;:~~~\c -!ir i;L;
EVANGELIST POINTS HRISTA TO THE KET GATE.
EVANGGEItST POINTS CLHTISTLNT TO TILE WICKET GATE.
TBK fKKIIxKSS EPITION.
FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME.
BY JOHN BUNYAN.
WITH OVER ONE HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS DESIGNED
BARNARD AND OTHERS,
ENGRAVED BY DALZIEL BROTHERS.
CHROMO-LITHOGRAPH PLATES IN NINE COLORS.
AN INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR
TO WHICH IS ADDED
THE LITTLE PILGRIM.-A POEM.-
JOHN C. W1INST1ON & CO.,
PHILADELPHIA AND CHICAGO.
ENTERED, ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR 1890, BY
JOHN C. WINSTON,
IN THE OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS, AT WASHINGTON,
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
"As I slept, I dreamed a dream,"
Christian as seen by Bunyan in his dream,
HEADING-The City of Destruction,
C'I .... ,' tells his wife and children of his distress,
"Hie began to retire himself to his chamber to pray,"
Evangelist points Christian to the wicket gate,.
Christian and Pliable in the Slough of Despond,
Mr. Worldly Wiseman,
" When Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull,"
"Beelzebub and they that are with him shoot arrows,"
Despair in an iron cage, .
Christian before the Cross, .
"The bottomless pit opened just whereabout I stood,
Christian and the Angels, .
Christian climbing the hill of difficulty,
" He stumbled and fell, and rose no more,"
" He at last fell into a slumber,"
Watchful the Porter,
" Christian sees lions in his path,"
The porter meets Christian and calls Discretion to the palace door, .
Discretion, Piety, Charity, and Prudence instruct Christian at the Palace Beauti-
Giving thanks for his deliverance from Apollyon,
"A company offendss" .
"In the valley of the shadow of death," .
E. F. BREWTNAiL,
Towa mEY GREEN,.
W. SMALL, .
E. F. BREWTNALL,
E. F. BREWTNALL,
E. G. DALZIEL,
J. M'L. RALSTON,
E. G. DALZIEL,
LIST OF ILL USTRA TIONS.
" He can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth, grinning at pilgrims,"
Christian and Faithful join company, .
Pride ; Arrogancy ; Self-Conceit ; Worldly-Glory, .
"'A man whose name is Talkative," .
Christian enters the town of Vanity Fair, .
Lord Hate-good, .
THREE WITNESSES : Envy, Superstition, Pickthank, .
THE JURY: Mr. Blind-man, 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, .
Faithful burned at the stake, .
1-I .... i' 1 joins Christian, .
Mr. By-ends meets Hold-the-World, Money-love, and Save-all,
('IC 1-It and Hopeful are reminded of Lot's wife, .
Giant Despair, .
'lh;i.t; and Hopeful in the castle of Giant Despair, .
"A man whom seven devils had bound,". .
Faint-heart, Mistrust and Guilt, attack Little-Faith, .
Atheist laughing at Christian and Hopeful, .
" He said, No, for I was invited to come," .
" I am always full of good motions," .
"Thus they got over," .
" Christian brake out with a loud voice, Oh I see him again,' "
One of the King's Trumpeters, .
" 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," .
TAIL-PIECE-The Dreamer awaking, .
F. BARNARD, .84
TOWNLEY GREEN, 86
F. BARNARD, 90
F. BARNARD, 111
TOWNLEY GREEN. 116
F. BARNARD, 119
E. G. DALZIEL, 125
F. BARNARD, 127
E. G. DALZIEL, 133
F. BARNARD, 139
E. G. DALZIEL, 167
E. F. BREWTNALL, 171
F. BARNARD, 172
HEADING---Bunyan in Bedford Jail,.
The Author and Mr. Sagacity, .
"Her thoughts began to work in her mind,"
Christiana opens her mind to her Children,
" Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too,' "
MRS. TIuOROuS's NEIGIIBORS:-Mrs. Bat's-eyes, Mrs.
mind and Mrs. Know-nothing,
Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-
" Come, let us venture, only let us be wary,'" .
The King's Trumpeter, .
Mercy fallen in a swoon at the Wicket Gate, .
The ill-favored ones, .
" So Christiana's boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, and the
fruit that did hang thereon, did plash them, and began to eat," .
F. BARNARD, 177
E. F. BREWTNALL, 187
F. BARNARD, 192
J. D. LINTON, 199
J. M'L. RALSTON, 201
F. BARNARD, 204
E. F. BREWTNALL, 205
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
"A man that could look no way but downwards, with a muck-rake in
n his hand,"
"I went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart,"
Prudence questions Christiana's Children, .
Mr. Brisk,.. .
The ..I .l.....1 Boy, .
M r. '.. .
Mercy and Matthew,. .
" Mercy, as her custom was, wouldbe making coats and garments to give to the poor,"
Mr. Feeble-Mind and Mr. Ready-to-Halt,.
Turn-Away Resisting Evangelist,
Madam Bubble and Mr. Stand-fast, .
Christiana Passes over the River to the Celestial City,
J. D. LINTON,
E. F. BREWTNALL,
E. F. BIEWTNALL,
J. D. LINTON,
E. F. BREWTNALL,
J. D. LTNTON,
E. F. BREWTNALL,
-:- -,. -- .-- +,'" -- -,' -" '-
l r l ', _-' .-.__' .- -.
U-- ; -I ----- C-, +"v -:-
r. .*- H-^-..- .- + ,. -,.+ v ,_ '
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.
SHE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS" is, without question, of all uninspired volumes,
5.d.a .,11 i the most extraordinary book in the English language. Regard being had to the
condition of its author, and the circumstances connected with its production, to
its widespread popularity, and its suitableness for readers of every class, there is
none to compare with it.
'We shall probably find few readers who are not already acquainted with the
'' ..< leading facts of Bunyan's life; and to whom a record of them would not appear
(- fl& i;ke the rehearsal of an old story. It may -,ii..-, therefore, if we present, in few
S words, such a summary as will refresh the memory, dwelling only on those which are
I' i .ted to shed a little light on his immortal production.
(- ) Born at Elstow in Bedfordshire in 1628, of parents who belonged to the humbler
< .., walk., of life, he received little early education worthy of the name; but grew up in the
L.s ignorance which was then, and in England is still, common to his class. At an early age
he learned the trade of tinker, and by that occupation earned his livelihood for a few
years. Up to the time of his first marriage he lived, if not a desperately profligate, yet
a thoroughly godless and openly wicked life. And though the character and conversation of his
wife exerted a restraining influence, and awoke in him some desire for reformation, no real, and
but little apparent, change took place until some time afterwards, when he became the subject of
converting grace. The deep experiences through which he had passed in connection with this
change, combined with his natural gifts, qualified him for profitably addressing others; and he
very soon began, in an irregular way at first, to exercise the ministry, which ultimately became
his sole occupation, and in which he obtained to a proficiency unsurpassed by any preacher
of his time. His preaching, and consequent absence from the parish church, attracted the
notice of the ecclesiastical authorities of the neighborhood, at whose instigation he was thrown
into prison for twelve years, where he tagged laces to support his wife and blind child, and
conceived and wrote the wonderful allegory by which he has ranked himself forever among the
peers of the intellectual world, and secured for himself an ever-widening and undying fame. After
his release he preached with great acceptance and usefulness, statedly at Bedford, occasionally in
London and elsewhere; and composed and published various other works of great practical useful-
ness, some of which would no doubt have attained to a wide popularity had they not been eclipsed
by his greatest production. He diligently prosecuted his labors until he was sixty years of age,
when a severe cold caught in the discharge of a ministerial duty-a journey which he took for the
purpose of reconciling a father and son who had quarrelled-abruptly terminated his life.
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE A UTHOA
In the circumstances we have thus briefly narrated-especially in his imprisonment-some
writers see the discipline and training which were necessary to fit him for writing "The Pilgrim's
Progress." But though we cannot question that whatsoever God did for him and whatsoever men
were permitted to do, had some effect in fitting him for whatever work he was destined to perform,
it seems to us that such a discovery is but one of numerous instances in which men are wise after
the event, and that Bunyan's great work is not to be accounted for except by a profounder phi-
losophy than such writers bring to the task. Few beforehand would have ventured to predict, from
anything in the antecedents of the man Bunyan, that he would be able to produce such a book; or
that anything in his circumstances and upbringing and parentage would produce such a man. He
is a great creation, no more to be accounted for in such a manner than is the creation of a world.
Antecedents conduce to, but do not account for, it. He is a phenomenon only to be understood on
the principle that God, by a process which we cannot trace, and sometimes by means which appear
to us unsuitable, raises up great men for the performance of great works. Not only does He make
the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak to confound the mighty, but
gives us to find both wisdom and strength where such qualities are least likely to exist.
It is a fact significant of the nature of the times, that Christian England, which ought to have
been proud to rank him among her favored sons, had no better treatment for this man than the most
relentless persecution, no better home for twelve years than a damp cell in the gaol which stood on
the bridge over the Ouse at Bedford. His crime, as we have intimated, was that of absenting him-
self from the Established Church, and holding meetings where he preached the gospel, and conducted
worship in a manner which appeared to him more in accordance than the established service with
New Testament principles-one of the worst crimes, in the estimation of the authorities, of whiich a
man could be guilty. On the warrant of a Justice he was apprehended at a meeting in Sansell, and,
no bail being found, was thrown into prison to await his trial, which took place seven weeks after-
wards. His indictment set forth that "John Bunyan, of the town of Bedford, laborer, hath devil-
ishly and perniciously abstained from coming to church to hear Divine service, and is a common
upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction of
the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king." On this
indictment, without any examination of witnesses, he was found guilty. Justice Keeling, in a
savage tone strangely unbecoming in a judge passing sentence, said, "Hear your judgment: you
must be had back to prison, and there lie for three months following. And at three months' end, if
you do not submit to go to church to hear Divine service, and leave your preaching, you must be
banished the realm ; or be found to come back again without special license from the king, you must
stretch by the neck for it, I tell you plainly. Jailor, take him away."
Bunyan's reply was as worthy of his Christian chara< ter as the judge's manner was unworthy of
his exalted office. All that he had to say in answer to such brutal browbeating was, If I was out
of prison to-day, I would preach again to-morrow, by the help of God Such a man was evidently
not to be frightened either by frowns or by threats; so they had him back to prison, of which he had
already tasted the sweets. But not all the horrors of prison-not the pain of separation from his
wife and four children, cculd move his dauntless soul. He felt that separation most keenly-no
man could have felt it more. Especially was he solicitous about his blind daughter, to whom he was
all the more tenderly attached because of her helplessness. "Poor child, thought I; what sorrow
art thou like to have for thy portion in this world Thou must be beaten, must beg, suffer hunger,
cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, though I cannot now endure the wind should blow upon
thee! Oh, the hardships I thought my blind one might go under would break my heart in pieces."
Still he did not falter, for he could commit her as well as himself to God; and God's peace was with
INTROD UCTOR Y NOTICE OF THE A UTIHOR.
him. Verily, as I was going forth out of the doors, I had much ado to forbear saving to them that
I carried the peace of God along with me; and, blessed be the Lord, I went away to prison with
God's comfort in my poor soul !"
His case seems to have given some trouble to the Justices. He was had up before them re-
peatedly, and always remanded. They were either unwilling or afraid to carry out Justice Keeling's
threat of banishment. And as their prisoner would not promise to change his course, they kept
him where he was. His friends interceded for him. His wife, who was of a kindred spirit with
himself, came to London with a petition for his release, and had it presented to the House of Lords.
Although a delicate young woman of retiring habits," she appeared before the Judges and pleaded
his cause "in language worthy of the most talented counsel." But all their efforts were in vain.
The one condition on which his release could be granted was the condition with which the prisoner
would not comply. Will your husband leave preaching ? said Judge Twisden to his wife ; "if
he will do so, then send for him." My Lord," she replied, he dares not leave preaching, so long
as he can speak." "My principles," says Bunyan on another occasion, "are such as lead me to a
denial to communicate in the things of the kingdom of Christ with ungodly and open profane;
neither can I, in or by the superstitious inventions of this world consent that my soul should he
governed in any of my approaches to God, because commanded to the contrary, and commended for
so refusing. Wherefore, excepting this one thing, for which I ought not to be rebuked, I shall, I
trust, in despite of slander and falsehood, discover myself as a peaceable and obedient subject. But
if nothing will do unless I make my conscience a continual butchery and slaughter shop-unless,
putting out mine own eyes, I commit me to the blind to lead me (as I doubt is desired by some)-I
have determined, the Almighty God being my help and shield, yet to suffer, and if frail life shall
continue so long, even till the moss shall grow on mine eyebrows, rather than violate my faith and
He lay in prison for more than twelve years. Twelve years How easy to write the words; how
difficult to grasp all that they mean The fifth part of his life at the season when life was in its
prime-when his appreciation of nature was keenest-when free exercise would have proved the
greatest luxury to a stalwart frame like his-when he would have entered with the greatest zest into
home enjoyments-when his physical system was full of bounding life and capable of acting with the
greatest vigor-the fifth part of his life spent within the limits of a dungeon-the little cell which
he aptly calls his den What a testimony to the heroic endurance of the man What a testimony
to his country's disgrace It is sad to think that England, with her Christian constitution, had no
better treatment than this for one of her noblest sons, whose worth, blinded as she was by flunkeyisms
and debaucheries in high places, she was unable to recognize.
To Bunyan it mattered little what they did. Happier far was he in prison than the clergyman
in his living, or the bishop in his palace, or the king on his throne. Yea, it may be questioned if in
all England there was a man so happy or so much to be envied as that prisoner on Bedford bridge.
The God's peace "-" God's comfort "--of which he speaks as dwelling in his poor soul," is not
dependent on place or circumstances, cannot be disturbed by the treatment he receives. He who
hath it can defy the persecutor's rage. Do to him what you will-strip him of his possessions and
friends-drive him into exile--make him a homeless wanderer--he is happier in his penury and
homelessness, than others in the abundance of their wealth and comfort. If, by prison walls, Bunyan
was shut out from nature's beauty-from daylight and the fragrant air-still he has left to him God
and himself. The soul's freedom is unimpaired. It can soon soar above all restraint and enjoy
Divine fellowship. No prison walls are so thick that prayer cannot pierce them. No diangeon
gloom so dark that it may not be radiated with celestial light.
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.
"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage ;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for a hermitage.
"For though men keep my outward man
Within their locks and bars,
Yet by the faith of Christ I can
Mount higher than the stars."
These were no meaningless sounds to him-no poetical expression of the feelings which he
supposed might be experienced-no rhapsodical or ..:; i .. it.... description of what he actually felt.
Poetry apart, he elsewhere tells us of the glorious visions with which he was favored there. O
the Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and God the judge
of all; Jesus the mediator, and the spirits of just men made perfect! I have seen here what I
never can express. I have felt the truth of that Scripture Whom having not seen, ye love; in
Whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.'"
Most of the day was spent in "' in laces," with his blind girl by his side-an employment which
he learned in prison, that thereby he might help to support his family. But when evening came,
and the child was dismissed to her home with a parting benediction, his soul, free to soar where it
listed, saw those glorious visions, and indulged in those pious meditations which are embodied in his
immortal work. He had but to close his eyes, and he was no more the prisoner, but the pilgrim
whose progress he so graphically describes. Bedford gaol fades away, and his unfettered soul stands
on some mount of vision where, from its commencement to its close, the course of his pilgrim lies
open to his view. There he sees the City of Destruction, and remembers how he left it with the
burden on his back-the Slough of Despond, and the overhanging hill near the house ofMir. Legality,
with its deep rifts and flashing fires. He recalls his entrance at the wicket-gate-his visit to the
Interpreter's house-his rapture when, standing at the foot of the Cross and gazing on the Crucified,
his burden fell from his shoulders and he was free. Again he is entertained at the Palace Beautiful,
finds there refreshment and repose, and at break of day wakes up singing in the chamber whose
name is Peace. Or he wanders among the Delectable Mountains with the shepherds for his com-
panions; and from the hill Clear, looking through the glass of faith, discerns in the distance the
pearly gates, and golden turrets, and jasper walls, that surround the City of the Blest. Or he dwells
in the land of Beulah, where, not in imagination only, but in reality, his soul summers even now,
ripening for the heaven which is so near that already he inhales its fragrance, and walks in its light,
and holds converse with its shining ones-where the sun shineth night and day, and the birds sing
continually, and the flowers are ever fresh and fair, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land.
Or, the river crossed, he climbs the hill which leads up to the gate of the City, or rather glides
upward; for the shining ones have clasped his hands, and the burden of mortality left in the river
no more clogs the movements of the ascending soul. The gates open at his approach-the trumpets
sound in honor of his coming. The bells of the city ring again for joy." "Angels meet him with
harp and crown, and give him the harp to praise withal and the crown in token of honor." And
the hosts of the glorified standing round welcome him with acclamations to their exalted fellowship,
saying, Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."
All these are real to him-more real than the prison walls that surround him, or his prison
garb, or prison fare. These are but the illusions which shall vanish; those the realities which shall
endure. And, being so vividly presented to his mind, he is constrained to imprint them on his page.
Rousing himself from his reverie, but with beaming eye and radiant countenance, for "he writes as
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.
if joy did make him write," he flings from his graphic and fluent pen those vivid, brilliant pictures,
over which, after his persecutors have perished, and his prison walls have crumbled into dust, and
the painful circumstances of his earthly life have receded into the dim and distant past,-in many
lands and throughout all generations-in the closet and the chamber-in the solitary hut and the
crowded city-young and old, rich and poor, learned and illiterate, shall bend with ever fresh
Without question Bunyan's imprisonment was made conducive for the furtherance of the gospel.
The providence which controls the wrath of man, and makes it contribute to its own purposes, so
overruled the malice of his persecutors, as to make it serve the cause which they sought to destroy.
Not only may we see the Divine hand, in the fact that Bunyan's imprisonment afforded him leisure
for the composition of those works which have made his name immortal; but an overruling Provi-
dence is specially seen in some of the circumstances which facilitated his work. Cruelties such as
were perpetrated in other prisons would probably have shortened his days, or at least have rendered
writing and study impossible; but in the gaol at Bedford where he was confined, though the place
was loathsome in the extreme, the jailor treated the prisoners with such humanity that he incurred
the displeasure of the Justices. Bunyan was allowed to visit his family occasionally, and it was on
one of his visits that the circumstance occurred which most people would consider peculiarly provi-
dential. A neighboring priest heard of his absence from prison, and immediately despatched a
messenger that he might bear witness against the jailor. Meanwhile Bunyan, feeling uneasy at home,
had returned to prison sooner than was intended, so that when the messenger demanded, Are all
the prisoners safe?" the jailor could answer Yes." Is John Bunyan safe?" "Yes." Bunyan,
on being called, appeared; and, said the jailor afterwards, You may go out when you will, for you
know much better when to return than I can tell you." Thus were his health and life preserved,
and the man who was forbidden to speak to a few assembled in a peasant's cottage, furnished with
facilities for writing a book by which he speaks to millions in every land, and through all succeeding
generations; while the men who sought to silence him have been all but forgotten. So do the
enemies of the gospel frustrate their own schemes. So does the right live on, emerging into ever-
increasing splendor, while the wrong sinks into merited oblivion.
The acceptance which his "Pilgrim's Progress" has met with is altogether unparalleled.
During the Author's lifetime many copies are said to have been circulated in England-and that
was at a time when books and readers were comparatively scarce. Several editions-some of them
got up, as booksellers would say, in very superior style-were published in North America, and
translations were issued in French and Flemish, Dutch, Welsh, Gaelic, and Irish. Nor does time
show any abatement of its popularity. Among all the competitors for public favor which have since
issued from the press, it retains its pre-eminence. There is scarcely a known language into which
it has not been rendered. Wherever English is spoken it is familiar as a household word. Not-
withstanding the millions in circulation, and the new editions which are constantly :''l". ii ,
publishers can still reckon on a sale of hundreds of thousands for one edition alone. It appears in
all forms, and is read by all classes. Richly illustrated and elegantly bound, it adorns the drawing-
room tables of the wealthy. Well-thumbed and sometimes tattered, as if from constant, if not
careless, usage, it lies on the shelf or the window-sill of the poor. Children are entranced with the
interest of the story; its tranquil or gloomy scenes, its pictures of danger and conflict-of triumph
and despair. Men too illiterate to account for the fascination, are attracted to its pages. And
learned men, who have little sympathy with its religious purpose, feel the spell of its genius, and
are compelled to admire it for the beauty or the awfulness of its creations, its vivid embodiments,
its clear insight and keen satire, its terse Saxon style. The young Christian, just starting on his
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.
course, reads it for guidance and encouragement in his own conflicts and perils; and the aged saint
lingering for a while on the river's brink, before the messenger summons him into the presence of
the King, testifies to the accuracy with which it pictures the serene and mellowed joys of the land of
Beulah-the celestial air which the pilgrim breathes, the celestial fragrance which is wafted from on
high, the celestial visitants with whom he holds converse as he nears hisjourney's end; and the
dull eye brightens, and the withered countenance glows with rapture, as, by the pilgrim's passage
of the river, and entrance at the gates, he is led to anticipate his own. It is wonderful that any
man should have written a book of such universal and enduring popularity. More wonderful still
that it should have been written in prison by an uneducated tinker, the descendant of a vagrant
tribe-written spontaneously and unconsciously-not as an effort, but as a relief from mental fulness
-as the thoughts came crowding up in all their freshness in an untrained but singularly original-
and fertile mind.
With all its popularity and excellence, it is easy to see that the book is not without faults. Its
theology, scriptural in the main, is colored by his own experience. The long and painful journey
which Christian makes with his burden before he finds relief at the cross, though it accords with
fact often, is somewhat at variance with the Scripture ideal. The Second Part shows some improve-
ment on the First in this respect; but there, too, the cross is placed too far on the way. It should
have been at the wicket-gate, and not at the further side of the Interpreter's house; for there is
really no true progress heavenward until the cross is seen. As an allegory, moreover, it presents, as
it could scarcely fail, some obvious inconsistencies. The wicket-gate is the proper entrance to the
pilgrim's course; and yet Hopeful enters it not through the wicket-gate, but at Vanity Fair, which
is far on the way. Faithful, again, leaves it not by the river, which represents death, but is taken
up in a chariot of fire. These and such like discrepancies are obvious to every reader; and the best
excuse for them is that his purpose rendered them unavoidable. It was not possible by any consistent
allegory to set forth so many distinct phases of spiritual life.
The wonder is not that there are inconsistencies in the allegory, but that these are so few and
the beauties of the book so manifold. "It is the highest miracle of genius," says Macaulay, that
things which are not should be as though they were, that the imagination of one mind should become
the personal recollections of another. And this miracle the tinker has wrought. There is no ascent,
no declivity, no resting-place, no turnstile, with which we are not perfectly acquainted." His characters,
though some of them are mere embodiments of abstract qualities, are painted with equal vividness.
They are marked with individuality as much as if they were real personages who had sat for their
portraits. There is no danger of our mistaking one for another; and such is the impression they
produce on our minds, that, when once we have made acquaintance with them, they are not easily
forgotten. Stern as he is in his treatment of wrong, and especially in peeling off the skin from
sanctimonious villainy, what a depth of tenderness there is in his nature, and what a keen apprecia-
tion of the beautiful he now and again displays! When he writes of Christiana in the Second Part
there is a perceptible softening in his tone; and the incidents of the journey are suited to the delicacy
of woman and the tenderness of youth ; for the writer knew well, and had himself imbibed, the
spirit of Him Who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb"-" Who gathers the lambs in His arms,
and carries them in His bosom." The quiet beauty of some of his scenes, and the soft light which
falls on them, is perfectly charming; and all the more noticeable as contrasted with the lurid
grandeur of others. What a sweet picture is that Palace Beautiful, with its waiting damsels and its
chamber of peace-" the country birds that, in the spring-time, sing all day long in a most curious,
melodious note," one carolling, as Christiana listens with words much like these:
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.
"Through all my life Thy favor is
So frankly showed to me,
That in Thy house for evermore
My dwelling-place shall be."
And another responding,-
"For why ? The Lord our God is good;
His mercy is for ever sure:
His truth at all times firmly stood,
And shall from age to age endure."
Not less lovely, when Christiana passes through, is the Valley of Humiliation, green and fertile, and
" beautified with lilies," where our Lord formerly had his country house, and loved to walk the
meadows, for he found the air was pleasant," where laboring men have good estates," where the
shepherd boy doth sing his artless song, giving utterance to his heart's content,-
He that is down needs fear no fall;
He that is poor no pride;
He that is humble ever shall
Have God to be his guide."
And that land of Beulah, so near the gates of the city with only the river between, where the pilgrim,
after the toils of the way, rests and ripens for glory, is so vividly presented to us, that, forgetting
our surroundings, we can sometimes fancy ourselves in it, soothed and refreshed by its delicious in-
fluences, bathed in its golden light, and breathing its balmy air. And the Celestial City itself, shin-
ing like the sun, with its bells and trumpets, its golden pavement, its white-robed inhabitants, wearing
crowns and waving palms, with "harps to play withal"-what reader does not feel as if he stood
with the writer looking in at the open gate, and, sympathizing with his desire, when carried away by
his own imaginings, he says, "which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them."
But time would fail and space forbids us to expatiate on the beauties of the book. The more
we study it, the more do we feel how much it deserves its matchless popularity; and the more
cordially do we commend it to the careful perusal of our readers. Our desire and prayer is, that
some of them may be influenced by Bunyan's pleasant companionship and wise guidance to commence,
or, if they have commenced already, to persevere in and complete the pilgrimage which he so
'K~~~~ \'Y\2 ,\
"As I slept, I dreamed a dream."
AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.
HEN at the first I took my pen in band
Ii Thus for to write, I did not understand
That I at all should make a little book
In such a mode; nay, I had undertook
To make another; which when almost done,
Before I was aware, I this begun.
And thus it was: I, writing of the way
A ind race of saints, in this our Gospel day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,
In more than twenty things which I set down:
This done, I twenty more had in my crown;
And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
I'll put you by. yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad infinitun, and eat out
The book that I already am about.
Well, so I did; but yet I did not think
To show to all the world my pen and ink
In such a mode; I only thought to make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my neighbor: no, not I;
I did it 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.
Well, when I thus had put mine ends together,
I showed them others, that I might see whether
They would condemn them or them justify:
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.
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 advised for the best,
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.
I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it, these to gratify,
I did not know but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight.
For those which were not for its coming forth,
I said to them, Offend you I am loth.
Yet, since your brethren pleased with it be,
Forbear to judge till you do further see.
If that thou wilt not read, let it alone:
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone.
Yea, that I might them better 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
Her well when hungry; but, if she be full,
She spews out both, and makes their blessings null.
You see the ways the fisherman doth take
To catch the fish; what engines doth he make !
Behold how he engageth all his wits;
Also his snares lines, angles hooks and nets:
Yet fish there be that neither hook, nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine:
They must be groped for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be watched, whatever 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;
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.
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? "It is dark." What though?
"But it is feigned." What of that? I trow
Some men, by feigned words, as dark as mine
Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine.
"But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind.
"They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind."
Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men;
But must I needs want solidness, because
By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws,
His Gospel laws, in olden time held forth
By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loth
Will any sober man be to find fault
With them, lest lie be found for to assault
The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops,
And seeks to find out by what pins and loops,
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams,
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,
God speaketh to him; and happy is lie
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 parables despise not we;
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are, of our souls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.
The prophets used much by metaphors
THE. AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.
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 clouts, I find.
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;
Pleases the understanding; makes the will
Submit; the memory also it doth fill
With what doth our imagination please;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.
Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives' fables he is to refuse;
But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid
The use of parables; in which lay hid
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones, that ws
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.
Let me add one word more. O man of God.
Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had
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.
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK
2. I find that men as high as trees will write
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight
For writing so: indeed, if they abuse
Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use
To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me
Which way it pleases God ; for who knows how
Better than He who taught us first to plough,
To guide our minds and pens for His design ?
And He makes base things usher in divine.
3. I find that Holy Writ in many places
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing, to set forth another.
Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother
Truth's golden beams : nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.
And now, before I do put up my pen,
I'll show the profit of my book, and then
Commit both 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;
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 counsels thou wilt ruled be :
It will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its directions understand :
Yea, it will make the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.
Art thou for something rare and profitable?
Or wouldst thou see a truth within a fable?
Art thou forgetful ? Or wouldst thou remember
From New Year's Day to the last of December?
Then read my fancies: they will stick like burrs,
And may be, to the helpless, comforters.
This book was 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.
T2HE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK
Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ?
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ?
Wouldst thou read riddles and their explanation ?
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ?
Dost thou love picking meat ? Or wouldst thou see
A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee?
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ?
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep ?
Wouldst thou lose thyself, and catch no harm ?
And find tl, -. l again without a charm ?
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know'st not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not,
By reading the same lines ? Oh, then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.
Zoar Chapel, Southwark.
-k -.__ --
[ --- "-' -.7- : ---- -I i- : ":I:U y _i :: -_"--:,, :_" .
-- -_ r > - r
.. .. .- '7 .- ,: ", a =- -:-,;;.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
"- p __
b ~ *
CHRISTIAN, AS SEEN BY USNYAN IN HIS DREAM.
"I saw a man clothed with rags."
S I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place
where was a den,* and laid me down in that place to sleep; and, as I slept, I
Dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags,
standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his
hand, and a great burden upon his back.1t 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 ?"
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 : 0 my dear wife," said lie,
" 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 that
this our city will be burned 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 some frenzy dis-
temper 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 -1 .... lie spent it in
sighs and tears. So when the morning was come, they would know how lie did. lie
i Bedford jail in which Bnnyan was twelve years a prisoner.
t See references to the Bible at the end.
( 29 )
1. ~ .
I ''i ~ ,ii~l
--- ---- z--- 'I~-
CHRISTIAN TELLS HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN OF HIS DISTRESS.
"At length he brake his mind to his wife and children."
CHRISTIATN' DISTRESS OF MIND.
told them, Worse and worse; he also set to talking to them again but they 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 some-
times 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 also
walk solitary in the fields, sometimes r :li,;,-, 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 ?"
I saw also that he looked this way and that
way, as if he would run; yet he stood still, f -
because (as I perceived) he could not tell l < .
which way to go. I looked then, and saw a
man named Evangelist coming to him, who
asked, "Wherefore dost thou cry? "?
He answered, "Sir, I perceive by the book I
in my hand, that I am condemned to die, and
after that to come to judgment; and I find
that I am not willing to do the first," nor able
to do the second." i
Then said Evangelist, "Why not willing '"
to die, since this life is attended with so many q.
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.* 7 And, sir, if I be not fit to go "He began to retire liiislf to hii clianlb:r to pray."
to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution; and the
thoughts of these things make me cry."
Then said Evangelist, "If this be thy c.--nill.., why standest thou still? "
He answered, Because I know not whither to go." Then he gave him a parchment
roll, and there was written within, "Flee from the wrath to come."
The man, therefore, read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said,
4'Whither must I fly?" Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a very
"Tophet lore means hell.
1 7A 1 ,
EVANGELIST POINTS CHRISTIAN TO THE WICKET-GATE.
"Do you see yonder wicket-gate?"
CHRISTIAN FLEES FROM THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION.
wide field), Do you see yonder wicket-gate?"9 The man said, "No." Then said
the other, Do you see yonder shining light ?" 0 He said, "I think I do." Then
said Evangelist, "Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto: so shalt
thou see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt
do." So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not run far
from his own door, 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 on, crying, "Life! life!
eternal life!"' So he looked not behind him,12 but fled towards the middle of the
The neighbors also came out to see him run ;" and as he ran, some mocked, others
threatened, and some cried after him to return; and among those that did so there were
two that resolved 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 dis-
tance from them; but, however, they were resolved to pursue him, which they did,
and 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 Destruction, the
place also where I was born: I see it to be so; and, dying there, sooner or later, you
will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone. Be
content, good neighbors, and go along with me."
OBST. What!" said Obstinate, and leave our friends and comforts behind us ?"
CHRIS. "Yes," said Christian (for that was his name), "because that all which you
forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy ;1 and
if you would go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there,
where I go, is enough and to spare."5 Come away, and prove my words."
OBST. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them ?
CHRIS. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeti not away,"0
and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there," to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on
them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book.
OBST. "Tush! said Obstinate, "away with your book: will you go back with us
or no ? "
CHRIS. No, not I," said the other, "because I have put my hand to the plough."18
OBsT. Come, then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn again, and go home without him:
there is a company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that, when they take a fancy by
the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason.
PLI. Then said Pliable, Don't revile; if what the good Christian says is true, tho
things he looks after are better than ours; my heart inclines to go with my neighbor."
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
instructions about the way.
PLI. Come, then, good neighbor, let
Then they went both together.
And I will go back to my place," sai
"I will be no companion of such misle
Now, I saw in my dream, that, wh(
was gone back, Christian and Pliable
over the plain; and thus they began the
CHRIs. Come, neighbor Pliable, how
I am glad you are persuaded to go alo
Had even Obstinate himself but felt wha
of the powers and terrors of what is ye
would not thus lightly have given us the
PLI. Come, neighbor Christian, since
none but us two here, tell me now furtl
things are, and how to be enjoyed, whi
OnST. 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.
CHRIS. 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 believe not me, read
here in this book; and for the truth of what
is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed
by the blood of Him that made it.19
PLI. Well, neighbor Obstinate," said Pli-
able, I begin to come to a point; I intend
to go along with this good man, and to cast in
my lot with him. But, my good companion,
do you know the way to this desired place? "
CHRIS. 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
us be going.
d Obstinate; -o
d, fantastical "
en Obstinate S
do you do?
)ng with me.
t I have felt
t unseen, he
e there are
her what the
either we are
CHRISTIAN DISCOURSE'S VITHI PLIABLE. 35
CHRIS. 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 ?
CHRIS. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him that cannot lie."
PL. Well said; what things are they?
CHRIS. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life to be given
us, that we may inhabit that kingdom forever.21
PLI. Well said; and what else?
CHRIs. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that will make us
shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven.22
PLI. This is very pleasant; and what else?
CIRIs. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow; for lie that is owner of the
place will wipe all tears from our eyes.23
PLI. And what company shall we have there?
CHRIS. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims,21 creatures that shall
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 [all]
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 ; there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps ;"' there we shall
see men that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned
in the seas, for the love they bear to the Lord of the place,"' all well, and clothed with
immortality as with a garment.28
PLI. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart. But are these tilings to
be enjoyed? How shall we get to be sharers thereof?
CHRIs. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded that in this book ;"
the substance of which is, If we be truly willing to have it, He will bestow it upon us
PLI. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things; come on, let us
mend our pace.
CHRis. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my back.
Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew nigh to a
very miry slough, that was in the midst of the plain; and they, being heedless, did
both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough wa.s Despond. Here, there-
fore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian,
because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink into the mire.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
PLI. Then said Pliable, "Ah! neighbor Christian, where are you now?"
CHRIS. "Truly," said Christian, "I do not know."
PLI. 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
get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me." And
with that, he gave a desperate stii n~.l.1 or two, and got out of the mire on that side of
the slough which was next to his own house: so away he went, and Christian saw him
Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone; but still
he endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough which was farthest from his own
house, and next to the wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get out because
of the burden that was upon his back; but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to
him whose name was Help, and asked him, What he did there?
CHRIS. 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 there I fell in here."
HELP. But why did you not look for the steps?
CHRIs. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and fell in.
HELP. Then said he, Give me thine hand." So he gave him his hand, and he
drew him out,30 and 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 be mended; it is the descent
whither the scum and filth that attend conviction for sin do continually run, and there-
fore it is called the Slough of Despond; for still, as the sinner is awakened by his lost
condition, there arise in his soul many fears, and doubts, and discouraging apprehen-
sions, which all of them get together, and settle in this place; and this is the reason
of the badness of the ground.
"It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so bad." His
laborers also have, by the direction of His Majesty's surveyors, been for about these
sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have
been mended; yea, and to my knowledge," said he, "here have been swallowed up at
least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions, of wholesome instructions, that have
at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's dominions (and they that
CHRISTIAN AND PLIABLE IN TE SLOUGII OF DESPOND.
" Christian still endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough that was farthest from his own house." (37)
- -~-- --~ ---
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
can tell say they are the best materials to make good ground of the place), if so be it
might have been mended; but it is the Slough of Despond still, and so will be when
they have done what they can.
"True, there are, by the direction of the Law-giver, certain good and substantial
steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough; but at such time as this
place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth against change of weather, these steps
are hardly seen; or, if they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, step aside,
and then they are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there; but the
ground is good when they are got in at the gate." 3
Now, I saw in my dream, that
by this time Pliable was got home
to his house. So his neighbors
S. came to visit him; and some of
Them called him wise man for
coining back, and some called
S" him a fool for hazarding himself
S with Christian; others again did
isoe, e omock at his cowardliness, saying,
u o "Surely since you began to ven-
i ture, I would not have been so
base to have given out for a few
difficulties;" so Pliable sat sneak-
*. ing among them. But at last he
got more confidence; and then
they all turned their tales, and
began to deride poor Christian
Mr. Worldly Wiseman. behind his back. And thus much
Now, as Christian was walking solitary by himself, he espied one afar off come
crossing over the field to meet him; and their hap was to meet just as they were
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 ('j L;II- iu came. This man, then, meeting with Christian, and having
some inkling of him--(for Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruction was
much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the
town-talk in some other places)-Mr. Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess
WORLDLY WISEMA4N'S C00 1 -\ i i.
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?
CHRIS. 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
WORLD. Hast thou a wife and children ?
CHRIS. 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 ?
CHRIS. If it be good, I will; for I stand in need of good counsel.
WORLD. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself rid of thy
burden; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then; nor canst thou enjoy the
blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee till then.
CHRIS. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden; but get
it off myself I cannot; nor is there any man in our country that can take it off my
shoulders ; therefore am I going this way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden.
WORLD. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden ?
CHRIS. 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 trouble-
some way in the world than is that into which he hath directed thee ; and that thou
shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. Thou hast met with something, as I
perceive, already; for I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee; but that
slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way.
Hear me: I am older than thou: thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou
goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons
darkness, and, in a word, death, and what not. These things are certainly true, having
been confirmed by many testimonies. And why should a man so carelessly cast away
himself, by giving heed to a stranger ?
CHRIs. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than all these
things which you have mentioned; nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in the
way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden.
WORLD. How camest thou by the burden at first ?
Wish him ill.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
Curis. By reading this book in my hand.
WORLD. I thought so. And it has happened unto thee as unto other weak men,
who, meddling with things too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy distractions;
which distractions do not only unman men, as thine I perceive have done thee, but
they run them upon desperate ventures, to obtain they know not what.
CHRIS. I know what I would obtain; it is ease for my heavy burden.
WORLD. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers attend
it? Especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me), I could direct thee 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
those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content.
CHEIs. Sir, I pray, open this secret to me.
WORLD. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality), there dwells a gen-
tleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of very good name,
that has skill to help men off with such burdens as thine is from their shoulders; yea,
to my knowledge he hath done a great deal of good this way; aye, and besides, he
hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To
him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is not quite a mile
from this place; and if he should not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man
to his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gen-
tleman himself. There, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden; and if thou art
not minded to go back to thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee),
thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee in this village, where there are
houses now standing empty, one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable rate; provi-
sion 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 his advice;" and
with that, he thus further spake :
CHRIS. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house?
WORLD. Do you see yonder high hill?
CHEIS. 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,
thli.:.i when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that side of
it that was next the wayside did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to ven-
CHRISTIAN ADMONISHED BY EVANGELIST.
ture farther, lest the hill should fall on his head; wherefore there lie stood still, and
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 fire31 out of the hill, that made Christian afraid
that he should be burnt: here, therefore, he sweat and did quake for fear.," And
now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel; and with
that, he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom lie 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 Clih.i-l;i, :
EVAN. "What dost thou here, Christian ? said he ; at which words Christian knew
not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. Then said
Evangelist further, "Art thou not the man that I found crying without the walls of the
City of Destruction ? "
CHuns. Yes, dear sir, I am the man.
EVAN. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate?
CHRIS. Yes, dear sir," said Christian.
EVAN. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned aside? For thou art now
out of the way.
CHRIS. I met with a gentleman as 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 ?
CHRIS. 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?
CHRIS. Why, he asked me whither I was going, and I told him.
EVAN. And what said he then?
CHRIS. 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 ?
CHRIS. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him it was case
that I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate to receive further
direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So he said that he would show
me a better way, and short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, that you
.sent me in; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill
THE PIL( L i!.1'S PROGRESS.
to take off these burdens. So I believed him, and turned out of that way into this, if
haply I might soon be 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.
EVAN. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, that I may show thee the words
of God." So he stood trembling. Ti said Evangelist, "See that ye refuse not him
that speaketh ; for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much
more shall not we escape, if we turn away from Him that speaketh from heaven." `
He said, moreover, "Now, the just shall live by faith; but if any man draw back,
my soul shall have no pleasure in him." He also did thus apply them: "Thou art
the man that art running into 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 C'i,-ti in fell down at his feet as dead, crying, "Woe is me, for I am undone !"
At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, "All manner
of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men." 3 Be not faithless, but believ-
ing." "3 Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first,
Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, "Give more earnest heed to the things that I
shall tell thee of. I will now show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who it was
also to whom he sent thee. That man that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman; and
rightly is he so called; partly because he savoreth only of the doctrine of this world40
(therefore he always goes to the town of Morality to church), and partly because he
loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him from the Cross; 4 and because he is of this
carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways, though light. Now there are
three things in this man's counsel that you must utterly abhor:
1. 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 con-
senting 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,'42 the
gate to which I send thee; 'for strait is the gate which leadeth unto life, and few there
be that find it.' 4 From this little wicket-gate, and from the way thereto, hath this
wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost to destruction; hate, therefore,
his turning thee out of the way, and abhor thyself for hearkening to him.
EVANGELIST REPROVES CHRISTIAN.
"Secondly,-Thou must abhor his laboring to render the Cross odious unto thec;
for thou art to prefer it before the treasures of Egypt.' Besides, tle King of Glory
hath told thee that he that will save his life shall lose it; and lie that comes after Himi
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."" 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
bondwoman which now is, and is in bondage with her children ;"' and is in a mystery
this Mount Sinai, which thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she with her
children is in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made free? Illis
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 bur-
den. 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 an hypocrite, and
cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard
of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from
the way in which I had set thee." After this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens
for confirmation of what he had said; and with that there came words and fire out of
the mountain under which poor Christian stood, 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." "
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, lie
applied himself again to Evangelist, in words and sense as follows:
CHRIS. Sir, what think you ? Is there any hope? May I now go back, and go up to the
wicket-gate? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back from thence ashamed ?
I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's counsel; but may my sins be forgiven ?
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
EvAN. Then said Evangelist to him, "Thy sin is very great, for by it thou hast
committed two evils: thou hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden
paths. 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.""'1
HEN 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
S haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor, if any asked him, would
he vouchsafe them an answer. He went like one that was all the while tread-
ing on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe, till again he was
got in 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.""49
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
CHRIs. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I
come from the City of Destruction, but am
going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered
"When Christian was stepping in, the other gave
him a pull." from the wrath to come; I would therefore,
GOOD ILL POINTS OUT IRE IVAY.
sir, since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing
to let me in.
GooD. "I am willing with all my heart," said he ; and, with that, he opened the gate.
So, when Christian was stepping in, the
other gave him a pull. Then said Christian,
"What means that? The other told him,
"A little distance from this gate there is
erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is
the captain; from whence both he and they
that are with him shoot arrows at those that
come up to this gate, if haply they may die i
before they can enter in." Then said Chris-
tian, "I rejoice and tremble." So when he was i
got in, the man of the gate asked him who i0 i
directed him thither.
CHnIS. Evangelist bid me come hither and i
knock, as I did; and he said that you, sir, :j, 5
would tell me what I must do. I
GooD. An open door is set before thee, and
no man can shut it.
CHRIs. Now I begin to reap the benefit of -, ..." '. _
my hazards. Belzeulmland they t ha are with hi m shoot arrows."
GooD. But how is it that you came alone ?
CHRIS. Because none of my neighbors saw their danger, as I saw mine.
GooD. Did any of them know you were coming ?
CHIIS. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after me to turn
again; also some of my neighbors stood crying and calling after me to return; but I
put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my way.
GooD. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back?
CHRIS. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable : but, when they saw that they could not
prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but Pliable came with me a little way.
GooD. But why did he not come through ?
CHRIS. We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of Despond,
into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbor Pliable discouraged,
and would not venture farther. Wherefore, getting out again on the side next his
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
own house, he told me I should possess the brave country alone for him: so he went
his way, and I came mine; he after Obstinate, and I to this gate.
GooD. 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 obtain it?"
CHRIs. Truly," said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable; and if I should
also say the truth of myself, it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him and
myself. 'Tis true, he went on back to his own house; but I also turned aside to go
into the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argument of one Mr.
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?
CHRIS. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr. Legality, until I thought that
the mountain that stands by his house would have fallen upon my head: wherefore
there I was forced to stop.
GooD. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of many
more; it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.
ClnRis. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there, had not Evan-
gelist happily met me again as I was musing in the midst of my dumps; but it was
God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I
am come, such a one as I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than thus to
stand talking with my Lord. But, oh! what a favor this is to me, that yet I am
admitted 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."0 And therefore, good Chris-
tian, come a little with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look
before thee: dost thou see this narrow way ? That is the way thou must go. It was
cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ and His apostles, and it is as straight as a
rule can make it: this is the way thou must go.
CHRIs. But," said Christian, are there no turnings nor windings by which a
stranger may lose his way ?"
GooD. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are crooked and
wide; but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being
straight and narrow."
Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further if he could not help him
THE INTERPRETERS ROUSE.
off with his burden that was upon his back. For as yet he had not got rid thereof,
nor could he by any means get it off without help.
He told him, As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou comest to the place
of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of itself."
Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey.
So the other told him that by that he was gone some distance from the gate, lie
would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, and lie
would show him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and he
again bid him God speed.
Theni he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, where ie knocked
over and over. At last one came to the door, and asked who was there.
CHRIs. Sir, here is a traveller who was bid by an acquaintance of the good man of
this house to call here for his profit; I would therefore speak with the master of the house.
So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came to Christian,
and asked him whack he would have.
CHRIS. Sir," said Christian, I am a man that am come from the City of Destruc-
tion, and am going to Mount Zion; and I was told by the man that stands :at the gate
at the head of this way, that, if I called here, you would show me excellent things, such
as would be helpful to me on my journey."
INTER. Then said the Interpreter, Come in; I will show thee that which will be
profitable to thee." So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian
follow him; so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door; the
which when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hung up
against the wall; and this was the fashion of it: it had eyes lifted up to heaven, tle
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 lang
over its head.
CHRIS. Then said Christian, What meaneth this?"
INTER. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand. He can say, in the
words of the apostle, "Though ye have ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet have
you not many fathers; for in Christ Jesus I have begotten you through the Gospel.
My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you.""
And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lifted 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' le pleaded
with men. And whereas thou seest the world is cast behind him, and that a crown
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
hangs over his head; that is to show thee that, slighting and despising the things that
are present, for the love that he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the world
that comes next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have
showed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the only man
whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be thy guide,
in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in thy 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
Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlor, that was full
of dust, because never swept; the which after he had reviewed it a little while, the
Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began
so abundantly to fly about that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then
said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, Bring hither water, and sprinkle the
room ;" the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.
CHrns. Then said Christian, What means this ? "
INTER. The Interpreter answered, "This parlor is the heart of a man that was
never sanctified by the sweet grace of the Gospel. The dust is his original sin, and
inward corruptions that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first
is the law; but she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now,
whereas thou sawest that, as soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about
that the room could not by him be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked there-
with; this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working)
from sin, doth revive,53 put strength into,"4 and increase it in the soul,55 even as it doth
discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to subdue. Again, as thou sawest
the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure;
this is to show thee, that when the Gospel comes, in the sweet and gracious 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 subdued, and the soul made
clean through the faith of it, and, consequently, fit for the King of Glory to in-
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 own chair. The
name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed
to be much discontented, but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, "What
is the reason of the discontent of Passion ?" The Interpreter answered, The governor
THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE.
of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of next year; but
he will have all now. 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 awhile, and he had lavished all away,
and had nothing left him but rags.
CHI. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, "Expound this matter more fully to me."
INTER. So he said, "These two lads are figures: Passion, of the men of this world;
and Patience, of the men of that which is to come: for, as here thou seest, Passion will
have all now, this year, that is to say in this world; so are the men of this world : they
must have all their good things now; they cannot stay till 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 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."
CHRIS. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom, and that
upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also because
he will have the glory of his when the other has nothing but rags."
INTER. Nay, you may add another; to wit, the glory of the next world will never
wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason
to laugh at Patience because he had his good things at first, as Patience will have to
laugh at Passion, because he had his best things last; for 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, and likewise Lazarus
evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." "
CHRIs. 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.""8 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 continued between the
TIE PILGRJI'S PROGRESS.
Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took C'n i-ti in by the hand and led
him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it, always
casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter.
C'inIs. Then said Christian, What means this ? "
INTEE. 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 then he had him about to the other 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.
CHRIS. Then said Christian, What means this ?"
INTER. The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually, with the oil of
His grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart; by the means of which
notwithstanding what the devil can do, the souls of His people prove gracious still.60
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 main-
tained 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 walkiii... who were clothed all in gold.
Then said ('Ci-I i.ii_, "May we go in thither?"
Then the Interpreter took him and led him up toward the door of the palace; and
behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not.
There also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and
his ink-horn before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein ; he saw
also that in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being resolved to do to
the 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 had done, he saw the
man draw his sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon
the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force; but the man, not at all dis-
couraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So that, after he had received and
given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out,61 he cut his way through
them all and pressed forward into the palace; at which there was a pleasant voice
i. ~- *~~
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- 1.*' .~ '
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-= --.C -=-_._. ......
_-C -- _=-- .- .." .-- -
._. -C-' -- -: .- .
" iin now a man of despair, and anm sli t iup il it, a, il tlii, iron cage."
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
heard from those that were within, even of those that walked upon the top of the
Come in, come in;
Eternal glory thou shalt win."
So he went in, and was clothed in 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,
"until I have showed thee a little more; and after that thou shalt go on thy way."
So he took him by the hand again, and led him into a very dark room, where there
sat a man in an iron cage.
Now, the man, to look on, seemed very sad. He sat with his eyes looking down to
the ground, his hands folded together; and he sighed as if he would break his heart.
Then said Christian, What means this ? At which the Interpreter bid him talk
with the man.
Then said Christian to the man, What art thou ?" The man answered, I am what
I was not once."
CHRIS. What wast thou once ?
MAN. The man said, "I was once a fair and flourishing professor,62 both in mine
own eyes, and also in the eyes of others; I was once, as I thought, fair for the Celestial
City, and had even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither."
CHRIs. 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!
CHRIS. But how camest thou in this condition ?
MAN. I left off to watch and be sober. I laid the reins upon the neck of my lusts;
I sinned 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 has 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 are there no hopes for such a man as
this ? Ask him," said the Interpreter.
CHRIS. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you must be kept in the iron
cage of despair ?"
MAN. No, none at all.
CHRIs. Why ? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.
MAN. I have crucified Him to myself afresh.63 I have despised His person.64 I
have despised His righteousness; I have counted His blood an unholy thing; I have
THE DREAM OF THE JUDGMENT.
done despite to the Spirit of grace." Therefore I have shut myself out of all the
promises, and there now remains to me nothing but threatening, dreadful threatening,
fearful threatening of certain judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour me
as an adversary.
CHRIs. 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.
CHRIs. But canst thou not now repent and turn ?
MAN. God hath denied me repentance. His Word gives me no encouragement to
believe; yea, Himself hath shut me up in this iron cage; nor can all the men in the
world let me out. O eternity eternity how shall I grapple with the misery that I
must meet with in eternity ?
INTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this man's misery be remem-
bered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee."
CHRIS. Well," said Christian, this is fearful! God help me to watch and be sober,
and to pray, that I may shun the cause of this man's misery. Sir, is it not time for me
to go on my way now? "
INTER. Tarry till I show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on thy way.
So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber, where there
was one rising out of bed; and, as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled.
Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble ? The Interpreter then bid
him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began, and said, This night,
as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold, the heavens grew exceeding black; also
it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I
looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds 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. I heard then a great 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 exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some
thought to hide themselves 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 before Him, a convenient distance betwixt Him
and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar."6 I heard it also pro-
claimed to them that attended on the Man that sat on the cloud, Gather together tihe
,_ I ]
CHRISTIAN BEFORE THE CROSS.
"His burden fell off his back, and began to tumble."
THE DREAM OF THE JUDGMENT.
tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake.'"7 And, with that,
the bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out of the mouth of which there
came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was
also said to the same persons, Gather my ., ,
wheat into the garner.' And, with that, I
saw many catchled up and carried away into .. *, ,
the clouds; but I was left behind." I also .
sought to hide myself, but I could not; for .
the Man that sat upon the cloud still kept
His eye upon me; my sins also came into my
mind, and my conscience did accuse me oin ,Yv ,i'
every side." Upon this I awakened from my
CHRIS. But what was it that made you so '
afraid of this sight ?
MAN. Why I thought that the day of judg- j :;
ment was come, and that I was not ready for ''
it. But this affrighted me most, that the '.,i
angels gathered up several, and left me be- ''' '
hind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth 1" '".' '' !,'
just where I stood. My conscience, too, af-
flicted me; and, as I thought, the Judge had T"r ])(tiolulIs, s ,ii Ip in.i,,I t ,wi,,.n..,lon, i, : s ,.
always His eye upon me, showing indignation in His countenance.
INTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered those thiiings '-
Ciinis. Yes; and they put me in hope and fear.
INTER. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they may he as a goad in thy sides,
to prick thee forward in the way thou must go.
Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey.
Then said the Interpreter, The Comforter be always with thee, good Christiimn, to
guide thee into the way that leads to the city."
So Christian went on his way, saying,
Here have I seen things rare and profitable;
Things 1plcasant, drealful ; things to make uie stable
In what I have begun to take in land;
Then let me think oin them, and understand
Wherefore they showed me where ; and let me be
Thankful, 0 good Intrerpreter, to thece."
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
ijOW, I saw in my dream that the highway up which Christian was to go was fenced
on either side with a wall that was called Salvation.7 Up this way, therefore,
did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the
load on his back.
He ran thus till he came to a place somewhat ascending; and upon that place stood
a Cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that
just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and
fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the
mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.
Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, He hath
given me rest by His sorrow, and life by His death." Then he stood still awhile to
look and wonder; for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the cross should
thus ease him of his burden. He looked, therefore, and looked again, even till the
springs that were in his head sent the water down his cheeks.72 Now, as he stood
looking and weeping, behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and saluted him with
" Peace be to thee." So the first said to him, Thy sins be forgiven thee; "7 the second
stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with a change of raiment; the third also
set a mark on his forehead,75 and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bade
him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the celestial gate: so they went
their way. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on, singing,
"Thus far did I come laden with my sin ;
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in,
Till I came hither: what a place is this!
Must here be the beginning of my bliss ?
Must here the burden fall from off my back ?
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack ?
Blest cross blest sepulchre! blest rather be
The Man that was there put to shame for me! "
I saw then in my dream that he went on thus, even until he came to the bottom,
where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their
heels. The name of one was Simple, of another Sloth, and of the third Presumption.
Christian, then, seeing them lie hix unis case, went to them, if peradventure he might
*, 'I I
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CIRISTIAN AND TH111' AN(EIKL.
"Behold, three ; ni..-... Ones came to him, and salntedl him."
2THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
awake them, and cried, You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast; for the
deep sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom: awake, therefore, and come away;
be willing, also, and I will help you off with your irons." He also told them, If he
that goeth about like a roaring lion7 comes by, you will certainly become a prey to
his teeth." With that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: Simple
said, "I see no danger." Sloth said, Yet a little more sleep." And Presumption
said, Every tub must stand upon his own bottom." And so they lay down to sleep
again, and Christian went on his way.
Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so little esteem the
s .-.- kindness of him that so offered to help them,
both by awakening of them, counselling of
... P them, and proffering to help them off with
their irons. And, as he was troubled there-
about, he espied two men come tumbling over
i'" I 1 -the wall on the left hand of the narrow way;
Si and they made up apace to him. The name
: of one was Formalist, and the name of the
other was Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew
!Ii "up unto him, who thus entered with them
CHnRI. Gentlemen, whence came you, and
whither go you ?
1 FoniR. and HYP. We were born in the land
.- o 'i f Vain-glory, and are going for praise to
., ",,, Zion.
S.--- CHRIS. Why came you not in at the gate
Fonralist. which standeth at the beginning of the way ?
Know ye not that it is written, He that
cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a
Fon~i. and HYP. They said that to go to the gate for entrance was, by all their
countrymen, counted too far about; and that therefore their usual way was to make a
short cut of it, and to climb over the wall as they had done.
C(unis. But will it not be counted a tresspass against the Lord of the city whither
we are bound, thus to violate His revealed will ?
FoRi and IYP. They told him, that as for that, he needed not trouble his head
FORMALITY AND HYPOCRISY.
thereabout; -for what they did they had custom for, and could produce, if need were,
testimony that could witness it for more than a thousand years.
CHRIS. But," said Christian, "will it stand a trial at law ? "
For,. and HYP. They told him that custom, it being of so long standing as above
a thousand years, would doubtless now be admitted as a thing legal by an impartial
judge. And besides," said they, "if we get into the way, what matter is it which
way we may get in ? If we are in, we are in : thou art but in the way, who, as we
perceive, came in at the gate; and we are also in the way, that came tumbling over
the wall: wherein, now, is thy condition better than ours ?"
CHRis. 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 with-
out 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, ri
as to law and ordinances, they doubted not but 'I
that they should as conscientiously do them l! '
as he. "Therefore," said they, "we see not ',i' .
wherein thou different from us, but by the coat '
which is on thy back, which was, as we trow, '
given thee by some of thy neighbors to hide
the shame of thy nakedness."
CHRIs. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came not in by the
door.7 And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given to me by the Lord of
the place whither I go; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I
take it as a token of His kindness to me; for I had nothing but rags before. And
besides, thus I comfort myself as I go. Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of
the city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have His coat on my back:
a coat that He gave me freely in the day that HIe stripped me of my rags. I have,
moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no notice, which
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
one of my Lord's most intimate associates fixed there 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 in the way; I was also bid to give it in at the celestial
gate, in token of my certain going in after it; all which things, I doubt, you want,
and want them because you came not in at the gate.
To these things they gave him no answer; only they looked upon each other, and
laughed. Then I saw that they went on all, save that Christian kept before, who had
no more talk but with himself, and sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably;
also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by
which he was refreshed.
I beheld then that they all went on till they came to the foot of the Hill Difficulty,
at the bottom of which was a spring. There were also in the same place two other
ways, besides that which came straight from the gate; one turned to the left hand,
and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up
the hill, and the name of that going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian
now went to the spring,"0 and drank thereof to refresh himself, and then began to go
up the hill, saying,
"The hill, though high, I covet to ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend,
For I perceive the way to life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart, let's neither faint nor fear.
Better, though ,".'.. 7-, 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 other
side of the hill; therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now, the name of
one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one
took the way which is'called Danger, which led him into a great wood; and the other
took directly up the way to destruction, which led 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 his knees,
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. Tiiitl_.-r, therefore. Clri-l;in got, where also he sat down to rest him;
_." ,,i, -iL r
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"Hefel ,.rm -rnnig:.Q to gonadfo on oca brn pnhshnsadhskes,, beas ff Aepeso lc."
53 ,, .. ';I'~B 4:.I ..-'"._
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~cHIT '4I~BIN TH IT orD]J CL
rl[ elfo rnigt ong u rmgin ocabrnguo i l adhskes bcueo h'" (lcs ft( ~a .
THE PIL .LI['S PROGRESS.
44,-I I ., 4
"He stumbled and fell, and rose no more."
then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and
read therein to his comfort; he also now
began afresh to take a review of the coat or
garment that was given him as he stood
by the cross. Thus pleasing himself a while,
he at last fell into a slumber, and thence
into a fast sleep, which detained him in
that place until it was almost night; and in
his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now,
as he was sleeping, there came one to him, and
awaked him, saying, Go to the ant, thou
sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise." 8
And, with that, Christian suddenly started up,
and sped on his way, and went apace till he
came to the top of the hill.
Now, when he was got up to the top of the
hill, there came two men running amain: the
name of the one was Timorous, 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 farther we go, the
more danger we meet with; wherefore we
turned, and are going back again."
"Yes," said Mistrust, "for just before us
lie a couple of lions in the way, whether
sleeping or waking we know not; and we
could not think, if we came within reach, but
they would presently pull us in pieces."
CH-IS. 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 pre-
pared for fire and brimstone, and I shall cer-
tainly perish there; if I can get to the Celes-
tial City, I am sure to be in safety there: I
must venture. To go back is nothing but
"He at last fell into a slumbher."
CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS ROLL.
death; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it. I will yet go
forward." So -Mi-trust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his
way. But, thinking again of what he heard from the men, lie felt in Ihis bosom
for his roll, and found it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not
what too do for he wanted that which
used to relieve him, and that which
should have been his pass into the .
Celestial City. Here, therefore, he
began to be much perplexed, and
knew not what to do. At last lie
bethought himself that he had slept
in the arbor that is on the side of
the hill; and, falling down upon his L
knees, he asked God's forgiveness for
that his foolish act, and then went X
back to look for his roll. But all
the way lie went back, who can ",'
sufficiently set forth the sorrow of
Christian's heart? Sometimes he
sighed, sometimes he wept, and often-
times 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, care-
fully looking on this side and on \'
that, all the way as he went, if hap- '
pily he might find his roll that had
been his comfort so many times in
his journey. He went thus till he
came again within sight of the arbor nMi ,,.
where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing
again, even afiresh, his evil of sleeping into his mind.s" Thus, therefore, lie now went
on, bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, O wretched man that I am, that I should sleep
in the day-time; 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
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims! How many steps have I taken
in vain! Thus it happened to Israel; for their sin they were sent back again by the
way of the Red Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow which I might
have trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might I have
been on my way by this time! I
am made to tread those steps
thrice over which I needed not
Sia to have trod but once; yea, also,
now 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
awhile he sat down and wept;
but at last (as Providence would
have it), looking sorrowfully
down under the settle, there he
espied his roll, the which he, with
trembling and haste, catched up,
and put it into his bosom. But
who can tell how joyful this man
was when he had gotten his roll
again ? for this roll was the assur-
N ance of his life and acceptance at
the desired haven. Therefore he
laid it up in his bosom, giving
thanks to God for directing his
eye to the place where it lay, and
with joy and tears betook himself
Again to his journey. But oh,
how nimbly now did he go up the
rest of the hill! Yet, 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
began again 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 doleful creatures, because
WATCHFUL THE PORTER.
of my sinful sleep Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous
told him, of how they were frighted with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian
to himself again, "These beasts range in the night for their prey; and if they should
meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them ? how should I escape being torn
in pieces?" Thus he went on his way. But, while he was thus bewailing his un-
happy miscarriage, he lifted up his eyes, and behold, there was a very stately palace
before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood just by the highway side.
So I saw in my dream that he made haste,
and went forward, that, if possible, he might
get lodging there. Now, before he had gone
far, he entered into a very narrow passage,
which was about a furlong off 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 Mis-
trust and Timorous were driven back by.
(The lions were chained, but he saw not the i
chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought _
also himself to go back after them; for he .'-.
thought nothing but death was before him.. o"
But the Porter at the lodge, whose name is
Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a
halt as if he would go back, cried out unto
him, saying, Is thy strength so small ? fear r
not the lions, for they are chained, and are
Watchful thi lPorter.
placed there for the trial of faith where it is,
and for the discovery of those that have none: keep in the midst of the path, and no
hurt shall come unto thee."
Then I saw that he went on trembling for fear of the lions ; but, taking good heed
to the directions of the Porter, he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. Then
he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate where lte
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.
s 4r Is?-
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* 2 B
CHRISTIAN SEES LIONS TN HIS PATH.
"The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains."
CHRISTIAN MEETS DISCRETION.
CHIIS. I am come from the City of Destructioi_, and am going to Mount Zion; but,
because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night.
PonT. What is your name?
C-Inrs. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless. I came
of the race of Japhet, whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem.'"
PoRT. But how doth it happen that you come so late? The sun is set.
CHRIS. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am, I slept in the
arbor that stands on the hill-side. Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here much
sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came without it to the brow of
the hill; and then, feeling for it and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow of heiart
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 slhe was
The Porter answered, "This man is on a journey from the City of Destruction to
Mount Zion; but, being weary and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to-
night: so I told him I would call for thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest
do as seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the house."
Then she asked him whence lie was, and whither lie was going; and lie 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 on the way; and he told her. And at last she asked
his name. So he said, It is Chri-i.im ; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge
here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill
for the relief and security of pilgrims." So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes ;
and, after a little pause, she said, I will call forth two or three of my family." So she
ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more
discourse with him, had him in to 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
nead, and followed them into the house. So, when he w-s come in and sat down, they
gave him something to drink, and consented together chat, until supper was ready,
some of them should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best im-
provement of time; and they appointed Piety, Prudence, and Charity to discourse with
him; and thus they began:
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
PIETY. Come, good C'lhlii-i. 1, since we have been so loving to you to receive you
into our house this night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves thereby, talk with
you of all things that have happened to you in your pilgrimage.
CHRIS. 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?
CHRIS. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that was in mine
ears; to wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in that place where
PIETY. But how did it happen that you came out of your country this way?
CHRIS. It was as God would have it; for, when I was under the fears of destruction,
I (lid not know whither to go; but by chance there came a man even to me, as I was
trembling and weeping, whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the wicket-
gate, which else I should never have found, and so set me in the way that hath led me
directly to this house.
PIETY. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter?
CHRIS. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which will stick by
me as long as I live, especially three things; to wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan,
maintains His work of grace in the heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out
of hopes of God's mercy; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the day
of judgment was come.
PIETY. Why ? did you hear him tell his dream?
CHRaS. 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 of it.
PIETY. Was that all you saw at the house of the Interpreter?
CHRIS. 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?
CHRIS. 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, and 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
"P',,0;1 J -.
;'' '' I~r''
-1, 3 'i'.
-~~~ .;! ., .. .. .- ... -. ...
Tim PORTER AIFF 1 CHRISrIAN AND CALLS JDISCRTION TO in I ALAl- Diii
"This man is on a jointy fromn tli( City of' Deistrucitioni to Mounit /ion. (69)
.... --- \ t : 11; 1 --
... _- ..- -; --: = ;- ;
--= '; - = .-
-. -- .- -' = -' : : --:- " '- ;- --
:--L_: -'.2_ -_ _- .- "-.-7 ... -2- .- -G -_. -" :_.; ._-1 :-; -- -C
TIE O Tis] mF,]/I' Ci IYs TAN AND (;I, l)I('II TIO T()m TIII' t I)rAtuto ltono~ i,A('." DO6lL
TIE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
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?
CHRns. 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 wake
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 now I thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving
Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer to
PRn. Do you think sometimes of the country from whence you came ?
CHI-s. Yes, but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if I had been mindful
of that country from whence I came out, I might have had an opportunity to have
returned; but now I desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one."
PRu. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were
conversant withal ?
CHRIs. 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 doing that which is best,
that which is worst is with me.6"
PnR. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished, which at other
times are your perplexity ?
CHRIS. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in which such
things happen to me.
Pnu. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances, at times, as if
they were vanquished ?
CHRIs. Yes; when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and when I look
upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also when I look into the roll that I carry in
CHlARITY CON\ i 7i"i-` ` IVITII CJIRISTL'IX
my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither I am
going, that will do it.
PRU. And what makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion ?
CHRIS. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross; and
there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance to
me. There, they say, there is no death;"8 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 IIim cased 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, holv !"
CHAR. Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a filaily? are you a married
CHRIS. I have a wife and four small children.
CHAR. And why did you not bring them along with you ?
CHRIs. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly would I have done it!
but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage."
CHAR. But you should have talked to them, and endeavored to have shown tmll
the danger of staying behind.
CHRIS. So I did, and told them also what 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."
CHAR. And did you pray to God that He would bless your counsel to them ?
CHRIS. Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that miy wife and
poor children were very dear unto me.
CHAR. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of destruction ? for I
suppose that destruction was visible enough to you.
CHRIS. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears in my counl-
tenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehension of the judgment
that did hang over our heads: but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come
CHAR. But what could they say for themselves why they came not ?
CHRIS. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children were given
to the foolish delights of youth; so, what by one thing, and what by another, they left
me to wander in this manner alone.
CHAR. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you by words used by
way of persuasion to bring them away with you ?
CHRIS. 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
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
what, by argument or persuasion, he doth labor to fasten upon others for their good.
Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action,
to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell
me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in which they
saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say that, if what they saw in me did hinder them,
it was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong to my
CHA Indeed, Cain hated his brother because his own works were evil, and his
brother's righteous; 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.90
Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together till supper was ready.
So, when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now, the table was furnished
with fat things, and wine that was well refined; and all their talk at the table was
about the Lord of the hill; as, namely, about what He had done, and wherefore He
did what He did, and why he had builded that house; and by what they said, I per-
ceived that He had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had
the power of death,"9 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 puts the glory of grace into all He did, was, that He did it
out of pure love to this country. And, besides, there were some of them of the house-
hold that said they had seen 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 had heard Him say and
affirm that He would not dwell in the mountains 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."9
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 sunrising. The
name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke
BS~fc ''** \
CHRISTIAN IN THE ARUMIORY II REEIVING IIS WI'AP]ONS FROM
DISCRETION, PIETY, CHARITY AND PIIIRUENCE.
- "I'll ."-. I'll., I- I ".
THEI VIRGINS READ TO CHRISTL4N.
"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. And first they
had him into the study, where they showed him records of the greatest antiquity; in
which, as I remember in my dream, they showed him first the pedigree of the Lord
of the hill, that He was the son of the Ancient of Days, and came by an eternal
generation. Here also were more fully recorded the acts that He had done, and the
names of many hundreds that He had taken into his service; and how he had placed
them in such habitations that could neither by length of days nor decays of nature be
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."
They then read again in 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 accomplishments, 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 they showed him
all manner of furniture which their Lord had provided for pilgrims; as sword, shield,
helmet, breast-plate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And there was
here enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord as there
be stars in the heaven for multitude.
They also showed him some of the engines with which some of His servants had
done wonderful things. They showed him Moses' rod; the hammer and nail with
which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put
to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith
Shamgar slew six hundred men. They showed him also the jaw-bone with which
Samson did such mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the sling and stone
fie$''l t i `,. 1 1 1 .
.4 f.. 1-
DiSCRETION, PE'Y, CIi kITY AND PRUDENCE INSfRUCT CIItIRSIIA AT THE PuALC Bi AU[FII I
"Then they read to him some, of the worthy aets thilt ,sone of His servants Itad done." (74)
CHRISTIAN GOES FOR WARD. 75
with which David slew Goliath of Gath, and the sword also with which their Lord will
kill the Man of Sin, in the day that He shall rise up to the prey. They showed him,
besides, many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. This done,
they went to their rest again.
Then I saw in my dream that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but they
desired him to stay till the next day also; and then," said they, we will, if the day
be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains;" which they said would yet further add
to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at;
present he was. So he consented and stayed. When the morning was up, they had
him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he did, and behold, at a
great distance he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods,
vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to
behold." Then he asked the name of the country. They said it was Immanuel'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 the gate of the Celestial
City, as the shepherds that live there will make appear."
Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he should. But
first," said they, "let us go again into the armory." So they did ; and when lie came
there, they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps lie
should meet with assaults in the way. He being, therefore, thus accoutred, walked out
with his friends to the gate; and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass.
by. Then the Porter answered, "Yes."
CHRIS. "Pray did you know him? said he.
PORT. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful.
CHRIS. 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 lie may be before? "
PORT. He has got by this time below the hill.
CHRIS. "Well," said Christian, "good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to all
thy blessings much increase for the kindness thou has showed to me! "
Then he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and Prudence would
accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating
their former discourses, till they came to go down the hill. Then said Christian, "As
it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down." Yes,"
said Prudence, "so it is; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down the Valley of
Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore," said they,
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
" are we come out to accompany thee down the hill." So he began to go down, but
very warily ; yet he caught a slip or two.
Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when Christian was gone down
to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of
raisins; and then he went his way.
UT now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to it; for he
had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to
S meet him: his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to
cast in his mind whether to go back or to stand his ground. But he considered
again that he had no armor for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back
to him might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his darts;
therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground; for, thought he, had I no
more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand.
So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now, the monster was hideous to behold:
he was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his pride ; he had wings like a
dragon, and feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke; and his mouth
was as the mouth of a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with
a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question with him:
APOLLYON. Whence come you, and whither are you bound ?
CHRIS. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place of all evil, and
am going to the City of Zion.
APOL. By this I perceive 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 that thou mayest do me more service, I would
strike thee now at one blow to the ground.
CHRIS. 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 ; therefore, when
I was come to years, I did as other considerate persons do, look out, if perhaps I might
APOL. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, neither will I as yet
APOLLYON STAYS CHRISTIAN.
lose thee ; but, since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back,
and what our country will afford I do here promise to give thee.
CHRIS. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes; and how can
I with fairness go back with thee ?
APOL. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, changed a bad for a worse; "
but it is ordinary for those that have professed themselves His servants, after awhile to
give Him the slip, and return again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well.
CHRIs. I have given Him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to im ; how, then,
can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor?
APOL. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by all, if now thou
wilt yet turn again and go back.
CHRIS. What I promised thee was in my nonage [youth] ; 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 the truth, I like His service, His wages, His servants, His govern-
ment, His company, and country, better than thine; therefore leave off to persuade me
further: I am His servant, and I will follow Him.
APOL. Consider again when thou art in- cold blood, what thou art likely to meet
with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the most part His servants
come to an ill end, because they are transgressors against me and my ways. allow
many of them have been put to shameful deaths And besides, thou contest flis
service better than mine; whereas He never came yet from the place where He is, to
deliver any that served Him out of their hands; but as for me, how many times, as all
the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or fraud, those that have
faithfully served me, from Him and His, though taken by them! And so I will de-
CHRIS. 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 (lost thou
think to receive wages of Him ?
CHnIs. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to Him?
APOL. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost choked in the
Gulf of Despond. Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off. Thou didst sinfully sleep,
and lose thy choice things. Thou wast almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the
lions. And when thou tallest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard,
thou art inwardly desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest or doest.
CHiRIs. 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 infirmi-
ties possessed me in thy own country; for there I sucked them in, and I have groaned
under them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince.
APOL. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, "I am an enemy to
this Prince; I hate His person, His laws, and people. I am come out on purpose to
CHRIs. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King's highway, the way of
holiness: therefore take heed to yourself.
APOL. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said,
"I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die; for I swear by my infernal
den, that thou shalt go no farther: here will I spill thy soul." And, with that, he threw
a flaming dart at his breast; but Christian held 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
that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and
foot. This made Christian give a little back; Apollyon, therefore, followed his work
amain, and Christian again took 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 Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker
Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and,
wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and, with that, Christian's sword flew out
of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now." And, with that, he had
almost pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as God
would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end
of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, and caught it,
saying, "Rejoice not against me, 0 mine enemy: when I fall I shall arise;" 9 and,
with that, gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one that had received
his mortal wound. Christian, perceiving that, made at him again, saying, Nay, in
all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us." 9 And,
CHRISTIAN GIVES T1I2-A>VKS.
with that, Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings, and sped him away, that Christian
for a season saw him no more."
In this combat no man can imagine, unless lie had seen and heard, as I did, what
yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight: le splke like a
dragon; and, on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from Clhristian's heart. I
never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived lie
had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile and look
upward; but it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.
Cants. So, when the battle was over, Christian said, I will here give thanks to
Him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion; to Him that did help me
against Apollyon." And so he did, saying,
"Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend,
Designed my ruin: therefore to this end
He sent him harnessed out; and he with rage i
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage:
But blessed Michael helped me ; and I, '
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly: (.
Therefore to Him* let me give lasting praise,
And thank and bless His holy name always."
Then there came to him a hand with some
of the leaves of the tree of life; the which -
Christian took, and applied to 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 to him a little before: so, being
refreshed, he addressed himself to his jour-
ney, 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 thanks for his d(I.iverance r,,,oi ApoI:yon.
from Apollyon quite through this valley.
Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the Shadow of Death;
and Christian must needs go through it, because the way to the Celestial City lay
through the midst of it. Now this valley is a very solitary place; the prophet Jere-
miah thus describes it: "A wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought,
)VaekCit, to (on..-r-
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
and of the shadow of death, a land that no man" but a Christian "passeth through,
and where no man dwelt." "
Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon, as by the
sequel you shall see.
I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to the borders of the Shadow
of Death, there met him two men, children of them that brought up an evil report of
the good land, making haste to go back; to whom Christian spake as follows:
CHRIS. Whither are you going?
MEN. They said, "Back, back! and we would have you to do so too, if either life
or peace is prized by you."
CHRIs. "Why, what's the matter?" said Christian.
MEN. "Matter!" said they: "we were going that way as you are going, and went
as far as we durst: and indeed we were almost past coming back; for had we gone a
little farther, we had not been here to bring the news to thee."
C0RIS. 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.'0o
CHRIS. But what have you seen ?" said Christian.
MEx. 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 hung the discouraging clouds of confusion ; Death
also does always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being
utterly without order.101
CHRrs. Then said Christian, "I perceive not yet, by what you have said, but that
this is my way to the desired haven." 102
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, as 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 there
been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out.
The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow, and therefore good Christian was
THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH.
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 forward,
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 by the wayside. Now, thought Christian, ---- --
what shall I do? And ever and anon the
flame and smoke would come out in such .. '
abundance, with sparks and hideous noises I
(things that cared not for C('li-li i n's sword, -
as did Apollyon before), that he was forced to -
put up his sword, and betake himself to another .
weapon, called "All-Prayer." 10 So he cried :I':: -.,
in my Lh. i r;.. "O Lord, I beseech T1...-, de- '
liver my soul." "' Thus he went on a great I
while, yet still the flames would be reaching I i,, ,
towards him; also he heard doleful voices, and ... 7 "
rushing to and fro, so that sometimes he I -
thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden
down like mire in the streets. This frightful
sight was seen, and those dreadful noises were
heard by him, for several miles together, and,
coming to a place where he thought lie heard
A" A (*1111 1;U1 ()( fll'llln S.d "
a company of fiends coming forward to meet o 5
him, he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes lie had ha lf
a thought to go back; then again he thought he might be half-way through the valley.
He remembered, also, how he had already vanquished many a danger, and that the
danger of going back might be much more than going forward. So le resolved to (go
on; yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. But, when they were come ev(en
almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, I will walk in the st.rc(ngth
of the Lord God." So they gave back, and came no farther.
One thing I would not let slip : I took notice that now poor Christian was so coen-
founded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it: just when lie
was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
him, and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blas-
phemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This
put Christian more to it than anything he had met with before, even to think that he
should now blaspheme Him that he had so much loved before. Yet, if he could have
helped it, he would not have done it; but he had not the discretion either to stop his
ears, or to know from whence those blasphemies came.
When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition some considerable time,
he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, Though I walk
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death I will fear no evil; for Thou art with
Then he was glad, and that for these reasons:
First,-Because lie 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 impedi-
ment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it ? "0
Thirdly,-For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company by-and-bye.
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-bye the day broke. Then
said ('ln i -lrii, "He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning." 107
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 betwixt them both. Also now he saw
the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off; for after break of
day they came not nigh; 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." 1"
Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the dangers of 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 Death was dan-
gerous, yet this second part, which he was yet to go, was if possible far more dangerous;
for, from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all
along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep
holes, and shelving down there, that, had it now been dark, as it was when he came
r / pI"1 1
'? i~ ~id. t~i ~ /~~ 'J'
I Iv uij1
CHRISTIAN MEETS A COMPANY OF FIENDS IN THE VALLEY OF T'1E SHADO.)W O( 1)1 :XTii.
"One of the wicked ones got behind him, and whisperinjly suggestled many grievous blasplnheicius to ni (83)
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
the first part of the way, had lie had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast
away. But, as I said just now, the sun was rising. Then said he, "His candle
shineth on my head, and by His light I go through darkness." 10
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, POPE and PAGAN,
----- dwelt in old time; by whose power and
V tyranny, the men whose bones, blood, ashes,
i/ '''. i etc., lay there, were cruelly put to death.
I'.ll.' i 4" But by this place Christian went without
1.i, danger, whereat I somewhat wondered; but I
i''I have learnt since, that Pagan has been dead
S, .. many a day; and, as for the other, though
.i:hli he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, also
j of the many shrewd brushes that he met with
Sin 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 pil-
'. "- grims as they go by, and biting his nails be-
""cause he cannot come at them.
S. 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,
He can niow dolittle more than sit in his cave's mouth, though he could not go after him, saying,
grinning at pilgrims."
"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
watched 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 1 live, let Jesus wear the crown."
CHRIS'TIAN FIRST SEES FAITHFUL.
i- OW as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent which was cast up
Son purpose that pilgrims might see before them: up there, therefore, Christian
went; and looking forward, he saw Faithful before him upon his journey.
Then said (C'I ;-i:in aloud, "Ho, ho! so-ho! stay, and I will be your com-
panion." At that Faithful looked behind him; to whom Christian cried, Stay, stay,
till I come up to you." But Faithful answered, "No, I am upon my life, and the
avenger of blood is behind me."
At this Christian was somewhat moved; and putting to all his strength, he quickly
got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him: so the last was first. Then did Chris-
tian vain-gloriously smile, because he had gotten the start of his brother; but, not
taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again
until Faithful came up to help him.
Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on together, and had sweet dis-
course of all things that had happened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus Christian
CHRIS. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that r have over-
taken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as companions
in this so pleasant a path.
FAITH. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company quite from our town;
but you did get the start of me, wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the way
CHRIS. 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 great talk, presently after you
were gone out, that our city would, in a short time, with fire from heaven, be burned
down to the ground.
CHRIs. What! did your neighbors talk so ?
FAITH. Yes; it was for a while in everybody's mouth.
CHRIS. What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape the danger?
FAITH. Though there was, .s I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I do not think they
did firmly believe it. For, ii the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them derid-
ingly speak of you, and of your desperate journey; for so they called this your pil-
:- -- .- -
Si '"* _-' "-"
S"- _. .-- -- ,- ^ .
. ..- ."-..
...__ _-- i- -
CHMSTIAN AND FAITHFUL JOIN COMPANY.
"He could not rise again until Faithful caine up to help him." (8)
-. .. -
_= .__ _
- : ... : -__: 4 .-- ,", ---=
.- ., ,.-'_ _
3rISIN N ATH~.JI ~IAY
"He could not ris"b~Be ag,"n until at~lcaeu ohlphm"(
'WHIAT WAS SAID IN THE CITY.
grimage. 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.
CHRIs. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable ?
FAITH. Yes, Christian; I heard that he followed you till lie 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.
CHRIS. And what said the neighbors to him?
FAITH. He hath, since his going back, been held greatly in derision, and that among
all sorts of people: some do mock and despise him, and scarce any will set him on
work. He is now seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the city.
CIRIS. But why should they be so set against him, since they also despise thfe way
that he forsook ?
FAITH. Oh," they say, "hang him; he is a turncoat he was not true to his pro-
fession I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at him and make him
a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way."'
CHRIS. Had you no talk with him before you came out ?
FAITH. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the other side, as one
ashamed of what he had done; so I spake not to him.
CHRIS. 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 dog is turned to his vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her
wallowing in the mire." In
FAITH. These are my fears of him too; but who can hinder that which will be ?
CHRIs. "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 perceive you fell into, and got up to the gate
without that danger; only I met with one whose name was Wanton, that had like to
have done me a mischief.
CHRIS. It was well you escaped her net: Joseph was hard put to it by her, and lie
escaped her as you did; but it had like to have cost him his life."' But what did she
do to you?
FAITH. You cannot think (but that you know -..n Il ,_) what a flatter ,- 1t. -I .,i
she had; she lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me all man ner of
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
CHris. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience.
FAITH. You know what I mean-all carnal and fleshly content.
CHRIs. Thank God you have escaped her: the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into
FAITH. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no.
CHRIS. 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 saith, "Her steps take hold of hell." "4 So I shut mine eyes, because I would
not be bewitched with her looks."5 Then she railed on me, and I went my way.
CHRIS. Did you meet with no other assault as you came?
FAITH. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with a very
aged man, who asked me what I was and whither bound. I told him that I was a
pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old man, "Thou lookest like an
honest fellow: wilt thou be content to dwell with me, for the wages that I shall give
thee? Then I asked him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was
Adam the First, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit.11 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 him 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,"1 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.
CHRIs. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last?
FAITH. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I
thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with him, I saw
there written, "Put off the old man with his deeds."
CHRIS. And how then?
FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, and however he
flattered, when he got me home to his house he would sell me for a slave. So I bid
him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door cf 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, 0 wretched
FAITHFUL AND ADAM THE FIRST.
man "n1 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 lie over-
took me just about the place where the settle stands.
CirIs. 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, lie was
but a word and a blow; for down lie 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, lie struck me
another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backwards ; so I lay at his feet
as dead as before. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy; but lie said,
" I know not how to show mercy;" and, with that, lie knocked me down again. He
had doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by, and bid him forbear.
CHRIS. Who was that that bid him forbear ?
FAITH. I did not know him at first; but, as He went by, I perceived the holes in
His hands and His side; then I concluded that He was our Lord. So I went up the hill.
CHRIs. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none, neither knoweth
he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law.
FAITH. I know it very well: it was not the first time that he has met with me. It
was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me lie would
burn my house over my head if I stayed there.
CHRIS. But did not you see the house that stood there, on the top of that hill on the
side of which Moses met you ?
FAITH. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. But, for the lions, I think they
were asleep, for it was about noon; and because I had so much of the day before me,
I passed by the Porter, and came down the hill.
CHRIS. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by; but I wished you had called at
the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities, that you would scarce
have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell me, did you meet nobody
in the Valley of Humility ?
FAITH. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have persuaded me
to go back again with him : his reason was, for that the valley was altogether without
honor. He told me, moreover, that there to go was the way to disoblige all my
friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-Conceif Worldly-Glory, with others, who lie knew,
as lie said, would be very much offended if I made such a fool of myself as to wade
through this valley.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
CHRIS. Well, and how did you answer him?
FAITH. I told him that, although all these that he named might claim kindred of
me, and that rightly (for, indeed, they were my relations according to the flesh), yet,
since I became a pilgrim, they have disowned me, as 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."
CIRIS. Met you with nothing else in that
FAITH. Yes, I met with Shame; but, of all
the men that I met with in my pilgrimage, he,
I think, bears the wrong name. The other
would be said nay, after a little argumentation
and somewhat else; but this bold-faced Shame
would never have done.
CHRIS. Why, what did he say to you?
FAITH. What? why, he objected against
religion itself. He said it was a pitiful, low,
: V sneaking business for a man to mind religion.
H\ e said that a tender conscience was an
S" \\ unmanly thing; and that for a man to watch
over his words and ways, so as to tie up him-
self from that hectoring liberty that the brave
DisconItent. spirits of the times accustom themselves unto,
would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but a few of the
mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my opinion; nor any of them neither, before they
were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness, to venture the loss of all
for nobody else knows what.119 20 He, moreover, objected the base and low estate
and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived;
also their ignorance, and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did
hold me to it at that rate also, about a great many more things than here I relate; as,
that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to come
sighing and groaning home; that it was a shame to ask my neighbor forgiveness for
ARROGANCE. SELF-CONCEIT. WOELDI 7-GLORY. 191)
,, L~' ,~ : k... .
_--_i /' ,(
t .-.- I- J:-
_)~~) ........-- -; '= -'i,
.. -- ?.
BRRoA C SEL-CO:S-CEIT. T7'O R PLD~ I.T-GLOPT. l91 "
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
petty faults, or to make restitution where I had taken from any. He said also that
religion made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices (which he called
by finer names), and made him own and respect the base, because of the same religious
fraternity ; "and is not this," said he, "a shame ?"
CHRIS. And what did you say to him?
FAITH. Say ? I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he put me so to it that my
blood came up in my face; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me
quite off. But at last I began to consider that that which is highly esteemed among
men is had in abomination with God.121 And I thought again, This Shame tells me
what men are, but it tells me nothing what God, or the Word of God, is. And I
thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life
according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law
of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best-is best, though all the
men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers His religion; seeing
God prefers a tender conscience; seeing they that make themselves fools for the king-
dom 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 ? 122 Should I now be ashamed of His way and ser-
vants, how can I expect the blessing? But, indeed, this Shame was a bold villain: 1
could scarce shake him out of my company; yea, he would be haunting of me, and
continually whispering me in the ear with some one or other of the infirmities that
attend religion. But at last I told him it was but in vain to attempt further in this
business; for those things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory; and so, at
last, I got past this importunate one. And when I had shaken him off, then I began
"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, lot the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then,
Be vigilant and quit themselves like men "
CHIrs. 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 wai 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." 1
FAITH. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame who would have us
to be valiant for truth upon the earth.
CHIns. 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.
CIRIS. It was well for you I am sure it fared far otherwise with me. I had for a
long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that
foul fiend Apollyon; yea, I thought verily he would have killed me, especially when
he got me down, and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces.
For, as he threw me, my sword flew out of my hand ; nay, he told me he was sure of
me; and I cried to God, and He heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles.
Then I entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost
half the way through it. I thought I should have been killed there over and over:
but at last day broke, and the sun rose, and I went through that which was behind
with far more ease and quiet.
Moreover, I saw in my dream that, as they went on, Faithful, as lie chanced to look
on one side, saw a man whose name is Talkative walking at a distance beside 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 that same place.
FAITH. That is well; then I hope we may have your good company.
TALK. With a very good will will I be your companion.
FAITH. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in dis-
coursing of things that are profitable.
TALK. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with you or with
any other; and I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a work ;
for, to speak the truth, there are but few who care thus to spend their time as they are
in their travels, but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit ; and this
has been a trouble to me.
FAITH. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented; for what things so worthy of the
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of
TALK. I like you wonderfully 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 wonder-
ful. For instance, if a man doth delight to talk of the history or the mystery of things,
or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he find things
recorded so delightful, or so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture ?
FAITH. That's true; but to be profited by such things in our talk should be that
which we design.
TALK. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things is most profitable; for, by so
doing, a man may get knowledge of many things; as of the vanity of earthly things,
and the benefit of things above. Thus in general; but more particularly, by this a
man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need
of Christ's righteousness, etc. Besides, by this a man may learn 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
FAITH. All this is true; and glad am I to hear these things from you.
TALK. Alas the want of this is the cause that so few understand the need of faith,
and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life; but igno-
rantly live in the works of the law, by which a man can by no means obtain the king-
dom 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 that I know very well, for a man can receive nothing except it be given
him from heaven ; all is of grace, not of works. I could give you a hundred scriptures
for the confirmation of this.
FAITH. Well, then," said Faithful, what is that one thing that we shall at this
time found our discourse upon ?"
TALK. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly or things earthly; things
moral or things evangelical; things sacred or things profane; things past or things to
come; things foreign or things at home; things more essential or things circumstan-
tial; provided that all be done to our profit.
FAITI. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and, stepping to Christian (for he
''~'C ; r
"A nmal whose name is Talkative." m.5
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
walked all this while by himself), he said to him, but softly, What a brave companion
have we got! Surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrim."
CIRIs. At this Christian modestly smiled, anu said, This man with whom you are
so taken will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not."
FArTH. Do you know him, then ?
CmuRs. Know him ? Yes, better than he knows himself.
FAvIT. Pray what is he ?
Crnis. His name is Talkative; he dwelleth in our town. I wonder that you should
be a stranger to him: only I consider that our town is large.
FA IT. Whose son is lhe? and whereabout doth he dwell?
CirIS. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in Prating Row, and is known to
all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating Row; and not-
withstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow.
FAvIT. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.
CiRns. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him, for he is
best abroad; near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man
brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the painter, whose pictures
show best at a distance, but very near more unpleasing.
FAITH. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled.
Cimrs. 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 con-
versation: all he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise there-
FAITH. Say you so? Then am I in this man greatly deceived.
CHIrs. Deceived! you may be sure of it. Remember the proverb, They say, and
do not;" but the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power."'1 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 hin 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 shame of religion to all that know him.25 It can hardly have a good
word in all that end of the town where he dwells, through him. Thus say the com-
mon 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 trailer 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, for fairer dealing they
shall have at their hands. This Talkative, if it be possible, will go beyond them,
defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to follow his
steps; and, if he findeth in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first
appearance of a tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads, and by no
means will employ them in much, or speak to their commendation before others. For
my part, I am of opinion that he has, by his wicked life, caused many to stumble and
fall, and will be, if God prevent not, the ruin of many more.
FAITH. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you, not only because you say you
know him, but also because like a Christian you make your reports of men. For I
cannot think you speak these things of ill-will, but because it is even so as you say.
CHRIS. Had I known him no more than you, I might, perhaps, have thought of him
as at first you did; yea, had he received this report at their hands only that are enemies
to religion, I should have thought it had been a slander, a lot that often falls from bad
men's mouths upon good men's names and professions. But all these things, yea, and
a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge I can prove him guilty of. Besides,
good men are ashamed of him: they can neither call him brother nor friend; the very
naming of him among them makes them blush, if they know him.
FAITH. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I shall
better observe this distinction.
CHRIS. They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul and the
body; for, as the body without the soul is but a dead carcase, so saying, if it be alone,
is but a dead carcase also. The soul of religion is the practical part. Pure religion
and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and the widows
in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." 12 This, Talkative
is not aware of: he thinks that hearing and saying will make a good Christian, and
thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed; talking is
not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life. And let us assure
ourselves that, at the day of doom, men shall be judged according to their fruits.'2 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 ;12
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 pro-
fession of Talkative will be at that day.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.
FAITH. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he described the beast that
is clean.129 He is such a one that parteth the hoof and cheweth the cud; not that
parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but
yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. And this truly resembleth Talkative:
he cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the Word; but he divideth
not the hoof, he parteth not with the way of sinners, but, as the hare, retaineth the
foot of the dog or bear, and therefore he is unclean.
CHnIS. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true Gospel sense of those texts.
And I will add another thing: Paul calleth some men, yea, and those great talkers
too, sounding brass and tinkling cymbals;13 that is, as he expounds them in another
place, things without life, giving sound. 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?
CHRIS. 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?
CHrIS. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse about the power of
religion, and ask him plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will) whether
this thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation.
FAITH. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative, Come, what
cheer? How is it now?"
TALK. Thank you, well: I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this
FAITH. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and, since you left it with me to
state the question, let it be this: How doth the saving grace of God discover itself
when it is in the heart of man ?
TALK. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of things. Well, it
is a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you. And take my answer
in brief, thus. First, where the grace of God is in the heart, it causeth there a great
outcry against sin. Secondly,-
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?
FAITHFUL DISPUTES WITH TALKATIVE.
FAITH. Oh! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin of policy; but he can-
not abhor it but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it. I have heard many cry out
against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and
conversation. Joseph's mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very
chaste; but she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed unclelan'ess
with him.l'3 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 liil._.;4 and
TALK. You lie at the catch, I perceive.
FAITH. No, not I; I am only for setting things right. But what is the second
thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of grace in the heart?
TALK. Great knowledge of Gospel mysteries.
FAITH. This sign should have been first; but, first or last, it is also filse ; for knowl-
edge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of the Gospel, and yet no work
of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he may yet be il.lljij,., and
so, consequently, be no child of God.132 When Christ said, Do ye know all these
things ? and the disciples had answered, Yes," He added, Blessed are ye if ye do
them." He doth not lay the-blessing in the knowledge of them, but in the doing of
them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing : He that knowevth
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
is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge: knowledge that resteth in the bare specula-
tion of things, and knowledge that is accompanied with the grace and faith of love,
which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the heart. The first of these
will serve the talker ; but without the other the true Christian is not content. Give me
understanding, and I shall keep Thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart."
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 standers by.