Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 The author's apology for his...
 The pilgrim's progress
 Back Cover

Title: The pilgrim's progress
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00086057/00001
 Material Information
Title: The pilgrim's progress
Physical Description: 192 p. : col. ill. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Bunyan, John, 1628-1688
Gilbert H. McKibbin ( Publisher )
Manhattan Press ( Printer )
Publisher: Gilbert H. McKibbin
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: 1899
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1899
Genre: fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by John Bunyan.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00086057
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002026378
oclc - 08030767
notis - AKL3958

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 1a
    Half Title
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Title Page
        Page 5
        Page 6
    The author's apology for his book
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    The pilgrim's progress
        Page 15
        Page 16
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Full Text

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Mon WIT,



The Baldwin Library
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COPYR:GHT, 1899,

Printed by the Manhattan Press,
474 W. Broadway, New York


WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand,
Thus for to write, I did not understand
That I at all should make a little book
In such a mode; nay, I had undertook
To make another; which, when almost done,
Before I was aware, I this begun.

And thus it was: I, writing of the way
And race of saints in this our gospel-day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey and the way to glory,
In more than twenty things, which I set down:
This done, I twenty more had in my crown;
And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out
The book that I already am about.

Well, so I did; but yet I did not think
To show to all the world my pen and ink
In such a mode; I only thought to make
I knew not what; nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my neighbor; no, not I;
I did it mine own self to gratify.

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 penn'd
It down; until at last it came to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

Well, when I had thus put my ends together,
I showed them others, that I might see whether
They would condemn them, or them justify ;
And some said, Let them live; some, Let them die.
Some said, John, print it; others said, Not so:
Some said, It might do good; others said, No.

Now was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me:
At last I thought, Since you are thus divided,
I print it will; and so the case decided.

For, thought I, some I see would have it done,
Though others in that channel do not run:
To prove, then, who advised for the best,
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.

I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it thus to gratify,
I did not know, but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight:
For those which were not for its coming forth,
I said to them, Offend you I am loath;
Yet, since your brethren pleased with it be,
Forbear to judge, till you do further see.

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone;
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone;
Yea, that I might them better moderate,
Sdid 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 blessing null.

You see the ways the fisherman doth take
To catch the fish; what engines doth he make.
Behold how he engageth all his wits;
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets:
Yet fish there be that neither hook nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine, can make thine:
They must be groped for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be catch'd, 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;
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 I 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 1
They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind.

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men:
But must I needs want solidness, because
By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws,
His gospel laws, in olden time held forth
By shadows, types, and metaphors? Yet loath
Will any sober man be to find fault
With them, lest he be found for to assault
The Highest Wisdom. No; he rather stoops,
And seeks to find out what by pins and loops,
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams,
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs
God speaketh to him; and happy is he
That finds the light and grace that in them be.

Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude
That I want solidness, that I am rude:
All things solid in show, not solid be:
All things in parable despise not we,
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are, of our souls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.

The prophets used much by metaphors
To set forth truth; yea whoso considers
Christ, His apostles too, shall plainly see
The 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 dare adventure ten
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.
Come, Truth, although in swaddling-clouts I find,
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;
Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit; the memory, too, it doth fill
With what both our imagination please;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives' fables he is to refuse;
But yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbid
The use of parables, in which lay hid
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.

Let me add one word more: Oh, man of God I
Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had
Put forth my matter in another dress?
Or that I had in things been more express?
To those that are my betters, as is fit,
Three things let me propound, then I submit:

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
(Examples too, and that from them that have
God better pleased, by their words or ways,
Than any man that breatheth nowadays)
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee that excellentest are.


2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight
For writing so; indeed, if they abuse
Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use
To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me,
Which way it pleases God; for who knows how
Better than He that taught us first to plough,
To guide our 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 me 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 counsel thou wilt ruled be;
It will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its direction 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? Wouldst thou remember
From New-year's day to the last of December?
Then read my fancies; they will stick like burn
And may be to the helpless comforters.

This book is writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect;
It seems a novelty, and yet contains
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy?
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly?
Wouldst thou read riddles and their explanation,
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation?
Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see
A man i' 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 thyself again without a charm?
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knowest 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.


As I walked through the wilderness of this world,
I lighted on a certain place where was a Den, and
I laid me down in that place to sleep; and, as I
slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold,
I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a cer-
tain place, with his face from his own house, a book
in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. 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, ho brake out with a
cry, saying, What shall I do?"
In this plight, therefore, he went home and re-
frained himself as long as he could, that his wife
and children should not perceive his distress; but
he could not be silent long, because- his trouble in-
creased. Wherefore he brake his mind to his wife
and children; and thus said to them: 0 my dear
wife, and you my children, I, your dear friend, am
in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth
hard upon me; moreover, I am for certain 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 s,e
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
said to them was true, but because they thought
that some distemper had got into his head; there-
fore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping
that sleep might settle his brain, with all haste they
got him to bed. But the night was as troublesome
to him as the day; and, instead of sleeping, he
spent it in sighs and tears. So, when the morning
was come, they would know how he did. He told
them, Worse and worse: 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 carriages to him; sometimes they would
deride, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes
they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he be-
gan to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for
and pity them, and also to condole his own misery;
he would also walk solitarily in the fields, some-
times reading, and sometimes praying: and thus
for some days he spent his time.
Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking
in the fields, that he was, as he was wont, reading
in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and,
as he read, he burst out, as he had done before,
crying, What shall I do to be saved? "
I saw also that he looked this way and that way,
as if he would run; yet he stood still, because, as I
perceived, he could not tell which way to go.


," -k



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 in my
hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that
to come to judgment, and I find that I am not will-
ing to do the first, nor able to do the second.
EVANGELIST. Why not willing to die, since this..
life is attended with so many evils? The man an-'r~
swered, Because I fear that this burden that is upon
my back will sink me lower than the grave, and I'-
shall fall into Tophet. And, Sir, if I be not fit to
go to prison, I am not fit, I am sure, to go to judg-
ment, and from thence to execution; and the_-:
thoughts of these things make me cry.
EVANGELIST. If this be thy condition, w
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 read it, and looking upon Evangelist -
very carefully, said, Whither must I fly? Then'-
said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very
wide field, Do you see yonder wicket-gate? The -
man said, No. Then said the other, Do you see
yonder shining light? He said, I think I do. Then.:-
said Evangelist, Keep that light in your eye, and
go up 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 be-
gan to run. Now, he had not run far from his own
door, but his wife and children, perceiving it, began


to cry after him to return; but the man put his
fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, Life! life!
eternal life! So he looked not behind him, but fled
towards the middle of the plain.
The neighbors also came out to see him run; and,
as he ran, some mocked, others threatened, and
some cried after him to return; and, among those
'that did so, there were two that resolved to fetch
-- him back by force. The name of the one was Ob-
stinate, and the name of the other Pliable. Now,
by this time, the man was got a good distance from
S.them; but, however, they were resolved to pursue
Shim, which they did, and in a little time-they over-
took him. Then said the man, Neighbors, where-
_-fore 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 De-
Sstruction. 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
: ith fire and brimstone; be content, good neigh-
bors, and go along with me.
SOBSTINATE. What! and leave our friends and
our comforts behind us?
Yes, said Christian, for that was his name, be-
cause that ALL which you shall forsake is not worthy
-to be compared with a little of that which I am
seeking to enjoy, and if you will go along with me,
and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there
where I go is enough and to spare. Come away,
and prove my words.


OBSTINATE. What are the things you seek, since
you leave all the world to find them?
CHRISTIAN. I seek an inheritance incorruptible,
undefiled, and that fadeth not away, and it is laid
up in heaven, and safe.there to be bestowed, at the
time appointed, on them that diligently seek it.
Read it so, if you will, in my book.
OBSTINATE. Tush! away with your book; will
you go back with us or no?
CHRISTIAN. No, not I, because I have laid my
hand to the plough.
OBSTINATE. 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
PLIABLE. Don't revile; if what the good Christian
says is true, the things he looks after are better
than ours; my heart inclines to go with my neigh-
OBSTINATE. 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.
CHRISTIAN. 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.


PLIABLE. Well, neighbor Obstinate, 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
CHRISTIAN. I am directed by a man, whose name
is Evangelist, to speed me to a little gate that is
before us, where we shall receive instructions about
the way.
PLIABLE. Come, then, good neighbor, let us be
going. Then they went both together.
OBSTINATE. And I will go back to my place; I
will be no companion of such misled fellows.
Now, I saw in my dream that, when Obstinate
was gone back, Christian and Pliable went talking
over the plain; and thus they began their discourse.
CHRISTIAN. Neighbor Pliable, I am glad you are
persuaded to go along with me. Had Obstinate
but felt what I have felt of the powers and terrors
of what is yet unseen, he would not thus lightly
have given us the back.
PLIABLE. Come, neighbor Christian, since there
are none but us two here, tell me now, further what
the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we
are going.
CHRISTIAN. 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.
PLIABLE. And do you think that the words of
your book are certainly true?


CHRISTIAN. Yes, verily; for it was made by him
that cannot lie.
PLIABLE. Well said; what things are they?
CHRISTIAN. There is an endless kingdom to be
inhabited, and everlasting life to be given us, that
we may inhabit that kingdom forever.
PLIABLE. Well said; and what else?
CHRISTIAN. There are crowns of glory to be given
us, and garments that will make us shine like the
sun in the firmament of heaven.
PLIABLE. This is very pleasant; and what else?
CHRISTIAN. There shall be no more crying, nor
sorrow: for he that is owner of the place will wipe
all tears from our eyes.
PLIABLE. And what company shall we have
CHRISTIAN. There we shall be with seraphims and
cherubims, creatures that will dazzle your eyes to
look on them. There also you shall meet with
thousands and ten thousands that have gone before
us to that place; none of them are hurtful, but
loving and holy; every one walking in the sight of
God, and standing in his presence with acceptance
forever. 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 that they bare to the Lord of the place, all
clothed with immortality as with a garment.
PLIABLE. The hearing of this is enough to ravish


one's heart. But are these things to be enjoyed?
How shall we get to be sharers thereof?
CHRISTIAN. The Lord, the Governor of the coun-
try, 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 freely.
PLIABLE. Well, glad am I to hear of these things:
come on, let us mend our pace.
CHRISTIAN. 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 near to a very miry
slough, that was in the midst of the plain; and
they, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the
bog. The name of the slough was Despond. Here,
therefore, they wallowed for a time, being griev-
ously bedaubed with dirt; and Christian,. because
of the burden that was on his back, began to sink
in the mire.
PLIABLE. Neighbor Christian, where are you
CHRISTIAN. Truly, I do not know.
At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily
said to his fellow, Is this the happiness you have
told me all this while of? If we have such ill
speed at our first setting out, what may we expect
betwixt this and our journey's end? May I get
out again with my life, you shall possess the brave
country alone for me. And, with that, he gave a
desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire
on that side of the slough which was next to his


own house: so away he went, and Christian saw
him no more.
Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the
Slough of Despond alone: but still he endeavored
to struggle to that side of the slough that was still
further from his own house, and next to the wicket-
gate; the which he did, but could not get out be-
cause 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?
CHRISTIAN. Sir, I was bid go this way by a man
called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder
gate, that I might escape the wrath to come; and
as I was going thither I fell in here.
HELP. But why did not you look for the steps ?
CHRISTIAN. Fear followed me so hard that I fled
the next way, and fell in.
HELP. Give me thy hand: so he gave him his
hand, and he drew him out, and set him upon
sound ground, and bid him go on his way.
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 attends conviction for sin doth continu-
ally run, and therefore it is called the Slough of
Despond; for still, as the sinner is awakened about
his lost condition, there ariseth in his soul many

I _i



fears, and doubts and discouraging apprehensions,
which all of them get together, and settle in this
place. And this is the reason of the badness of
this ground.
It is not the pleasure of the King that this place
should remain so bad. His laborers also have, by
the direction of His Majesty's surveyors, been for
above these sixteen hundred years employed about
this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been
mended: yea, and to my knowledge, said he, here
have been swallowed up at least twenty thousand
cartloads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions,
that have at all seasons been brought from all places
of the King's dominions, and they that can tell, say
they are the best materials to make good ground of
the place, if so be it might have been mended; but
it is the Slough of Despond still, and so will be
when they have done what they can.
True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver,
certain good and substantial steps, placed even
through the very midst of this slough; but at such
time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it
doth against change of weather, these steps are
hardly seen; or, if they be, men, through the dizzi-
ness of their heads, step beside, and then they are
bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be
there; but the ground is good when they are once
got in at the gate.
Now, I saw in my dream, that by this time Pli-
able was got home to his house again, so that his
neighbors came to visit him; and some of them


called him wise man for coming back, and some
called him fool for hazarding himself with Chris-
tian: others again did mock at his cowardliness;
saying, Surely, since you began to venture, I would
not have been so base to have given out for a few
difficulties. So Pliable sat sneaking among them.
But at last he got more confidence, and then they
all turned their tales, and began to deride poor
Christian behind his back. And thus much con-
cerning Pliable.
Now, as Christian was walking 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 gentle-
man's name that met him was Worldly Wiseman;
he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a very great
town, and also hard-by, from whence .Christian
came. This man, then, meeting with Christian,
and having an inkling of him,-for Christian's set-
ting 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,-Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some
guess of him, by beholding his laborious going, by
observing his sighs and groans, and the like, began
thus to enter into some talk with Christian.
WORLDLY. How now, good fellow, whither away
after this burdened manner?
CHRISTIAN. 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 get rid of
my heavy burden.
WORLDLY. Hast thou a wife and children?
CHRISTIAN. 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.
WORLDLY. Wilt thou hearken unto me if I give
thee counsel?
CHRISTIAN. If it be good, I will; for I stand in
need of good counsel.
WORLDLY. I would advise thee, then, that thou
with all speed get thyself rid of thy burden; for
thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then;
nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of the blessing
which God has bestowed upon thee till then.
CHRISTIAN. That is that which I seek for, even
to be rid of this heavy burden; but get it off my-
self, 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.
WORLDLY. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of
thy burden?
CHRISTIAN. A man that appeared to me to be a
very great and honorable person; his name, as I
remember, is Evangelist.
WORLDLY. I beshrew him for his counsel! there
is not a more dangerous and troublesome way in
the world than is that unto which he hath directed
thee; 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 be-
ginning 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?
CHRISTIAN. Why, Sir, this burden upon my back
is more terrible to me than are all these things
which you have mentioned; nay, methinks I care
not what I meet with in the way, if so be I can also
meet with deliverance from my burden.
WORLDLY. How camest thou by the burden at
CHRISTIAN. By reading this book in my hand.
WORLDLY. I thought so; and it is happened unto
thee as to other weak men, who, meddling with
things too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy
distractions; which not only unman men, as thine,
I perceive, has done thee, but they run them upon
desperate ventures to obtain they know not what.
CHRISTIAN. I know what I would obtain; it is
ease for my heavy burden.
WORLDLY. 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. Be-
sides, I will add, that, instead of those dangers,
thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and
CHRISTIAN. Pray, Sir, open this secret to me.
WORLDLY. Why, in yonder village-the village
is named Morality-there dwells a gentleman whose
name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man
of a very good name, that has skill to help men off
with such burdens as thine are from their shoul-
ders: yea, to my knowledge, he hath done a great
deal of good this way; ay, and besides, he hath
skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their
wits with their burdens. To him, 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 as well
as the old gentleman himself; there, I say, thou
mayest be eased of thy burden; and if thou art not
minded to go back to thy former habitation, as, in-
deed, I would not wish thee, thou mayest send for
thy wife and children to thee to this village, where
there are houses now stand empty, one of which
thou mayest have at reasonable rates; provision is
there also cheap and good; and that which will
make thy life the more happy is, to be sure, there
thou shalt live by honest 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 spoke, Sir, which is
my way to this honest man's house?
WORLDLY. Do you see yonder hill? By that hill
you must go, and the first house you come at is
So Christian turned out of his way to go to
Legality's house for help;'but, behold, when he
was got now hard-by the hill, it seemed so high,
and also that side of it that was next the wayside
did hang so much over that Christian was afraid
to venture further, lest the hill should fall on his
head; wherefore there he stood still, and wotted
not what to do. Also his burden now seemed
heavier to him than while he was in his way.
There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that
made Christian afraid that he should be burned.
Here, therefore, he did quake for fear.
And now he began to be sorry that he had taken
Worldly Wiseman's counsel. And with that he
saw Evangelist coming to meet him; at the sight
also of whom he began to blush for shame. So
Evangelist drew nearer and coming up to him, he
looked upon him with a severe countenance, and
thus began to reason with Christian.
EVANGELIST. What dost thou here, Christian?
At which words Christian knew not what to an-
swer; so he stood speechless before him. Then said
Evangelist further, Art not thou the man that I


found crying without the walls of the City of De-
CHRISTIAN. Yes, Sir, I am the man.
EVANGELIST. Did not I direct thee the way to the
little wicket-gate?
EVANGELIST. How is it, then, that thou art so
quickly turned aside? for thou art now out of the
CHRISTIAN. I met with a gentleman so soon as I
had got over the Slough of Despond, who persuaded
me that I might, in the village before me, find a
man that could take off my burden.
EVANGELIST. What was he?
CHRISTIAN. 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.
EVANGELIST. What said that gentleman to
CHRISTIAN. Why, he asked me whither I was go-
ing? And I told him.
EVANGELIST. And what said he then?
CHRISTIAN. He asked me if I had a family? And
I told him. But, said I, I am so loaden with the
burden that is on my back, that I cannot take
pleasure in them as formerly.
EVANGELIST. And what said he then?
CHRISTIAN. He bid me with speed get rid of my
burden; and I told him it was ease that I sought.



NT ~P~F~ LD~'a~~/ri;:t~,'91~~



And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate,
to receive further direction how I may get to the
place of deliverance. So he said that he would
show me a better way, and short, not so attended
with difficulties as the way, Sir, that you set me in;
which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's
house that hath skill to take off these burdens, so I
believed him, and turned out of that way into this,
if haply I might be soon eased of my burden. But
when I came to this place, and beheld things as
they are, I stopped for fear of danger: but I now
know not what to do.
EVANGELIST. Then, stand still a little, that I may
show thee the words of God. So he stood trembling.
Then said Evangelist, See that ye refuse not him
that speaketh. For if they escaped not who refused
him that spake on earth, much more shall not we
escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh
from heaven. He said, moreover, 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 run-
ning into this misery; thou hast begun to reject the
counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy
foot from the way of peace, even almost to the
hazarding of thy perdition.
Christian 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 blasphemy shall be
forgiven unto men. Be not faithless, but believing.


Then did Christian revive, and stood up trembling,
as at first, before Evangelist.
EVANGELIST. Give more earnest heed to the
things that I shall tell thee of. I will now show
thee who it was that deluded thee, and who it was
also to whom he sent thee.-The man that met thee
is one Worldly Wiseman, and rightly is he so
called; partly, because he savoreth only the doc-
trine of this world (therefore he always goes to
the town of Morality to church): and partly because
he loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him best
from the cross. And because he is of this carnal
temper, therefore he seeketh to prevent my ways,
though right. Now, there are three things in this
man's counsel that thou must utterly abhor. (1)
His turning thee out of the way. (2) His laboring
to render the cross odious to thee. And (3) 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; and thine own consenting thereto: be-
cause 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; the
gate to which I send thee; for strait is the gate
that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.
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, there-
fore, his turning thee out of the way, and abhor
thyself for hearkening to him.


Secondly, thou must abhor his laboring to render
the cross odious unto thee; for thou art to prefer it
before the treasures in Egypt. Besides, the King
of glory hath told thee, that he that will save his
life shall lose it. And, He that cometh after me,
and hateth not his father, and mother, and wife,
and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and
his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. I say,
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 de-
liver 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, are in bondage, how canst thou expect by
them to be made free? This Legality, therefore, is
not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man
was as yet ever rid of his burden by him; no, nor
ever is like to be: ye cannot be justified by the
works of the law; for by the deeds of the law no
man living can be rid of his burden: therefore,
Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Legality is a
cheat; and for his son Civility, he is but a hypocrite


; ,?I,


Fl-~ .r- -



and cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing
in all this noise, that thou hast heard of these sot-
tish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salva-
tion, by turning thee from the way in which I had
set thee. After this, Evangelist called aloud to the
heavens for confirmation of what he had said: and
with that there came words and fire out of the
mountain under which poor Christian stood, that
made the hair of his flesh stand up. The words
were thus pronounced: As many as are of the
works of the law are under the curse; for it is writ-
ten, 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; even cursing the" time in which
he met with 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 as to cause
him to forsake the right way. This done, he ap-
plied himself again to Evangelist in words and sense
as follow: Sir, what think you? Is there hope?
May I now go back and go up to the wicket-gate?
Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back
from thence ashamed? I am sorrry I have heark-
ened to this man's counsel. But may my sin be
EVANGELIST. 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 hut a little. Then
did Christian address himself to go back; and
Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one
smile, and bid him God-speed. So he went on with
haste, neither spake he to any man by the way;
nor, if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them
an answer. He went on like one that was all the
while treading on forbidden ground, and could by
no means think himself safe, till again he was got
into the way which he left, to follow Worldly Wise-
man's counsel. So, in process of time Christian
got up to the gate. Now, over the gate it was
written, Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.
He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice.
At last there came a grave person to the gate named
Good-will, who asked who was there? and whence
he came? and what he would have?
CHRISTIAN. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I
come from the City of Destruction, but am going
to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered from the
wrath to come. I would, therefore, Sir, since I am
informed that by this gate is the way thither,
know if you are willing to let me in?
GOOD-WILL. I am willing with all my heart, said
he; and with that he opened the gate.
So when Christian was stepping in, the other
gave him a pull. Then said Christian, What means


that? The other told him. A little distance from
this gate, there is erected a strong castle, of which
Beelzebub is the captain; from thence both he and
them that are with him shoot arrows at those that
come up to this gate, if haply they may die before
they can enter in.
CHRISTIAN. I rejoice and tremble. So when he
was got in, the man of the gate asked him who
directed him thither?
CHRISTIAN. Evangelist bid me come hither, and
knock (as I did); and he said that you, Sir, would
tell me what I must do.
GOOD-WILL. An open door is set before thee, and
no man can shut it.
CHRISTIAN. Now I begin to reap the benefits of
my hazards.
GOOD-WILL. But how is it that you came alone?
CHRISTIAN. Because none of my neighbors saw
their danger as I saw mine.
GOOD-WILL. Did any know of your coming?
CHRISTIAN. 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-WILL. But did none of them follow you to
persuade you to go back?
CHRISTIAN. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable; but
when they saw that they could not prevail, Obsti-
nate went railing back, but Pliable came with me a
little way.





GOOD-WILL. But why did he not come through?
CHRISTIAN. We, indeed, came both together, until
we came to the Slough of Despond, into the which
we suddenly fell. And then was my neighbor,
Pliable, discouraged, and would not venture further.
Wherefore, getting out again on that side next to
his own house, he told me I should possess the brave
country alone for him: so he went his way, and I
came mine-he after Obstinate, and I to this gate.
GOOD-WILL. Alas, poor man! is.the celestial glory
of so small esteem with him that he counteth it
not worth running the hazards of a few difficulties
to obtain it?
CHRISTIAN. Truly, I have said the truth of Pliable,
and if I should also say all the truth of myself, it
will appear there is no betterment betwixt him and
myself. It is true, he went back to his own house,
but I also turned aside to go in the way of death,
being persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments
of one Worldly Wiseman.
GOOD-WILL. Oh! did he light upon you? What!
he would have had you a sought for ease at the
hands of Legality. They are, both of them, a very
cheat. But did you take his counsel?
CHRISTIAN. Yes, as far as I durst; I went to find
out Legality, until I thought that the mountain
that stands by his house would have fallen upon
my head; wherefore, there I was forced to stop.
GOOD-WILL. That mountain has been the death
of many, and will be the death of many more; it is
well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.


CHRISTIAN. Why, truly, I do not know what had
become of me there, had not Evangelist happily
met me again, as I was musing in the midst of my
dumps; but it was God's mercy that he came to
me again, for else I had never come hither. But
now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit, in-
deed, for death, by that mountain, than thus to
stand talking with my Lord; but, oh, what a favor
is this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here!
GOOD-WILL. We make no objections against any,
notwithstanding all that they have done before
they came hither. They are in no wise cast out;
and therefore, good Christian, come a little way
with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou
must go. Look before thee; dost thou see this nar-
row way? THAT is the way thou must go; it was
cast up by patriarchs, prophets, Christ and his
apostles; and it is as straight as a rule can make it.
This is the way thou must go.
CHRISTIAN. But, are there no turnings or wind-
ings, by which a stranger may lose his way?
GOOD-WILL. Yes, there are many ways butt down
upon this, and they are crooked and wide. But
thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the
wrong, the right only being straight and narrow.
Then I saw in my dream that Christian asked
him further if he could not help him off with his
burden that was upon his back; for as yet he had
not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get
it off without help. He told him, As to thy burden,
be content to bear it until thou comest to the place


of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back
of itself.
Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to
address himself to his journey. So the other told
him, That by that he was gone some distance from
the gate, he would come at the house of the In-
terpreter, at whose door he should knock, and he
would show him excellent things. Then Christian
took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him
Then he went on till he came to the house of the
Interpreter, where he knocked over and over; at
last one came to the door, and asked who was there.
CHRISTIAN. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid
by an acquaintance of the good man of this house
to call here for my profit; I would therefore speak
with the master of the house. So he called for the
master of the house, who, after a little time, came
to Christian, and asked him what he would have.
CHISTIAN. Sir, I am a man that am come from
the City of Destruction, and am going to the Mount
Zion; and I was told by the man that stands at the
gate, at the head of this way, that if I called here,
you would show me excellent things, such as would
be a help to me in my journey.
INTERPRETER. Come in; I will show 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





hang' up against the wall; and this was the fashion
of it. It had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of
books in his hand, the law of truth was written
upon his lips, the world was behind his back. It
stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold
did hang over its head.
CHRISTIAN. What meaneth this?
INTERPRETER. The man whose picture this is, is
one of a thousand; he can beget children, travail.
in birth with children, and nurse them himself
when they are born. And whereas thou seest him
with his eyes lift up to heaven, the best of books in
his hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips, it is
to show thee that his work is to know and unfold
dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him
stand as if he pleaded with men; and whereas thou
seest the world as cast behind him, and that a
crown hangs over his head, that is to show thee
that 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 the way; wherefore take good heed
to what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy
mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou
meet with some that pretend to ad thee right, but
their way goes down to death.


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 a
little while, the Interpreter called for a man to
sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust
began to fly about so that Christian had almost
therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter
to a damsel that stood by, Bring hither the water,
and sprinkle the room: when she had done, it was
swept and cleansed with pleasure.
CHRISTIAN. What means this?
INTERPRETER. 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 cor-
ruptions, that have defiled the whole man. He
that began to sweep at first, is the Law; but she
that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the
Gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest, that so soon
as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about
that the room by him could not be cleansed, but
that thou wast almost choked therewith; this is to
show thee that the law, instead of cleansing the
heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, put
strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it
doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give
power to subdue.
Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the
room with water, upon which it was cleansed with
pleasure; this is to show thee that when the gospel
comes, in the sweet and precious influences thereof,
to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the


damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with
water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the
soul made clean through the faith of it, and con-
sequently fit for the King of glory to inhabit.
I saw, moreover, in my dream, that the Inter-
preter took him by the hand, and had him into a
little room, where sat two little children, each one
in his chair. The name of the eldest was Passion,
and the name of the other Patience. Passion
seemed to be much discontented; but Patience was
very quiet. Then Christian asked, What is the
reason of the discontent of Passion? The Inter-
preter answered, The Governor of them would have
him stay for his best things till the beginning of the
next year; but he will have all now; but Patience
is willing to wait.
Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought
him a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his
feet, the which he took up and rejoiced therein, and
withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld
but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had
nothing left him but rags.
CHRISTIAN. Expound this matter more fully to
INTERPRETER. These two lads are figures: Pas-
sion, 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 next year, that is, until

-i J i I-




fS: ,,
J B1:


the next world, for their portion of good. The
proverb, A bird in the hand is worth two in the
bush, is of more authority with them than are all
the Divine testimonies of the good of the world to
come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly
lavished all away, and had presently left him noth-
ing but rags; so will it be with all such men at the
end of this world.
CHRISTIAN. Now I see that Patience has the best
wisdom, and that upon many accounts. First, be-
cause he stays for the best things. Second, and
also because he will have the glory of his when the
other has nothing but rags.
INTERPRETER. 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, be-
cause he had his good things first, as Patience will
have to laugh at Passion, because he had his best
things last; for first must give place to last, because
last must have his time to come; but last gives
place to nothing; for there is not another to suc-
ceed. 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; there-
fore it is said of Dives: Thou in thy lifetime receiv-
ed thy good things, and Lazarus evil things; but
now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.
CHRISTIAN. Then I perceive it is not best to covet
things that are now, but to wait for things to


INTERPRETER. You say the truth: For the things
which are seen are temporal; but the things which
are not seen are eternal.
Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took
Christian by the hand, and led him into a place
where was a fire burning against the wall, and one
standing by it, always casting much water upon it,
to quench it: yet did the fire burn higher and hotter.
CHRISTIAN. What means this?
INTERPRETER. This fire is the work of grace that
is wrought in the heart; he that casts water upon
it to extinguish and put it out, is the Devil; but in
that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher
and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that.
So he had him about to the back side of the wall,
where he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand,
which he did cast, but secretly, into the fire.
CHRISTIAN. What means this?
INTERPRETER. This is Christ, who continually,
with the oil of his grace, maintains the work al-
ready begun in the heart; by the means of which,
notwithstanding what the Devil can do, the souls of
his people prove gracious still. And in that thou
sawest that the man stood behind the wall to main-
tain the fire, that 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 builded a stately palace, beautiful to be-
hold; at the sight of which Christian was greatly


delighted. He saw also upon the top thereof cer-
tain persons walking, who were clothed all in gold.
CmHISTIAN. May we go in thither?
Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up
towards the door of the palace; and behold at the
door stood a great company of men, as desirous to
go in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a
little distance from the door, at a tableside, with a
book and his inkhorn before him, to take the name
of him that should enter therein: he saw also, that
in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep
it, being resolved to do 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, Chris-
tian 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 an helmet
upon his head, and rush toward the door upon the
armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force;
but the man, not at all discouraged, fell to cut-
ting and hacking most fiercely. So after he had
received and given many wounds to those that
attempted to keep him out, he cut his way through
them all and pressed forward into the palace, at
which there was a pleasant voice heard from those
that were within, even of those that walked upon
the top of the palace, saying,
Come in, come in;
Eternal glory thou shalt w


So he went in, and was clothed with such gar-
ments as they. Then Christian smiled and said, I
think I know the meaning of this.
CHRISTIAN. Let me go hence. Nay, stay, said
the Interpreter, till I have shown thee a little more,
and after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he
took him by the hand again, and led him into a
very dark room, where there sat a man in an iron
cage. *
Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he
sat with his eyes looking down to the ground, his
hands folded together, and he sighed as if he would
break his heart. Then said Christian, What means
this? At which the Interpreter bid him talk with
the man.
CHRISTIAN. What art thou? The man answered,
I am what I was not once.
CHRISTIAN. What wast thou once?
MAN. I was once a fair and flourishing professor,
both in mine own eyes and also in the eyes of others;
I once was, as I thought, fair for the Celestial City,
and had then even joy at the thoughts that I should
get thither.
CHRISTIAN. 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!
CHRISTIAN. How came you in this condition?
MAN. I left off to watch and be sober; I laid the
reins upon the neck of my lusts; I sinned against
the light of the Word and the goodness of God; I


have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone; I tempted
the devil, and he is come to me; I have provoked
God to anger, and he has left me: I have so hard-
ened my heart that I cannot repent.
Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Is there
no hope for such a man as this? Ask him, said the
Interpreter. Nay, said Christian, pray, do you.
INTERPRETER. Is there no hope, but you must be
kept in the iron cage of despair?
MAN. No, none at all.
INTERPRETER. Why, the Son of the blessed is very
MAN. I have crucified him to myself afresh; I
have despised his person; I have despised his right-
eousness; I have counted his blood an unholy thing;
I have done despite to the Spirit of grace. There-
fore I have shut myself out of all the promises, and
there now remains to me nothing but threatening,
dreadful threatening, fearful threatening of cer-
tain judgment and fiery indignation, which shall
devour me as an adversary.
INTERPRETER. 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
INTERPRETER. But canst thou not now repent and
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. 0 eternity, eternity!
how shall I grapple with the misery that I must
meet with in eternity!
INTERPRETER. Let this man's misery be remem-
bered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.
CHRISTIAN. Well, 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?
INTERPRETER. Tarry till I shall show thee one
thing more, and then thou shalt go on thy way.
So he took Christian by the hand again, and led
him into a chamber, where there was one rising out
of bed; and as he put on his raiment, he shook and
trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man
thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to
Christian the reason of his so doing. So he said,
This night, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and
behold the heavens grew exceedingly black; also it
thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that
it put me into an agony; so I looked up in my
dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate,
upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet,
and saw also a man sit upon a cloud, attended with
the thousands of heaven; they were all in flaming
fire: also the heavens were in a burning flame. I
heard then a voice, saying, Arise, ye dead, and
come to judgment; and with that the rocks rent,
the graves opened, and the dead that were therein


came forth. Some of them were exceeding glad,
and looked upward; and some sought to hide them-
selves under the mountains. Then I saw the man
that sat upon the cloud open the book, and bid the
world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a
fierce flame which issued out and came from before
him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them,
as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar.
I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on
the man that sat on the cloud, Gather together
the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into
the burning lake. And with that, the bottomless
pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out of the
mouth of which there came, in an abundant man-
ner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises.
It was also said to the same persons, Gather my
wheat into the garner. And with that I saw many
caught 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 on
every side. Upon this I awaked from my sleep.
CHRISTIAN. But what was it that made you so
afraid of this sight?
MAN. Why, I thought that the day of judgment
was come, and that I was not ready for it; but this
frighted me most, that the angels gathered up sev-
eral and left me behind; also the pit of hell opened
her mouth just where I stood. My conscience, too,
afflicted me; and, as I thought, the Judge had al-




ways his eye upon me, showing indignation in his
INTERPRETER. Hast thou considered all these
CHRISTIAN. Yes, and they put me in hope and
INTERPRETER. Well, keep all things so in thy
mind that they may be as a goad in thy sides, to
prick thee forward in the way thou must go. Then
Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address
himself to his journey. Then said the Interpreter,
The Comforter be always with thee, good Christian,
to guide thee in the way that leads to the City. So
Christian went on his way.
Now I saw in my dream that the highway up
which Christian was to go, was fenced on either
side with a wall, and that wall was called Salvation.
Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run,
but not without great difficulty, because of the load
on his back.
He ran thus till he came to a place somewhat as-
cending, 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


a while to look and wonder; for it was very surpris-
ing to him, that the sight of the cross should thus
ease him of his burden. He looked, therefore, and
looked again, even till the springs that were in his
head sent the waters down his cheeks. Now, as he
stood looking and weeping, behold three Shining
Ones came to him and saluted him with, Peace be
to thee. So the first said to him, Thy sins be
forgiven thee; the second stripped him of his rags,
and clothed him with change of raiment; the
third also set a mark on his forehead, and gave him
a roll with a seal upon it, 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.
I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus,
even until he came at a bottom, where he saw, a
little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with
fetters upon their heels. The name of the one was
Simple, another Sloth, and the third Presumption.
Christian then seeing them lie in this case went
to them, if peradventure he might awake them, and
cried, You are like them that sleep on the top of a
mast, for the Dead Sea is under you-a gulf that
hath no bottom. Awake, therefore, and come
away; be willing also, and I will help you off with
your irons. He also told them, If he that goeth
about like a roaring lion comes by, you will cer-
tainly 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; aid Presumption said, Every tub must


stand upon its own bottom; what is the answer else
that I should give thee? 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 kindness of him
that so freely offered to help them, both by awaken-
ing of them, counselling of them, and proffering to
help them off with their irons. And as he was
troubled thereabout, he espied two men come
tumbling over the wall, on the left hand of the
narrow way; and they made up apace to him. The
name of the one was Formalist, and the name of
the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up
unto him, who thus entered with them into dis-
CHRISTIAN. Gentleman, whence came you, and
whither go you?
FORMALIST and HYPOCRISY. We were born in the
land of Vainglory, and are going for praise to
Mount Zion.
CHRISTIAN. Why came you not in at the gate
which standeth at the beginning of the way?
Know you not that it is written, that he that
cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up some
other way, the same is a thief and a robber?
FORMALIST and HYPOCRISY. 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.
CHRISTIAN. But will it not be counted a trespass


against the Lord of the city whither we are bound,
thus to violate his revealed will?
FORMALIST and HYPOCRISY. They told him that,
as for that, he needed not to trouble his head there-
about; what they did they had custom for; and
could produce, if need were, testimony that would
witness it for more than a thousand years.
CHRISTIAN. But, will your practice stand a trial
at law?
FORMALIST and HYPOCRISY. They told him that
custom, it being of so long a standing as above a
thousand years, would, doubtless, now be admitted
as a thing legal by any impartial judge; and besides,
said they, if we get into the way, what's matter
which way we get in? if we are in, we are in; thou
art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came in at
the gate; and we are also in the way, that came
tumbling over the wall; wherein, now; is thy con-
dition better than ours?
CHRISTIAN. 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 your-
selves, without his mercy.
To this they made him but little answer; only
they bid him look to himself. Then I saw that they
went on every man in his way, without much con
ference one with another; save that these two men
told Christian, that as to laws and ordinances, they


doubted not but they should as conscientiously do
them as he; therefore, said they, we see not wherein
thou different from us but by the coat that is on thy
back, which was, as we trow, given thee by some
of thy neighbors, to hide the shame of thy naked-
CHRISTIAN. By laws and ordinances you will not
be saved, since you came not in by the door. And
as for this coat that is on my back, it was given me
by the Lord of the place whither I go; and that, as
you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I take
it as a token of his kindness to me; for I had noth-
ing but rags before. And besides, thus I comfort
myself as I go: Surely, think I, when I come to
the gate of the city, the Lord thereof will know me
for good, since I have his coat on my back-a coat
that he gave me freely in the day that he stripped
me of my rags. I have, moreover, a mark in my
forehead, of which, perhaps, you have taken no
notice, which one of my Lord's most intimate asso-
ciates fixed there in the day that my burden fell off
my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I had
then given me a roll, sealed, to comfort me by read-
ing as I go on the way; I was also bid to give it in
at the Celestial Gate, in token of my certain going
in after it; all which things, I doubt, you want,
and want them because you came not in at the gate.
To these things they gave him no answer; only
they looked upon each other, and laughed. Then
I saw that they went on all, save that Christian
kept before, .who had no more talk but with him-


self, and that sometimes sighingly and sometimes
comfortably; also he would be often reading in the
roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by
which he was refreshed.
I beheld, then, that they all went on till they
came to the foot of the hill Difficulty; at the bot-
tom of which was a spring. There were also in the
same place two other ways besides that which came
straight from the gate; one turned to the left hand,
and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill;
but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the
name of the going up the side of the hill is called
Difficulty. Christian now went to the spring, and
drank thereof, to refresh himself, and then began
to go up the hill.
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 sup-
posing 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 refreshing of weary travellers; thither,
therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to
rest him. Then he pulled his roll out of his bosom,
and read therein to his comfort; he also now began
afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that
was given him as he stood by the cross. Thus
pleasing himself a while, he at last fell into a slum-
ber, 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; con-
sider her ways, and be wise. And with that Chris-
tian started up, and sped him on his way, and went
apace, till he came to the top of the hill.
Now, when he was got up to the top of the hill,
there came two men running to meet him amain;
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 an-
swered 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 pull us in pieces.

U L-



CHRISTIAN. You make me afraid, but whither
shall I fly to be safe? If I go back to mine own
country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone,
and I shall certainly perish there. If I can get to
the Celestial City, I am sure to be in safety there.
I must venture. To go back is nothing but death;
to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting
beyond it. I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and
Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on
his way. But, thinking again of what he had heard
from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that
he might read therein, and be comforted; but he
felt, and found it not. Then was Christian in great
distress, and knew not what to do; for he wanted
that which used to relieve him, and that which
should have been his pass into the Celestial City.
Here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed,
and knew not what to do. At last he bethought
himself that he had slept in the arbor that is on the
side of the hill; and, falling down upon his knees,
he asked God's forgiveness for that his foolish act,
and then went back to look for his roll. But all
the way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth
the sorrow of Christian's heart! Sometimes he
sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid
himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that
place, which was erected only for a little refresh-
ment for his weariness. Thus, therefore, he went
back, carefully looking on this side and on that, all
the way as he went, if happily he might find his
roll, that had been his comfort so many times in


his journey. He went thus, till he came again
within sight of the arbor where he sat and slept;
but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by
bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping
into his mind. Thus, therefore, he now went on
bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, 0 wretched man
that I am! that I should sleep in the daytime! that
I should sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I
should so indulge the flesh, as to use that rest for
ease to my flesh, which the Lord of the hill hath
erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims!
How many steps have I took in vain! Thus it
happened to Israel, for their sin; they were sent
back again by the way of the Red Sea; and I am
made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I
might have trod with delight, had it not been for
this sinful sleep. How far might I have been on
my way by this time! I am made to tread those
steps thrice over, which I needed not to have trod
but once; yea I am like to be benighted, for the
day is almost spent. Oh, that I had not slept!
Now, by this time he was come to the arbor
again, where for a while he sat down and wept;
but at last, as Christian would have it, looking sor-
rowfully down under the settle, there he espied his
roll; 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 assurance of his life
and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he
laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to God for


directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with
joy and tears betook himself again to his journey.
But oh, how nimbly now did he go up the rest of
the hill! Yet, before he got up the sun went down
upon Christian; and this made him again recall the
vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; and
thus he again began to condole with himself. O
thou sinful sleep: how, for thy sake am I like to be
benighted in my journey. I must walk without
the sun; darkness must cover the path of my feet;
and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures,
because of my sinful sleep. Now also he remem-
bered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told
him of, how they were frighted with the sight of
the lions. Then said Christian to himself again,
These beasts range in the night for their prey; and
if they should meet with me in the dark, how
should I shift them? How should I escape being
by them torn in pieces? Thus he went on his way.
But while he was thus bewailing his unhappy mis-
carriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there was
a very stately palace before him, the name of which
was Beautiful: and it stood by the highway side.
So I saw in my dream that he made haste and
went forward, that if possible he might get lodging
there. Now, before he had gone far, he entered
into a very narrow passage, which was about a fur-
long off of the porter's lodge; and looking very
narrowly before him as he went, he espied two lions
in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers
that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by.





(The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.)
Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go
back after them, for he thought nothing but death
was before him. But the porter at the lodge,
whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian
made a halt as if he would go back, cried unto him,
saying, Is thy strength so small? Fear not the
lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for
trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of those
that have none. Keep in the midst of the path, and
no hurt shall come unto thee.
Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear
of the lions, but taking good heed to the directions
of the porter; he heard them roar, but they did him
no harm. Then he clapped his hands, and went on
till he came and stood before the gate where the
porter was. Then said Christian to the porter, Sir,
what house is this? And may I lodge here to-
night? The porter answered, This house was built
by the Lord of the hill, and he built it for the relief
and security of pilgrims. The porter also asked
whence he was, and whither he was going.
CHRISTIAN. I am come from the City of Destruc-
tion, and am going to Mount Zion; but because
the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here
PORTER. What is your name?
My name is now Christian, but my name at the
first was Graceless; I came of the race of Japheth,
whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of


PORTER. But how doth it happen that you come
so late? The sun is set.
CHRISTIAN. 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 heart to go back
to the place where' I slept my sleep, where I found
it, and now I am come.
PORTER. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of
this place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring
you in to the rest of the family, according to the
rules of the house. So Watchful, the porter, rang
a bell, at the sound of which came out at the door
of the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named
Discretion, and asked why she was called.
The porter answered, This man is on a journey
from the City of Destruction to 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 a discourse had with him, mayest
do as seemeth thee good, even according to the law
of the house.
Then she asked him whence he was, and whither
he was going; and he told her. She asked him
also how he got into the way; and he told her.
Then she asked him what he had seen and met with
in the way; and he told her. And last she asked
his name; so he said, It is Christian, and I have so


much the more a desire to lodge here to-night, be-
cause by what I perceive, this place was built by
the Lord of the hill, for the relief and security of
pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water stood in her
eyes; and after a little pause, she said, I will call
forth two or three more of the family. So she ran
to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and
Charity, who, after a little more discourse with
him, had him into the family; and many of them,
meeting him at the threshold of the house, said,
Come in,.thou blessed of the Lord; this house was
built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to enter-
tain such pilgrims in. Then he bowed his head,
and followed them into the house. So when he was
come in and sat down, they gave him something
to drink, and consented together, that until supper
was ready, some of them should have some particu-
lar discourse with Christian, for the best improve-
ment of time; and they appointed Piety and Pru-
dence and Charity to discourse with .him; and thus
they began:
PIETY. Come, good Christian, since we have been
so loving to you, to receive you in our house this
night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves
thereby, talk with you of all things that have hap-
pened to you in your pilgrimage.
CHRISTIAN. With a very good will, and I am glad
that you are so well disposed.
PIETY. What moved you at first to betake your-
self to a pilgrim's life?
CHRISTIAN. I was driven out of my native coun-




try, by a dreadful sound that was in mine ears: to
wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me, if
I abode in that place where I was.
PIETY. But how did it happen that you came out
of your country this way?
CHRISTIAN. It was as God would have it; for
when I was under the fears of destruction, I did
not know whither to go; but by chance there came
a man, even to me, as I was trembling and weep-
ing, whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me
to the wicket-gate which else I should never have
found, and so set me into the way that hath led me
directly to this house.
PIETY. But did you not come by the house of the
CHRISTIAN. 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 him-
self 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?
CHRISTIAN. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I
thought; it made my heart ache as he was telling
of it; but yet I am glad I heard it.
PIETY: Was that all that you saw?
CHRISTIAN. 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 had further to go.
PIETY. And what saw you else in the way?
CHRISTIAN. Saw! why, I went but a little further,
and I saw one, as I thought in my mind, hang
bleeding upon the tree; and the very sight of him
made my burden fall off my back (for I groaned
under a very heavy burden), but then it fell down
from off me. It was a strange thing to me, for I
never saw such a thing before; yea, and while I
stood looking up, for then I could not forbear look-
ing, three Shining Ones came to me. One of them
testified that my sins were forgiven me; another
stripped me of my rags, and gave me this 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?
CHRISTIAN. The things that I have told you were
the best; yet some other matters I saw, as, namely:
I saw three men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption,
lie asleep a little out of the way, as I came, with
irons upon their heels; but do you think I could
awake them? I also saw Formality and Hypocrisy
come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pre-
tended, to Zion, but they were quickly lost, even as


I myself did tell them; but they would not believe.
But above all, I found it hard work to get up this
hill, and as hard to come by the lions' 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 receiv-
ing of me.
Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few
questions, and desired his answer to them.
PRUDENCE. Do you not think sometimes of the
country from whence you came?
CHRISTIAN. Yes, but with much shame and detes-
tation: truly if I had been mindful of that country
from whence I came out, I might have had oppor-
tunity to have returned; but now I desire a better
country, that is, a heavenly.
PRUDENCE. Do you not yet bear away with you
some of the things that then you were conversant
CHRISTIAN. Yes, but greatly against my will;
especially my inward and carnal cogitations, with
which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were
delighted; but now all those things are my grief;
and might I but choose mine own things, I would
choose never to think of those things more; but
when I would be doing of that which is best, that
which is worst is with me.
PRUDENCE. Do you not find sometimes, as if those
things were vanquished, which at other times are
your perplexity?

.* .........

....... :~. ~ "~ ~.



CHRISTIAN. Yes, but that is seldom; they are to
me golden hours in which such things happen to me.
PRUDENCE. Can you remember by what means
you find your annoyances, at times, as if they were
CHRISTIAN. Yes, when I think what I saw at the
cross, that will do it; and when I look upon my
broidered coat, that will do it; also when I look
into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do
it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither
I am going, that will do it.
PRUDENCE. And what is it that makes you so de-
sirous to go to Mount Zion?
CHRISTIAN. Why, there I hope to see him alive
that did hang dead on the cross; and there I hope
to be rid of all those things that to this day are in
me an annoyance to me; there, they say, there is
no death; and there I shall dwell with such com-
pany as I like best. For, to tell you truth, I love
him, because I was by him eased of my burden;
and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would
fain be where I shall die no more, and with the
company that shall always cry, Holy, Holy, Holy!
Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a
family? Are you a married man?
CHRISTIAN. I have a wife and four small children.
CHARITY. And why did you not bring them along
with you?
Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly
would I have done it! but they were all of them
utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage.


CHARITY. But you should have talked to them,
and endeavored to have shown them the danger of
being behind.
CHRISTIAN. 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.
CHARITY. And did you pray to God that he would
bless your counsel to them?
CHRISTIAN. Yes, and that with much affection;
for you must think that my wife and poor children
were very dear unto me.
CHARITY. But did you tell them of your own sor-
row, and fear of destruction? for I suppose that de-
struction was visible enough to you.
CHRISTIAN. Yes, over, and over, and over. They
might also see my fears in my countenance, in my
tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehen-
sion of the judgment that did hang over our heads;
but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to
come with me.
CHARITY. But what could they say for themselves,
why they came not?
CHRISTIAN. Why, my wife was afraid of losing
this world, and my children were given to the fool-
ish delights of youth; so what by one thing, and
what by another, they left me to wander in this
manner alone.
CHARITY. But did you not, with your vain life,
damp all that you by words used by way of persua-
sion to bring them away with you?


CHRISTIAN. Indeed, I cannot commend my life;
for I am conscious to myself of many failings
therein; I know also that a man by his conversa-
tion may soon overthrow, what by argument or
persuasion he doth labor to fasten upon others for
their good. Yet this I can say, I was very wary of
giving them occasion, by any unseemly action, to
make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea,
for this very thing they would tell me I was too
precise, and that I denied myself of things, for their
sakes, in which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I
may say, that if what they saw in me did hinder
them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against
God, or of doing any wrong to my neighbor.
CHARITY. Indeed Cain hated his brother, because
his own works were evil, and his brother's right-
eous; and if thy wife and children have been offended
with thee for this, they thereby show themselves to
be implacable to good, and thou hast delivered thy
soul from their blood.
Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talk-
ing together until supper was ready. So when they
had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now the
table was furnished with fat things, and with wine
that was well refined; and all their talk at the table
was about the Lord of the hill; as, namely, about
what he had done, wherefore he did what he did,
and why he had builded that house. And by what
they said, I perceived that he had been a great
warrior, and had fought with and slain him that
had the power of death, but not without great

.:" -, i (



danger to himself, which made me love him the
For, as they said, and as I believe (said Chris
tian), he did it with the loss of much blood; but
that which put glory of grace into all he did was,
that he did it out of pure love to his country. And
besides, there were some of them of the household
that said they had been and spoke with him since
he did die on the cross; and they have attested that
they had. it from his own lips, that he is such a lover
of poor pilgrims, that the like is not to be found
from the east to the west.
They, moreover, gave an instance of what they
affirmed, and that was, he had stripped himself of
his glory, that he might do this for the poor; and
that they heard him say and affirm that he would
not dwell in the mountain of Zion alone. They
said, moreover, that he had made many pilgrims
princes, though by nature they were beggars born,
and their original had been the dunghill.
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 toward the sun-rising: the
name of the chamber was Peace; where he slept till
break of day.
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 an-
tiquity; in which, as I remember my dream, they
showed him first the pedigree of the Lord of the
hill, that he was the son of the Ancient of Days,
and came by that eternal generation. Here also
was more fully recorded the acts that he had done,
and the names of many hundreds that he had taken
into his service; and how he had placed them in
such habitations, that could neither by length of
days, nor decays of nature, be dissolved.
Then they read to him some of the worthy acts
that some of his servants had done: as, how they
had "subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness,
obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions,
quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of
the sword, out of weakness were made strong,
waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the
armies of the aliens." They then read again, in
another part of the records of the house, where it
was showed how willing their Lord was to receive
into his favor any, even any, though they in time
past had offered great affronts to his person and
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 pil-
grims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-
prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And
there was here enough of this to harness out as
many men for the service of their Lord as there be
stars in the heaven for multitude. They also


showed him some of the engines with which some
of his servants had 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 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 Moun-
tains, 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, beautiful 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, said they, thou mayest
see to the gate of the Celestial City, as the shep-
herds that live there will make appear.
Now he bethought himself of setting forward,
and they were willing he should. But first, said
they, let us go again into the armory. So they did;
and when they came there, they harnessed him from
head to foot with what was of proof, lest, perhaps,
he should meet with assaults on the way. He be-
ing, therefore, thus accoutred, walketh out with his
friends to the gate; and there he asked the porter
if he 6aw any pilgrim pass by. Then the porter
answered, Yes.
CHRISTIAN. Pray, did you know him? said he.
PORTER. I asked him his name, and he told me it
was Faithful.
CHRISTIAN. I know him; he is my townsman, my
near neighbor; he comes from the place where I
was born. How far do you think he may be before?
PORTER. He is got by this time below the hill.
CHRISTIAN. Well, good Porter, the Lord be with
thee, and add to all thy blessings much increase,.
for the kindness that thou hast showed to me.
Then he began to go forward; but Discretion,.
Piety, Charity, and Prudence would accompany
him down to the foot of the hill. So they went on
together, reiterating their former discourses, till
they came to go down the hill. Then said Chris-
tian, As it was difficult coming up, so, so far as 1


can see, it is dangerous going down. Yes, said
Prudence, so it is, for it is a hard matter for a man
to go down into the Valley of Humiliation, as thou
art now, and to catch no slip by the way; there-
fore, said they, are we come out to accompany thee
down the hill. So he began to go down, but very
warily; yet he caught a slip or two.
Then I saw in my dream that these good com-
panions, when Christian was gone to the bottom of
the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine,
and a cluster of raisins; and then he went on his
But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor
Christian was hard put to it; for he had gone but
a little way, before he espied a foul fiend coming
over the field to meet him; his name is Apollyon.
Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast
in his mind whether to go back 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 the 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, 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 came you? and whither are
you bound?
CHRISTIAN. I am come from the City of Destruc-
tion, which is the place of all evil, and am going to
the City of Zion.
APOLLYON. By this I perceive that thou art one of
my subjects, for all that country is mine, and I am
the prince and god of it. How is it, then, that
thou hast run away from thy king? Were it not
that I hope thou mayest do me more service, I
would strike thee now, at one blow to the ground.
CHRISTIAN. I was born, indeed, in your dominions,
but your service was hard, and your wages such as
a man could not live on, for the wages of sin is
death; therefore, when I was come to years, I did
as other considerate persons do, look out, if, per-
haps, I might mend myself.
APOLLYON. There is no prince that will thus
lightly lose his subjects, neither will I as yet lose
thee; but since thou complainest of thy service and
wages, be content to go back; what our country
will afford, I promise to give thee.
CHRISTIAN. But I have let myself to another, even
to the King of princes; and how can I, with fair-
ness, go back with thee?
APOLLYON. Thou hast done in this, according to
the proverb, Changed a bad for a worse; but those
that have professed themselves his servants, after


a while give him the slip, and return again to me.
Do thou so too, and all shall be well.
CHRISTIAN. I have given him my faith, and sworn
my allegiance to him; how, then, can I go back
from this, and not be hanged as a traitor?
APOLLYON. 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.
CHRISTIAN. What I promised thee was in my
nonage; and, besides, I count the Prince under
whose banner now I stand is able to absolve me;
yea, and to pardon also what I did with thee; and
besides, 0 thou destroying Apollyon to speak truth,
I like his service, his wages, his servants, his gov-
ernment, his company and country, better than
thine; and, .therefore, leave off to persuade me
further; I am his servant and I will follow him.
APOLLYON. Thou hast already been unfaithful in
thy service to him; and how dost thou think to
receive wages of him?
CHRISTIAN. Wherein, 0 Apollyon! have I been
unfaithful to him?
APOLLYON. Thou didst faint at first setting outs
when thou wast almost choked in the Gulf of De-
spond; thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of
thy burden, whereas thou shouldst have stayed till
thy Prince had taken it off; thou didst sinfully
sleep and lose thy choice thing; thou wast, also,
almost persuaded to go back, at the sight of the
lions; and when thou talkest of thy journey, and of
what thou hast heard and seen, thou art inwardly



desirous of vainglory in all that thou sayest or
CHRISTIAN. All this is true, and much more which
thou hast left out; but the Prince whom I serve
and honor is merciful, and ready to forgive; but,
besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy coun-
try, for there I sucked them in; and I have groaned
under them, been sorrry for them, and have ob-
tained pardon of my Prince.
Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage,
saying, I am an enemy to this Prince; I hate his
person, his laws, and people; I am come out on
purpose to withstand thee.
CHRISTIAN. Apollyon, beware what you do; for I
am in the king's highway, the way of holiness;
therefore take heed to yourself.
Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole
breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in
this matter: prepare thyself to die; for I swear by
my infernal den, that thou shalt go no further;
here will I spill thy soul. And with that he threw
a flaming dart at his breast; but Christian had a
shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so
prevented the danger of that.
Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time
to bestir him: and Apollyon as fast made at him,
throwing darts as thick as hail; by the which, not-
withstanding 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 man-
fully as he could. This sore combat lasted for
above half a day, till Christian was quite spent; for
you must know that Christian, by reason of his
wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker.
Then Apollyon began to gather up close to Chris-
tian, 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 of his last blow, thereby to make a full
end of this good man, Christian nimbly stretched
out his hand for his sword, and caught it, saying,
Rejoice not against me, 0 mine enemy: when I fall
I shall arise; 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. And 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 he
had seen and heard as I did, what yelling and hid-
eous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight
-he spake like a dragon; and, on the other side,
what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart.
I never saw him all the while give so much as one
pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded


Apollyon with his two-edged sword; then, indeed,
he did smile, and look upward; but it was the dread-
fulest sight that ever I saw. So when the battle
was over, Christian said, I will here give thanks to
him that delivered me out of the mouth of the lion,
to him that did help me against Apollyon.
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 re-
ceived in.the battle, and was healed immediately.
He also sat down in that place to eat bread, and to
drink of the bottle that was given him a little be-
fore; so, being refreshed, he addressed himself to
his journey, with his sword drawn in his hand; for
he said, I know not but some other enemy may be
at hand. But he met with no other affront from
Apollyon quite through 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
Jeremiah thus describes it: A wilderness, a land of
deserts and of pits, a land of drought, and of the
shadow of death, a land that no man (but a Chris-
tian) passed through, and where no man dwelt.
Now here Christian was worse put to it than in
his fight with Apollyon: as 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
CHRISTIAN. Whither are you going?
MEN. Back! back! and we would have you to do
so too, if life or peace is prized by you.
CHRISTIAN. Why, what's the matter?
MEN. Matter! 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.
CHRISTIAN. But what have you met with?
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.
CHRISTIAN. But what have you seen?
MEN. Seen! Why, the Valley itself, which is as
dark as pitch; we also saw there the hobgoblins,
satyrs, and dragons of the pit; we heard also in
that Valley a continual howling and yelling, as of
a people under unutterable misery, who there sat
bound in affliction and irons; and over that Valley
hang the discouraging clouds of confusion. Death
also doth always spread his wings over it. In a
word, it is dreadful, being utterly without order.
CHRISTIAN. I perceive not yet, by what you have
said, but that this is my way to the desired haven.
MEN. Be it thy way; we will not choose it for
ours. So they parted, and Christian went on his


way, but still with his sword drawn in his hand,
for fear lest he should be assaulted.
I saw then in my dream so far as 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 both have there miser-
ably perished. Again, behold, on the left hand,
there was a very dangerous quag, into which, if
even a good man falls, he can find no bottom for
his foot to stand on. Into that quag king David
once did fall, and had no doubt therein been smoth-
ered, had not HE that is able plucked him out.
The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow,
and therefore good Christian was the more put to
it; for when he sought, in the dark, to shun the
ditch on the one hand, he was ready to tip over
into the mire on the other; also when he sought
to escape the mire, without great carefulness he
would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he
went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly; for,
besides the dangers mentioned above, the pathway
was here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lift up
his foot to set 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
way-side. Now, thought Christian, what shall I
do? And ever and anon the flame and smoke
would come out in such abundance, with sparks
and hideous noises (things that cared not for Chris-
tian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that he was


forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to
another weapon called All-prayer. So he cried in
my hearing, 0 Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my
soul! Thus he went on a great while, yet still the
flames would be reaching towards him. Also he
heard doleful voices, and rushing to and fro, so
that sometimes he thought he should be torn in
pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets.
This frightful sight was seen and these dreadful
noises were heard by him for several miles together;
and, coming to a place where he thought he heard
a company of fiends coming forward to meet him,
he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to
do. Sometimes he had half a thought to go back;
then again he thought he might be half way
through the valley; he remembered also how he
had already vanquished many a danger, and that
the danger of going back might be much more than
for to go forward; so he resolved to go on. Yet
the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer; but
when they were come even almost at him, he cried
out with a most vehement voice, I will walk in the
strength of the Lord God! so they gave back, and
came no further.
One thing I would not let slip; I took notice that
now poor Christian was so confounded, that he did
not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it.
Just when he was come over against the mouth of
the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind
him, and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly
suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which

A'.T- C-" TO H -E-L --.



he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind.
This put Christian more to it than anything that
he met with before, even to think that he should
now blaspheme him that he loved so much before;
yet if he could have helped it, he would not have
done it; but he had not the discretion either to stop
his ears, or to know from whence these blasphemies
When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate
condition some considerable time, he thought he
heard the voice of a man, as going before him, say-
ing, Though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art
with me.
Then he was glad, and that for these reasons:
First, Because he gathered from thence, that some
who feared God were in this valley as well as him-
self. Secondly, For that he perceived God was
with them, though in that dark and dismal state;
and why not, thought he, with me? though, by
reason of the impediment that attends this place,
I cannot perceive it. Thirdly, For that he hoped,
could he overtake them, to have company by and
by. So he went on, and called to him that was be-
fore; but he knew not what to answer; for that he
also thought himself to be alone. And by and by
the day broke; then said Christian, He hath turned
the shadow of death into the morning.
In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the
valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the end
of this valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled


bodies of men, even of pilgrims that had gone this
way formerly; and while I was musing what should
be the reason, I espied a little before me a cave,
where two giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old
time; by whose power and tyranny the men whose
bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay there, were cruelly put
to death. But by this place Christian went without
much danger, whereat I somewhat wondered; but
I have learnt since, that Pagan has been dead many
a day; and as for the other, though he be yet alive,
he is, by reason of age, and also of the many shrewd
brushes that he met with in his younger days,
grown so crazy and stiff in his joints, that he can
now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth
grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his
nails because he cannot come at them.
So I saw that Christian went on his way; yet,
at the sight of the Old Man that sat in the mouth
of the cave, he could not tell what to think, espe-
cially because he spake to them, though he could
not go after him, saying, You will never mend till
more of you be burned. But he held his peace, and
so went by and caught no hurt.
As he went on his way, he came to a little ascent,
which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might
see before them. Up there, therefore, Christian
went, and looking forward, he saw Faithful before
him, upon his journey. Then said Christian aloud,
Ho! ho! Soho! stay, and I will be your companion!
At that, Faithful looked behind him; to whom
Christian cried again, Stay, stay, till I come up to

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