shall we not show thee something, as our custom is to do 
 to pilgrims, on which thou mayest meditate when thou art upon the way?" So they 
 took Christiana, her children, and Mercy into the closet and showed them one of the 
 Eve's apple, apples that Eve ate of, and that she also did give to her husband, and 
 that for the eating of which they were both turned out of paradise, and asked her 
 what she thought that was. 
 
 A sight of sin Then Christiana said, " It is food or poison, I know not which." So 
 is amazing. ^y O p ene< j the matter to her and she held up her hands and wondered. 
 Gen. 3:6; Rom. 7 : 24. 
 
 Jacob's ladder. Then they had her to a place and showed her Jacob's ladder. Gen. 
 
 28: 12. Now at that time there were some angels ascending upon it. So Christiana 
 looked and looked to see the angels go up : so did the rest of the company. Then 
 they were going into another place to show them something else ; but James said to 
 A sight or hi s mother, " Pray, bid them stay here a little longer, for this is a curious 
 chnst is taking, sight." So they turned again and stood feeding their eyes with this so 
 pleasant a prospect. 
 
 The golden 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 shall 
 
 have it with you, for it is of absolute necessity that you should, that you may lay 
 
 hold of that within the veil, Heb. 6: 19, and stand steadfast in case you should meet 
 
 with turbulent weather," Joel 3 : 16; so they were glad thereof. 
 
 Then they took them and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our 
 of Abraham of- father offered up Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the wood, the 
 fenng up Isaac. g re ^ an( ^ ^g k n jf e> f or they remain to be seen to this very day. Gen. 
 22:9. When they had seen it they held up their hands and blessed themselves, and 
 said, " Oh, what a man for love to his Master and for denial to himself was 
 Abraham !" 
 
 After they had showed them all these things, Prudence took them into a dining- 
 prudence's r o m > where stood a pair of excellent virginals;* so she played upon 
 virginals. 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. 
 * A musical instrument. 
 
26o PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 An anchor you received have ; 
 
 But let not these suffice, 
 Until with Abraham you give 
 
 Your best a sacrifice." 
 
 Now about this time one knocked at the door ; so the porter opened, and behold 
 Mr. Great-heart was there. But when he was come in what joy was Ml . Great . heart 
 there! for it came now afresh again into their minds how but awhile comesa K ain - 
 ago he had slain old Grim Bloodyman the giant and had delivered them from the 
 lions. 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy, " My Lord has ne brings a to 
 sent each of you a bottle of wine, and also some parched corn, together mta wm. " s 
 with a couple of pomegranates ; he has also sent the boys some figs and raisins ; to 
 refresh you in your way." 
 
 Then they addressed themselves to their journey, and Prudence and Piety went 
 along with them. When they came to the gate Christiana asked the porter if any 
 of late went by. He said, " No ; only one some time since, who also told me that of 
 late there had been a great robbery committed on the King's highway as you go. 
 But," said he, " the thieves are taken and will shortly be tried for their lives." 
 
 Then Christiana and Mercy were afraid; but Matthew said, " Mother, fear nothing, 
 as long as Mr. Great-heart is to go with us and to be our conductor." 
 
 Then said Christiana to the porter, " Sir, I am much obliged to you for all the 
 kindnesses that you have showed to me since I came hither, and also Christiana takes 
 
 , . ..,.-, -.-IT Ti ner l eav e of the 
 
 for that you have been so loving and kind to my children. I know not porter. 
 
 how to gratify your kindness; wherefore, pray, as a token of my respect to you, 
 
 accept of this small mite." 
 
 So she put a gold angel in his hand ; and he made her a low obeisance, and said, 
 " Let thy garments be always white ; and let thy head want no ointment." The porter , 8 
 Eccl. 9:8. " Let Mercy live and not die, and let not her works be few." bleS8m s- 
 Deut. 33:6. And to the boys he said, " Do you fly youthful lusts, and follow after 
 godliness with them that are grave and wise, 2 Tim. 2 : 22 ; 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. 
 
THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 261 
 
 THE SIXTH STAGE. 
 
 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 favor is 
 
 So frankly showed to me 
 That in thy house for evermore 
 My dwelling-place shall be." 
 
 And listening still she thought she heard another answer it, saying, 
 
 "For why? The Lord our God is good ; 
 
 His mercy is for ever sure ; 
 His truth at all times firmly stood, 
 And shall from age to age endure." 
 
 So Christiana asked Prudence who it was that made those curious notes. Song 
 2:11, 12. "They are," answered she, "our country birds: they sing these notes but 
 seldom, except it be at the spring when the flowers appear and the sun shines warm, 
 and then you may hear them all day long. I often," said she, " go out to hear them ; 
 we also ofttimes keep them tame in our house. They are very fine company for us 
 when we are melancholy ; also they make the woods and groves and solitary places, 
 places desirable to be in." 
 
 piety bestoweth By this time Piety was come again. So she said to Christiana, 
 
 something on them . 
 
 at parting. " Look here ; I have brought thee a scheme of all those things that thou 
 
 hast seen at our house upon which thou mayest look when thou findest thyself forget- 
 ful, and call those again to remembrance for thy edification and comfort." 
 
 Now they began to go down the hill into the valley of Humiliation. It was a 
 steep hill, and the way was slippery ; but they were very careful, so they got 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 
 your guide and conductor, we hope you will fare the better." So when these two had 
 committed the pilgrims unto the conduct of their guide, he went forward and they 
 went after. 
 Mr. Great-heart Then said Mr. Great-heart, " We need not be so afraid of this valley, 
 
 at the valley of ... . _ . 
 
 Humiliation. for here is nothing to hurt us unless we procure it to ourselves. It is 
 true Christian did here meet with Apollyon, with whom he also had a sore combat ; 
 
262 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 *>, 
 
 reason wliy 
 
 but that fray was the fruit of those slips which he got in his going down the hill ; foi 
 they that get slips there must look for combats here. And hence it is that this valley 
 
 has got so hard a name. For the common 
 people, when they hear that some fright- 
 ful thing has befallen such a one in such 
 a place, are of the opinion that that place 
 is haunted with some foul fiend or evil 
 spirit, when, alas, it is for the fruit of 
 their own doing that such 
 things do befall them there. 
 This valley of Humiliation is of Humiliatio - 
 of itself as fruitful a place as any the crow 
 flies over ; and I am persuaded if we could 
 hit upon it, we might find somewhere 
 hereabouts something that might give us 
 an account why Christian was so hardly 
 beset in this place." 
 
 Then said James to his mother, " Lo, 
 yonder stands a pillar, and it looks as if 
 something was written thereon ; let us go 
 and see what it is." So they A pillar with an 
 went, and found there writ- insci n i' on jt - 
 ten, " Let Christian's slips before he came 
 hither, and the battles that he met with in 
 
 IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 
 
 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 disparagement to Christian 
 more than to any others whose hap and lot it was. For it is easier going up than 
 down this hill, and that can be said but of few hills in all these parts of the world. 
 But we will leave the good man ; he is at rest. He also had a brave victory over his 
 enemy. Let Him 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 This valley a 
 best and most fruitful piece of ground in all these parts. It is fat ground, brave place- 
 and, as you see, consisteth much in meadows ; and if a man was to come here in the 
 summer-time, as we do now, if he knew not anything before thereof, and if he also 
 delighted himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that which would be delight- 
 ful to him. Behold how green this valley is, also how beautiful with lilies. Song 2:1. 
 I have known many laboring men that have got good estates in this valley of Humil- 
 iation ; for God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble. Men thrive m 
 James 4:6; i Pet. 5:5. Indeed, it is a very fruitful soil, and doth bring mutation. 
 
"AND AS HE SAT BY HIMSELF HE SANG. ; 
 
264 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 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 is an end." 
 
 Now, as they were going along and talking, they espied a boy feeding his father's 
 sheep. The boy was in very mean clothes, but of a fresh and well-favored counte- 
 nance ; and as he sat by himself he sung. 
 
 " Hark," said Mr. Great-heart, " to what the shepherd's boy saith." 
 
 So they hearkened, and he said, 
 
 " He that is down, needs fear no fall ; 
 
 He that is low, no pride : 
 He that is humble, ever shall 
 Have God to be his guide. 
 
 "I am content with what I have, 
 
 Little be it or much ; 
 And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 
 Because thou savest such. 
 
 "Fulness to such a burden is 
 
 That go on pilgrimage ; 
 Here little, and hereafter bliss, 
 Is best from age to age." 
 
 Then said the guide, " Do you hear him ? I will dare to say 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. He loved cimst, when in 
 much to be here. He loved also to walk these meadows, for he found counn-y-iioii.se \\\ 
 
 the valley of Hu- 
 
 the air was pleasant. Besides, here a man shall be free from the noise mmation. 
 and from the hurryings of this life. All states are full of noise and confusion ; only 
 the valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place. Here a man shall not be 
 so let and hindered in his contemplation as in other places he is apt to be. This is a 
 valley that nobody walks in but those that love a pilgrim's life. And though Chris- 
 tian had the hard hap to meet here with Apollyon, and to enter with him in a brisk 
 encounter, yet I must tell you that in former times men have met with angels here, 
 Hosea 12:4, 5, have found pearls here, Matt. 13 146, and have in this place found the 
 words of life, Prov. 8:35. 
 
 " Did I say our Lord had here in former days his country-house, and that he loved 
 here to walk ? I will add that in this place, and to the people that love and trace 
 these grounds, he has left a yearly revenue, to be faithfully paid them at certain 
 seasons, for their maintenance by the way, and for their further encouragement to go 
 on in their pilgrimage." 
 
 Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. Great-heart, " Sir, I perceive that in 
 this valley my father and Apollyon had their battle; but whereabout was the fight? 
 for I perceive this valley is large." 
 
 QREAT. Your father had the battle with Apollyon at a place yonder before us, in 
 
CHRISTIAN'S BA TTLE-GRO UND. 265 
 
 Forgetful green, a narrow passage, just beyond Forgetful green. And indeed that place 
 is the most dangerous place in all these parts. For if at any time pilgrims meet with 
 any brunt, it is when they forget what favors they have received and how unworthy 
 they are of them. This is the place also where others have been hard put to it. But 
 more of the place when we are come to it ; for I persuade myself that to this day there 
 remains either some sign of the battle or some monument to testify that such a battle 
 there was fought. 
 
 Humility a sweet 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 coaches nor rumbling 
 with wheels. Methinks here one may, without much molestation, be thinking what 
 he is, whence he came, what he has done, and to what the King has called him. Here 
 one may think and break at heart and melt in one's spirit, until one's eyes become as 
 the fish-pools in Heshbon. Song 7 : 4. They that go rightly through this valley of 
 Baca make it a well ; the rain that God sends down from heaven upon them that are 
 here also filleth the pools. This valley is that from whence also the King will give 
 to his their vineyards ; and they that go through it shall sing, as Christian did, for all 
 he met with Apollyon." Psa. 84 : 5-7 ; Hosea 2:15. 
 
 GREAT. 'Tis true; I have gone through this valley many a time, and never 
 was better than when here. I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims 
 and they have confessed the same. "To this man will I look," saith the King, 
 "even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit and trembleth at my word." 
 Isa. 66 : 2. 
 
 Now they were come to the place where the aforementioned battle was fought. 
 
 rue place where Then said the guide to Christiana, her children, and Mercy, " This is the 
 
 Christian and the , , . J 
 
 tien.i did fight. place ; on this ground Christian stood, and up there came Apollyon 
 against him. And look, did I not 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 
 places 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 
 somesi^nsof other ; how also with their by-blows they did split the very stones in 
 the battle remain. pj eceS- Verily, Christian did here play the man, and showed himself as 
 stout as Hercules could, had he been here, even he himself. When Apollyon was 
 beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called the valley of the Shadow 
 A monument of ^ Death, unto which we shall come anon. Lo, yonder also stands a mon- 
 christian's victory. umen t, on which is engraven this battle and Christian's victory, to his 
 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 : 
 
 " Hard by here was a battle fought, 
 Most strange and yet most true; 
 Christian and Apollyon sought 
 * Each other to subdue. 
 
 34 
 
266 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 The man so bravely played the man, 
 
 He made the fiend to fly ; 
 Of which a monument I stand, 
 
 The same to testify." 
 
 When they had passed by this place they came upon the borders of the Shadow 
 of Death. This valley was longer than the other, a place also most strangely haunted 
 with evil things, as many are able to testify : but these women and children went the 
 better through it because they had daylight and because Mr. Great-heart was their 
 conductor. 
 
 When they were entered upon this valley they thought they heard a oroamngs 
 
 groaning as of dying men, a very great groaning. They thought also hear(L 
 that they did hear words of lamentation spoken as of some in extreme torment. 
 These things made the boys to quake ; the women also looked pale and wan, but their 
 guide bid them to be of good comfort. 
 
 So they went on a little further, and they thought they felt the The groun(1 
 ground begin to shake under them as if some hollow place was there ; shakes - 
 they heard also a kind of hissing, as of serpents, but nothing as yet appeared. Then 
 said the boys, "Are we not yet at the end of this doleful place?" 
 
 But the guide also bid them be of good courage and look well to their feet ; " lest 
 haply," said he, "you be taken in some snare." 
 
 Now James began to be sick ; but I think the cause thereof was fear : James is sick 
 so his mother gave him some of that glass of spirits that had been given with fcar - 
 her at the Interpreter's house, and three of the pills that Mr. Skill had prepared, and 
 the boy began to revive. Thus they went on till they came to about the middle of 
 the valley ; and then Christiana said, " Methinks I see something yonder upon the 
 road before us, a thing of a shape such as I have not seen." The flcuil ap . 
 
 Then said Joseph, " Mother, what is it ?" pears - 
 
 "An ugly thing, child ; an ugly thing," said she. 
 
 " But, mother, what is it like ?" said he. 
 
 " 'Tis like I cannot tell what," said she, "and now it is but a little The pilgrims are 
 way off." Then said she, " A 't is nigh." afrai(1 - 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Great-heart, "let them that are most afraid keep Great-heart en- 
 close to me." So the fiend came on and the conductor met it; but when coura s cs * hem - 
 it was just come to him it vanished to all their sights. Then remembered they 
 what had been said some time ago: "Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." 
 James 4 : 7. 
 
 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 A Hon. 
 like a lion, and it came at a great padding pace after; and it had a hollow voice of 
 roaring, and at every roar it gave it made the valley echo, and all their hearts to ache 
 save the heart of him that was their guide. So it came up, and Mr. Great-heart went 
 behind and put the pilgrims all before him. The lion also came on apace, and Mr 
 Great-heart addressed himself to give him battle, r Pet. 5 : 8, 9. But when he saw 
 
TERRORS OF THE VALLEY. 267 
 
 that it was determined that resistance should be made, he also drew back and came 
 no farther. 
 
 Then they went on again, and their conductor went before them, till they came to 
 
 A pit and a pl ace where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of the way ; and before 
 darkness. ^ Q y cou i^ fo e prepared to go over that, a great mist and a darkness fell 
 
 upon them so that they could not see. Then said the pilgrims, "Alas, what now shall 
 we do ?" 
 
 But their guide made answer, " Fear not ; stand still, and see what 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 en- 
 emies ; the fire also and smoke of the pit were much easier to be discerned. 
 
 Then said Christiana to Mercy, " Now I see what my poor husband went through. 
 Christiana now I have heard much of this place, but I never was here before now. Poor 
 
 knows what her ., - . . 
 
 husband feit. man! he went here all alone in the night; he had night almost quite 
 through the way ; also these fiends were busy about him as if they would have torn 
 him in pieces. Many have spoken of it, but none can tell what the valley of the 
 Shadow of Death should mean until they come in themselves. The heart knoweth 
 its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy. Prov. 14: 10. To 
 be here is a fearful thing." 
 
 GREAT. This is like doing business in great waters, or like going down into the 
 deep. This is like being in the heart of the sea, and like going down to the bottoms 
 of the 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. Isa. 50: 10. 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 my own 
 saviour, but I trust that we shall have a good deliverance. Come, let us pray for light 
 to Him that can lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke not only these, but all the 
 Satans in hell. 
 
 They pray. So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and deliverance, for 
 
 there was now no let in their way ; no, not there where but now they were stopped with 
 a pit. Yet they were not got through the valley. So they went on still, and met 
 with great stinks and loathsome smells, to the great annoyance of them. Then said 
 Mercy to Christiana, " It is not so pleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Inter- 
 preter's, or at the house where we lay last." 
 
 "Oh, but," said one of the boys, "it is not so bad to go through here as it is to 
 one of the abide here always ; and for aught I know, one reason why we must go 
 boys replies. ^jg wav to ^ Q house prepared for us is, that our home might be made 
 the sweeter to us." 
 
 " Well said, Samuel," quoth the guide ; " thou hast now spoke like a man." 
 " Why, if ever I get out of here again," said the boy, " I think I shall prize light 
 and good way better than I ever did in all my life." 
 Then said the guide, " We shall be out by-and-by." 
 
268 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 So on they went, and Joseph said, " Can- 
 not we see to the end of this valley as yet?" 
 
 Then said the guide, " Look to your 
 feet, for we shall presently be among the 
 snares:" so they looked to their feet and 
 went on ; but they were troubled much 
 with the snares. Now when they were 
 come among the snares, they espied a man 
 cast into the ditch on the left hand, with his 
 flesh all rent and torn. Then Heedless is siain 
 
 . ... _., . anil Take heed 
 
 said the guide, " That is one preserved. 
 Heedless that was going this way ; he has 
 lain there a great while. There was one 
 Take-heed with him when he was taken 
 and slain, but he escaped their hands. You 
 cannot imagine how many are killed here- 
 abouts, and yet men are so foolishly ven- 
 turous as to set out lightly on pilgrimage 
 and to come without a guide. Poor Chris- 
 tian ! it was a wonder that he here escaped ; 
 
 THE GIANT MAUL. 
 
 but he was beloved of his God ; also he had 
 a good heart of his own, or else he could 
 never have done it." 
 
 Now they drew towards the end of 
 this way ; and just there where Christian 
 had seen the cave when he went by, out 
 thence came forth Maul, a giant. This 
 Maul did use to spoil young pilgrims with 
 sophistry ; and he called Great- Maui, a giant, 
 
 1 . 1 , . , quarrels with 
 
 heart by his name, and said Great heart, 
 unto him, " How many times have you 
 been forbidden to do these things?" 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart, "What 
 things?" 
 
 " What things ?" quoth the giant. " You 
 know what things : but I will put an end to 
 your trade." 
 
 "But pray," said Mr. Great-heart, "be 
 fore we fall to it, let us understand where- 
 fore we must fight." 
 
BATTLE WITH GIANT MAUL. 269 
 
 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." 
 GOCVS ministers Then said the giant, "Thou practises! the craft of a kidnapper: 
 
 counted as kid- x 
 
 thou gatherest up women and children and earnest them into a strange 
 
 country, to the weakening of my master's kingdom." 
 
 But now Great-heart replied, " I am a servant of the God of heaven ; my business 
 
 is to persuade sinners to repentance. I am commanded to do my endeavors to turn 
 
 The giant and men, women, and children from darkness to light, and from the power of 
 
 Mr. Great -heart < a i < 1 1 i i 1 
 
 must right. Satan unto God ; and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us 
 
 fall to it as soon as thou wilt." 
 
 Then the giant came up and Mr. Great-heart went to meet him; and as he went 
 he drew his sword, but the giant had a club. So without more ado they fell to it, and 
 folks' at the first blow the giant struck Mr. Great-heart down upon one of his 
 
 help "the knees. With that the women and children cried out. So Mr. Great- 
 
 rrirs of stronger . . 1 . - . . . . 
 
 folks. heart, recovering himself, laid about him in full lusty manner and gave 
 
 the giant a wound in his arm. Thus he fought for the space of an hour, to that 
 height of heat that the breath came out of the giant's nostrils as the heat doth out of a 
 boiling caldron. 
 
 Then they sat down to rest them ; but Mr. Great-heart betook himself to prayer. 
 Also the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the 
 battle did last. 
 
 The giant When they had rested them and taken breath, they both fell to it 
 
 again, and Mr. Great-heart, with a blow, fetched the giant down to the 
 
 ground. " Nay, hold, let me recover," quoth he : so Mr. Great-heart fairly let him 
 
 get up. So to it they went again, and the giant missed but little of all to breaking 
 
 Mr. Great-heart's skull with his club. 
 
 Mr. Great-heart, seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit and pierceth 
 him under the fifth rib. With that the giant began to faint and could hold up his 
 
 He is siam club no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart seconded his blow and smit the 
 
 and liis head dis- . . . _ ._ .. 1 -, -i 
 
 posed of. head of the giant from his shoulders. Then the women and children 
 
 rejoiced, and Mr. Great-heart also praised God for the deliverance He had wrought. 
 
 When this was done, they among them erected a pillar and fastened the giant's 
 head thereon, and wrote under it in letters that passengers might read, 
 
 " He that did wear this head was one 
 
 That pilgrims did misuse; 
 He stopped their way, he spared none, 
 
 But did them all abuse ; 
 Until that I, Great-heart, arose, 
 
 The pilgrims' guide to be, 
 Until that I did him oppose 
 
 That was their enemy." 
 
2 70 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 THE SEVENTH STAGE. 
 
 Now I saw that they went on to the ascent that was a little way off, cast up to be 
 a prospect for pilgrims. That was the place from whence Christian had the first sight 
 of Faithful his brother. Wherefore, here they sat down and rested. They also here 
 did eat and drink and make merry, for that they had gotten deliverance from this so 
 dangerous an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if he 
 had caught no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. Great-heart, " No, save a little on 
 my flesh ; yet that also shall be so far from being to my detriment that it is at present 
 a proof of my love to my Master and you, and shall be a means, by grace, to increase 
 my reward at last." 
 
 CHR. But were you not afraid, good sir, when you saw him come with his club? 
 
 " It is my duty," said Mr. Great-heart, " to mistrust my own ability, Discourse of 
 that I may have reliance on Him who is stronger than all." 
 
 CHR. But what did you think when he fetched you down to the ground at the 
 first blow ? 
 
 " Why, I thought," quoth Mr. Great-heart, " that so my Master himself was served, 
 and yet he it was that conquered at last." 2 Cor. 4:10, 1 1 ; Rom. 8 : 37. 
 
 MATT When vou all have thought what you please, I think God has Matthew here aa- 
 
 ... "." mires God's good- 
 
 been wonderfully good unto us, both in bringing us out of this valley n^s. 
 
 and in delivering us out of the hand of this enemy. For my part I see no reason why 
 we should distrust our God any more, since he has now, and in such a place as this, 
 given us such testimony of his love. 
 
 Then they got up and went forward. 
 
 Now a little way before them stood an oak ; and under it, when they came to it, 
 they found an old pilgrim fast asleep. They knew that he was a pilgrim 01( , Honest asleep 
 by his clothes and his staff and his girdle. 
 
 So the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him, and the old gentleman, as he lifted 
 up his eyes, cried out, " What 's the matter ? Who are you ; and what is your business 
 here ?" 
 
 GREAT. Come, man, be not so hot ; here are none but friends. 
 
 Yet the old man gets up and stands upon his guard and will know of one saint some- 
 times takes another 
 
 them what they are. 
 
 Then said the guide, " My name is Great-heart ; I am the guide of these pilgrims 
 that are going to the celestial country." 
 
 Then said Mr. Honest, " I cry you mercy ; I feared that you had Talk between 
 
 , , . ,- - Great-heart and 
 
 been of the company of those that some time ago did rob Little-faith of Honest, 
 his money ; but now I look better about me, I perceive you are honester people." 
 
 GREAT. Why, what would or could you have done to have helped yourself, if in- 
 deed we had been of that company ? 
 
 HON. Done ? Why, I would have fought as long as breath had been in me ; and 
 
BATHER HONEST. 
 
272 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 had I so done, I am sure you could never have given me the worst on 't ; for a Chris- 
 tian can never be overcome unless he shall yield of himself. 
 
 " Well said, Father Honest," quoth the guide ; " for by this I know thou art a 
 cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth." 
 
 HON. And by this also I know that thou knowest what true pilgrimage is ; for all 
 others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any. 
 
 GREAT. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me crave your name and the 
 name of the place you came from. 
 
 HON. My name I cannot tell you, but I came from the town of Stu- W iicncc Mr. iion- 
 pidity ; it lieth about four degrees beyond the city of Destruction. 
 
 GREAT. Oh, are you that countryman? Then I deem I have half a guess of you; 
 your name is Old Honesty, is it not ? 
 
 So the old gentleman blushed, and said, " Not honesty in the abstract, but Honest 
 is my name ; and I wish that my nature may agree to what I am called. But, sir," 
 said the old gentleman, "how could you guess that I am such a man, since I came 
 from such a place ?" 
 
 GREAT. I have heard of you before by my Master ; for he knows all stupefied ones 
 things that are done on the earth. But I have often wondered that any fhose^mereiy'ca" 
 should come from your place ; for your town is worse than is the city naL 
 of Destruction itself. 
 
 HON. Yes, we lie more off from the sun and so are more cold and senseless. But 
 were a man in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness will arise upon him, 
 his frozen heart shall feel a thaw ; and thus it has been with me. 
 
 GREAT. I believe it, Father Honest, I believe it ; for I know the thing is true. 
 
 Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a holy kiss of charity, and 
 asked them their names and how they had fared since they set out on their pil- 
 grimage. 
 
 Then said Christiana, " My name I suppose you have heard of ; good ow IIonest aiul 
 Christian was my husband, and these four are his children." But can clmMulim talk - 
 you think how the old gentleman was taken when she told him who she was ? He 
 skipped, he smiled, he blessed them with a thousand good wishes, saying, 
 
 " I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars which he 
 underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of your husband 
 rings all over these parts of the world ; his faith, his courage, his enduring, and his 
 sincerity under all, have made his name famous." 
 
 Then he turned him to the boys and asked them of their names, which they told 
 him. Then said he unto them, "Matthew, be thou like Matthew the 0](1 Mr Honest , s 
 publican, not in vice, but in virtue." Matt. 10:3. "Samuel," said he, blessmg on them - 
 " be thou like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and prayer." Psa. 99 : 6. " Joseph," 
 said he, " be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flees from 
 temptation." Gen. 39. " And, James, be thou like James the just, and like James the 
 brother of our Lord." Acts 1:13. Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had 
 left her town and her kindred to come along with Christiana and with her sons. 
 
35 
 
 THERE ALSO HE STOOD A GOOD WHILE BEFORE HE WOULD VENTURE TO KNOCK.' 
 
274 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 At that the old honest man said, " Mercy is thy name ; by mercy He blesscth 
 shalt thou be sustained and carried through all those difficulties that Mcrcy< 
 shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come hither where thou shalt look the 
 Fountain of mercy in the face with comfort." 
 
 All this while the guide Mr. Great-heart was very well pleased, and smiled upon 
 his companions. 
 
 Now, as they walked along together, the guide asked the old gentle- Talk of OIie Mr 
 man if he did not know one Mr. Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out of Fcarm < 
 his parts. 
 
 " Yes, very well," said Honest. " He was a man that had the root of the matter 
 in him ; but he was one of the most troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all 
 my days." 
 
 GREAT. I perceive you knew him, for you have given a very right character of 
 him. 
 
 HON. Knew him ? I was a great companion of his ; I was with him most an 
 end ; when he first began to think upon what would come upon us hereafter, I was 
 with him. 
 
 GREAT. I was his guide from my Master's house to the gates of the celestial city. 
 
 HON. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one. 
 
 GREAT. I did so ; but I could very well bear it, for men of my calling are often- 
 times 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. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of Mr. 
 
 . -11- 1 1 troublesome pil- 
 
 whither he had a desire to go. Everything frightened him that he gnmage. 
 heard anybody speak of, if it had but the least appearance of opposition in it. I heard 
 that he lav roaring: at the Slousfh of Despond for above a month together ; His behavior at 
 
 ' i tlie Slongli of De- 
 
 nor durst he, for all he saw several go over before him, venture, though sponci. 
 they many of them offered to lend him their hands. He would not go back again, 
 neither. The celestial city he said he should die if he came not to it ; and yet he 
 was 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 sunshiny morning, I do n't know how, he ventured, and so got over ; but 
 when he was over he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, a Slough of Despond 
 in his mind, a slough that he carried everywhere with him, or else he could never 
 have been as he was. So he came up to the gate, you know what I mean, that stands 
 at the head of this way, and there also he stood a good while before he IIis behavi0 r a t 
 would venture to knock. When the gate was opened he would give back the gate< 
 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 shrunk 
 
THE STORY OF MR. FEARING. 275 
 
 back as before. He that opened stepped 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, so he said to him, " Peace be to thee ; up, for I have 
 set open the door to thee ; come in, for thou art blessed." With that he got up and 
 went in trembling ; and when he was in he was ashamed to show his face. Well, 
 after he had been entertained there a while, as you know how the manner is, he was 
 bid go on his way, and also told the way he should take. So he went on till he came 
 ins behavior at to our house ; but as he behaved himself at the sfate, so he did at mv 
 
 the Interpreter's , , J 
 
 tl00 '-- Master the Interpreter s door. He lay there about in the cold a good 
 
 while before he would adventure to call; yet he would not go back: and the nights 
 were long and cold then. Nay, he had a note of necessity in his bosom to my Master 
 to receive him, and grant him the comforts of his house, and also to allow him a stout 
 and valiant conductor, because he was himself so chicken-hearted a man ; and yet for 
 all that he was afraid to call at the door. So he lay up and down thereabouts, till, 
 poor man, he was almost starved; yea, so great was his dejection, that though he saw 
 several others for knocking get in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last I think I 
 looked out of the window, and perceiving a man to be up and down about the door, I 
 went out to him and asked him 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 
 HOW no was en- come in ; but I dare say I had hard work to do it. At last he came in ; 
 tertaiueu there. and j win gay ^^ for my LQT ^ ^ Q carr i e( i j t wonderfully lovingly to 
 
 him. There were but a few good bits at the table but some of it was laid upon his 
 trencher. Then he presented the note ; and my Lord looked thereon, and said his 
 desire should be granted. 
 He is a little en- So when he had been there a good while he seemed to gfet some heart 
 
 couraged at the In- *<, 
 
 terpreter's house, and to be a little more comfortable. For my Master, you must know, is one 
 of very tender bowels, especially to them that are afraid ; wherefore he carried it so 
 towards him as might tend most to his encouragement. Well, when he had had a 
 sight of the things of the place, and was ready to take his journey to go to the city, 
 my Lord, as he did to Christian before, gave him a bottle of spirits and some com- 
 fortable things to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went before him ; but the man 
 was but of few words, only he would sigh aloud. 
 
 When we were come to where the three fellows were hanged, he said that he 
 He was greatly doubted that that would be his end also. Only he seemed glad when he 
 
 afraid when he , ,. . , - . 
 
 saw the gibbet, but saw the cross and the sepulchre. There I confess he desired to stay a 
 
 cheery when he . J 
 
 saw the cross. little to look ; and he seemed for a while after to be a little cheery. 
 When he came to the hill Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did he much fear 
 the lions ; for you must know that his troubles were not about such things as these : 
 his fear was about his acceptance at last. 
 
 I got him in at the house Beautiful, I think before he was willing. Also, when 
 Fearing dump- he was in, I brought him acquainted with the damsels of the place; but 
 
 ish at the house . ^ 
 
 Beautiful. he was ashamed to make himself much in company. He desired much 
 
276 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 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, but that he durst not be so 
 bold as to ask. 
 
 When we went also from the house Beautiful down the hill into the Pleasant in the 
 
 valley of Humiliu- 
 
 valley of Humiliation, he went down as well as ever I saw a man in my tion. 
 life ; for he cared not how mean he was, so he might be happy at last. Yea, I think 
 there was a kind of sympathy between that valley and him ; for I never saw him 
 better in all his pilgrimage than he was in that valley. 
 
 Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss the very flowers that grew 
 in this valley. Lam. 3 : 27-29. He would now be up every morning by break of day, 
 tracing and walking to and fro in the valley. 
 
 But when he was come to the entrance of the valley of the Shadow Much perplexed 
 
 in the valley of Hie 
 
 of Death, I thought I should have lost my man. Not for that he had any siiadow of Death, 
 inclination to go back ; that he always abhorred ; but he was ready to die for fear. 
 " Oh, the hobgoblins will have me ! the hobgoblins will have me !" cried he ; and 
 I could not beat him out of it. He made such a noise and such an outcry here, 
 that had they but heard him, it was enough to encourage them to come and fall 
 upon us. 
 
 But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was as quiet when we went 
 through it as ever I knew it before or since. I suppose those enemies here had now a 
 special check from our Lord, and a command not to meddle until Mr. Fearing had 
 passed over it. 
 
 It would be too tedious to tell you of all ; w r e will therefore only His benavlor at 
 mention a passage or two more. When he was come to Vanity Fair, I 
 thought he would have fought with all the men in the fair. I feared there we should 
 have been both knocked on the head, so hot was he against their fooleries. Upon the 
 Enchanted Ground he was very wakeful. But when he was come at the river where 
 was no bridge, there again he was in a heavy case. " Now, now," he said, " he should 
 be drowned for ever,-" and so never see that face with comfort that he had come se* 
 many miles to behold. 
 
 And here also I took notice of what was very remarkable ; the water of that rivei 
 was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my life ; so he went over at last, not- 
 much above wetshod. When he was going up to the gate I began to HIS boldness ai 
 take leave of him and to wish him a good reception above. So he said, last - 
 " I shall, I shall." Then parted we asunder, and I saw him no more. 
 
 HON. Then it seems he was well at last ? 
 
 GREAT. 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. Psa. 88. He was, above many, tender of sin ; 
 he was so afraid of doing injuries to others that he often would deny himself of that 
 which was lawful, because he would not offend. Rom. 14.121 ; I Cor. 8:13. 
 
PECULIARITIES OF MR. FEARING. 277 
 
 HON. But what should be the reason that such a good man should be all his days 
 so much in the dark ? 
 
 Reasons why GREAT. There are two sorts of reasons for it ; one is, the wise God 
 
 good men are so . 
 
 in the dark. will have it so; some must pipe, and some must weep. Matt. 11:16. 
 
 Now Mr. Fearing was one that played upon the bass. He and his fellows sound the 
 sackbut, whose notes are more doleful than the notes of other music are ; though 
 indeed some say the bass is the ground of music. And for my part I care not at all 
 for that profession which begins not in heaviness of mind. The first string that the 
 musician usually touches is the bass when he intends to put all in tune. God also 
 plays upon this string first when he sets the soul in tune for himself. Only there was 
 the imperfection of Mr. Fearing : he could play upon no other music but this till 
 towards his latter end. 
 
 (I make bold to talk thus metaphorically for the ripening of the wits of young 
 readers, and because in the book of the Revelation the saved are compared to a com- 
 pany of musicians, that play upon their trumpets and harps and sing their songs be- 
 fore the throne. Rev. 5:8; 14 : 2, 3.) 
 
 HON. He was a very zealous man.) as one may see by the relation which you have 
 given of him. Difficulties, lions, or Vanity Fair he feared not at all ; it was only sin, 
 death, and hell that were to him a terror, because he had some doubts about his inter- 
 est in that celestial country. 
 
 GREAT. You say right ; those were the things that were his troublers ; and they, 
 A close about as y ou have well observed, arose from the weakness of his mind there- 
 about, 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 firebran^, had it stood 
 in his way ; but the things with which he was oppressed no man ever yet could shake 
 off with ease. 
 
 Christiana's Then said Christiana, " This relation of Mr. Fearing has done me 
 good ; I thought nobody had been like me. But I see there was some 
 semblance between this good man and me ; only we differed in two things : his 
 troubles were so great that they broke 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's sentence. MER. If I might also speak my heart, I must say that something of 
 
 him has also dwelt in me. For I have ever been more afraid of the lake and the loss 
 of a place in paradise than I have been of the loss of other things. Oh, thought I, 
 may I have the happiness to have a habitation there ! 'T is enough, though I part 
 with all the world to win it. 
 
 Matthews sen- Then said Matthew, " Fear was one thing that made me think that I 
 was far from having that within me which accompanies salvation. But 
 if it was so with such a good man as he, why may it not also go well with me ?" 
 James' sentence. " No fears, no grace," said James. "Though there is not always 
 
 grace where there is the fear of hell, yet, to be sure, there is no grace where there 
 is no fear of God." 
 
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 GREAT. Well said, James ; thou hast hit the mark. For the fear of God is the 
 beginning of wisdom ; and to be sure, they that want the beginning have neither 
 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 
 Of doing anything, while here, 
 
 That would have thee betrayed. 
 And didst thou fear the lake and pit? 
 
 Would others do so too ! 
 For, as for them that want thy wit, 
 1 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. Hon- 
 est began to tell them of an- or Mr. seir-win. 
 other, but his name was Mr. Self-will. 
 " He pretended himself to be a pilgrim," 
 said Mr. Honest ; " but I persuade myself 
 he never came in at the gate that stands 
 at the head of the way." 
 
 GREAT. Had you ever any talk with 
 him about it ? 
 
 HON. Yes, more than once or twice ; 
 but he would always be like Old Honest hac] 
 himself, self-willed. He nei- talked with him - 
 ther cared for man, nor argument, nor yet 
 example; what his mind prompted him 
 to, that he would do, and nothing else 
 could he be got to do. 
 
 GREAT. Pray, what principles did he 
 hold ? for I suppose you can tell. 
 
 HON. He held that a man might fol- 
 low the vices as well as the seir-wiii's 
 virtues of pilgrims ; and that P lnions - 
 if he did both he should be certainly saved. 
 GREAT. How ? If he had said it is pos- 
 sible 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 absolutely, but on condition that we watch 
 and strive. But this, I perceive, is not the thing ; but if I understand you right you! 
 meaning is that he was of opinion that it was allowable so to be. 
 HON. Ay, ay, so I mean, and so he believed and practised. 
 GREAT. But what grounds had he for ids so saying? 
 
 SELF-WILL. 
 
PRESUMPTUOUS SELF-WILL. 279 
 
 HON. Why, he said he had the Scrip'oire for his warrant. 
 
 GREAT. Prithee, Mr. Honest, present us with a few particulars. 
 
 HON. So I will. He said, to have to do with other men's wives had been prac- 
 tised 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 there- 
 fore he could do so too. 
 
 GREAT. High base, indeed ! And are you sure he was of this opinion ? 
 
 HON. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture for it, bring arguments for 
 it, etc. 
 
 GREAT. 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 they who had the virtues of those that did such things might also do 
 the same. 
 
 GREAT. But what more false than such a conclusion ? For 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 that if, because a child, by the blast of 
 the wind, or for that it stumbled at a stone, fell down and defiled itself in the mire, 
 therefore he might wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein. Who could 
 have thought that any one could so far have been blinded by the power of lust? But 
 what is written must be true : they " stumble at the Word, being disobedient ; where- 
 unto also they were appointed." i Pet. 2: 8. His supposing that such may have' the 
 godly men's virtues who addict themselves to their vices, is also a delusion as strong 
 as the other. To eat up the sin of God's people, Hos. 4: 8, as a dog licks up filth, is 
 no sign of one that is possessed with their virtues. Nor can I believe that one who 
 is of this opinion can at present have faith or love in him. But I know you have 
 made some strong objections against him ; prithee what can he say for himself? 
 
 HON. Why, he says, to do this by way of opinion seems abundantly more honest 
 than to do it and yet hold contrary to it in opinion. 
 
 GREAT. A very wicked answer. For though to let loose the bridle to lusts while 
 our opinions are against such things is bad, yet to sin and plead a toleration so to do 
 is worse : the one stumbles beholders accidentally, the other leads them into the 
 snare. 
 
 HON. There are many of this man's mind that have not this man's mouth, and 
 that makes going on pilgrimage of so little esteem as it is. 
 
 GREAT. You have said the truth, and it is to be lamented ; but he that feareth the 
 King of paradise shall come out of them all. 
 
 CHR. There are strange opinions in the world. I know one that said it was time 
 enough to repent when we come to die. 
 
 GREAT. Such are not overwise ; that man would have been loath, might he have 
 
280 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 had a week to run twenty miles in his life, to defer his journey to the last hour of 
 that week. 
 
 HON. You say right; and yet the generality of them who count themselves pil- 
 grims do indeed do thus. I am, as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller in 
 this road many a day, and I have taken notice of many things. I have seen some 
 that have set out as if they would drive all the world before them, who yet have, in a 
 few days, died as they in the wilderness, and so never got sight of the promised land. 
 I have seen some that have promised nothing at first setting out to be pilgrims, and 
 who, one would have thought, could not have lived a day, that have yet proved very 
 good pilgrims. I have seen some who have run hastily forward, that again have, 
 after a little time, run just as fast back again. I have seen some who have spoken 
 very well of a pilgrim's life at first, that after a while have .spoken as much against it. 
 I have heard some when they first set out for paradi.se say positively there is 
 such a place, who, when they have been almost there, have come back again 
 and said there is none. I have heard some vaunt what they would do in case 
 they should be opposed, that have, even at a false alarm, fled faith, the pilgrim's way, 
 and all. 
 
 Now as they were thus on their way 
 there came one running to Fresh news of 
 meet them, and said, "Gentle- trouble - 
 men, and you of the weaker sort, if you love 
 life shift for yourselves, for the robbers are 
 before you." 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart, "They be 
 the -three that set upon Little-faith hereto- 
 fore. Well," said he, " we are ready for 
 them ;" so they went on their Great-heart's 
 way. Now they looked ,t resolution - 
 every turning when they sh^aH have mec 
 with the villains; but whether thty heard 
 of Mr. Great-heart, or whether they had 
 some other game, they came not up to the 
 pilgrims. 
 
 Christiana then wished for an inn to re- 
 fresh herself and her children Christiana 
 because they were weary. mshes for an inn - 
 Then said Mr. Honest, " There is one a 
 little before us where a very honorable dis- 
 ciple, one Gaius, dwells." Rom. 16:23. 
 So they all concluded to turn in thither; 
 and the rather, because the old gentleman 
 
 gave him so good a report. When they came to the door they went in, not knock- 
 ing, for folks use not to knock at the door of an inn. Then they called for the 
 
 "THE INNKEEPER WAS A LOVER OF PILGRIMS." 
 
28l 
 
 master of the house and he came to them. So they asked if they might lie there 
 that night. 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen," said Gaius, " if you be true men ; for my house is for none but 
 
 tains G nKMii ( ' n iMi P^rt r " lls -" Then were Christiana, Mercy, and the boys the more glad, for 
 
 that the 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. 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart, "Good Gaius, what hast thou for supper? for these 
 pilgrims have come far to-day and are weary." 
 
 " 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. We will be content with what thou hast in the house ; for as much as I 
 have proved thee, thou art never destitute of that which is convenient. 
 
 Then he went down and spoke to the 
 Gaius' cook, cook, whose name was Taste- 
 that-which-is-good, to get ready supper for 
 He comes up so man Y pilgrims. This done, 
 he comes up again, saying, 
 " Come, my good friends, you are welcome 
 to me, and I am glad that I have a house to 
 entertain you in ; and while supper is ma- 
 king ready, if you please, let us entertain 
 one another with some good discourse;" so 
 they all said, "Content." 
 
 Then said Gaius, " Whose wife is this 
 Talk between aged matron ? and whose 
 
 Gaius and his . 
 
 guests. daughter is this young dam- 
 
 sel?" 
 
 GREAT. This woman is the wife of one 
 Christian, a pilgrim of former times; and 
 these are his four children. The maid is 
 one of her acquaintance, one that she hath 
 persuaded to come with her on pilgrimage. 
 The boys take all after their father and 
 covet to tread in his steps ; yea, if they do 
 but see any place where the old pilgrim 
 hath lain, or any print of his foot, it minis- 
 tereth joy to their hearts and they covet to lie or tread in the same. 
 
 Then said Gaius, "Is this Christian's wife and are these Christian's children? I 
 or Christian's knew your husband's father, yea, also his father's father. Many have 
 been good of this stock; their ancestors dwelt first at Antioch. Acts 
 1 1 26. Christian's progenitors (I suppose you have heard your husband talk of them) 
 were very worthy men. They have, above any that I know, showed themselves men 
 36 
 
 TAS 1 E-THAT-WHICH-IS-GOOD. 
 
 ancestors. 
 
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 
 
 of great virtue and courage for the Lord of the pilgrims, his ways, and them that 
 loved him. I have heard of many of your husband's relations that have stood all 
 trials for the sake of the truth. Stephen, that was one of the first of the family from 
 whence your husband sprang, was knocked on the head with stones. Acts 7 : 59, 60. 
 James, another of this generation, was slain with the edge of the sword. Acts 12:2. 
 To say nothing of Paul and Peter, men anciently of the family from whence your 
 husband came, there was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions ; Romanus, whose flesh 
 was cut by pieces from his bones ; and Polycarp, 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 into the sea to be drowned. It would be im- 
 possible utterly to count up all of that family who have suffered injuries and death 
 for the love of a pilgrim's life, Nor can I but be glad to see that thy husband has 
 left behind him four boys such as these. I hope they will bear up their father's 
 name and tread in their father's steps and come to their father's end." 
 
 GREAT. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads; they seem to choose heartily their 
 father's ways. 
 
 GAIUS. That is it that I said. Where- 
 fore Christian's family is still like to spread 
 abroad upon the face of the ground and 
 yet to be numerous upon the face of the 
 
 earth. Let Christiana look out Advice to 
 
 tiana about her 
 
 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 this 
 world. 
 
 HON. 'Tis pity his family should fall 
 and be extinct. 
 
 "Fall it cannot," said Gaius, "but be 
 diminished it may ; but let Christiana take 
 my advice, and that is 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 if I 
 may advise, take Mercy into a nearer rela- 
 tion to thee : if she will, let her be given to 
 
 Matthew thy eldest son. It is A match be- 
 
 tween Mercy and 
 the way to preserve a posterity Matthew. 
 
 in the earth." So this match was con- 
 eluded, and in process of time they were 
 married ; but more of that hereafter. 
 
 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 woman, 
 
 MATTHEW AND MERCY. 
 
A f THE SUPPER TABLE. 
 
 283 
 
 Gen. 3, so also did life and health; God sent forth his Son made of a woman, 
 why women of Gal. 4 : 4. Yea, to show how much they that came after did abhor the act 
 dred children, of the mother, this sex, in the Old Testament, coveted children, if hap- 
 pily this or that woman might be the mother of the Saviour of the world. I will say 
 again, that when the Saviour was come, women rejoiced in him before either man or 
 angel. Luke i : 42-46. 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 substance. 
 Luke 8:2, 3. 'Twas a woman that washed his feet with tears, Luke 7:37-50, and a 
 woman that anointed his body to the burial, John 11:2; 12:3. They were women 
 who wept when he was going to the cross, Luke 23 : 27, and women that followed him 
 from the cross, Matt. 27 : 55, 56; Luke 23 : 55, and that sat over against his sepulchre 
 when he was buried, Matt. 27 :6i. They were women that were first with him at his 
 resurrection morn, Luke 24: i, and women that brought tidings first to his disciples 
 that he was risen from the dead. Luke 24:22, 23. Women therefore are highly 
 favored, 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 ready, supper was almost ready, and 
 sent one to lay the cloth and the trenchers 
 and to set the salt and bread in order. 
 
 Then said Matthew, "The sight of 
 this cloth and of this forerunner of the 
 supper begetteth in me a greater appetite 
 to my food than I had before." 
 
 GAIUS. So let all ministering doc- 
 trines to thee in this life beget in thee a 
 greater desire to sit at the supper of the 
 great King in his kingdom; for all 
 preaching, books, and ordinances here are 
 wnat is to be but as the laying of the 
 
 gathered from the. 1 j t n_- c 
 
 faying of. the bread trenchers and the setting of 
 
 with the cloth and , 1 1 -, 1 
 
 trenchers. salt upon the board, when 
 
 compared with the feast which our Lord 
 will make for us when we come to his 
 house. 
 
 So supper came up. And first a 
 heave - shoulder and a wave-breast were 
 set on the table before them, to show 
 that they must begin their meal with 
 
 "SO SUPPER CAME UP." . . - ,, 1 
 
 prayer and praise to God. Ihe heave- 
 shoulder David lifted up his heart to God with ; and with the wave-breast, where his 
 heart lay, he used to lean upon his harp when he played. Lev. 7:32-34; 10: 14, 15; 
 Psa. 25 : i ; Heb. 13:15. These two dishes were very fresh and good, and they all ate 
 heartily thereof. 
 
284 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 The next they brought up was a bottle of wine as red as blood. Deut. 32: 14; 
 Judges 9: 13; John 15:5. So Gaius said to them, "Drink freely; this is the true 
 juiee of the 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. Gaius said, "Let the A disu of miik. 
 boys have that, that they may grow thereby." i Pet. 2:1,2. 
 
 Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and honey. Then said Gaius, 
 " Eat freely of this, for this is good to cheer up and strengthen your Of honey am , 
 judgments and understandings. This was our Lord's dish when he fc 
 was a child : ' Butter and honey shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the evil and 
 choose the good.' " Isa. 7:15. 
 
 Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they were very A dish of 
 
 good-tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, " May we eat apples, since it was apples> 
 such by and with which the serpent beguiled our first mother?" 
 
 Then said Gaius, 
 
 "Apples were they with which we were beguiled ; 
 Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defiled : 
 Apples forbid, if ate, corrupt the blood ; 
 To eat such, when commanded, does us good. 
 Drink of his flagons then, thou church, his dove, 
 And eat his apples, who art sick of love." 
 
 Then said Matthew, " I made the scruple because I a while since was sick with 
 the eating of fruit." 
 
 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, A dish or nuts. 
 and it was a dish of nuts. Song 6: n. Then said some at the table, "Nuts spoil 
 tender teeth, especially the teeth of children ;" which when Gaius heard, he said, 
 
 "Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters), 
 Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters ; 
 Open the shells and you shall have the meat ; 
 They here are brought for you to crack and eat." 
 
 Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long time talking of many 
 things. Then said the old gentleman, " My good landlord, while we are cracking 
 your nuts, if you please, do you open this riddle : 
 
 "A man there was, though some did count him mad, A riddle put forth 
 
 The more he cast away the more he had." b y Okl Honest. 
 
 Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good Gaius would say; so he sat 
 still a while and then thus replied : 
 
 " He who bestows his goods upon the poor Gaius openg . f 
 
 Shall have as much again, and ten times more." 
 
"MERCY, AS HER CUSTOM WAS, WOULD BE MAKING COATS AND GARMENTS TO GIVE TO THE POOR.' 
 
286 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Then said Joseph, " I dare say, sir, I did not think you could have Joseph wonders, 
 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 
 experience that I have gained thereby. There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth ; 
 and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty. There is 
 that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing ; there is that maketh himself poor, yet 
 hath great riches." Prov. 1 1 : 24 ; 13:7. 
 
 Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and said, " Mother, this is a 
 very good man's house ; let us stay here a good while, and let my brother Matthew 
 be married here to Mercy 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 Mr.tnirwaixi 
 Matthew to wife. While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was, Mcrcy mame(1 - 
 would be making coats and garments to give to the poor, by which she brought a 
 very good report upon the pilgrims. 
 
 But to return again to our story. After supper the lads desired a bed, for they 
 were weary with travelling. Then Gaius called to show them their The boys p, to 
 
 . .. _ , _ ..... bed; the rest sit 
 
 chamber ; but said Mercy, " I will have them to bed. So she had them up. 
 to bed and they slept well ; but the rest sat up all night, for Gaius and they were such 
 suitable company that they could not tell how to part. After much talk of their Lord, 
 themselves, and their journey, old Mr. Honest, he that put forth the Okl Iioncst 
 riddle to Gaius, began to nod. 
 
 Then said Great-heart, " What, sir, you begin to be drowsy ? Come, rub up now, 
 here is a riddle for you." 
 
 Then said Mr. Honest, " Let us hear it." 
 
 Then replied Mr. Great-heart, 
 
 " He that would kill must first be overcome : . 
 
 Who live abroad would, first must die at home." 
 
 " Ha," said Mr. Honest, " it is a hard one hard to expound and harder to practise. 
 But come, landlord," said he, "I will, if you please, leave my part to you; do you 
 expound it, and I will hear what you say." 
 
 " No," said Gaius, " it was put to you, and it is expected you should answer it." 
 
 Then said the old gentleman, 
 
 " He first by grace must conquered be, 
 
 That sin would mortify ; T l ie rjjjie 
 
 Who that he lives would convince me, opened. 
 
 Unto himself must die." 
 
 "It is right," said Gaius ; "good doctrine and experience teach this. For, first, 
 until grace displays itself and overcomes the soul with its glory, it is altogether with- 
 out 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 
 
GIANT SLA Y-GOOD. 287 
 
 will any one that knows either reason or grace believe that such a man can be a 
 A question wortu living monument of grace that is a slave to his own corruptions. And 
 the mimiing. now j t comes i n t o my mind, I will tell you a story worth the hearing. 
 There were two men that went on pilgrimage ; the one began when he was young, 
 the other when he was old. The young man had strong corruptions to grapple with ; 
 the old man's were weak with the decays of nature. The young man trod his steps 
 as even as did the old one and was every way as light as he. Who now, or which of 
 them, had their graces shining clearest, since both seemed to be alike?" 
 
 HON. The young man's, doubtless. For that which makes head against the 
 A comparison, greatest opposition gives best demonstration- that it is strongest ; espe- 
 cially when it also holdeth pace with that which meets not with half so much, as to be 
 sure old age does not. Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed them- 
 
 A mistake, selves with this mistake : namely, taking the decays of nature for a gra- 
 cious 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 man 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 nat- 
 urally the weakest. 
 
 Thus they sat talking till break of day. 
 
 Now, when the family were up, Christiana bid her son James that he should read 
 a chapter ; so he read the fifty-third of Isaiah. When he had done, Mr. Honest asked 
 Another w ^y ^ was sa i^ that the Saviour was to come " out of a dry ground," and 
 also, that "he had no form nor comeliness in him." 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart, " To the first I answer, because the church of the 
 Jews, of which Christ came, had then lost -almost all the sap and spirit of religion. 
 To the second I say, the words are spoken in the person of unbelievers, who, because 
 they want the eye that can see into our Prince's heart, therefore they judge of him by 
 the meanness of his outside ; just like those who, not knowing that precious stones 
 are covered over with a homely crust, when they have found one, because they know 
 not what they have found, cast it away again as men do a common stone." 
 
 " Well," said 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 doth much annoy the King's highway in these parts ; and I 
 know whereabout his haunt is. He is master of a number of thieves ; it would be 
 well if we could clear these parts of him." 
 
 So they consented and went : Mr. Great-heart with his sword, helmet, and shield ; 
 and the rest with spears and staves. 
 
 niant siay-good When they came to the place where he was, they found with him 
 
 Feewe-mind inhls one Feeble-mind in his hand, whom his servants had brought unto him, 
 having taken him in the way. Now the giant was rifling him, with a 
 purpose after that to pick his bones ; for he was of the nature of flesh-eaters. 
 
288 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends at the mouth of his cave, 
 with their weapons, he demanded what they wanted. 
 
 GREAT. We want thee ; for we are come to revenge the quarrels of the many that 
 thou hast slain of the pilgrims when thou hast dragged them out of the King's high- 
 way ; wherefore come out of thy cave. 
 
 So he armed himself and came out, and to battle they went and fought for above 
 an hour, and then stood still to take wind. 
 
 Then said the giant, " Why are you here on my ground?" 
 
 GREAT. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I told thee before. 
 
 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 stout- Tllc pjant as _ 
 ness at the giant's head and sides that he made him let his weapon fall saulted 1U1(1 slain> 
 out of his hand. So he smote him and slew him and cut off his head and brought it 
 away to the inn. He also took Feeble-mind the pilgrim and brought him with him to 
 his lodgings. When they were come home they showed his head to the family, and 
 set it up, as they had done others before, for a terror to those that should attempt to 
 do as he hereafter. 
 
 Then they asked Mr. Feeble-mind how he fell into his hands. 
 
 Then said the poor man, " I am a sickly man, as you see ; and because death did 
 
 usuallv once a day knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at HOW 
 
 J . came to be a pil- 
 
 home ; so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither grim. 
 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 as were neces- 
 sary 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 of Difficulty 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 were willing to go so softly as 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-minded, i Thess. 
 5:14, and so went on their own pace. When I was come to Assault-lane, then this 
 giant met with me and bid me prepare for an encounter. But alas, feeble one that I 
 was, I had more need of a cordial ; so he came up and took me. I conceited he would 
 not kill me. Also when he had got me into his den, since I went not with him will- 
 ingly, I believed I should come out alive again ; for I have heard that not any pil- 
 grim that is taken captive by violent hands, if he keeps heartwhole Mark tins! 
 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 have, as you see, escaped 
 with life, for the which I thank my King as the author and you as the means. Other 
 brunts I also looked for ; but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when Mark this i 
 I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot go. As to the main, I 
 
THE FATE OF MR. NOT-RIGHT. 289 
 
 thank Him that loved me, I am fixed ; my way is before me, my mind is beyond the 
 river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a feeble mind." 
 
 Then said old Mr. Honest, " Have not you, some time ago, been acquainted with 
 one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim ?" 
 
 FEEBLE. Acquainted with him ? Yes ; he came from the town of Stupidity, which 
 
 lieth four degrees to the northward of the city of Destruction, and as many off of 
 
 Mr. rearing is where I was born. Yet we were well acquainted, for indeed he was my 
 
 Mr. Feeble-mind's < 1 > 1 1 TT-IT-I 
 
 uncie. 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. 
 Feeble-mind has HON. I perceive you knew him, and I am apt to believe also that 
 
 some of Mr. Fear- ..*. 
 
 ing's features. you were related one to another ; for you have his whitely look, a cast 
 like his with your eye, and your speech is much alike. 
 
 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. 
 
 cams comforts " Come, sir," said good Gaius, "be of good cheer; you are welcome 
 
 him - to me and to my house. What thou hast a mind to, call for freely ; and 
 
 what thou wouldest have my servants do for thee, they will do it with a ready 
 mind." 
 
 Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, " This is an unexpected favor, and as the sun shining 
 
 Notice to be ta- out ^ a ver Y dark cloud. Did giant Slay-good intend me this favor 
 
 ken or providence. w h en ;h e 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 my host? Yet so 
 
 it is." 
 
 Tidings how one Now, just as Mr. Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in talk, there came 
 
 Not-right was slain ............. . 
 
 by a thunderbolt, one running and called at the door and said that about a mile and a half 
 off there was one Mr. Not-right, a pilgrim, struck dead upon the place where he was 
 with a thunderbolt. 
 
 " Alas," said Mr. Feeble-mind, " is he slain? He overtook me some days before I 
 came so far as hither, and would be my company-keeper. He was also with me when 
 Slay-good the giant took me, but he was nimble of his heels and escaped; but it seems 
 he escaped to die, and I was taken to live." 
 
 "What one would think doth seek to slay outright, 
 Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight. 
 That very providence whose face is death 
 Doth ofttimes to the lowly life bequeath. 
 I taken was, he did escape and flee ; 
 Hands crossed gave 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 about ten days at Gaius' house, spending their time and the seasons like as 
 pilgrims use to do. 
 
 The pilgrims When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, and they did 
 
 prepare to go for- . J J 
 
 ward. eat and drink and were merry. Now the hour was come that they 
 
 37 
 
290 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 must be gone ; wherefore Mr. Great-heart called for a reckoning. But Gaius told him 
 that 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 the good Samaritan, who 
 had promised him, at his return, whatsoever charge he was at with them, faithfully 
 to repay him. Luke 10: 34, 35. 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart to him, " Beloved, thou doest faithfully whatsoever 
 thou doest to the brethren and to strangers, who have borne witness HOW they greet 
 of thy charity before the church ; whom if thou yet bring forward on parting, 
 their journey after a godly sort, thou shalt do well." 3 John 5, 6. 
 
 Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and his children, and particu- Gains' lastkin.i- 
 larly of Mr. Feeble-mind. He also gave him something to drink by the im'ud. 
 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 Feewe-mimi for 
 strong, but I, as you see, am weak ; I choose, therefore, rather to come be- gomg bellintl - 
 hind, lest by reason of my many infirmities I should be a burden both to myself and 
 to you. I am, as I said, a man of weak and feeble mind, and shall be Feebie-mimi's 
 offended and weak at that which others can bear. I shall like no excuseforit - 
 laughing, I shall like no gay attire, I shall like no unprofitable questions. Nay, I 
 am so weak a man as to be offended with that which others have a liberty to do. 
 I do not yet know all the truth ; I am a very ignorant Christian man. Sometimes, if I 
 hear 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 ; so that I know not what to do. " He that is ready to 
 slip with his feet is as a lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease." Job 12:5. 
 
 " But, brother," said Mr. Great-heart, " I have it in commission to Great-heart's 
 comfort the feeble-minded and to support the weak. You must needs commission - 
 go along with us ; we will wait for you ; we will lend you our help ; we A Christian spirit, 
 will deny ourselves of some things, both opinionative and practical, for your sake ; we 
 will not enter into doubtful disputations before you; we will be made all things to 
 you, rather than you shall be left behind." i Thess. 5 : 14; Rom. 14; i Cor. 8:9-13 ; 
 9:22. 
 
 Now all this while they were at Gaius' door ; and behold, as they were thus in 
 the heat of their discourse, Mr. Ready-to-halt came by with his crutches in his hand, 
 and he also was going on pilgrimage. 
 
 Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, " Man, how earnest thou hither ? I was but 
 now complaining that I had not a suitable companion, but thou art Feewe-mind giaci 
 
 to see Ready-to- 
 
 according to my wish. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. Ready-to-halt ; I halt come, 
 hope thou and I may be some help." 
 
 " I shall be glad of thy company," said Ready-to-halt ; " and, good Mr. Feeble- 
 
RATHER THAN WE WILL PART I WILL LEND THEE ONE OF MY CRUTCHES 
 
292 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 mind, rather than we will part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee one of 
 my crutches." 
 
 " Nay," said Mr. Feeble-mind, " though I thank thee for thy good-will, 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 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 came behind, and Mr. 
 Ready-to-halt with his crutches. 
 
 Then said Mr. Honest, " Pray, sir, now we are upon the road, tell us New talk. 
 some profitable things of some that have gone on pilgrimage before us." 
 
 GREAT. With a good will. I suppose you have heard how Christian of old did 
 meet with Apollyon in the valley of Humiliation, and also what hard work he had to 
 go through the valley of the Shadow of Death. Also I think you cannot but have 
 heard how Faithful was put to it by Madam Wanton, with Adam the First, with one 
 Discontent, and Shame four as deceitful villains as a man can meet with upon the 
 road. 
 
 HON. Yes, I have heard of all this ; but indeed, good Faithful was hardest put to 
 it with Shame ; he was an unwearied one. 
 
 GREAT. 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 notable one. 
 
 GREAT. He was a confident fool ; yet many follow his ways. 
 
 HON. He had like to have beguiled Faithful. 
 
 GREAT. Ay, but Christian put him into a way quickly to find him out. 
 
 Thus they went on till they came to the place where Evangelist met with Chris- 
 tian and Faithful and prophesied to them what should befall them at Vanity Fair. 
 Then said their guide, " Hereabouts did Christian and Faithful meet with Evangelist, 
 who prophesied to them of what troubles they should meet with at Vanity Fair." 
 
 HON. Say you so ? I dare say it was a hard chapter that then he did read unto 
 them. 
 
 GREAT. It was so, but he gave them encouragement withal. But what do we talk 
 of them ? They were a couple of lion-like men ; they had set their faces like a 
 flint. Do not you remember how undaunted they were when they stood before the 
 judge ? 
 
 HON. Well. Faithful bravely suffered. 
 
 GREAT. 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. Above all that Christian met with after he had passed through Vanity 
 Fair, one By-ends was the arch one. 
 
 HON. By-ends ? What was he ? 
 
AT THE HOUSE OF MNASON. 293 
 
 GREAT. A very arch fellow, a downright hypocrite ; one that would be religious 
 whichever way the world went, but so cunning that he would be sure never to lose 
 or suffer for it. He had his mode of religion for every fresh occasion, and his wife 
 was as good at it as he. He would turn from opinion to opinion ; yea, and plead for so 
 doing too. But so far as I could learn, he came to an ill end with his by-ends ; nor did 
 I ever hear that any of his children were ever of any esteem with any that truly 
 feared God. 
 They come with- Now by this time they were come within sight of the town of Vanitv 
 
 in siglit of Vanity . . . J ' 
 
 Fair. where Vanity Fair is kept. So when they saw that they were so near the 
 
 town they consulted with one another how they should pass through the town ; and 
 some said one thing and some another. 
 
 At last Mr. Great-heart said, " I have, as you may understand, often been a conduc- 
 tor of pilgrims through this town. Now I am acquainted with one Mr. Mnason, Acts 
 21 : 1 6, a Cyprusian by nation, an old disciple, at whose house we may lodge. If you 
 think good, we will turn in there." 
 
 " Content," said Old Honest. 
 
 " Content," said Christiana. 
 
 " Content," said Mr. Feeble-mind ; and so they said all. 
 
 Now you must think it was eventide by that they got to the outside of the town ; 
 
 but Mr. Great-heart knew the way to the old man's house. So thither they came ; and 
 
 They enter into he called at the door, and the old man within knew his tongfue as soon as 
 
 one Mr. Mnason's 
 
 to lodge. ever he heard it; so he opened the door, and they all came in. 
 
 Then said Mnason their host, " How far have you 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 weary; 
 sit down." So they sat down. 
 
 Then said their guide, " Come, what cheer, good sirs ? I dare say you are welcome 
 to my friend." 
 
 " I also," said Mr. Mnason, " do bid you welcome ; and whatever you want, do but 
 say, and we will do what we can to get it for you." 
 They are giad of HON. Our great want, a while since, was harbor and good company, 
 
 entertainment. and nQW j hope we haye both> 
 
 MNA. For harbor, you see what it is ; but for good company, that will appear in 
 the trial. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Great-heart, " will you have the pilgrims up into their lodging?" 
 
 " I will," said Mr. Mnason. So he had them to their respective places ; and also 
 showed them a very fair dining-room, where they might be and sup together until 
 the time should come to go to rest. 
 
 Now, when they were seated in their places, and were a little cheery after their 
 journey, Mr. Honest asked his landlord if there was any store of good people in the 
 town. 
 
 MNA. We have a few; for indeed they are but a few when compared with them 
 on the other side. 
 
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 HON. But how shall we do to see some of them ? for the sight of The desire to 
 good men to them that are going on pilgrimage is like the appearing of |ood S peopieor file 
 the moon and stars to them that are sailing upon the seas. town> 
 
 Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot and his daughter Grace came up. So he 
 said unto her, "Grace, go you, tell my friends, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy- some sent for. 
 man, Mr. Love-saints, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, that I have a friend or two 
 at my house who have a mind this evening to see them." So Grace went to call 
 them and they came ; and after salutation made, they sat down together at the 
 table. 
 
 Then said Mr. Mnason their landlord, " My neighbors, I have, as you see, a com- 
 pany of strangers come to my house ; they are pilgrims ; they come from afar, and are 
 going to Mt. Zion. But who," quoth he, " do you think this is ?" pointing his finger 
 to Christiana. " It is Christiana, the wife of Christian, the famous pilgrim who, with 
 Faithful his brother, was 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." 
 
 Then Mr. Honest, when they were all sat down, asked Mr. Contrite some talk be- 
 
 _ ., i. 1 j.1 tween Mr. Honest 
 
 and the rest in what posture their town was at present. and Mr. contrite. 
 
 CON. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair-time. 'T is hard keeping our 
 hearts and spirits in good order when we are in a cumbered condition. The fruit of 
 He that lives in such a place as this is, and has to do with such as we watchfumess - 
 have, has need of an item to caution him to take heed every moment of the day. 
 
 HON. But how are your neighbors now for quietness ? 
 
 CON. They are much more moderate now than formerly. You know Persecution not 
 how Christian and Faithful were used at our town ; but of late, I say, Mr M formerly. y 
 they have been far more moderate. I think the blood of Faithful lieth as a load upon 
 them till now ; for since they burned him they have been ashamed to burn any more. 
 In those days we were afraid to walk the streets ; but now we can show our heads. 
 Then the name of a professor was odious ; now, especially in some parts of our town 
 (for you know our town is large), religion is counted honorable. 
 
 Then said Mr. Contrite to them, " Pray, how fareth it with you in your pilgrim- 
 age? How stands the country affected towards you?" 
 
 HON. It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring men. Sometimes our way is 
 clean, sometimes foul ; sometimes up hill, 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 
 old, " A good man must suffer trouble." 
 
 CON. 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 
 
THEIR STA Y AT VANITY FAIR. 295 
 
 GREAT. We have been beset three or four times already. First, Christiana and 
 her children were beset by two ruffians who they feared would take away their lives. 
 We were beset by giant Bloody-man, giant Maul, and giant Slay-good. Indeed, we 
 did rather beset the last than were beset by him. And thus it was : after we had 
 been some time at the house of Gains my host, and of the whole church, we were 
 minded upon a time to take our weapons with us, and go see if we could light upon 
 any of those that are 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 discerned the mouth of his cave ; then we 
 were glad and plucked up our spirits. So we approached up to his den ; and lo, when 
 we came there, he had dragged by mere force into his net this poor man, Mr. Feeble- 
 mind, and was about to bring him to his end. But when he saw us, supposing, as we 
 thought, that he 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. 
 
 Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, " I found this true, to my cost and comfort: to my 
 cost, when he threatened to pick my bones every moment ; and to my comfort, when 
 I saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends, with their weapons, approach so near for my 
 deliverance." 
 
 Then said Mr. Holy-man, " There are two things that they have need to possess 
 MI-. Hoiy-man's wno S on pilgrimage courage and an unspotted life. If they have not 
 courage they can never hold on their way ; and if their lives be loose 
 they will make the very name of a pilgrim stink." 
 
 Then said Mr. Love-saints, " I hope this caution is not needful among you ; but 
 Mr. Love-saints' truly there are many that go upon the road who rather declare them- 
 speech. selves strangers to pilgrimage than strangers and pilgrims on the 
 
 earth." 
 
 Then said Mr. Dare-not-lie, " 'T is true. They have neither the pilgrim's weed 
 Mr. Dare-not-He's nor ^ e pilgrim's courage ; they go not uprightly, but all awry with their 
 speech. ee . one s ;h oe goeth inward, another outward ; and their hosen are out 
 
 behind: here a rag and there a rent, to the disparagement of their Lord." 
 
 "These things," said Mr. Penitent, "they ought to be troubled for; nor are the 
 Mr. penitent's pilgrims like to have that grace put upon them, and their pilgrim's 
 speech. 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 the 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 stayed here was long, for it was not now as in 
 
296 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 former times. Wherefore the pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the good 
 people of the town and did them what service they could. Mercy, as she was wont, 
 labored much for the poor, wherefore their bellies and backs blessed her, and she was 
 there an ornament to her profession. And to say the truth for Grace, Phebe, and 
 Martha, they were all of a very good nature and did much good in their places. 
 They were also all of them very fruitful, so that 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 A monster, 
 them, to suck its whelps. Now no man in the town durst so much as face this mon- 
 ster, but all fled when they heard the noise of his coming. 
 
 The monster was like unto no one beast on the earth. Its body was like a 
 dragon and it had seven heads and ten horns. It made great havoc of ins shape, 
 children and yet it was governed by a woman. Rev 17:3. This monster propounded 
 conditions to men ; and .such men as loved their lives more than their HIS nature, 
 souls accepted of those conditions. So they came under. 
 
 Now Mr. Great-heart, together with those who came to visit the pilgrims at Mr. 
 Mnason's house, entered into a covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps they 
 might deliver the people of this town from the paws and mouth of this so devouring a 
 serpent. 
 
 Then did Mr. Great-heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. 
 Penitent, with their weapons, go forth to meet him. Now the monster at first was 
 very rampant and looked upon these enemies with great disdain ; but How he is en _ 
 they so belabored him, being sturdy men at arms, that they made him gaged> 
 make a retreat. So they came home to Mr. Mnason's house again. 
 
 The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons to come out in and to make 
 his attempts upon the children of the people of the town. At these seasons did these 
 valiant worthies watch him 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 had done ; and it is verily believed 
 by some that this beast will die of his wotinds. 
 
 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 any more than a beast ; these had no reverence for 
 these men and took no notice of their valor and adventures. 
 
THE JO URNE Y RESUMED. 297 
 
 THE EIGHTH STAGE. 
 
 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 were again that brought them of such things as they had that were 
 fit for the weak and the strong, for the women and the men, and so laded them with 
 such things as were necessary. Acts 28:10. Then they set forward on their way; 
 and their friends accompanying them so far as was convenient, they again committed 
 each other to the protection of their King, and parted. 
 
 They therefore that were of the pilgrims' company went on and Mr. Great-heart 
 went before them. Now, the women and children being weakly, they were forced to 
 go as they could bear; by which means Mr. Ready-to-halt and Mr. Feeble-mind had 
 more to sympathize with their condition. 
 
 When they were gone from the townsmen, and when their friends had bid them 
 farewell, they quickly came to the place where Faithful was put to death. Therefore 
 they made a stand and thanked Him that had enabled him to bear his cross so well ; 
 and the rather, because they now found that they had a benefit by such a 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 the silver-mine was which 
 took Demas off from his pilgrimage, and into which, as some think, By-ends fell and 
 perished; wherefore they considered that. But when they were come to the old 
 monument that stood over against the hill Lucre, to wit, to the pillar of salt that 
 stood also within view of Sodom and its stinking lake, they marvelled, as did Christian 
 before, that men of such 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, especially 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 to the river that was on this side of 
 the Delectable mountains ; to the river where the fine trees grow on both sides, and 
 whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against surfeits ; where the meadows are 
 green all the year long and where they might lie down safely. Psa. 23:2. 
 
 By this river-side in the meadows there were cotes and folds for sheep, a house 
 built for the nourishing and bringing up of those lambs, the babes of those women 
 that go on pilgrimage. Also there was here One that was intrusted with them, who 
 could have compassion, and that could gather these lambs with his arm and carry 
 them in his bosom, and gently lead those that were with young. Heb. 5:2; 
 Isa. 40: ii. 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, harbored, 
 38 
 
298 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 succored, and nourished, and that none of them might be lacking in time to come. 
 This man, if any of them go astray or be lost, will bring them again ; he will 
 also bind up that which was broken and will strengthen them that are sick. Jer. 
 23:4; Ezek. 34: 11-16. Here they will never want meat, drink, and clothing; here 
 they will be kept from thieves and robbers, for this man will die before one of those 
 committed to his trust shall be lost. Besides, here they shall be sure to have good 
 nurture and admonition and shall be taught to walk in right paths, and that you 
 know is a favor of no small account. Also here, as you see, are delicate waters, 
 pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and such as bear wholesome fruit : 
 fruit not like that which Matthew ate of, that fell over the wall out of Beelzebub's 
 garden ; but fruit that procureth health where there is none and that continueth and 
 increaseth it where it is. So they were content to commit their little ones to him ; 
 and that which was also an encouragement to them so to do was for that all this 
 was to be at the charge of the King and so was as a hospital to young children and 
 orphans. 
 
 Now they went on. And when they were come to By-path meadow, to the stile 
 over which Christian went with his fellow Hopeful, when they were They being come 
 taken by Giant Despair and put into Doubting Castle, they sat down and nave y a mma to 
 
 y V J . ^.-u have a pluck with 
 
 constilted what was best to be done : to wit, now they were so strong, Giant Despair. 
 and had got such a man as Mr. Great-heart for their conductor, whether they had not 
 best to make an attempt upon the giant, demolish his castle, and if there were any pil- 
 grims 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, Joseph, and 
 James; for they were young men and strong, i John 2: 13, 14. So they left the 
 women 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 though in that place the giant De- 
 spair dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, a little child might lead them. Isa. 1 1 : 6. 
 
 So Mr. Great-heart, Old Honest, and the four young men went to go up to 
 Doubting Castle to look for Giant Despair. When they came at the castle gate they 
 knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. At that the old giant comes to the gate 
 and Diffidence his wife follows. Then said he, " Who and what is he that is so hardy 
 as after this manner to molest the giant Despair ?" 
 
 Mr. Great-heart replied, " It is I, Great-heart, one of the King of the celestial 
 country's conductors of pilgrims to their place ; and I demand of thee that thou open 
 
DOUBTING CASTLE DEMOLISHED. 
 
 299 
 
 "THEN THEY FELL TO DEMOLISHING DOUBTING CASTLE." 
 
 Despair is loatu Despair was brought down to 
 the ground, but was very loath 
 to die. He struggled hard, and had, as 
 they say, as many lives as a cat ; but Great- 
 heart was his death, for he left him not 
 till he had severed his head from his 
 shoulders. 
 
 Then they fell to demolishing Doubt- 
 Doubting castie in g Castle, and that, you know, 
 might with ease be done, since 
 Giant Despair was dead. They were. seven 
 days in destroying of that, and in it of pil- 
 grims they found one Mr. Despondency, 
 almost starved to death, and one Much- 
 afraid, his daughter ; these two they saved 
 alive. But it would have made you won- 
 der 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. 
 
 thy gates for my entrance ; prepare thy- 
 self also to fight, for I am come to take 
 away thy head and to demolish Doubting 
 Castle." 
 
 Now Giant Despair, because he was 
 a giant, thought no man could overcome 
 him ; and again thought he, " Since 
 
 Despair has heretofore I have made a 
 
 overcome au- 
 
 geis. conquest of angels, shall 
 
 Great-heart make me afraid?" So he 
 harnessed himself and went out. He 
 had a cap of steel upon his head, a 
 breastplate of fire girded to him, and he 
 came out in iron shoes with a great club 
 in his hand. Then these six men made 
 up to him and beset him behind and 
 before ; also, when Diffidence the giant- 
 ess came up to help him, old Mr. Hon- 
 est cut her down at one blow. Then 
 they fought for their lives, and Giant 
 
 DESPONDENCY. 
 
300 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 When Mr. Great-heart and his companions had performed this exploit, they took 
 Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid into their protection ; for they were 
 honest people though they were prisoners in Doubting Castle to that tyrant Giant 
 Despair. They therefore, I say, took with them the head of the giant (for his body 
 they had buried under a heap of stones), and down to the road and to their compan- 
 ions 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 xuey nave mu- 
 sic and dancing 
 they were so merry disposed, for joy. 
 
 she played them a lesson, and Ready-to- 
 halt would dance. So he took Despond- 
 ency's daughter 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 so much to him ; he was for feed- 
 ing rather than dancing, for that he was 
 almost starved. So Christiana gave him 
 some of her bottle of spirits for present 
 relief and then prepared him something 
 to eat, and in a little time the old gentle- 
 man came to himself and began to be 
 finely revived. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, when all 
 these things were finished, Mr. Great- 
 heart took the head of Giant Despair and 
 set it upon a pole by the highway - side, 
 
 right over against the pillar that Christian erected for a caution to pilgrims that came 
 after to take heed of entering into his grounds. . 
 
 Then he writ under it upon a marble stone these verses following : 
 
 "This is the head of him whose name only 
 
 In former times did pilgrims terrify. 
 
 His castle 's down, and Diffidence his wife 
 
 Brave Mr. Great-heart has bereft of life. 
 
 Despondency, his daughter Much -afraid, 
 
 Great-heart for them also the man has played. 
 
 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." 
 
 MUCH-AFRAID. 
 
AT THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 301 
 
 When these men had thus bravely showed themselves against Doubting Castle 
 and had slain Giant Despair, they went forward and went on until they came to the 
 Delectable mountains, where Christian and Hopeful refreshed themselves with the 
 varieties of the place. They also acquainted themselves with the shepherds there, 
 who welcomed them, as they had done Christian before, unto the Delectable 
 mountains. 
 
 Now the shepherds seeing so great a train follow Mr. Great-heart (for with him 
 they were well acquainted), they said unto him, " Good sir, you have got a goodly 
 company here; pray, where did you find all these?" 
 
 Then Mr. Great-heart replied, 
 
 " First, here is Christiana and her train, 
 Her sons, and her sons' wives, who, like the wain, 
 Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer 
 From sin to grace, else they had not been here. 
 Next here 's Old Honest come on pilgrimage, 
 Ready-to-halt too, who, I dare engage, 
 True-hearted is, and so is Feeble-mind, 
 Who willing was not to be left behind. 
 Despondency, good man, is coming after, 
 And so also is Much-afraid, his daughter. 
 May we have entertainment here, or must 
 We further go? Let's know whereon to trust." 
 v 
 
 Then said the shepherds, " This is a comfortable company. You are welcome to 
 
 Their enter- us ' f r we have for the feeble as well 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." Matt. 25 : 40. So they had them to 
 
 the palace door and then said unto them, "Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind; come in, 
 
 Mr. Ready-to-halt; come in, Mr. Despondency and Mrs. Much-afraid his daughter. 
 
 These, Mr. Great-heart," said the shepherds to the guide, " we call in by name, for 
 
 that they are most subject to draw back ; but as for you and the rest that are strong, 
 
 we leave you to your wonted liberty." 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart, " This day I see that grace doth shine in your faces, 
 A description anc ^ tna t y ou are m y L r( Ts shepherds indeed ; for that you have not 
 or raise snepheras. p US h e d these diseased neither with side nor shoulder, but have rather 
 strewed their way into the palace with flowers, as you should." Ezek. 34: 21. 
 
 So the feeble and weak went in and Mr. Great-heart and the rest did follow. 
 When they were also set down, the shepherds said to those of the weaker sort, " What 
 is it that you would have ? for," said they, " all things must be managed here to the 
 supporting of the weak, as well as to the warning of the unruly." So they made them 
 a feast of things easy of digestion and that were pleasant to the palate and nour- 
 ishing ; the which when they had received they went to their rest, each one respect, 
 ively unto his proper place. 
 
 When morning was come, because the mountains were high and the day clear, 
 and because it was the custom of the shepherds to show the pilgrims before their 
 
302 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 departure some rarities, therefore, after 
 they were ready and had refreshed them- 
 selves, the shepherds took them out into 
 the fields and showed them first what they 
 had shown to Christian before. 
 
 Then they had them to some new 
 places. The first was Mt. Mt. Marvel. 
 Marvel, where they looked and beheld a 
 man at a distance that tumbled the hills 
 about with words. Then they asked the 
 shepherds what that should mean. So they 
 told them that that man was the son of 
 one Mr. Great-grace, of whom you read in 
 the first part of the records of the Pilgrim's 
 Progress; and he is set there to teach pil- 
 grims how to believe down, or to tumble 
 out of their ways, what difficulties they 
 should meet with, by faith. Mark 1 1 : 23, 24. 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart, " I know him ; 
 lie is a man above many." 
 
 PREJUDICE. 
 
 Then they Had them to Mt Inno . 
 
 another place called Mt. In- cence - 
 nocence. And there they saw a man 
 clothed all in white, and two men, Preju- 
 dice and Ill-will, continually casting dirt 
 upon him. Now behold, the dirt, whatso- 
 ever they cast at him, would in a little time 
 fall off again, and his garment would look 
 as clean 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 ; but, as you see, the 
 dirt will not stick upon his clothes ; so it 
 shall be with him that liveth innocently 
 in the world. Whoever they be that 
 would make such men dirty, they labor all 
 
MARVELS SHOWN BY THE SHEPHERDS. 303 
 
 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." 
 
 Mt. chanty. Then they took them and had them to Mt. Charity, where they 
 
 showed them a man that had a bundle of cloth lying before him, out of which he cut 
 coats and garments for the poor that stood about him ; yet his bundle or roll of cloth 
 was never the less. Then said they, " What should this be ?" 
 
 " This is," said the shepherds, " to show you that he who has a heart to give of 
 his labor to the poor shall never want wherewithal. He that watereth shall be 
 watered himself. And the cake that the widow gave to the prophet did not cause 
 that she had the less in her barrel." 
 
 They had them also to the place where they saw one Fool and one Want-wit 
 The work or washing an Ethiopian with intention to make him white; but the more 
 want-wit. they washed him the blacker he was. Then they asked the shepherds 
 
 what that should mean. So they told them, saying, " Thus it is with the vile person : 
 all means used to get such a one a good name shall in conclusion tend but to make 
 him more abominable. Thus it was with the Pharisees ; and o it shall be with all 
 hypocrites." 
 
 Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana her mother, " Mother, I 
 Merry has a would, if it might be, see the hole in the hill, or that commonly called the 
 
 iniini to see the 1111 . 11111 _, 
 
 hole in the urn. By-way to hell. So her mother broke her mind to the shepherds. 1 hen 
 they went to the door ; it was on the side of the hill, and they opened it and bid Mercy 
 hearken a while. So she hearkened and heard one saying, " Cursed be my father for 
 holding of my feet back from the way of peace and life !" Another said, " Oh, that I 
 had been torn in pieces before I had, to save my life, lost my soul!" And another 
 said, " If I were to live again, how would I deny myself rather than come to this place !" 
 
 Then there was as if the very earth groaned and quaked under the feet of this 
 young woman for fear, so she looked white and came trembling away, saying, 
 " Blessed be he and she that are delivered from this place !" 
 
 Now when the shepherds had shown them all these things, then they had them 
 
 back to the palace and entertained them with what the house would afford. But 
 
 Mercy longeth Mercy, being a young and married woman, longed for something that she 
 
 ami for what, gaw there, but was ashamed to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked her 
 
 what she ailed, for she looked as one not well. 
 
 Then said Mercy, "There is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining-room off 
 which I cannot take my mind ; if, therefore, I have it not, I think I shall miscarry." 
 
 Then said her mother, " I will mention thy wants to the shepherds, and they will 
 not deny it thee." 
 
 But she said, " I am ashamed that these men should know that I longed." 
 
 " Nay, my daughter," said she, " it is no shame, but a virtue, to long for such a 
 thing as that." 
 
 So Mercy said, "Then, mother, if you please, ask the shepherds if they are 
 willing to sell it." 
 
 Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present a man one way with his 
 
304 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 own features exactly, and turn it but another way and it would show The lass tnc 
 one the very face and similitude of the Prince of pilgrims himself. Yes, Woraoi Gocl - 
 I have talked with them that can tell, and they have said that they have seen the 
 very crown of thorns upon his head by looking in that glass ; they have therein also 
 seen the holes in his hands, his feet, and his side. Yea, such an excellency is there in 
 this glass, that it will show him to one where they have a mind to see him, whether 
 living or dead, whether in earth or in heaven, whether in a state of humiliation or 
 in his exaltation, whether coming to suffer or coming to reign. James i : 23 ; i Cor. 
 13 : 12 ; 2 Cor. 3 : 18. 
 
 Christiana therefore went to the shepherds apart (now the names of the shep- 
 herds were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere) and said unto them, 
 " There is one of my daughters, a breeding woman, that I think doth long for some- 
 thing that she hath seen in this house ; and she thinks that she shall miscarry if she 
 should by you be denied." 
 
 Then said Experience, " Call her, call her ; she shall assuredly have what we can 
 help her to." 
 
 So they called her and said to her, " Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldest have ?" 
 
 Then she blushed, and said, " The great glass that hangs up in the dining-room." 
 
 So Sincere ran and fetched it, and with a joyful consent it was given Slie(]olll not i ose 
 her. Then she bowed her head and gave thanks and said, "By this I lierlon K lu 8- 
 know that I have obtained favor in your eyes." 
 
 They also gave to the other young women such things as they desired, and to 
 their husbands great commendations for that they had joined with Mr. Great-heart 
 in the slaying of Giant Despair and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. 
 
 About Christiana's neck the shepherds put a bracelet, and so did HOW the siiep- 
 
 . . herds ailoru the 
 
 they about the necks of her four daughters ; also they put ear-rings in pilgrims, 
 their ears and jewels on their foreheads. 
 
 When they were minded to go hence they let them go in peace, but gave not to 
 them those certain cautions which before were given to Christian and his companion. 
 The reason was for that these had Great-heart to be their guide, who was one that 
 was well acquainted with things and so could give them their cautions more season- 
 ably, to wit, even when the danger was nigh the approaching. What cautions Chris- 
 tian and his companion had received of the shepherds they had also lost by that the 
 time was come that they had need to put them in practice. Wherefore here was the 
 advantage that this company had over the other. 
 
 From thence 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. 
 
 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." 
 
39 
 
 EVANGELIST OFFERED TO LAY HANDS ON HIM TO TURN HIM INTO THE WAY AGAIN." 
 
306 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 THE NINTH STAGE. 
 
 WHEN they were gone from the shepherds they quickly came to the place where 
 Christian met with one Turn-away that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. Wherefore 
 of him Mr. Great-heart their guide did now put them in mind, saying, " This is the 
 place where Christian met with one Turn-away, who carried with him the character 
 of his rebellion at his back. And this I have to say concerning this man : he would 
 hearken to no counsel, but once a-falling, persuasion could not stop him. HOW one Turn- 
 When he came to the place where the cross and sepulchre were, he did a^LTy. 11 ** 
 meet with one that bid him look there ; but he gnashed with his teeth and stamped, 
 and said he was resolved to go back to his own town. Before he came to the gate he 
 met with Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on him to turn him into the way 
 again ; but this Turn-away resisted him, and having done much 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 over with blood. 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart, " Who art 
 thou ?" 
 
 The man made answer, saying, " I am 
 one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I 
 am a pilgrim and am going to the celes- 
 tial city, 
 my way 
 
 men that did beset me, and propounded 
 unto me these three things : First, whether 
 I would become one of them; second, or 
 go back from whence I came ; third, or 
 die upon the place. Prov. i : 11-14. To 
 the first I answered I had been a true 
 man for a long season, and therefore it 
 could not be expected that I should now 
 cast in my lot with thieves. Then they 
 demanded what I would say to the second. 
 So I told them, the place from whence I 
 came, had I not found incommodity there 
 I had not forsaken it at all ; but finding it 
 altogether unsuitable to me and very un- 
 profitable 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 far 
 more dear than that I should lightly give it away. Besides, you have nothing to do 
 
 NOW as I Was in One Valiant-for- 
 truth beset with 
 
 there were three thieves. 
 
 WILD-HEAD. 
 
VALIANT-FOR-TRL'TH. 
 
3 o8 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 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 them. So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of above 
 three hours. They have left upon rne, as you see, some of the marks of their valor 
 and have also carried away with them some of mine. They are but just now gone ; 
 I suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your horse dash, and so they betook 
 themselves to flight." 
 
 GREAT. But here was great odds, three against one. 
 
 "'Tis true," replied Valiant-for-truth ; "but little or more are nothing to him 
 that has the truth on his side. ' Though a host should encamp against me,' said one, 
 Psa. 27:3, ' my heart shall not fear ; though war should rise agains;. 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 jawbone of 
 an ass!" 
 
 Then said the guide, " Why did you not cry out, that some might have come in 
 for your succor ?" 
 
 VALIANT. So I did to my King, who I knew could hear me and afford invisible 
 help, and that was sufficient for me. 
 
 Then said Great-heart to Mr. Valiant-for-truth, "Thou hast worthily behaved 
 thyself; let me see thy sword." So he showed it him. 
 
 When he had taken it in his hand and looked thereon a while, he said, " Ha, it is 
 a right Jerusalem blade." 
 
 VAL. It is so. Let a man have one of these blades, with a hand to wield it 
 and skill to use it, and he may venture upon an angel with it. He need not fear its 
 holding, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its edge will never blunt. It will cut 
 flesh and bones and soul and spirit and all. Heb. 4:12. 
 
 GREAT. But you fought a great while ; I wonder you was not weary. 
 
 VAL. I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand ; and then The word, 
 they were joined together as if a sword grew out of my arm ; and when The ratth. 
 the blood ran through my fingers, then I fought with most courage. lood. 
 
 GREAT. Thou hast done well ; thou hast resisted unto blood, striving against 
 sin. Thou shalt abide by us, come in and go out with us; for we are thy 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 in com- 
 pany those that were feeble and weak, therefore he questioned with him about many 
 things ; as, first, what countryman he was. 
 
 VAL. I am of Dark-land ; for there was I born, and there my father and mother 
 are still. 
 
 "Dark-land?" said the guide; "doth not that lie on the same coast with the city 
 of Destruction?" 
 
CHRISTIAN'S NAME FAMOUS. 309 
 
 HOW Mr. valiant VAL. Yes, it doth. Now that which caused me to come on pilerrim- 
 
 came to go on pil- . , .. 
 
 age was this. We had one Mr. Tell-true come into our parts, and he told 
 
 it about what Christian had done, that went from the city of Destruction, namely, 
 how he had forsaken his wife and children and had betaken himself to a pilgrim's 
 life. It was alSo confidently reported how he 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, especially when he came to 
 the gates of the celestial city ; " for there," said the man, " he was received with sound 
 of trumpet by a company of shining ones." He told also how all the bells 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 burning haste to be 
 gone after him ; nor could father or mother stay me. So I got from them and am 
 come thus far on my way. 
 
 GREAT. You came in at the gate, did you not ? 
 
 He begins right. VAL. Yes, yes ; for the same man also told us that all would be noth- 
 ing if we did not begin to enter this way at the gate. 
 
 Christian's name " Look you," said the guide to Christiana, "the pilgrimage of your 
 husband, and what he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and 
 near." 
 
 VAL. Why, is this Christian's wife ? 
 
 GREAT. Yes, that it is ; and these also are his four sons. 
 
 VAL. What, and going on pilgrimage too ? 
 
 GREAT. Yes, verily, they are following after. 
 
 He is much re- VAL. It glads me at the heart. Good man, how joyful will he be 
 think c when he shall see them that would not go with him, yet to enter after 
 
 him in at the gates into the celestial city. 
 
 GREAT. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him ; for, next to the joy of seeing 
 himself there, it will be a joy to meet there his wife and children. 
 
 VAL. 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. Do you think they shall know themselves then, or that they shall rejoice 
 to see themselves in that bliss ? And if they think they shall know and do this, 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 ? 
 
 VAL. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to this. Have you any more things 
 to ask me about my beginning to come on pilgrimage ? 
 
 GREAT. Yes; were your father and mother willing that you should become a 
 pilgrim ? 
 
 VAL. Oh, no ; they used all means imaginable to persuade me to stay at home. 
 
 GREAT. Why, what could they say against it ? 
 
3io PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 VAL. They said it was an idle life ; and if I myself were not in- The great gtum _ 
 clined to sloth and laziness, I would never countenance a pilgrim's Memis'S m nil 
 condition. way> 
 
 GREAT. And what did they say else ? 
 
 VAL. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way ; yea, the rftost dangerous 
 way in the world, said they, is that which the pilgrims go. 
 
 GREAT. Did they show you wherein this way is so dangerous? 
 
 VAL. Yes ; and that in many particulars. 
 
 GREAT. Name some of them. 
 
 VAL. They told me of the Slough of Despond, where Christian was The flrst stum . 
 well nigh smothered. They told me that there were archers standing blin g- block - 
 ready in Beelzebub-castle to shoot them who should knock at the wicket-gate for 
 entrance. They told me also of the wood and dark mountains ; of the hill Difficulty ; 
 of the lions ; and also of the three giants, Bloody-man, Maul, and Slay-good. They 
 said, moreover, that there was a foul fiend haunted the valley of Humiliation, and 
 that Christian was by him almost bereft of life. " Besides," said they, " you must go 
 over the valley of the Shadow of Death, where the hobgoblins are, where the light is 
 darkness, where the way is full of snares, pits, traps, and gins." They told me also of 
 Giant Despair, of Doubting Castle, and of the ruin that the pilgrims met with here. 
 Further, they said I must go over the Enchanted Ground, which was dangerous ; and 
 that after all this I should find a river over which there was no bridge, and that 
 that river did lie between me and the celestial country. 
 
 GREAT. And was this all ? 
 
 VAL. No ; they also told me that this way was full of deceivers, and The second. 
 of persons that lay in wait to turn good men out of the path. 
 
 GREAT. But how did they make that out ? 
 
 VAL. They told me that Mr. Worldly-wiseman did lie there in wait to deceive. 
 They said also that there were Formalist and Hypocrisy continually on the road. 
 They said also that By-ends, Talkative, or Demas would go near to gather me up ; 
 that the Flatterer would catch me in his net ; or that, with green-headed Ignorance, I 
 would presume to go on to the gate, from whence he was sent back to the hole that 
 was in the side of the hill and made to go the by-way to hell. 
 
 GREAT. I promise you this was enough to discourage you ; but did they make an 
 end here ? 
 
 VAL. No, stay ; they told me also of many that had tried that way of The third, 
 old, and that had gone a great way therein, to see if they could find something of the 
 glory there that so many had so much talked of from 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 Ob- 
 stinate and Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist, with several 
 more ; who, they said, had some of then\ gone far to see what they could find, but 
 not one of them had found so much advantage by going as amounted to the weight 
 of a feather. 
 
ON THE ENCHANTED GROUND. 3 n 
 
 GREAT. Said they anything more to discourage you ? 
 
 The fourth. VAL. Yes; they told me of one Mr. Fearing, who was a pilgrim, and 
 
 how he found his way so solitary that he never had a comfortable hour therein ; 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 a noise, 
 after all his adventures for a celestial crown, was certainly drowned in the Black river 
 and never went a foot further ; however, it was smothered up. 
 
 GREAT. And did none of these things discourage you ? 
 
 VAL. No ; they seemed but as so many nothings to me. 
 
 GREAT. How came that about ? 
 eir 'stumbling- VAL- Wh ^' l sti11 believed what Mr. Tell-true had said; and that 
 
 - 
 carried me beyond them all. 
 
 GREAT. Then this was your victory, even your faith. 
 
 VAL. It was so. I believed, and therefore came out, got into the way, fought all 
 that set themselves against me, and by believing am come to this place. 
 
 "Who would true valor see, 
 
 Let him come hither, 
 One here will constant be, 
 
 Come wind, come weather; 
 There 's no discouragement 
 Shall make him once relent 
 His first avowed intent 
 To be a pilgrim. 
 
 "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. 
 Then fancies fly away, 
 He '11 not fear what men say ; 
 He '11 labor night and day 
 To be a pilgrim. 
 
 By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, where the air naturally 
 tended to make one drowsy. And that place was all grown over with briers and 
 thorns, excepting here and there, where was an enchanted arbor, upon which if a man 
 sits or in which if a man sleeps, it is a question, some say, whether ever he shall rise 
 or wake again in this world. Over this forest, therefore, they went both one and 
 another, and Mr. Great-heart went before, for that he was the guide ; and Mr. Valiant- 
 
312 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 for-truth came behind, being rear-guard, for fear lest peradventure some fiend or 
 dragon or giant or thief should fall upon their rear and so do mischief. 
 
 They went on here, each man with his sword drawn in his hand ; for they knew 
 it was a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another as well as they could. 
 Mr. Feeble-mind Mr. Great-heart commanded should come up after him ; and Mr. De- 
 spondency was under the eye of Mr. Valiant. 
 
 Now they had not gone far but a great mist and darkness fell upon them all ; so 
 that they could scarce, for a great while, the one see the other. Wherefore they were 
 forced, for some time, to feel one for 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 ten- 
 der. 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 way also here was very wearisome, through dirt and slabbiness. Nor was 
 there on all this ground so much as one inn or victualling-house wherein to refresh 
 the feebler sort. Here, therefore, was grunting and puffing and sighing, while one 
 tumbleth over a bush, another sticks fast in the dirt, and the children some of them 
 lost their shoes in the mire ; while one cries out, " I am down ;" and another, " Ho, 
 where are you?" and a third, "The bushes have got such fast hold on me I think I 
 cannot get away from them." 
 
 Then they came at an arbor, warm, and promising much refreshing to the pil- 
 grims, for it was finely wrought above head, beautified with greens, fur- An arbor on 
 
 the Enchanted 
 
 mshed with benches and settles. It also had in it a soft couch whereon Ground, 
 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 the dangers when they 
 were at them, that usually when they were nearest to them they did most pluck up 
 their spirits and hearten one another to deny the flesh. This arbor was The name of the 
 called The Slothful's Friend, and was made on purpose to allure, if it arbor> 
 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 The diffl _ 
 ground till they came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way. cult to flnd - 
 Now, though when it was light their guide could well enough tell how to miss those 
 ways that led wrong, yet in the dark he was put to a stand. But he had in his 
 pocket a map of all ways leading to or from the celestial city ; wherefore The guifle has a 
 he struck a light (for he never goes without his tinder-box also), and g p t o or fr y S m e fhe 
 takes a view of his book or map, which bids him to be careful in that city- 
 place to turn to the right hand. And had he not been careful here 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. 
 
MESSRS. HEEDLESS AND TOO-BOLD. 313 
 
 Then thought I with myself, Who that goeth on pilgrimage but would have 
 cod's book, one of these maps about him, that he may look, when he is at a stand, 
 which is the way he must take ? 
 
 Then they went on in this Enchanted Ground till they came to where there was 
 An arbor ami another arbor, and it was built by the highway-side. And in that arbor 
 
 two asleep there- , 
 
 in. there lay two men whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These 
 
 two went thus far on pilgrimage ; but here, being wearied with their journey, 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 awake them, that is, if they could ; but with this caution, namely, to take heed that 
 they themselves did not sit down nor embrace the offered benefit of that arbor. 
 
 So they went in and spoke to the men, and called each by his name, for the guide 
 The pngrims it seems did know them, but there was no voice nor answer. Then 
 them. the guide did shake them and do what he could to disturb them. Then 
 
 said one of them, " I will pay you when I take my money." At which the guide 
 shook his head. " I will fight so long as I can hold my sword in my hand," said the 
 other. At that one of the children laughed. 
 
 Then said Christiana, " What is the meaning of this?" 
 
 The guide said, "They talk in their sleep. If you strike them, beat them, or 
 Their endeavor whatever else you do to them, they will answer you after this fashion; 
 or as one of them said in old time, when the waves of the sea did beat 
 upon him and he slept as one upon the mast of a ship, ' When I awake I will seek it 
 yet again.' Prov. 23 : 34, 35. You know when men talk in their sleep they say 
 anything, but their words are not governed either by faith or reason. There is an 
 incoherency in their words now, as there was before between 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 
 Enchanted Ground is one of the last refuges that the enemy to pilgrims has ; where- 
 fore 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 awake them." 
 
 Then the pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward, only they prayed their 
 
 guide to strike a light, that they might go the rest of their way by the help of the 
 
 The light of the light of a lantern. So he struck a light and they went by the help of 
 
 Word - that through the rest of this way, though the darkness was very great. 
 
 me children ay 2 Pet l ' 1 9- But tne children began to be sorely weary, and they cried 
 
 for weariness. out unto jj| m fa^ i ove th pilgrims to make their way more comfortable. 
 
 40 
 
314 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 So by that they had gone a little further, a wind arose and 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. standfast up - 
 So they went on and looked before them, and behold they saw, as they ^ e " is K nStS 
 thought, a man upon his knees with hands and eyes lifted up, and G 
 speaking, as they thought, earnestly to One that was above. They drew nigh, but 
 could not tell what he said ; so they went softly till he had done. When he had done 
 he got up and began to run towards the celestial city. 
 
 Then Mr. Great-heart called after him, saying, " So-ho, 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 as soon as Mr. Honest saw him, he said, " I know this man." 
 
 Then said Mr. Valiant-for-truth, " Prithee, who is it?" 
 
 " It is one," said he, " that comes from whereabout I dwelt. His The story of 
 name is Standfast; he is certainly a right good pilgrim." 
 
 So they came up to one another, and presently Standfast said to Old Honest, 
 "Ho, Father Honest, are you there?" Talk between 
 
 Standfast and Mr. 
 
 "Ay," said he, " that I am, as sure as you are there. Honest. 
 
 " Right glad am I," said Mr. Standfast, " that I have found you on this road." 
 
 "And as glad am I," said the other, " that I espied you on your knees." 
 
 Then Mr. Standfast 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 Standfast. 
 
 "Think," said Old Honest, "what could I think? I thought we had an honest 
 man upon the road and therefore should have his company by-and-by." 
 
 " If you thought not amiss," said Standfast, " how happy am I ! But if I be not 
 as I should, 'tis I alone must bear it." 
 
 "That is true," said the other, "but your fear doth further confirm me that 
 things are right between the Prince of pilgrims and your soul. For he saith, 
 ' Blessed is the man that feareth always.' " Prov. 28 : 14. 
 
 VAL. Well, but, brother, I pray thee tell us what was it that was the They founil him 
 cause of thy being upon thy knees even now. Was it for that some at P ra y er - 
 special mercy laid obligations upon thee, or how ? 
 
 STAND. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted Ground ; and as I was 
 coming; along: I was musing; with myself of what a dangerous nature the what it was that 
 
 fetched him upon 
 
 road in this place was, and how many that had come even thus far on his knees, 
 pilgrimage had here been stopped 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. 
 
"SHB STILL FOLLOWED ME WITH ENTICEMENTS. 
 
316 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Then Mr. Honest, interrupting him, said, " Did you see the two men asleep in 
 the arbor?" 
 
 STAND. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there, and for aught I know there 
 they will lie till they rot. Prov. 10:7. But let me go on with my tale. As I was 
 thus musing, as I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old, who presented 
 herself to me and offered me three things, to wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. 
 Now the truth is I was both weary and sleepy. I am also as poor as an owlet, and 
 that perhaps the witch knew. Well, I repulsed her once and again, but she put by 
 my repulses and smiled. Then I began to be angry, but she mattered that nothing 
 at all. Then she made offers again, and said if I would be ruled by her she 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 Madam Rubble 
 was Madam Bubble. This set me further from her, but she still followed or thi8 vain worl<3: 
 me with enticements. Then I betook me, as you saw, to my knees, and with hands 
 lifted up and cries I prayed to Him that had said he would help. So just as you 
 came up the gentlewoman went her way. Then I continued to give thanks for this 
 my great deliverance, for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather sought to 
 make stop of me in my journey. 
 
 HON. Without doubt her designs were bad. But stay, now you talk of ner, me- 
 thinks I either have seen her or have read some story of her. 
 
 STAND. Perhaps you have done both. 
 
 HON. Madam Bubble ? Is she not a tall, comely dame, somewhat of a swarthy 
 complexion ? 
 
 STAND. Right, you hit it ; she is just such a one. 
 
 HON. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give you a smile at the end of a 
 sentence > 
 
 STAND. You fall right upon it again, for these are her very actions. 
 
 HON. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side, and is not her hand often in 
 it, fingering her money as if that was her heart's delight ? 
 
 STAND. 'T is just so ; had she stood by all this while, you could not more amply 
 have set her forth before me nor have better described her features. 
 
 HON. Then he that drew her picture was a good limner, and he that wrote of her 
 said true. 
 
 GREAT. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of her sorceries The world, 
 that this ground is enchanted. Whoever doth lay his head down in her lap had as 
 good lay it down on that block over which the axe doth hang ; and whoever lay their 
 eyes upon her beauty are counted the enemies of God. This is she that maintaineth 
 in their splendor all those that are the enemies of pilgrims. Jas. 4 : 4. Yea, this is 
 she that hath 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 another, now 
 commending and then preferring the excellences of this life. She is a bold and im- 
 pudent 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 
 
AT THE LAND OF BEULAH. 317 
 
 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 time 
 and open places of cheating ; and she will say, and avow it, that none can show a good 
 comparable to hers. She promiseth to dwell with children's children if they will but 
 love her and make much of her. She will cast out of her purse gold like dust in some 
 places and to some persons. She loves to be sought after, spoken well of, and to lie 
 in the bosoms of men. She is never weary of commending her commodities, and she 
 loves them most that think best of her. She will promise to some crowns and king- 
 doms if they will but take her advice ; yet many hath she brought to the halter, and 
 ten thousand times more to hell. 
 
 " Oh," said Standfast, " what a mercy is it that I did resist her ; for whither might 
 she have drawn me !" 
 
 GREAT. Whither ? Nay, none but God knows whither. But in general, to be 
 sure, she would have drawn thee into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown 
 men in destruction and perdition, i Tim. 6:9. 'T was 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 between rulers and 
 subjects, between parents and children, between neighbor and neighbor, between 
 a man and his wife, between a man and himself, between the flesh and the spirit. 
 Wherefore, good Mr. Standfast, be as your name is, and when you have done all, 
 stand. 
 
 At this discourse there was among the pilgrims a mixture of joy and trembling ; 
 but at length they broke out and sang, 
 
 "What danger is the pilgrim in ! 
 
 How many are his foes ! 
 How many ways there are to sin 
 No living mortal knows. 
 
 "Some in the ditch are spoiled, yea, can 
 
 Lie tumbling in the mire : 
 Some, though they shun the frying-pan, 
 Do leap into the fire." 
 
 After this I beheld until they were come into the land of Beulah, where the sun 
 shineth night and day. 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 vineyards that were here belonged to the King of the celestial country, 
 therefore they were licensed to make bold with any of his things. But a little while 
 soon refreshed them here; for the bells did so ring and the trumpets continually 
 sound so melodiously that they could not sleep, and yet they received as much refresh- 
 ing as if they had slept their sleep ever so soundly. 
 
 Here also all the noise of them that walked the streets was, " More pilgrims are 
 come to town." 
 
3 i8 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 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 wa- Death bitter to 
 
 . the nesli. but sweet 
 
 ter of the river over which they were to go, they thought it tasted a little to the soui. 
 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 historv of all the famous acts that they had done. It was Death has its 
 
 J , ebbinps and low- 
 
 here also much discoursed how the river to some had had its flowings, ings, like the tide. 
 
 and what ebbings it has had while others have gone over. It has been in a manner 
 dry for some, while it has overflowed its banks for others. 
 
 In this place the children of the town would go into the King's gardens and 
 gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and bring them to them with much affection. Here 
 also grew camphor, with spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all the 
 trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, with all chief spices. With these the pil- 
 grims' chambers were perfumed while they stayed here ; and with these were their 
 bodies anointed, to prepare them to go over the river when the time appointed was 
 come. 
 
 Now while they lay here and waited for the good hour, there was a noise in the 
 town that there was a post come from the celestial city with matter of A messenger of 
 
 . death seat to 
 
 great importance to one Christiana, the wife of Christian the pilgrim. Christiana. 
 So inquiry was made for her, and the house was found out where she was. So the 
 post presented her with a letter. The contents were, "Hail, good ms message, 
 woman; I bring thee tidings that the Master calleth for thee, and expecteth that 
 thou shouldst stand in his presence in clothes of immortality within these ten 
 days." 
 
 When he had read this letter to her he gave her therewith a sure token 
 that he was a true messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be gone. 
 The token was an arrow with a point sharpened with love, let easily into her heart, 
 which by degrees wrought so effectually with her that at the time appointed she 
 must be gone. 
 
 When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the How we i CO me 
 first of this company that was to go over, she called for Mr. Great-heart SStoVSoSS 
 
 ., , , . .. to do but to die. 
 
 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 him that he should give advice how all things should Her speecn w 
 
 , .. . 1 her guide. 
 
 be prepared for her journey. 
 
CHRISTIANA'S FAREWELLS. 
 
 319 
 
 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 
 TO her children, gave them her blessing, and 
 told them that she had read with comfort 
 the mark that was set in their foreheads, 
 and was glad to see them with her there 
 and that they had kept their garments so 
 white. Lastly, she bequeathed to the poor 
 that little she had, and commanded her 
 sons and daughters to be ready against 
 the messenger should come for them. 
 
 When she had spoken these words to 
 
 To Mr. Valiant- her g uide and to her chi1 ' 
 
 dren, she called for Mr. Val- 
 iant-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. Rev. 
 2:10. I would also entreat you to have 
 an eye to my children ; and if at any time 
 you see them faint, speak comfortably to 
 
 them. For my daughters, my sons' wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling 
 of the promise upon them will be their end." 
 TO Mr. standfast. But she gave Mr. Standfast a ring. 
 
 TO oid Honest. Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, " ' Behold an 
 
 Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile !' " John i : 47. 
 
 Then said he, " I wish you a fair day when you set out for Mt. Sion, and shall be 
 glad to see that you go over the river dry-shod." 
 
 But she answered, " Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone ; for however the 
 weather is in my journey, I shall have time enough when I come there to sit down 
 and rest and dry me." 
 
 TO Mr. Ready- Then came in that good man Mr. Ready-to-halt to see her. So she 
 to-nait. said to hini) Thy trave i hitherto has been with difficulty ; but that will 
 
 make thy rest the sweeter. Watch, and be ready ; for at an hour when ye think not 
 the messenger may come." 
 
 TO Mr. DC- After him came Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid, to 
 
 spondency and Ills , 
 
 daughter. whom she said, " You ought, with thankfulness, for ever to remember 
 
 your deliverance from the hands of Giant Despair and out of Doubting Castle. The 
 effect of that mercy is that you are brought with safety hither. Be ye watchful, and 
 cast away fear; be sober, and hope to the end." 
 
 Then said she to Mr. Feeble-mind, "Thou wast delivered from the mouth of 
 
 CHRISTIANA SAW THAT HER TIMK WAS COME. 
 
320 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Giant Slay-good, that thou mightest live in the light of the living and To Mr Feeble> 
 see thy King with comfort. Only I advise thee to repent of thine apt- mind - 
 ness to fear and doubt of his goodness before he sends for thee ; lest thou shouldst, 
 when he conies, be forced to stand before him for that fault with blushing." 
 
 Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the road Her last day, 
 
 . .... . 1 .. . ami manner of d'e- 
 
 was full of people to see her take her journey. But behold, all the parture. 
 banks beyond the river were full of horses and chariots, which were come down 
 from above to accompany her to the city gate. So she came forth and entered the 
 river with a beckon of farewell to those that followed her. The last words that she 
 was heard to say were, " I come, Lord, to be with thee and bless thee !" 
 
 So her children and friends returned to their place, for those that waited for 
 Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So she went and called and entered in 
 at the gate with all the ceremonies of joy that her husband Christian had entered 
 with before her. At her departure the children wept. But Mr. Great-heart and Mr. 
 Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp for joy. So all departed to their 
 respective places. 
 
 In process of time there came post to the town again, and his busi- Mr Rea( i y .to-iiait 
 ness was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he inquired him out, and said, " I am summoned - 
 come from him whom thou hast loved and followed, though upon crutches ; and my 
 message is to tell thee that he expects thee at his table to sup with him in his king- 
 dom the next day after Easter; wherefore prepare thyself for this journey." Then 
 he also gave him a token that he was a true messenger, saying, " I have broken thy 
 golden bowl and loosed thy silver cord." Eccl. 12:6. 
 
 After this Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow-pilgrims and told them, saying, 
 "I am sent for; and God shall surely visit you also." So he desired Mr. Valiant to 
 make his will. And because he had nothing to bequeath to them that should sur- 
 vive him but his crutches and his good wishes, therefore thus he said, promises. 
 " These crutches I bequeath to my son that shall tread in my steps, with HIS win. 
 a hundred warm wishes that he may prove better than I have been." Then he 
 thanked Mr. Great-heart for his conduct and kindness, and so addressed himself to his 
 journey. 
 
 When he came to the brink of the river, he said, " Now I shall have no more 
 need of these crutches, since yonder are chariots and horses for me to ride on." The 
 last words he was heard to say were, ''Welcome, life!" So he went his ms last words. 
 way. 
 
 After this Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him that the post Feebie-mind 
 sounded his horn at his chamber door. Then he came in and told him, summonea - 
 saying, " I am come to tell thee that thy Master hath need of thee, and that in a very 
 little time thou must behold his face in brightness. And take this as a token of the 
 truth of my message: 'Those that look out at the windows shall be darkened."' 
 Eccles. 12: 3. 
 
 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 
 
322 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 he said, " Since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what purpose He makes no win. 
 should I make a will ? As for my feeble mind, that I will leave behind me, for that 
 I shall have no need of in the place whither I go, nor is it worth bestowing upon the 
 poorest pilgrims ; wherefore when I am gone I desire that you, Mr. Valiant, would 
 bury it in a dunghill." This done, and the day being come on which he was to de- 
 part, he entered the river as the rest. His last words were, " Hold out, ins last words. 
 faith and patience !" So he went over to the other side. 
 
 When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Despondency was Mr I)cspondeilC y 
 sent for ; for a post was come and brought this message to him : " Trem- summoned - 
 bling man, these are to summon thee to be ready with the King by the next Lord's 
 day, to shout for joy for thy deliverance from all thy doubtings. And," said the mes- 
 senger, " that my message is truo, take this for a proof ;" so he gave him a grasshopper 
 to be a burden unto him. Eccles. 12:5. 
 
 Now Mr. Despondency's daughter, whose" name was Much-afraid, IIis llaughter 
 said, when she heard what was done, that she would go with her father. gocs toa 
 Then Mr. Despondency said to his friends, " Myself and my daughter, you know what 
 we have been, and how troublesomely we have behaved ourselves in every company. 
 My will and my daughter's is that our desponds and slavish fears be by nis win. 
 no man ever received, from the day of our departure, for ever ; for I know that after 
 my death they will offer themselves to others. For, to be plain with you, they are 
 ghosts which we entertained when we first began to be pilgrims, and could never 
 shake them off after ; and they will walk about and seek entertainment of the pil- 
 grims ; but for our sakes shut the doors upon them." When the time was come for 
 them to depart they went up to the brink of the river. The last words HIS last words, 
 of Mr. 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 post in the town that inquired 
 for Mr. Honest. So he came to the house where he was, and delivered to his hand 
 these lines : " Thou art commanded to be ready against this day seven- Mr Honest 
 
 night, to present thyself before thy Lord at his Father's house. And for suramouecl - 
 a token that my message is true, ' all the daughters of music shall be brought low.' " 
 Eccles. 12:4. 
 
 Then Mr. Honest called for his friends and said unto them, " I die, but shall 
 make no will. As for my honesty, it shall go with me ; let him that He makes no win. 
 comes after be told of this." When the day that he was to be gone was come, he 
 addressed himself to go over the river. Now the river at that time overflowed its 
 banks in some places ; but Mr. Honest in his lifetime had spoken to one f:oo.i-conscience 
 
 r* J i-L-j.1. J.T 1-11 1 1-1 ' i 1 . 1 llcJ P s Mr Honest 
 
 Good-conscience to meet him there, the which he also did, and lent him over the river, 
 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 Mr V aiianwor- 
 with a summons by the same post as the other, and had this for a token trut " sui " monetl - 
 that the summons was true, that his " pitcher was broken at the fountain." Eccl. 12:6. 
 
MR. STANDFAST IS SUMMONED. 323 
 
 When he understood it he called for his friends and told them of it. Then said 
 he, " I am going to my Father's ; and though with great difficulty I have 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 pilgrimage, and my ins win. 
 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 will now 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 sting?" And as he went down 
 deeper he said, "Grave, where is thy victory?" i Cor. 15:55. So he ms last words, 
 passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side. 
 
 Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Standfast. This Mr. Ml . Standfa8t 
 Standfast was he whom the rest of the pilgrims found upon his knees in summoned - 
 the Enchanted Ground. And the post brought it him open in his hands ; the contents 
 thereof 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. Standfast was put into a muse. 
 " Nay," said the messenger, " you need not doubt of the truth of my message, for here 
 is a token of the truth thereof: ' Thy wheel is broken at the cistern.' " Eccl. 12:6. 
 
 Then he called to him Mr. Great-heart, who was their guide, and said He calls for Mr 
 unto him, " Sir, although it was not my hap to be much in your good com- Great - heart - 
 pany during the days of my pilgrimage, yet, since the time I knew you, HIS speech to him. 
 you have been profitable to me. When I came from home I left behind me a wife and 
 five small children ; let me entreat you, at your return (for I know that you go and 
 return to your Master's house, in hopes that you may 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 and shall happen unto me. Tell them moreover of my happy His errand to 
 arrival at this place, and of the present and late blessed condition I am his fami 'y- 
 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, unless it be prayers and 
 tears for them ; of which it will suffice that you acquaint them, if peradventure they 
 may prevail." 
 
 When Mr. Standfast 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. Standfast, when he was about half way in, 
 stood a while and talked with his companions that had waited upon him thither. And 
 he said, "This river has been a terror to many; yea, the thoughts of it His last words, 
 also have often frightened me ; but now methinks I stand easy ; my foot is fixed upon 
 that on which the feet of the priests that bore the ark of the covenant stood while Is- 
 rael went over Jordan. Josh. 3:17. The waters indeed are to the palate bitter and to 
 the stomach cold ; yet the thoughts of what I am going to, and of the convoy that waits 
 for me on the other side, do lie as a glowing coal at my heart. I see myself now 
 at the end of my journey ; my toilsome days are ended. I am going to see that 
 head which was crowned with thorns and that face which was spit upon for me. 
 
324 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith; but now I go where I shall live b) 
 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 mjost sweet, and his coun- 
 tenance I have more desired than they that have most desired the light of the sun. 
 His words I did use to gather for my food and for antidotes against my faintings. He 
 hath held me and 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 upon stringed instru- 
 ments, to welcome the pilgrims as they 
 went up and followed one another in at 
 the beautiful gate of the city. 
 
 As for Christiana's children, the four 
 boys that Christiana brought, with their 
 wives and children, I did not stay where 
 I was till they were gone over. Also since 
 I came away I heard one say that they 
 were yet alive, and so would be for the 
 increase of the church in that place where 
 Vhey were, for a time. 
 
 Should it be my lot to go that way 
 again, I may give those that desire it an 
 account of what I here am silent about ; 
 meanwhile I bid my reader FAREWELL 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 8HOV49DA 
 
 liNov'4 
 
 DEC 11 1949 
 
 291 
 
 5 1956 LI 
 
 JUN 7 1961 
 
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 MAR 6 1963 
 
 LD 
 
 SEP 2 2165 -7PM 
 
 LD 21-100m-9,'48iB399sl6)476 
 
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