The Children's Hour, v 5. Stories From Seven Old Favorites
by Eva March Tappan · English · Gutenberg #13685 · 679,829 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Children's Hour, v 5. Stories From Seven Old Favorites
Author: Eva March Tappan
Release date: October 10, 2004 [eBook #13685]
Most recently updated: October 28, 2024
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13685
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHILDREN'S HOUR, V 5. STORIES FROM SEVEN OLD FAVORITES ***
THE CHILDREN'S HOUR
IN TEN VOLUMES
ILLUSTRATED
VOLUME V
[Illustration: _Ferdinand and Ariel_]
The
Children's
Hour
STORIES
FROM SEVEN
OLD FAVORITES
Selected & Arranged by
Eva March Tappan
Houghton
Mifflin
Company
Between the dark and the daylight,
when the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the days occupations,
that is known as the Children's Hour.
CONTENTS
TO THE CHILDREN
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
CHRISTIAN PASSES THROUGH THE WICKET GATE _John Bunyan_
A VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER _John Bunyan_
AT THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL _John Bunyan_
CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH APOLLYON _John Bunyan_
THE CASTLE OF GIANT DESPAIR _John Bunyan_
THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS _John Bunyan_
THE PILGRIMS WANDER FROM THE WAY _John Bunyan_
THE CELESTIAL CITY _John Bunyan_
ROBINSON CRUSOE
ROBINSON CRUSOE IS SHIPWRECKED _Daniel Defoe_
UNLOADING A WRECK _Daniel Defoe_
ROBINSON CRUSOE'S FIRST HOME ON THE ISLAND _Daniel Defoe_
ROBINSON CRUSOE BUILDS A BOAT _Daniel Defoe_
THE MYSTERIOUS FOOTPRINT _Daniel Defoe_
THE COMING OF FRIDAY _Daniel Defoe_
HOMEWARD BOUND _Daniel Defoe_
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS
GULLIVER IS SHIPWRECKED ON THE COAST OF LILLIPUT _Jonathan Swift_
GULLIVER SEIZES THE ENEMY'S FLEET _Jonathan Swift_
A LILLIPUTIAN ODE TO THE MAN-MOUNTAIN _Jonathan Swift_
AMONG THE BROBDINGNAGIAN GIANTS _Jonathan Swift_
ADVENTURES IN BROBDINGNAG _Jonathan Swift_
GULLIVER'S ESCAPE _Jonathan Swift_
DON QUIXOTE
DON QUIXOTE DETERMINES TO BECOME A KNIGHT
_Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
THE FIGHT WITH THE WINDMILLS _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
THE INNKEEPER'S BILL _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
THE BATTLE OF THE SHEEP _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
THE CONQUEST OF MAMBRINO'S HELMET _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
DON QUIXOTE'S BATTLE WITH THE GIANTS _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
DON QUIXOTE MEETS THE LIONS _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
THE RIDE ON THE WOODEN HORSE _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
THE THREE THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND ODD LASHES
_Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
THE RETURN AND DEATH OF DON QUIXOTE _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
THE STORY OF ALADDIN; OR, THE WONDERFUL LAMP
ALI BABA AND THE FORTY THIEVES
SINDBAD THE SAILOR
THE TRAVELS OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN
THE BARON'S FIRST WANDERINGS _Rodolph Eric Raspe_
THE BARON'S JOURNEY TO ST. PETERSBURG _Rodolph Eric Raspe_
THE BARON'S WONDERFUL HORSE _Rodolph Eric Raspe_
THE BARON'S COLD DAY _Rodolph Eric Raspe_
TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS _Charles and Mary Lamb_
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE _Charles and Mary Lamb_
THE TEMPEST _Charles and Mary Lamb_
ILLUSTRATIONS
FERDINAND AND ARIEL _Sir John Everett Millais_
CHRISTIAN IS HARNESSED FOR THE PILGRIMAGE _David Scott, R.S.A._
CAUGHT CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ASLEEP _David Scott, R.S.A._
THE SECOND RAFT _J. Finnemore_
THE PRINT OF A MAN'S NAKED FOOT ON THE SHORE _J. Finnemore_
PRODUCING HIS CREDENTIALS _T. Morten_
THE HUGE CREATURE TROD SHORT _T. Morten_
HURLED AWAY BOTH KNIGHT AND HORSE _Gustave Doré_
A HIDEOUS GENIE OF GIGANTIC SIZE APPEARED _Robert Smirke, R.A._
THE GREAT HEAPS OF GOLD DAZZLED HER EYES _Robert Smirke, R.A._
PURSUED BY THE ROCS _J.D. Batten_
THE LION JUMPED FORWARD INTO THE CROCODILE'S MOUTH _Gustave Doré_
THE VESSEL WILL BE DASHED TO PIECES _G. Romney_
TO THE CHILDREN
This volume is made up of stories from seven famous books. These books
are as different as they can possibly be; and yet there are not many
boys and girls who do not like every one of them. The chief reason for
this is because they seem so true, so much more "real" than most other
stories. When you read about Tom Thumb, for instance, you do not
really believe that there ever was a little boy no bigger than his
mother's thumb; at least, you do not believe it in the same way that
you believe the sun shines or the wind blows; but when you read
"Robinson Crusoe," you feel as if every word of it must be true.
The first of these books is "The Pilgrim's Progress." In one way it is
a little like a fable; that is, when you read it the first time, it is
simply a good story. Afterwards--sometimes a long while
afterwards--you read it again or sit thinking about it, and suddenly
you see that it has another meaning, that it is more than the story of
a man who makes a wonderful journey. This book was written in jail by
a man named John Bunyan. The English laws of that time would not allow
any one to preach except clergymen of the Church of England. Bunyan,
however, felt that it would be wicked for him to obey these laws, so
he kept on preaching. He was thrown into prison, and the prisons of
those days were horrible places. "If you will promise not to preach
again, you shall be free," said the officers. "If you let me out
to-day I will preach again to-morrow," declared Bunyan; and meanwhile
he preached to the other prisoners. He thought of his wife and
children and of how little he could do to support them while he was in
jail; he thought of his little blind daughter Mary; but still he said
to himself, "I must, I must do it." For twelve long years he stayed in
prison. He made tags for shoe laces to sell to help his family; and he
wrote the book that has been read by more people than any other volume
except the Bible.
The second book, "Robinson Crusoe," was written by Daniel Defoe; and
he, too, knew what it was to be in jail. He was not imprisoned for
preaching, but for his political writings. Once when he had written a
pamphlet that did not please the authorities, he was condemned to
stand in the pillory. The people took his part, and, instead of
throwing stones at him, they dropped roses about him and bought
thousands of copies of a poem that he had written while in jail.
He wrote many books, but his best, "Robinson Crusoe," was produced
after he had become a middle-aged man and had some money and a big,
homely house with plenty of ground for his favorite gardening. The way
the book came to be written was this. A sailor named Alexander Selkirk
spent more than four years alone on the island of Juan Fernandez. When
he was rescued and brought to England, many people went to gaze at him
in his goatskin clothes and to hear him talk about his life on the
island. Defoe went with the others, and he never forgot the stories
told by the sailor in goatskins. Seven years later he worked in his
garden and thought about the desert island. Then he went into his
house and wrote the book that everybody likes, "Robinson Crusoe."
"Gulliver's Travels" was written by an Irish clergyman named Jonathan
Swift. He was a strange man. Some people said he was a genius, and
some said he had always been a little insane. When he wrote, he often
seemed to care for nothing but to say the most cutting, scornful
things that he could. There was one class of persons, however, who
loved him from the bottom of their hearts, and they were the poor
people about his home in Ireland. It is true that he sometimes scolded
them, but they saw straight through his grumbling and understood that
he really cared for them and wanted to help them, and they loved him
and trusted him. He lived more than two hundred years ago, but the
Irish have never forgotten him; and even to this day, if you should
wander about in Ireland, you would see in many a little cottage people
gathered around the fire, telling over and over the stories that their
grandmothers had told them of his kind heart and his peculiar ways.
"The Pilgrim's Progress," "Robinson Crusoe," and "Gulliver's Travels"
were all written by men of the British Isles, but our fourth book,
"Don Quixote," was written by a Spaniard named Cervantes. He was a
soldier part of his life and as valiant a fighter as his own hero. For
five years he was a prisoner of war; he was poor and sick and in one
trouble after another; but he was always brave and cheerful and
good-humored. In his day, the Spaniards read few books except queer
old romances of chivalry, the sort of tale in which a great champion
goes out with his squire to wander over the world in search of
adventures. He makes thieves give back what they have stolen, he sets
prisoners free, he rescues beautiful maidens who have been dragged
away from their homes; in short, he roams about making people do
whatever he thinks proper. Sometimes he takes a castle all by himself,
sometimes he gets the better of a whole group of champions or a host
of giants or even a dragon or two. Cervantes's book makes fun of such
tales as these. His hero attacks a terrible company of giants standing
on a plain all ready to destroy him; but the giants prove to be
windmills, and their sails give him many a heavy blow before his fight
with them is over. Another time, he finds the giants in his very
bedroom; and the courageous knight cuts off their heads as fast as he
can swing his sword. Blood flows like water; only when a light is
brought, it does not prove to be blood but--well, it is not fair to
tell the rest of the story. We must let Cervantes do that for himself
in "Don Quixote's Battle with the Giants."
The fifth book, the "Arabian Nights," is a mystery. We do not know who
composed the stories or who brought them together in one collection.
We cannot even tell where they came from. The most we can say
positively is that two hundred years ago a Frenchman traveling through
the East came across them in some Arabian manuscripts and translated
them into French. Whether they came in the first place from Arabia or
Persia or India, whether they were composed five or six hundred years
ago or at least one thousand, no one can say. Many learned scholars
have tried in vain to answer these questions; but if we had to choose
between having the stories and knowing who wrote them, I do not
believe that any boy or girl who had read even one of them would find
it difficult to make a choice.
The sixth book, "The Travels of Baron Munchausen," is said to have
been written by a German named Raspé; but it is just as well not to
believe this statement too positively, for it is quite possible that
Raspé had nothing to do with the book. Learned scholars have held
profound discussions on the source of the stories. One in particular,
that of the frozen tunes which began to play of themselves as soon as
they thawed, has been found in some form in several countries. The
best match for the Baron's version is the old tale of the merchants
who set out one day to buy furs. When they came to a river, they saw
the fur dealers standing on the opposite shore. The dealers held up
their furs and seemed to be shouting their prices, but it was so cold
that the words froze in the air. Then the merchants went out on the
ice and built a great fire. It warmed the air overhead, and the words
thawed and came down. But long before this, the dealers had gone home.
The merchants thought the prices too high, so they, too, went home;
and that was the end of the tale. The "Travels" is full of stories as
absurd as this, but told in such a way that while you are reading
them, and sometimes for as much as five minutes afterwards, you feel
as if they were really true.
The seventh and last of the books is the plays of Shakespeare. A play
always contains a story, and it is the stories of some of
Shakespeare's dramas that are given here. In the real plays there is
much more than stories, however, because Shakespeare was not only a
story-teller but also a poet. A poet must express what he sees and
thinks in a way to give pleasure and he must see more than other
people. Now when Shakespeare puts a thought into words, we find that
no one else has expressed it so well. Moreover, he sees more clearly
than any other writer how a person would feel and behave in various
circumstances. As we read the plays, we say to ourselves of one
character after another, "That is just the way I should feel if I were
that person." We think of them as real people. We talk of what they
would have done if circumstances had been different. It is only a
great genius who can make out of words characters that seem almost as
real as the people around us, but this is what William Shakespeare has
done.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
CHRISTIAN PASSES THROUGH THE WICKET GATE
_By John Bunyan_
In process of time _Christian_ got up to the Gate. Now over the Gate
there was written, _Knock and it shall be opened unto you_. He knocked
therefore more then once or twice, saying,--
"May I now enter here? Will he within
Open to sorry me, though I have bin
An undeserving Rebel? Then shall I
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high."
At last there came a grave Person to the Gate named _Good-Will_, who
asked Who was there? and whence he came? and what he would have?
_Chr._ Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the City of
_Destruction_, but am going to Mount _Zion_, that I may be delivered
from the wrath to come. I would therefore, Sir, since I am informed
that by this Gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let
me in.
_Good-Will._ I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that he
opened the Gate.
So when _Christian_ was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. Then
said _Christian_, What means that? The other told him, A little
distance from this Gate, there is erected a strong Castle, of which
_Beelzebub_ is the Captain; from thence both he and they that are with
him shoot arrows at those that come up to this Gate, if haply they may
dye before they can enter in. Then said _Christian_, I rejoyce and
tremble. So when he was got in, the Man of the Gate asked him, Who
directed him thither?
_Chr._ _Evangelist_ bid me come hither and knock (as I did); and he
said that you, Sir, would tell me what I must do.
_Good-Will._ An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it.
_Chr._ Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards.
_Good-Will._ But how is it that you came alone?
_Chr._ Because none of my Neighbours saw their danger, as I saw mine.
_Good-Will._ Did any of them know of your coming?
_Chr._ Yes, my Wife and Children saw me at the first, and called after
me to turn again; also some of my Neighbours stood crying and calling
after me to return; 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?
_Chr._ Yes, both _Obstinate_ and _Pliable_; but when they saw that
they could not prevail, _Obstinate_ went railing back, but _Pliable_
came with me a little way.
_Good-Will._ But why did he not come through?
_Chr._ We indeed came both together, until we came at the Slow of
_Dispond_, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my
Neighbour _Pliable_ discouraged, and would not adventure further.
Wherefore getting out again on that side next to his own house, he
told me I should possess the brave countrey alone for him; so he went
_his_ way, and I came _mine_: he after _Obstinate_, and I to this
Gate.
_Good-Will._ Then said _Good-Will_, Alas, poor man, is the
Coelestial Glory of so small esteem with him, that he counteth it
not worth running the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it?
_Chr._ Truly, said _Christian_, I have said the truth of _Pliable_,
and if I should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear there
is no betterment 'twixt him and myself. 'T 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 Mr. _Worldly
Wiseman_.
_Good-Will._ O, did he light upon you? What! he would have had you a
sought for ease at the hands of Mr. _Legality_. They are both of them
a very cheat. But did you take his counsel?
_Chr._ Yes, as far as I durst: I went to find out Mr. _Legality_,
until I thought that the Mountain that stands by his house would have
fallen upon my head; wherefore there I was forced to stop.
_Good-Will._ That Mountain has been the death of many, and will be the
death of many more; 't is well you escaped being by it dashed in
pieces.
_Chr._ Why truly I do not know what had become of me there, had not
_Evangelist_ happily met me again, as I was musing in the midst of my
dumps; but 't was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had
never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit
indeed for death by that Mountain than thus to stand talking with my
Lord; but O, 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 come hither, they in no wise are 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 narrow way? THAT is the way thou must go; it was cast up
by the Patriarchs, Prophets, Christ, his Apostles; and it is as
straight as a rule can make it: This is the way thou must go.
_Chr._ But said _Christian_, Is there no turnings nor windings, by
which a Stranger may lose the 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, _that_ 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 the Burden, be content to bear it, until thou
comest to the place of _Deliverance_; for there it will fall from thy
back itself.
Then _Christian_ began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to
his Journey. So the other told him, that by that he was gone some
distance from the Gate, he would come at the House of the
_Interpreter_, at whose door he should knock, and he would show him
excellent things. Then _Christian_ took his leave of his Friend, and
he again bid him God speed.
A VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER
_By John Bunyan_
Then _Christian_ went on till he came at the House of the
_Interpreter_, where he knocked over and over; at last one came to the
door, and asked Who was there?
_Chr._ Sir, here is a Travailler, 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?
_Chr._ Sir, said _Christian_, I am a man that am come from the City of
_Destruction_, and am going to the Mount _Zion_; and I was told by the
Man that stands at the Gate, at the head of this way, that if I called
here, you would shew me excellent things, such as would be an help to
me in my Journey.
_Inter._ Then said the _Interpreter_, Come in, I will shew thee that
which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light the
Candle, and bid _Christian_ follow him: so he had him into a private
room, and bid his man open a door; the which when he had done,
_Christian_ saw the Picture of a very grave Person hang up against the
wall; and this was the fashion of it. It had eyes lift up to Heaven,
the best of Books in its hand, the Law of Truth was written upon its
lips, the World was behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded with
men, and a Crown of Gold did hang over his head.
_Chr._ Then said _Christian_, What means this?
_Inter._ The Man whose Picture this is, is one of a thousand; he can
beget Children, travel in birth with Children, and nurse them himself
when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with eyes lift up to
Heaven, the best of Books in his hand, and the Law of Truth writ on
his lips, it is to shew 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 shew thee that slighting
and despising the things that are present, for the love that he hath
to his Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes next to
have Glory for his reward. Now, said the _Interpreter_, I have shewed
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 shewed thee,
and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy Journey
thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way
goes down to death.
Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large _Parlour_
that was full of dust, because never swept; the which after he had
reviewed a little while, the _Interpreter_ called for a man to sweep.
Now when he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about,
that _Christian_ had almost therewith been choaked. Then said the
_Interpreter_ to a _Damsel_ that stood by, Bring hither the Water, and
sprinkle the Room; the which when she had done, it was swept and
cleansed with pleasure.
_Chr._ Then said _Christian_, What means this?
_Inter._ The _Interpreter_ answered, This _Parlour_ is the heart of a
man that was never sanctified by the sweet Grace of the Gospel: the
_dust_ is his Original Sin and inward Corruptions, that have defiled
the whole Man. He that began to sweep at first, is the Law; but She
that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas
thou sawest that so soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so
fly about that the Room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou
wast almost choaked therewith; this is to shew 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, as it doth discover
and forbid it, but doth not give power to subdue.
Again, as thou sawest the _Damsel_ sprinkle the room with Water, upon
which it was cleansed with pleasure; this is to shew 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 consequently fit for
the King of Glory to inhabit.
I saw moreover in my Dream, that the _Interpreter_ took him by the
hand, and had him into a little room, where sat two little Children,
each one in his chair. The name of the eldest was _Passion_, and the
name of the other _Patience_. _Passion_ seemed to be much discontent;
but _Patience_ was very quiet. Then _Christian_ asked, What is the
reason of the discontent of _Passion_? The _Interpreter_ answered, The
Governour 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
rejoyced therein; and withall, laughed _Patience_ to scorn. But I
beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left
him but Rags.
_Chr._ Then said _Christian_ to the _Interpreter_, Expound this matter
more fully to me.
_Inter._ So he said, These two Lads are Figures: _Passion_, of the Men
of this World; and _Patience_ of the Men of that 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
the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, _A Bird in
the Hand is worth two in the Bush_, is of more authority with them
then are all the Divine testimonies of the good of the World to come.
But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had
presently left him nothing but Raggs; so will it be with all such Men
at the end of this World.
_Chr._ Then said _Christian_, Now I see that _Patience_ has the best
wisdom, and that upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best
things. 2. And also because he will have the Glory of his, when the
other has nothing but Raggs.
_Inter._ Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of the _next_
world will never wear out; but _these_ are suddenly gone. Therefore
_Passion_ had not so much reason to laugh at _Patience_, because he
had his good things first, as _Patience_ will have to laugh at
_Passion_, because he had his best things last; for _first_ must give
place to _last_, because _last_ must have his time to come: but _last_
gives place to nothing; for there is not another to succeed. He
therefore that hath his portion _first_, must needs have a time to
spend it; but he that hath his portion _last_, must have it lastingly;
therefore it is said of _Dives, In thy Lifetime thou hadest or
receivedst thy good things, and likewise_ Lazarus _evil things; but
now he is comforted, and thou art tormented_.
_Chr._ Then I perceive 'tis not best to covet things that are now, but
to wait for things to come.
_Inter._ You say the Truth: _For the things which are seen are_
Temporal; _but the things that are not seen are_ Eternal. But though
this be so, yet since things present and our fleshly appetite are such
near neighbours one to another; and, again, because things to come and
carnal sense are such strangers one to another; therefore it is that
the first of these so suddenly fall into _amity_, and that _distance_
is so continued between the second.
Then I saw in my Dream that the _Interpreter_ took _Christian_ by the
hand, and led him into a place where was a Fire burning against a
Wall, and one standing by it, always casting Water upon it, to quench
it; yet did the Fire burn higher and hotter.
Then said _Christian_, What means this?
The _Interpreter_ answered, This Fire is the work of Grace that is
wrought in the heart; he that casts Water upon it, to extinguish and
put it out, is the _Devil_; but in that thou seest the Fire
notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason
of that. So he had him about to the backside of the wall, where he saw
a man with a Vessel of Oyl in his hand, of the which he did also
continually cast (but secretly) into the Fire.
Then said _Christian_, What means this?
The _Interpreter_ answered, This is _Christ_, who continually, with
the Oyl of his Grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart:
by the means of which, notwithstanding what the Devil can do, the
souls of his people prove gracious still. And in that thou sawest that
the man stood behind the Wall to maintain the Fire, this is to teach
thee that it is hard for the tempted to see how this word of Grace is
maintained in the soul.
I saw also that the _Interpreter_ took him again by the hand, and led
him into a pleasant place, where was builded a stately Palace,
beautiful to behold; at the sight of which _Christian_ was greatly
delighted: he saw also upon the top thereof, certain Persons walking,
who were cloathed all in gold.
Then said _Christian_ May we go in thither?
Then the _Interpreter_ took him, and led him up toward the door of the
Palace; and behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as
desirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat a Man at a little
distance from the door, at a table-side, with a Book and his Inkhorn
before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein. He saw
also, that in the door-way stood many men in armour to keep it, being
resolved to do the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they
could. Now was _Christian_ somewhat in a muse. At last, when every man
started back for fear of the armed men, _Christian_ saw a man of a
very stout countenance come up to the man that sat there to write,
saying, _Set down my name, Sir_: the which when he had done, he saw
the man draw his Sword, and put 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 cutting and
hacking most fiercely. So after he had received and given many wounds
to those that attempted to keep him out, he cut his way through them
all, and pressed forward into the Palace, at which there was a
pleasant voice heard from those that were within, even of the Three
that walked upon the top of the Palace, saying,--
Come in, Come in;
Eternal Glory thou shall win.
So he went in, and was cloathed with such Garments as they. Then
_Christian_ smiled, and said, I think verily I know the meaning of
this.
Now, said _Christian_, let me go hence. Nay stay, said the
_Interpreter_, till I have shewed thee a little more, and after that
thou shalt go on thy way. So he took him by the hand again, and led
him into a very dark room, where there sat a Man in an Iron Cage.
Now the Man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat with his eyes looking
down to the ground, his hands folded together; and he sighed as if he
would break his heart. Then said _Christian_, What means this? At
which the _Interpreter_ bid him talk with the Man.
Then said _Christian_ to the Man, What art thou? The man answered, I
am what I was not once.
_Chr._ What wast thou once?
_Man._ The Man said, I was once a fair and flourishing Professor, both
in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others; I once was, as I
thought, fair for the Coelestial City, and had then even joy at the
thoughts that I should get thither.
_Chr._ Well, but what art thou now?
_Man._ I am now a man of _Despair_, and am shut up in it, as in this
Iron Cage. I cannot get out; O _now_ I cannot.
_Chr._ But how comest thou in this condition?
_Man._ I left off to watch and be sober; I laid the reins upon the
neck of my lusts; I sinned against the light of the Word and the
goodness of God; I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone; I tempted
the Devil, and he is come to me; I have provoked God to anger, and he
has left me; I have so hardened my heart, that I _cannot_ repent.
Then said _Christian_ to the _Interpreter_, But are there no hopes for
such a man as this? Ask him, said the _Interpreter_. Nay, said
Christian, pray Sir, do you.
_Inter._ Then said the _Interpreter_, Is there no hope, but you must
be kept in this Iron Cage of Despair?
_Man._ No, none at all.
_Inter._ Why? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.
_Man._ I have crucified him to myself afresh, I have despised his
Person, I have despised his Righteousness, I have counted his Blood an
unholy thing; I have done despite to the Spirit of Grace. Therefore I
have shut myself out of all the Promises, and there now remains to me
nothing but threatnings, dreadful threatnings, _fearful_ threatnings
of certain Judgement which shall devour me as an Adversary.
_Chr._ For what did you bring yourself into this condition?
_Man._ For the Lusts, Pleasures, and Profits of this World; in the
injoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight; but now
even every one of those things also bite me, and gnaw me like a
burning worm.
_Chr._ But canst thou not now repent and turn?
_Man._ God hath denied me repentance: his Word gives me no
encouragement to believe; yea, himself hath shut me up in this Iron
Cage; nor can all the men in the world let me out. O Eternity!
Eternity! how shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with in
Eternity!
_Inter._ Then said the _Interpreter_ to _Christian_, Let this man's
misery be remembred by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.
_Chr._ Well, said _Christian_, this is fearful; God help me to watch
and be sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of this man's
misery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now?
_Inter._ Tarry till I shall shew 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 Rayment,
he shook and trembled. Then said _Christian_, Why doth this man thus
tremble? The _Interpreter_ then bid him tell to _Christian_ the reason
of his so doing. So he began and said, This night, as I was in my
sleep, I dreamed, and behold the Heavens grew exceeding black; also it
thundered and lightned 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 was on a burning
flame. I heard then a voice saying, _Arise ye Dead, and come to
Judgement_; 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 themselves under the
Mountains. Then I saw the Man that sat upon the Cloud open the Book,
and bid the World draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce
Flame 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 manner, Smoak and Coals of fire, with hideous
noises. It was also said to the same persons, _Gather my Wheat into my
Garner_. And with that I saw many catch't 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.
_Chr._ But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight?
_Man._ Why, I thought that the day of Judgement was come, and that I
was not ready for it: but this frighted me most, that the Angels
gathered up several, and left me behind; also the pit of Hell opened
her mouth just where I stood: my Conscience too within afflicted me;
and as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, shewing
indignation in his countenance.
Then said the _Interpreter_ to _Christian_, Hast thou considered all
these things?
_Chr._ Yes, and they put me in hope and fear.
_Inter._ Well, keep all things so in thy mind that they may be as a
Goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must go. Then
Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his
Journey. Then said the _Interpreter_, The Comforter be always with
thee, good _Christian_, to guide thee in the way that leads to the
City. So _Christian_ went on his way, saying--
Here I have seen things rare and profitable;
Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable
In what I have began to take in hand;
Then let me think on them, and understand
Wherefore they shew'd me was, and let me be
Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee.
AT THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL
_By John Bunyan_
Behold there was a very stately Palace before him, the name of which
was _Beautiful_; and it stood just by the High-way side.
So I saw in my Dream that he made haste and went forward, that if
possible he might get Lodging there. Now before he had gone far, he
entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off of
the Porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before him as he went,
he espied two Lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers
that _Mistrust_ and _Timorus_ 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 clapt his hands, and went on till he
came and stood before the Gate where the Porter was. Then said
_Christian_ to the Porter, Sir, what House is this? and may I lodge
here to-night? The Porter answered, This House was built by the Lord
of the Hill, and he built it for the relief and security of Pilgrims.
The Porter also asked whence he was, and whither he was going?
_Chr._ I am come from the City of _Destruction_, and am going to Mount
_Zion_; but because the Sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge
here to-night.
_Por._ What is your name?
_Chr._ My name is now _Christian_, but my name at the first was
_Graceless;_ I came of the race of _Japhet_, whom God will perswade to
dwell in the Tents of _Shem_.
_Por._ But how doth it happen that you come so late? The Sun is set.
_Chr._ I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am! I
slept in the _Arbour_ that stands on the Hillside; nay, I had
notwithstanding that been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I
lost my Evidence, and came without it to the brow of the Hill; and
then feeling for it, and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow of
heart to go back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I found
it, and now I am come.
_Por._ Well, I will call out one of the Virgins of this place, who
will, if she 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 in a Journey from the City of
_Destruction_ to Mount _Zion_, but being weary and benighted, he asked
me if he might lodge here to-night; so I told him I would call for
thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee
good, even according to the Law of the House.
Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going; and he
told her. She asked him also, how he got into the way; and he told
her. Then she asked him what he had seen and met with in the way; and
he told her. And last she asked his name; so he said, It is
_Christian_; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge here
to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the
Lord of the Hill, for the relief and security of Pilgrims. So she
smiled, but the water stood in her eyes; and after a little pause, she
said, I will call forth two or three more of the Family. So she ran to
the door, and called out _Prudence_, _Piety_, and _Charity_, who after
a little more discourse with him, had him in to the Family; and many
of them, meeting him at the threshold of the house, said, Come in,
thou blessed of the Lord; this house was built by the Lord of the
Hill, on purpose to entertain such Pilgrims in. Then he bowed his
head, and followed them into the house. So when he was come in and set
down, they gave him something to drink, and consented together, that
until supper was ready, some of them should have some particular
discourse with _Christian_, for the best improvement of time; and they
appointed _Piety_, and _Prudence_, and _Charity_ to discourse with
him; and thus they began:--
_Piety._ Come, good _Christian_, since we have been so loving to you,
to receive you into our house this night, let us, if perhaps we may
better ourselves thereby, talk with you of all things that have
happened to you in your Pilgrimage.
_Chr._ With a very good will, and I am glad that you are so well
disposed.
_Piety._ What moved you at first to betake yourself to a Pilgrim's
life?
_Chr._ I was driven out of my Native Country, by a dreadful sound 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?
_Chr._ It was as God would have it; for when I was under the fears of
destruction, I did not know whither to go; but by chance there came a
man, even to me, as I was trembling and weeping, whose name is
_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 _Interpreter_?
_Chr._ Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which
will stick by me as long as I live; specially three things: to wit,
How Christ, in despite of Satan, maintains his work of Grace in the
heart; how the Man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's
mercy; and also the Dream of him that thought in his sleep the day of
Judgement was come.
_Piety._ Why, did you hear him tell his Dream?
_Chr._ Yes, and a dreadful one it was. I thought it made my heart ake
as he was telling of it; but yet I am glad I heard it.
_Piety._ Was that all that you saw at the House of the _Interpreter_?
_Chr._ No, he took me and had me where he shewed 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 could
have stayed at that good man's house a twelve-month, but that I knew I
had further to go.
_Piety._ And what saw you else in the way?
_Chr._ Saw! Why, I went but a little further, and I saw one, as I
thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon the Tree; and the very sight of
him made my Burden fall off my back (for I groaned under a weary
Burden), but then it fell down from off me. 'Twas a strange thing to
me, for I never saw such a thing before; yea, and while I stood
looking up (for then I could not forbear looking) three Shining Ones
came to me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven me;
another stript me of my Rags, and gave me this broidred 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 then this, did you not?
_Chr._ The things that I have told you were the best; yet some other
matters I saw, as namely I saw three men, _Simple_, _Sloth_, and
_Presumption_, lye asleep a little out of the way as I came, with
Irons upon their heels; but do you think I could awake them? I also
saw _Formalist_ and _Hypocrisie_ come tumbling over the wall, to go,
as they pretended, to _Sion_; 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
Lion's mouths; and truly if it had not been for the good man, the
Porter that stands at the Gate, I do not know but that after all I
might have gone back again; but now I thank God I am here, and I thank
you for receiving of me.
Then _Prudence_ thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired
his answer to them.
_Prud._ Do you not think sometimes of the Country from whence you
came?
_Chr._ Yes, but with much shame and detestation: Truly, if I had been
mindful of that Country from whence I came out, I might have had
opportunity to have returned; but now I desire a better Country, that
is, an Heavenly.
_Prud._ Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then
you were conversant withal?
_Chr._ Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my 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
chuse mine own things, I would chuse 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.
_Prud._ Do you not find sometimes, as if those things were vanquished,
which at other times are your perplexity?
_Chr._ Yes, but that is seldom; but they are to me golden hours in
which such things happen to me.
_Prud._ Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances at
times, as if they were vanquished?
_Chr._ Yes, when I think what I saw at the Cross, that 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.
_Prud._ And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount
_Zion_?
_Chr._ Why, there I hope to see him alive that did hang 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 Company as I like best. For to tell you
truth, I love him, because I was by him eased of my Burden, and I am
weary of my inward sickness; I would fain be where I shall die no
more, and with the Company that shall continually cry, _Holy, Holy,
Holy_.
Then said _Charity_ to _Christian_, Have you a family? Are you a
married man?
_Chr._ I have a Wife and four small Children.
_Char._ And why did you not bring them along with you?
_Chr._ Then _Christian_ wept, and said, Oh, how willingly would I have
done it, but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on
Pilgrimage.
_Char._ But you should have talked to them, and have endeavoured to
have shewen them the danger of being behind.
_Chr._ So I did, and told them also what God had shewed to me of the
destruction of our City; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and
they believed me not.
_Char._ And did you pray to God that he would bless your counsel to
them?
_Chr._ Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that my
Wife and poor Children were very dear unto me.
_Char._ But did you tell them of your own sorrow, and fear of
destruction? For I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you.
_Chr._ Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears in
my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the
apprehension of the Judgment that did hang over our heads; but all was
not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me.
_Char._ But what could they say for themselves, why they came not?
_Chr._ Why, my Wife was afraid of losing this World, and my Children
were given to the foolish Delights of youth: so what by one thing, and
what by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone.
_Char._ But did you not with your vain life, damp all that you by
words used by way of persuasion to bring them away with you?
_Chr._ Indeed I cannot commend my life; for I am conscious to myself
of many failings therein: I know also, that a man by his conversation
may soon overthrow, what by argument or persuasion he doth labour to
fasten upon others for their good. Yet this I can say, I was very wary
of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them averse
to going on Pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell me I
was too precise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes)
in which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that if what they
saw in me did hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning
against God, or of doing any wrong to my Neighbour.
_Char._ Indeed _Cain_ hated his Brother, because his own works were
evil, and his Brother's righteous; and if thy Wife and Children have
been offended with thee for this, they thereby shew 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 talking together until
supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they sat down to meat.
Now the Table was furnished with fat things, and with Wine that was
well refined: and all their talk at the Table was about the LORD of
the Hill; as namely, about what HE had done, and wherefore HE did what
HE did, and why HE had builded that House: and by what they said, I
perceived that he had been a _great Warriour_, and had fought with and
slain him that had the power of Death, but not without great danger to
himself, which made me love him the more.
For, as they said, and as I believe (said _Christian_), 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 seen and
spoke with him since he did dye 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 stript 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 towards the Sun-rising; the name of the chamber
was _Peace_, where he slept till break of day; and then he awoke and
sang,--
"Where am I now? Is this the love and care
Of Jesus for the men that Pilgrims are
Thus to provide! That I should be forgiven!
And dwell already the next door to Heaven!"
So in the morning they all got up, and after some more discourse, they
told him that he should not depart till they had shewed him the
_Rarities_ of that place. And first they had him into the Study, where
they shewed him Records of the greatest Antiquity; in which, as I
remember my Dream, they shewed him first the _Pedigree_ of the Lord of
the Hill, that he was the Son of the Ancient of Days, and came by an
Eternal Generation. Here also was more fully recorded the Acts 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 decaies 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_.
Then they read again in another part of the Records of the house,
where it was shewed how willing their Lord was to receive into his
favour any, even any, though they in time past had offered great
affronts to his Person and proceedings. Here also were several other
Histories of many other famous things, of all which _Christian_ had a
view; as of things both Ancient and Modern; together with Prophecies
and Predictions of things that have their certain accomplishment, both
to the dread and amazement of Enemies, and the comfort and solace of
Pilgrims.
The next day they took him and had him into the Armory, where they
shewed him all manner of Furniture, which their Lord had provided for
Pilgrims, as Sword, Shield, Helmet, Brestplate, _All-prayer_, and
Shooes 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 shewed him some of the Engines with which some of his
Servants had done wonderful things. They shewed 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 shewed him the Oxes goad wherewith _Shamger_
slew six hundred men. They shewed him also the Jaw-bone with which
_Samson_ did such mighty feats. They shewed 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 shewed him besides many excellent
things, with which _Christian_ was much delighted. This done, they
went to their rest again.
Then I saw in my Dream, that on the morrow he got up to go forwards,
but they desired him to stay till the next day also; and then, said
they, we will (if the day be clear) shew you the Delectable Mountains,
which, they said, would yet further add to his comfort, because they
were nearer the desired Haven then the place where at present he was.
So he consented and staid. When the morning was up, they had him to
the top of the House, and bid him look South; so he did: and behold at
a great distance he saw a most pleasant Mountainous Country,
beautified with Woods, Vinyards, Fruits of all sorts, Flowers also;
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 maist see to the
gate of the Coelestial City, as the Shepheards 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 in
the way. He being therefore thus acoutred, walketh out with his
friends to the Gate, and there he asked the Porter if he saw any
Pilgrims pass by. Then the Porter answered, Yes.
[Illustration: 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 IN THE WAY. HE BEING THEREFORE THUS ACOUTRED, WALKETH OUT
WITH HIS FRIENDS TO THE GATE, AND THERE HE ASKED THE PORTER IF HE SAW
ANY PILGRIMS PASS BY]
_Chr._ Pray, did you know him?
_Por._ I asked his name, and he told me it was _Faithful_.
_Chr._ O, said _Christian_, I know him; he is my Townsman, my near
Neighbour, he comes from the place where I was born. How far do you
think he may be before?
_Por._ He has got by this time below the Hill.
_Chr._ Well, said _Christian_, good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and
add to all thy blessings much increase, for the kindness that thou
hast shewed to me.
Then he began to go forward; but _Discretion_, _Piety_, _Charity_, and
_Prudence_ would accompany him down to the foot of the Hill. So they
went on together, reiterating their former discourses, till they came
to go down the Hill. Then said Christian, As it was difficult coming
up, so (so far as I can see) it is dangerous going down. Yes, said
_Prudence_, so it is, for it is an 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; therefore, said they, are we come out to accompany
thee down the Hill. So he began to go down, but very warily; yet he
caught a slip or two.
Then I saw in my Dream that these good Companions, when _Christian_
was gone down to the bottom of the Hill, gave him a loaf of Bread, a
bottle of Wine, and a cluster of Raisins; and then he went on his way.
CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH APOLLYON
_By John Bunyan_
In this Valley of _Humiliation_, poor _Christian_ was hard put up 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 whither to go
back or to stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no
Armour for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to
him might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his
Darts. Therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground. For,
thought he, had I no more in mine eye then the saving of my life, 't
would be the best way to stand.
So he went on, and _Apollyon_ met him. Now the Monster was hidious to
behold; he was cloathed with scales like a Fish (and they are his
pride); he had wings like a Dragon, and out of his belly came Fire and
Smoak; and his mouth was as the mouth of a Lion. When he was come up
to _Christian_, he beheld him with a disdainful countenance, and thus
began to question with him.
_Apol._ Whence come you? and whither are you bound?
_Chr._ I come from the City of _Destruction_, which is the place of
all evil, and am going to the City of _Zion_.
_Apol._ By this I perceive 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
maiest do me more service, I would strike thee now at one blow to the
ground.
_Chr._ I was born indeed in your dominions, but your service was hard,
and your wages such as a man could not live on, _for the Wages of Sin
is death_; therefore when I was come to years, I did as other
considerate persons do, look out, if perhaps I might mend myself.
_Apol_ There is no Prince that will thus lightly lose his Subjects,
neither will I as yet lose thee: but since thou complainest of thy
service and wages, be content to go back; what our Country will
afford, I do here promise to give thee.
_Chr._ But I have let myself to another, even to the King of Princes,
and how can I with fairness go back with thee?
_Apol._ Thou hast done in this, according to the Proverb, changed a
bad for a worse; but it is ordinary for those that have professed
themselves his Servants, after a while to give him the slip, and
return again to me: do thou so too, and all shall be well.
_Chr._ I have given him my faith, and sworn my Allegiance to him; how
then can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a Traitor?
_Apol._ Thou diddest the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by
all, if now thou will turn again and go back.
_Chr._ What I promised thee was in my nonage; and besides, I count
that the Prince under whose Banner now I stand is able to absolve me;
yea, and to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with thee; and
besides, O thou destroying _Apollyon_, to speak truth, I like his
Service, his Wages, his Servants, his Government, his Company and
Country, better than thine; and therefore leave off to perswade me
further; I am his Servant, and I will follow him.
_Apol._ Consider again when thou art in cool blood, what thou art like
to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the
most part, his Servants come to an ill end, because they are
transgressors against me and my ways. How many of them have been put
to shameful deaths; and besides, thou countest his service better than
mine, whereas he never came yet from the place where he is to deliver
any that served him out of our hands; but as for me, how many times,
as all the World very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or
fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him and his, though
taken by them; and so I will deliver thee.
_Chr._ His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to try
their love, whether they will cleave to him to the end; and as for the
ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their
account; for, for present deliverance, they do not much expect it, for
they stay for their Glory, and then they shall have it, when their
Prince comes in his and the Glory of the Angels.
_Apol._ Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him, and
how dost thou think to receive wages of him?
_Chr._ Wherein, O _Apollyon_, have I been unfaithful to him?
_Apol._ Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost
choked in the Gulf of _Dispond_; thou diddest attempt wrong ways to be
rid of thy Burden, whereas thou shouldest have stayed till thy Prince
had taken it off; thou didst sinfully sleep and lose thy choice thing;
thou wast also almost perswaded to go back, at the sight of the Lions;
and when thou talkest of thy Journey, and of what thou hast heard and
seen, thou art inwardly desirous of vainglory in all that thou sayest
or doest.
_Chr._ All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; but
the Prince whom I serve and honour is merciful, and ready to forgive;
but besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy Country, for there
I sucked them in, and I have groaned under them, been sorry for them,
and have obtained pardon of my Prince.
_Apol._ Then _Apollyon_ broke out into a grievous rage, saying, I am
an enemy to this Prince; I hate his Person, his Laws, and People; I am
come out on purpose to withstand thee.
_Chr._ _Apollyon_, beware what you do, for I am in the King's
High-way, the way of Holiness, therefore take heed to yourself.
_Apol._ Then _Apollyon_ strodled quite over the whole breadth of the
way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter, prepare thyself to
dye; for I swear thou shalt go no further; here will I spill thy soul.
And with that he threw a flaming Dart at his brest, but _Christian_
had a Shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented
the danger of that.
Then did _Christian_ draw, for he saw 'twas time to bestir him: and
_Apollyon_ as fast made at him, throwing Darts as thick as Hail; by
the which, notwithstanding all that _Christian_ could do to avoid it,
_Apollyon_ wounded him in his _head_, his _hand_, and _foot_. This
made _Christian_ give a little back; _Apollyon_ therefore followed his
work amain, and _Christian_ again took courage, and resisted as
manfully as he could. This sore Combat lasted for above half a day,
even till _Christian_ was almost quite spent. For you must know that
_Christian_, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and
weaker.
Then _Apollyon_ espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to
_Christian_, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and
with that _Christian's_ Sword flew out of his hand. Then said
_Apollyon_, _I am sure of thee now_: and with that he had almost prest
him to death, so that _Christian_ began to despair of life. But as God
would have it, while _Apollyon_ was fetching of his last blow, thereby
to make a full end of this good Man, _Christian_ nimbly reached out
his hand for his Sword, and caught it, saying, _Rejoyce not against
me, O 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 then Conquerours_. 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 hideous roaring _Apollyon_ made all the time of
the fight; he spake like a Dragon: and on the other side, what sighs
and groans brast 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 'twas the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.
So when the Battel was over, _Christian_ said, I will here give thanks
to him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the Lion, to him
that did help me against _Apollyon_. And so he did, saying,--
"Great _Beelzebub_, the Captain of this Fiend,
Design'd my ruin; therefore to this end
He sent him harnest out: and he with rage
That hellish was, did fiercely me ingage:
But blessed _Michael_ helped me, and I
By dint of Sword did quickly make him fly.
Therefore to him let me give lasting praise,
And thank and bless his holy name always."
Then there came to him an hand, with some of the leaves of the Tree of
Life, the which _Christian_ took, and applyed to the wounds that he
had received in the Battel, and was healed immediately. He also sat
down in that place to eat Bread, and to drink of the Bottle that was
given him a little before; so being refreshed, he 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.
THE CASTLE OF GIANT DESPAIR
_By John Bunyan_
I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant River, which
_David_ the King called the _River of God_, but _John_, the _River of
the Water of Life_. Now their way lay just upon the bank of the River;
here therefore _Christian_ and his Companion walked with great
delight; they drank also of the water of the River, which was pleasant
and enlivening to their weary spirits: besides, on the banks of this
River on either side were green Trees, that bore all manner of Fruit;
and the Leaves of the Trees were good for Medicine; with the Fruit of
these Trees they were also much delighted; and the Leaves they eat to
prevent Surfeits, and other Diseases that are incident to those that
heat their blood by Travels. On either side of the River was also a
Meadow, curiously beautified with Lilies; and it was green all the
year long. In this Meadow they lay down and slept, for here they might
lie down safely. When they awoke, they gathered again of the Fruit of
the Trees, and drank again of the water of the River, and then lay
down again to sleep. Thus they did several days and nights. Then they
sang,--
"Behold ye how these Christal streams do glide,
(To comfort Pilgrims) by the High-way side;
The Meadows green, besides their fragrant smell,
Yield dainties for them: and he that can tell
What pleasant Fruit, yea Leaves, these Trees do yield,
Will soon sell all, that he may buy this Field."
So when they were disposed to go on (for they were not as yet at their
Journey's end), they eat and drank, and departed.
Now I beheld in my Dream, that they had not journied far, but the
River and the way for a time parted; at which they were not a little
sorry, yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the way from the
River was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their Travels; _so
the soul of the Pilgrims was much discouraged because of the way_.
Wherefore still as they went on, they wished for better way. Now a
little before them, there was on the left hand of the road a Meadow,
and a Stile to go over into it, and that Meadow is called
_Bypath-Meadow._ Then said _Christian_ to his fellow, If this Meadow
lieth along by our way-side, let's go over into it. Then he went to
the Stile to see, and behold a Path lay along by the way on the other
side of the fence. 'Tis according to my wish, said _Christian_, here
is the easiest going; come, good _Hopeful_, and let us go over.
_Hope._ But how if this Path should lead us out of the way?
_Chr._ That's not like, said the other; look, doth it not go along by
the way-side? So _Hopeful_, being perswaded by his fellow, went after
him over the Stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the
Path, they found it very easie for their feet: and withal, they
looking before them, espied a man walking as they did (and his name
was _Vain-confidence_), so they called after him, and asked him
whither that way led? He said, To the Coelestial Gate. Look, said
_Christian_, did I not tell you so? By this you may see we are right.
So they followed, and he went before them. But behold the night came
on, and it grew very dark, so that they that were behind lost the
sight of him that went before.
He therefore that went before (_Vain-confidence_ by name), not seeing
the way before him, fell into a deep Pit, which was on purpose there
made by the Prince of those grounds, to catch vain-glorious fools
withall, and was dashed in pieces with his fall.
Now _Christian_ and his fellow heard him fall. So they called to know
the matter, but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning.
Then said _Hopeful_, Where are we now? Then was his fellow silent as
mistrusting that he had led him out of the way; and now it began to
rain, and thunder, and lighten in a very dreadful manner, and the
water rose amain.
Then _Hopeful_ groaned in himself, saying, Oh that I had kept on my
way!
_Chr._ Who could have thought that this Path should have led us out of
the way?
_Hope._ I was afraid on't at very first, and therefore gave you that
gentle caution. I would have spoke plainer, but that you are older
then I.
_Chr._ Good Brother, be not offended; I am sorry I have brought thee
out of the way, and that I have put thee into such eminent danger;
pray, my Brother, forgive me, I did not do it of an evil intent.
_Hope._ Be comforted, my Brother, for I forgive thee; and believe too
that this shall be for our good.
_Chr._ I am glad I have with me a merciful Brother; but we must not
stand thus, let's try to go back again.
_Hope._ But, good Brother, let me go before.
_Chr._ No, if you please, let me go first, that if there be any
danger, I may be first therein, because by my means we are both gone
out of the way.
_Hope._ No, said _Hopeful_, you shall not go first; for your mind
being troubled may lead you out of the way again. Then for their
encouragement, they heard the voice of one saying _Let thine heart be
towards the Highway, even the way that thou wentest, turn again_. But
by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of which the way
of going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that it is easier
going out of the way when we are in, than going in when we are out.)
Yet they adventured to go back; but it was so dark, and the flood was
so high, that in their going back they had liked to have been drowned
nine or ten times.
Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the
Stile that night. Wherefore at last, lighting under a little shelter,
they sat down there till the day brake; but being weary, they fell
asleep. Now there was not far from the place where they lay, a Castle
called _Doubting_ Castle, the owner whereof was Giant _Despair_, and
it was in his grounds they now were sleeping: wherefore he, getting up
in the morning early, and walking up and down in his Fields, caught
_Christian_ and _Hopeful_ asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and
surly voice he bid them awake, and asked them whence they were? and
what they did in his grounds? They told him they were Pilgrims, and
that they had lost their way. Then said the Giant, You have this night
trespassed on me, by trampling in and lying on my grounds, and
therefore you must go along with me. So they were forced to go,
because he was stronger then they. They also had but little to say,
for they knew themselves in a fault. The Giant therefore drove them
before him, and put them into his Castle, into a very dark Dungeon,
nasty and stinking to the spirits of these two men. Here then they lay
from _Wednesday_ morning till _Saturday_ night, without one bit of
bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they did; they
were therefore here in evil case, and were far from friends and
acquaintance. Now in this place _Christian_ had double sorrow, because
'twas through his unadvised haste that they were brought into this
distress.
[Illustration: NOW THERE WAS NOT FAR FROM THE PLACE WHERE THEY LAY, A
CASTLE CALLED DOUBTING CASTLE, THE OWNER WHEREOF WAS GIANT DESPAIR....
HE GETTING UP IN THE MORNING EARLY, AND WALKING UP AND DOWN IN HIS
FIELDS, CAUGHT CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ASLEEP IN HIS GROUNDS. THEN WITH
A GRIM AND SURLY VOICE HE BID THEM AWAKE, AND ASKED THEM WHENCE THEY
WERE AND WHAT THEY DID IN HIS GROUNDS. THEY TOLD HIM THAT THEY WERE
PILGRIMS, AND THAT THEY HAD LOST THEIR WAY. THEN SAID THE GIANT, YOU
HAVE THIS NIGHT TRESPASSED ON ME]
Now Giant _Despair_ had a Wife and her name was _Diffidence_. So when
he was gone to bed, he told his Wife what he had done, to wit, that he
had taken a couple of Prisoners and cast them into his Dungeon, for
trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best do
further to them. So she asked him what they were, whence they came,
and whither they were bound; and he told her. Then she counselled him
that when he arose in the morning he should beat them without any
mercy. So when he arose, he getteth him a grievous Crab-tree Cudgel,
and goes down into the Dungeon to them, and there first falls to
rating of them as if they were dogs, although they gave him never a
word of distaste. Then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully,
in such sort, that they were not able to help themselves, or to turn
them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws and leaves them, there to
condole their misery, and to mourn under their distress: so all that
day they spent the time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations.
The next night she talking with her Husband about them further, and
understanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them
to make away themselves. So when morning was come, he goes to them in
a surly manner as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the
stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them, that
since they were never like to come out of that place, their only way
would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with Knife,
Halter, or Poison. For why, said he, should you chuse life, seeing it
is attended with so much bitterness? But they desired him to let them
go. With that he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them had
doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell into one of
his Fits (for he sometimes in Sunshine weather fell into Fits) and
lost for a time the use of his hand; wherefore he withdrew, and left
them as before, to consider what to do. Then did the Prisoners consult
between themselves, whether 'twas best to take his counsel or no; and
thus they began to discourse:--
_Chr._ Brother, said _Christian_, what shall we do? The life that we
now live is miserable: for my part I know not whether is best, to live
thus, or to die out of hand. _My soul chuseth strangling rather than
life_, and the Grave is more easy for me than this Dungeon. Shall we
be ruled by the Giant?
_Hope._ Indeed our present condition is dreadful, and death would be
far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide; but yet let us
consider, the Lord of the Country to which we are going hath said,
Thou shalt do no murder, no not to another man's person; much more
then are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves. Besides,
he that kills another can but commit murder upon his body; but for one
to kill himself is to kill body and soul at once. And moreover, my
Brother, thou talkest of ease in the Grave; but hast thou forgotten
the Hell, whither for certain the murderers go? For no murderer hath
eternal life, _&c._ And let us consider again, that all the Law is not
in the hand of Giant _Despair_. Others, so far as I can understand,
have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped out of his
hand. Who knows but that God that made the world may cause that Giant
_Despair_ may die? Or that at some time or other he may forget to lock
us in? Or but he may in short time have another of his Fits before us,
and may lose the use of his limbs? And if ever that should come to
pass again, for my part I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man,
and to try my utmost to get from under his hand. I was a fool that I
did not try to do it before; but however, my Brother, let's be
patient, and endure a while; the time may come that may give us a
happy release; but let us not be our own murderers. With these words
_Hopeful_ at present did moderate the mind of his Brother. So they
continued together (in the dark) that day, in their sad and doleful
condition.
Well, towards evening the Giant goes down into the Dungeon again, to
see if his Prisoners had taken his counsel; but when he came there he
found them alive, and truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of
Bread and Water, and by reason of the Wounds they received when he
beat them, they could do little but breathe. But, I say, he found them
alive; at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them that
seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them
than if they had never been born.
At this they trembled greatly, and I think that _Christian_ fell into
a Swound; but coming a little to himself again, they renewed their
discourse about the Giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best to
take it or no. Now _Christian_ again seemed to be for doing it, but
_Hopeful_ made his second reply as followeth:
_Hope._ My Brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou
hast been heretofore? _Apollyon_ could not crush thee, nor could all
that thou didst hear, or see, or feel in the Valley of the _Shadow of
Death_. What hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone
through, and art thou now nothing but fear? Thou seest that I am in
the Dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art; also
this Giant has wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the
Bread and Water from my mouth; and with thee I mourn without the
light. But let's exercise a little more patience; remember how thou
played'st the man at _Vanity Fair_, and wast neither afraid of the
Chain, nor Cage, nor yet of bloody Death: wherefore let us (at least
to avoid the shame, that becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear
up with patience as well as we can.
Now night being come again, and the Giant and his Wife being in bed,
she asked him concerning the Prisoners, and if they had taken his
counsel. To which he replied, They are sturdy Rogues, they chuse
rather to bear all hardship, than to make away themselves. Then said
she, Take them into the Castle-yard to-morrow, and shew them the Bones
and Skulls of those that thou hast already dispatch'd, and make them
believe, e're a week comes to an end, thou also wilt tear them in
pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them.
So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them again, and takes
them into the Castle-yard and shews them as his Wife had bidden him.
These, said he, were Pilgrims as you are, once, and they trespassed in
my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit I tore them in
pieces, and so within ten days I will do you. Go get you down to your
Den again; and with that he beat them all the way thither. They lay
therefore all day on _Saturday_ in a lamentable case, as before. Now
when night was come, and when Mrs. _Diffidence_ and her Husband the
Giant were got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their
Prisoners; and withal the old Giant wondered, that he could neither by
his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. And with that his Wife
replied, I fear, said she, that they live in hope that some will come
to relieve them, or that they have pick-locks about them, by the means
of which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear? said the
Giant, I will therefore search them in the morning.
Well on _Saturday_ about midnight they began to pray, and continued in
Prayer till almost break of day.
Now a little before it was day, good _Christian_, as one half amazed,
brake out in this passionate speech: What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus
to lie in a stinking Dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I
have a Key in my bosom called _Promise_, that will, I am persuaded,
open any Lock in _Doubting_ Castle. Then said _Hopeful_, That's good
news; good Brother, pluck it out of thy bosom and try.
Then _Christian_ pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the
Dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned the Key) gave back, and the
door flew open with ease, and _Christian_ and _Hopeful_ both came out.
Then he went to the outward door that leads into the Castle-yard, and
with his Key opened that door also. After, he went to the iron Gate,
for that must be opened too, but that Lock went damnable hard, yet the
Key did open it. Then they thrust open the Gate to make their escape
with speed, but that Gate as it opened made such a creaking, that it
waked Giant _Despair_, who hastily rising to pursue his Prisoners,
felt his limbs to fail, so that he could by no means go after them.
Then they went on, and came to the King's High-way again, and so were
safe, because they were out of his Jurisdiction.
Now when they were gone over the Stile, they began to contrive with
themselves what they should do at that Stile, to prevent those that
should come after from falling into the hands of Giant _Despair_. So
they consented to erect there a Pillar, and to engrave upon the side
thereof this sentence, _Over this Stile is the way to_ Doubting
_Castle, which is kept by Giant_ Despair, _who despiseth the King of
the Coelestial Country, and seeks to destroy his holy Pilgrims_.
Many therefore that followed after read what was written, and escaped
the danger. This done, they sang as follows:--
"Out of the way we went, and then we found
What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground;
And let them that come after have a care,
Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare;
Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are,
Whose Castle's _Doubting_, and whose name's _Despair_."
THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS
_By John Bunyan_
They went then till they came to the _Delectable Mountains_, which
Mountains belong to the Lord of that Hill of which we have spoken
before; so they went up to the Mountains, to behold the Gardens and
Orchards, the Vineyards and Fountains of water; where also they drank,
and washed themselves, and did freely eat of the Vineyards. Now there
was on the tops of these Mountains _Shepherds_ feeding their flocks,
and they stood by the High-way side. The Pilgrims therefore went to
them, and leaning upon their staves (as is common with weary Pilgrims,
when they stand to talk with any by the way) they asked, _Whose
Delectable Mountains are these? And whose be the sheep that feed upon
them_?
_Shep._ These mountains are _Immanuel's Land_, and they are within
sight of his City; and the sheep also are his, and he laid down his
life for them.
_Chr._ Is this the way to the Coelestial City?
_Shep._ You are just in your way.
_Chr._ How far is it thither?
_Shep._ Too far for any but those that shall get thither
indeed.
_Chr._ Is the way safe or dangerous?
_Shep._ Safe for those for whom it is to be safe, _but transgressors
shall fall therein_.
_Chr._ Is there in this place any relief for Pilgrims that are weary
and faint in the way?
_Shep._ The Lord of these Mountains hath given us a charge _not to be
forgetful to entertain strangers_; therefore the good of the place is
before you.
I saw also in my Dream, that when the Shepherds perceived that they
were way-fairing men, they also put questions to them, (to which they
made answer as in other places) as, Whence came you? and, How got you
into the way? and, By what means have you so persevered therein? For
but few of them that begin to come hither do shew their face on these
Mountains. But when the Shepherds heard their answers, being pleased
therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, Welcome to
the Delectable Mountains.
The Shepherds, I say, whose names were _Knowledge_, _Experience_,
_Watchful_, and _Sincere_, took them by the hand, and had them to
their Tents, and made them partake of that which was ready at present.
They said moreover, We would that ye should stay here a while, to
acquaint with us; and yet more to solace yourselves with the good of
these Delectable Mountains. They told them that they were content to
stay; and so they went to their rest that night, because it was very
late.
Then I saw in my Dream, that in the morning the Shepherds called up
_Christian_ and _Hopeful_ to walk with them upon the Mountains; so
they went forth with them, and walked a while, having a pleasant
prospect on every side. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Shall
we shew these Pilgrims some wonders? So when they had concluded to do
it, they had them first to the top of an Hill called _Errour_, which
was very steep on the furthest side, and bid them look down to the
bottom. So _Christian_ and _Hopeful_ lookt down, and saw at the bottom
several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had from the top.
Then said _Christian_, What meaneth this? The Shepherds answered, Have
you not heard of them that were made to err, by hearkening to
_Hymeneus_ and _Philetus_, as concerning the Faith of the Resurrection
of the Body? They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, Those that
you see lie dashed in pieces at the bottom of this Mountain are they;
and they have continued to this day unburied (as you see) for an
example to others to take heed how they clamber too high, or how they
come too near the brink of this Mountain.
Then I saw that they had them to the top of another Mountain, and the
name of that is _Caution_, and bid them look afar off; which when they
did, they perceived, as they thought, several men walking up and down
among the Tombs that were there; and they perceived that the men were
blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon the Tombs, and because
they could not get out from among them. Then said _Christian_, _What
means this_?
The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little below these
Mountains a Stile, that led into a Meadow, on the left hand of this
way? They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, From that Stile
there goes a path that leads directly to _Doubting_ Castle, which is
kept by Giant _Despair_; and these men (pointing to them among the
Tombs) came once on Pilgrimage, as you do now, even till they came to
that same Stile; and because the right way was rough in that place,
they chose to go out of it into that Meadow, and there were taken by
Giant _Despair_, and cast into _Doubting_ Castle; where after they had
been awhile kept in the Dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes,
and led them among those Tombs, where he has left them to wander to
this very day, that the saying of the Wise Man might be fulfilled, _He
that wandereth out of the way of understanding, shall remain in the
Congregation of the dead_. Then _Christian_ and _Hopeful_ looked upon
one another, with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the
Shepherds.
Then I saw in my Dream, that the Shepherds had them to another place,
in a bottom, where was a door in the side of a Hill; and they opened
the door, and bid them look in. They looked in therefore, and saw that
within it was very dark and smoaky; they also thought that they heard
there a lumbring noise as of Fire, and a cry of some tormented, and
that they smelt the scent of Brimstone. Then said _Christian_, _What
means this?_ The Shepherds told them, This is a by-way to Hell, a way
that Hypocrites go in at; namely, such as sell their Birthright, with
_Esau_; such as sell their Master, as _Judas_; such as blaspheme the
Gospel, with _Alexander_; and that lie and dissemble, with _Ananias_
and _Sapphira_ his Wife.
_Hope._ Then said _Hopeful_ to the Shepherds, I perceive that these
had on them, even every one, a shew of Pilgrimage, as we have now; had
they not?
_Shep._ Yes, and held it a long time too.
_Hope._ How far might they go on Pilgrimage in their day, since they
notwithstanding were thus miserably cast away?
_Shep._ Some further, and some not so far as these Mountains.
Then said the Pilgrims one to another, We had need to cry to the
Strong for strength.
_Shep._ Ay, and you will have need to use it when you have it too.
By this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go forwards, and the
Shepherds a desire they should; so they walked together towards the
end of the Mountains. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Let us
here shew to the Pilgrims the Gates of the Coelestial City, if they
have still to look through our Perspective-Glass. The Pilgrims then
lovingly accepted the motion; so they had them to the top of an high
Hill, called _Clear_, and gave them their Glass to look.
Then they assayed to look, but the remembrance of that last thing that
the Shepherds had shewed them, made their hands shake, by means of
which impediment they could not look steddily through the Glass; yet
they thought they saw something like the Gate, and also some of the
Glory of the place. Then they went away.
THE PILGRIMS WANDER FROM THE WAY
_By John Bunyan_
Christian and Hopeful went then till they came at a place where they
saw a way put itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie as
straight as the way which they should go: and here they knew not which
of the two to take, for both seemed straight before them; therefore
here they stood still to consider. And as they were thinking about the
way, behold a man black of flesh, but covered with a very light Robe,
came to them, and asked them why they stood there? They answered they
were going to the Coelestial City, but knew not which of these ways
to take. Follow me, said the man, it is thither that I am going. So
they followed him in the way that but now came into the road, which by
degrees turned, and turned them so from the City that they desired to
go to, that in little time their faces were turned away from it: yet
they followed him. But by-and-by, before they were aware, he led them
both within the compass of a Net, in which they were both so
intangled, that they knew not what to do; and with that the white Robe
fell off the black man's back: then they saw where they were.
Wherefore there they lay crying some time, for they could not get
themselves out.
_Chr._ Then said _Christian_ to his fellow, Now do I see myself in an
errour. Did not the Shepherds bid us beware of the Flatterers? As is
the saying of the Wise man, so we have found it this day, _A man that
flattereth his Neighbour, spreadeth a Net for his feet_.
_Hope._ They also gave us a Note of directions about the way, for our
more sure finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to read,
and have not kept ourselves from the Paths of the Destroyer. Here
_David_ was wiser than wee; for saith he, _Concerning the works of
men, by the word of thy lips I have kept me from the Paths of the
Destroyer_. Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the Net. At last
they espied a Shining One coming towards them with a Whip of small
cord in his hand. When he was come to the place where they were, he
asked them whence they came? and what they did there? They told him
that they were poor Pilgrims going to _Sion_, but were led out of
their way by a black man, cloathed in white, who bid us, said they,
follow him, for he was going thither too. Then said he with the Whip,
It is _Flatterer_, a false Apostle, that hath transformed himself into
an Angel of Light. So he rent the Net, and let the men out. Then said
he to them, Follow me, that I may set you in your way again: so he led
them back to the way which they had left to follow the _Flatterer_.
Then he asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last night? They
said, With the Shepherds upon the Delectable Mountains. He asked them
then, If they had not of them Shepherds a Note of direction for the
way? They answered, Yes. But did you, said he, when you was at a
stand, pluck out and read your Note? They answered, No. He asked them,
Why? They said they forgot. He asked moreover, If the Shepherds did
not bid them beware of the _Flatterer?_ They answered, Yes; but we did
not imagine, said they, that this fine-spoken man had been he.
Then I saw in my Dream, that he commanded them to lie down; which when
they did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good way wherein
they should walk; and as he chastised them he said, _As many as I
love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous therefore, and repent_. This
done, he bids them go on their way, and take good heed to the other
directions of the Shepherds. So they thanked him for all his kindness,
and went softly along the right way.
"Come hither, you that walk along the way,
See how the Pilgrims fare that go astray;
They catched are in an intangling Net,
'Cause they good Counsel lightly did forget;
'Tis true they rescu'd were, but yet you see
They're scourg'd to boot: Let this your caution be."
Now after a while, they perceived afar off one coming softly and alone
all along the High-way to meet them. Then said _Christian_ to his
fellow, Yonder is a man with his back toward _Sion_, and he is coming
to meet us.
_Hope._ I see him, let us take heed to ourselves now, lest he should
prove a _Flatterer_ also. So he drew nearer and nearer, and at last
came up unto them. His name was _Atheist_, and he asked them whither
they were going?
_Chr._ We are going to Mount _Zion_.
Then _Atheist_ fell into a very great Laughter.
_Chr._ What is the meaning of your Laughter?
_Atheist._ I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take upon
you so tedious a Journey, and yet are like to have nothing but your
travel for your paines.
_Chr._ Why, man? Do you think we shall not be received?
_Atheist._ Received! There is no such place as you dream of in all
this World.
_Chr._ But there is in the World to come.
_Atheist._ When I was at home in mine own Country, I heard as you now
affirm, and from that hearing went out to see, and have been seeking
this City this twenty years; but find no more of it than I did the
first day I set out.
_Chr._ We have both heard and believe that there is such a place to be
found.
_Atheist._ Had not I when at home believed, I had not come thus far to
seek; but finding none, (and yet I should, had there been such a place
to be found, for I have gone to seek it further than you) I am going
back again, and will seek to refresh myself with the things that I
then cast away, for hopes of that which I now see is not.
_Chr._ Then said _Christian_ to _Hopeful_ his fellow, Is it true which
this man hath said?
_Hope._ Take heed, he is one of the _Flatterers_; remember what it
hath cost us once already for our harkening to such kind of Fellows.
What! no Mount _Sion_? Did we not see from the Delectable Mountains
the Gate of the City? Also, are we not now to walk by Faith? Let us go
on, said _Hopeful_, lest the man with the Whip overtakes us again. You
should have taught me that lesson, which I will round you in the ears
withall: _Cease, my Son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err
from the words of knowledge_. I say, my Brother, cease to hear him,
and let us believe to the saving of the Soul.
_Chr._ My Brother, I did not put the question to thee for that I
doubted of the Truth of our belief myself, but to prove thee, and to
fetch from thee a fruit of the honesty of thy heart. As for this man,
I know that he is blinded by the god of this World. Let thee and I go
on, knowing that we have belief of the Truth, and no lie is of the
Truth.
_Hope._ Now do I rejoyce in hope of the glory of God. So they turned
away from the man; and he laughing at them went his way.
THE CELESTIAL CITY
_By John Bunyan_
Now I saw in my Dream, that by this time the Pilgrims were entering
into the Country of _Beulah_, whose air was very sweet and pleasant,
the way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves there for a
season. Yea, here they heard continually the singing of Birds, and saw
every day the Flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice of the
Turtle in the Land. In this Country the Sun shineth night and day;
wherefore this was beyond the Valley of the _Shadow of Death_, and
also out of the reach of Giant _Despair_, neither could they from this
place so much as see _Doubting_ Castle. Here they were within sight of
the City they were going to, also here met them some of the
inhabitants thereof; for in this land the Shining Ones commonly
walked, because it was upon the borders of Heaven. In this land also
the contract between the Bride and the Bridegroom was renewed; yea,
here, _as the Bridegroom rejoyceth over the Bride, so did their God
rejoice over them_. Here they had no want of Corn and Wine; for in
this place they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all
their Pilgrimage. Here they heard voices from out of the City, loud
voices, saying, _Say ye to the daughter of_ Zion, _Behold thy
salvation cometh, behold his reward is with him_. Here all the
inhabitants of the Country called them, _The holy People, The redeemed
of the Lord, Sought out_, &c.
Now as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing then in parts
more remote from the Kingdom to which they were bound; and drawing
near to the City, they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was
builded of Pearls and Precious Stones, also the Street thereof was
paved with Gold; so that by reason of the natural glory of the City,
and the reflection of the Sun-beams upon it, _Christian_ with desire
fell sick; _Hopeful_ also had a fit or two of the same disease.
Wherefore here they lay by it a while, crying out because of their
pangs, _If you see my Beloved, tell him that I am sick of love_.
But being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their
sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer,
where were Orchards, Vineyards, and Gardens, and their gates opened
into the High-way. Now as they came up to these places, behold the
Gardiner stood in the way, to whom the Pilgrims said, Whose goodly
Vineyards and Gardens are these? He answered, They are the King's, and
are planted here for his own delights, and also for the solace of
Pilgrims. So the Gardiner had them into the Vineyards, and bid them
refresh themselves with Dainties. He also shewed them there the King's
walks, and the Arbors where he delighted to be; and here they tarried
and slept.
Now I beheld in my Dream, that they talked more in their sleep at this
time then ever they did in all their Journey, and being in a muse
thereabout, the Gardiner said even to me, Wherefore musest thou at the
matter? It is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these Vineyards
to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that are asleep to
speak.
So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves to go unto
the City. But, as I said, the reflections of the Sun upon the City
(for the City was pure Gold) was so extreamly glorious, that they
could not as yet with open face behold it, but through an _Instrument_
made for that purpose. So I saw that as they went on, there met them
two men, in Raiment that shone like Gold, also their faces shone as
the light.
These men asked the Pilgrims whence they came, and they told them.
They also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and
dangers, what comforts and pleasures they had met in the way, and they
told them. Then said the men that met them, You have but two
difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the City.
_Christian_ then and his Companion asked the men to go along with
them, so they told them they would. But said they, you must obtain it
by your own Faith. So I saw in my Dream that they went on together
till they came in sight of the Gate.
Now I further saw that betwixt them and the Gate was a River, but
there was no Bridge to go over; the River was very deep: at the sight
therefore of this River the Pilgrims were much stounded; but the men
that went with them said, You must go through, or you cannot come at
the Gate.
The Pilgrims then began to enquire if there was no other way to the
Gate; to which they answered, Yes, but there hath not any, save two,
to wit, _Enoch_ and _Elijah_, been permitted to tread that path, since
the foundation of the World, nor shall, untill the last Trumpet shall
sound. The Pilgrims then, especially _Christian_, began to dispond in
his mind, and looked this way and that, but no way could be found by
them by which they might escape the River. Then they asked the men if
the Waters were all of a depth? They said, No; yet they could not help
them in that case, for said they, _you shall find it deeper or
shallower, as you believe in the King of the place_.
They then addressed themselves to the Water; and entring, _Christian_
began to sink, and crying out to his good friend _Hopeful_, he said, I
sink in deep Waters; the Billows go over my head, all his Waves go
over me, _Selah_.
Then said the other, Be of good chear, my Brother, I feel the bottom,
and it is good. Then said _Christian_, Ah my friend, the sorrows of
death have compassed me about, I shall not see the land that flows
with milk and honey. And with that a great darkness and horror fell
upon _Christian_, so that he could not see before him. Also here he in
great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember, nor
orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with
in the way of his Pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake, still
tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and heart-fears that he
should die in that River, and never obtain entrance in at the Gate.
Here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the
troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since and
before he began to be a Pilgrim. 'Twas also observed that he was
troubled with apparitions of Hobgoblins and evil Spirits, for ever and
anon he would intimate so much by words. _Hopeful_ therefore here had
much adoe to keep his Brother's head above water; yea sometimes he
would be quite gone down, and then ere a while he would rise up again
half dead. _Hopeful_ also would endeavour to comfort him, saying,
Brother, I see the Gate, and men standing by to receive us. But
_Christian_ would answer, 'Tis you, 'tis you they wait for, you have
been _hopeful_ ever since I knew you. And so have you, said he to
_Christian_. Ah Brother, said he, surely if I was right, he would now
arise to help me; but for my sins he hath brought me into the snare,
and hath left me. Then said _Hopeful_, My Brother, you have quite
forgot the Text, where it is said of the wicked, _There is no band in
their death, but their strength is firm, they are not troubled as
other men, neither are they plagued like other men_. These troubles
and distresses that you go through in these Waters are no sign that
God hath forsaken you, but are sent to try you, whether you will call
to mind that which heretofore you have received of his goodness, and
live upon him in your distresses.
Then I saw in my Dream, that _Christian_ was as in a muse a while. To
whom also _Hopeful_ added this word, _Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ
maketh thee whole_; and with that _Christian_ brake out with a loud
voice, Oh I see him again, and he tells me, _When thou passest through
the Waters, I will be with thee; and through the Rivers, they shall
not overflow thee_. Then they both took courage, and the Enemy was
after that as still as a stone untill they were gone over. _Christian_
therefore presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed
that the rest of the River was but shallow. Thus they got over. Now
upon the bank of the River on the other side, they saw the two shining
men again, who there waited for them; wherefore being come out of the
River, they saluted them saying, _We are ministring Spirits, sent
forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of salvation._ Thus
they went along towards the Gate. Now you must note that the City
stood upon a mighty Hill, but the Pilgrims went up that Hill with ease
because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms; also they
had left their Mortal Garments behind them in the River, for though
they went in with them, they came out without them. They therefore
went up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon
which the City was framed was higher than the Clouds. They therefore
went up through the Regions of the Air, sweetly talking as they went,
being comforted, because they safely got over the River, and had such
glorious Companions to attend them.
The talk they had with the Shining Ones was about the glory of the
place, who told them that the beauty and glory of it was
inexpressible. There, said they, is the Mount _Sion_, the heavenly
_Jerusalem_, the innumerable company of Angels, and the Spirits of
Just Men made perfect. You are going now, said they, to the Paradice
of God, wherein you shall see the Tree of Life, and eat of the
never-fading fruits thereof; and when you come there, you shall have
white Robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with
the King, even all the days of Eternity. There you shall not see again
such things as you saw when you were in the lower Region upon the
earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death, _for the
former things are passed away_. You are now going to _Abraham_, to
_Isaac_, and _Jacob_, and to the Prophets, men that God hath taken
away from the evil to come, and that are now resting upon their Beds,
each one walking in his righteousness. The men then asked, What must
we do in the holy place? To whom it was answered, You must there
receive the comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all your
sorrow; you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your
Prayers and Tears, and sufferings for the King by the way. In that
place you must wear Crowns of Gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and
vision of the Holy One, _for there you shall see him as he is_. There
also you shall serve him continually with praise, with shouting, and
thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the World, though with much
difficulty, because of the infirmity of your flesh. There your eyes
shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing the
pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends
again, that are gone thither before you; and there you shall with joy
receive even every one that follows into the holy place after you.
There also shall you be cloathed with Glory and Majesty, and put into
an equipage fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When he shall come
with sound of Trumpet in the Clouds, as upon the wings of the Wind,
you shall come with him; and when he shall sit upon the Throne of
Judgement, you shall sit by him; yea, and when he shall pass sentence
upon all the workers of Iniquity, let them be Angels or Men, you also
have a voice in that Judgement, because they were his and your
Enemies. Also when he shall again return to the City, you shall go
too, with sound of Trumpet, and be ever with him.
Now while they were thus drawing towards the Gate, behold a company of
the Heavenly Host came out to meet them; to whom it was said by the
other two Shining Ones, These are the men that have loved our Lord
when they were in the World, and that have left all for his holy Name,
and he hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far
on their desired Journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer
in the face with joy. Then the Heavenly Host gave a great shout,
saying, _Blessed are they that are called to the Marriage Supper of
the Lamb_. There came out also at this time to meet them several of
the King's Trumpeters, cloathed in white and shining Raiment, who with
melodious noises and loud, made even the Heavens to echo with their
sound. These Trumpeters saluted _Christian_ and his fellow with ten
thousand welcomes from the World, and this they did with shouting and
sound of Trumpet.
This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before,
some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left, (as 't were
to guard them through the upper Regions) continually sounding as they
went with melodious noise, in notes on high: so that the very sight
was to them that could behold it, as if Heaven itself was come down to
meet them. Thus therefore they walked on together; and as they walked,
ever and anon these Trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by
mixing their musick with looks and gestures, still signify to
_Christian_ and his Brother, how welcome they were into their company,
and with what gladness they came to meet them; and now were these two
men as 't were in Heaven before they came at it, being swallowed up
with the sight of Angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes.
Here also they had the City itself in view, and they thought they
heard all the Bells therein ring to welcome them thereto. But above
all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own
dwelling there, with such company, and that for ever and ever. Oh, by
what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed! And thus they
came up to the Gate.
Now when they were come up to the Gate, there was written over it in
Letters of Gold, _Blessed are they that do his Commandments, that they
may have right to the Tree of Life, and may enter in through the Gates
into the City_.
Then I saw in my Dream, that the Shining Men bid them call at the
Gate; the which when they did, some from above looked over the Gate,
to wit, _Enoch_, _Moses_, and _Elijah_, _&c._ to whom it was said,
These Pilgrims are come from the City of _Destruction_ for the love
that they bear to the King of this place; and then the Pilgrims gave
in unto them each man his Certificate, which they had received in the
beginning; those therefore were carried in to the King, who when he
had read them, said, Where are the men? To whom it was answered, They
are standing without the Gate. The King then commanded to open the
Gate, _That the righteous nation_, said he, _that keepeth Truth may
enter in_.
Now I saw in my Dream that these two men went in at the Gate: and loe,
as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had Raiment put on
that shone like Gold. There was also that met them with Harps and
Crowns, and gave them to them, the Harps to praise withall, and the
Crowns in token of honor. Then I heard in my Dream that all the Bells
in the City rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, _Enter
ye into the joy of your Lord_. I also heard the men themselves, that
they sang with a loud voice, saying, _Blessing, Honour, Glory, and
Power be to him that sitteth upon the Throne, and to the Lamb for ever
and ever_.
Now just as the Gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after
them, and behold, the City shone like the Sun; the Streets also were
paved with Gold, and in them walked many men, with Crowns on their
heads, Palms in their hands, and golden Harps to sing praises withall.
There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another
without intermission, saying, _Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord_. And
after that they shut up the Gates. Which when I had seen, I wished
myself among them.
Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to look
back, and saw _Ignorance_ come up to the River-side; but he soon got
over, and that without half that difficulty which the other two men
met with. For it happened that there was then in that place one
_Vainhope_ a Ferry-man, that with his Boat helped him over; so he, as
the other I saw, did ascend the Hill to come up to the Gate, only he
came alone; neither did any man meet him with the least incouragement.
When he was come up to the Gate, he looked up to the writing that was
above, and then began to knock, supposing that entrance should have
been quickly administered to him; but he was asked by the men that
lookt over the top of the Gate, Whence came you? and what would you
have? He answered, I have eat and drank in the presence of the King,
and he has taught in our Streets. Then they asked him for his
Certificate, that they might go in and shew it to the King. So he
fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Then said they, Have you
none? But the man answered never a word. So they told the King, but he
would not come down to see him, but commanded the two Shining Ones
that conducted _Christian_ and _Hopeful_ to the City, to go out and
take _Ignorance_, and bind him hand and foot, and have him away. Then
they took him up, and carried him through the air to the door that I
saw in the side of the Hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that
there was a way to Hell even from the Gates of Heaven, as well as from
the City of _Destruction_. So I awoke, and behold it was a Dream.
ROBINSON CRUSOE
ROBINSON CRUSOE IS SHIPWRECKED
_By Daniel Defoe_
Our ship was about a hundred and twenty tons' burthen, carried six
guns and fourteen men, besides the master, his boy, and myself. We had
on board no large cargo of goods, except of such toys as were fit for
our trade with the negroes,--such as beads, bits of glass, shells, and
odd trifles, especially little looking-glasses, knives, scissors,
hatchets, and the like.
The same day I went on board we set sail, standing away to the
northward upon our own coast, with design to stretch over for the
African coast, when they came about ten or twelve degrees of northern
latitude, which, it seems, was the manner of their course in those
days. We had very good weather, only excessive hot, all the way upon
our own coast, till we came the height of Cape St. Augustino, from
whence, keeping farther off at sea, we lost sight of land, and steered
as if we were bound for the Isle Fernando de Noronha, holding our
course N.E. by N., and leaving those isles on the east. In this course
we passed the line in about twelve days' time, and were, by our last
observation, in 7° 22' northern latitude, when a violent tornado, or
hurricane, took us quite out of our knowledge. It began from the
southeast, came about to the northwest, and then settled into the
northeast, from whence it blew in such a terrible manner that for
twelve days together we could do nothing but drive, and, scudding away
before it, let it carry us where-ever fate and the fury of the winds
directed; and during these twelve days, I need not say that I expected
every day to be swallowed up, nor, indeed, did any in the ship expect
to save their lives.
In this distress we had, besides the terror of the storm, one of our
men die of the calenture, and one man and the boy washed overboard.
About the twelfth day, the weather abating a little, the master made
an observation as well as he could, and found that he was in about
eleven degrees north latitude, but that he was twenty-two degrees of
longitude difference west from Cape St. Augustino; so that he found he
was gotten upon the coast of Guiana, or the north part of Brazil,
beyond the river Amazon, toward that of the river Orinoco, commonly
called the Great River, and began to consult with me what course he
should take, for the ship was leaky and very much disabled, and he was
going directly back to the coast of Brazil.
I was positively against that; and looking over the charts of the
sea-coast of America with him, we concluded there was no inhabited
country for us to have recourse to till we came within the circle of
the Caribbee Islands and therefore resolved to stand away for
Barbadoes, which by keeping off at sea, to avoid the indraft of the
Bay or Gulf of Mexico, we might easily perform, as we hoped, in about
fifteen days' sail; whereas we could not possibly make our voyage to
the coast of Africa without some assistance, both to our ship and to
ourselves.
With this design we changed our course, and steered away N.W. by W. in
order to reach some of our English islands, where I hoped for relief;
but our voyage was otherwise determined; for being in the latitude of
12° 18', a second storm came upon us, which carried us away with the
same impetuosity westward, and drove us so out of the very way of all
human commerce that had all our lives been saved as to the sea, we
were rather in danger of being devoured by savages than ever returning
to our own country.
In this distress, the wind still blowing very hard, one of our men
early in the morning cried out, "Land!" and we had no sooner ran out
of the cabin to look out, in hopes of seeing whereabouts in the world
we were, but the ship struck upon a sand, and in a moment, her motion
being so stopped, the sea broke over her in such a manner that we
expected we should all have perished immediately; and we were
immediately driven into our close quarters, to shelter us from the
very foam and spray of the sea.
It is not easy for any one who has not been in the like condition to
describe or conceive the consternation of men in such circumstances.
We knew nothing where we were, or upon what land it was we were
driven, whether an island or the main, whether inhabited or not
inhabited; and as the rage of the wind was still great, though rather
less than at first, we could not so much as hope to have the ship hold
many minutes without breaking in pieces, unless the winds, by a kind
of miracle, should turn immediately about. In a word, we sat looking
one upon another, and expecting death every moment, and every man
acting accordingly, as preparing for another world; for there was
little or nothing more for us to do in this. That which was our
present comfort, and all the comfort we had, was that, contrary to our
expectation, the ship did not break yet, and that the master said the
wind began to abate.
Now, though we thought that the wind did a little abate, yet the ship
having thus struck upon the sand, and sticking too fast for us to
expect her getting off, we were in a dreadful condition indeed, and
had nothing to do but to think of saving our lives as well as we
could. We had a boat at our stern just before the storm, but she was
first staved by dashing against the ship's rudder, and in the next
place she broke away, and either sunk or was driven off to sea, so
there was no hope from her; we had another boat on board, but how to
get her off into the sea was a doubtful thing. However, there was no
room to debate, for we fancied the ship would break in pieces every
minute, and some told us she was actually broken already.
In this distress, the mate of our vessel lays hold of the boat, and
with the help of the rest of the men they got her slung over the
ship's side; and getting all into her, let go, and committed
ourselves, being eleven in number, to God's mercy and the wild sea;
for though the storm was abated considerably, yet the sea went
dreadful high upon the shore, and might well be called _den wild Zee_,
as the Dutch call the sea in a storm.
And now our case was very dismal indeed, for we all saw plainly that
the sea went so high that the boat could not live, and that we should
be inevitably drowned. As to making sail, we had none; nor if we had,
could we have done anything with it; so we worked at the oar towards
the land, though with heavy hearts, like men going to execution, for
we all knew that when the boat came nearer the shore, she would be
dashed in a thousand pieces by the breach of the sea. However, we
committed our souls to God in the most earnest manner; and the wind
driving us towards the shore, we hastened our destruction with our own
hands, pulling as well as we could towards land.
What the shore was, whether rock or sand, whether steep or shoal, we
knew not; the only hope that could rationally give us the least shadow
of expectation was, if we might happen into some bay or gulf, or the
mouth of some river, where by great chance we might have run our boat
in, or got under the lee of the land, and perhaps made smooth water.
But there was nothing of this appeared; but as we made nearer and
nearer the shore, the land looked more frightful than the sea.
After we had rowed, or rather driven, about a league and a half, as we
reckoned it, a raging wave, mountain-like, came rolling astern of us,
and plainly bade us expect the _coup de grâce_. In a word, it took us
with such a fury that it overset the boat at once; and separating us,
as well from the boat as from one another, gave us not time hardly to
say, "O God!" for we were all swallowed up in a moment.
Nothing can describe the confusion of thought which I felt when I sunk
into the water; for though I swam very well, yet I could not deliver
myself from the waves so as to draw breath, till that wave having
driven me, or rather carried me, a vast way on towards the shore, and
having spent itself, went back, and left me upon the land almost dry,
but half dead with the water I took in. I had so much presence of
mind, as well as breath left, that seeing myself nearer the mainland
than I expected, I got upon my feet, and endeavored to make on towards
the land as fast as I could, before another wave should return and
take me up again. But I soon found it was impossible to avoid it; for
I saw the sea come after me as high as a great hill, and as furious as
an enemy, which I had no means or strength to contend with. My
business was to hold my breath, and raise myself upon the water, if I
could; and so, by swimming, to preserve my breathing, and pilot myself
towards the shore, if possible; my greatest concern now being that the
sea, as it would carry me a great way towards the shore when it came
on, might not carry me back again with it when it gave back towards
the sea.
The wave that came upon me again buried me at once twenty or thirty
feet deep in its own body, and I could feel myself carried with a
mighty force and swiftness towards the shore a very great way; but I
held my breath, and assisted myself to swim still forward with all my
might. I was ready to burst with holding my breath when, as I felt
myself rising up, so, to my immediate relief, I found my head and
hands shoot out above the surface of the water; and though it was not
two seconds of time that I could keep myself so, yet it relieved me
greatly, gave me breath and new courage. I was covered again with
water a good while, but not so long but I held it out; and finding the
water had spent itself, and began to return, I struck forward against
the return of the waves, and felt ground again with my feet. I stood
still a few moments to recover breath, and till the water went from
me, and then took to my heels and ran with what strength I had farther
towards the shore. But neither would this deliver me from the fury of
the sea, which came pouring in after me again, and twice more I was
lifted up by the waves and carried forwards as before, the shore being
very flat.
The last time of these two had well near been fatal to me; for the
sea, having hurried me along as before, landed me, or rather dashed
me, against a piece of a rock, and that with such force as it left me
senseless, and indeed helpless as to my own deliverance; for the blow
taking my side and breast, beat the breath as it were quite out of my
body; and had it returned again immediately, I must have been
strangled in the water. But I recovered a little before the return of
the waves, and seeing I should be covered again with the water, I
resolved to hold fast by a piece of the rock, and so to hold my
breath, if possible, till the wave went back. Now as the waves were
not so high as at first, being near land, I held my hold till the wave
abated, and then fetched another run, which brought me so near the
shore that the next wave, though it went over me, yet did not so
swallow me up as to carry me away, and the next run I took I got to
the mainland, where, to my great comfort, I clambered up the cliffs of
the shore, and sat me down upon the grass, free from danger, and quite
out of the reach of the water.
I was now landed, and safe on shore, and began to look up and thank
God that my life was saved in a case wherein there was some minutes
before scarce any room to hope. I believe it is impossible to express
to the life what the ecstasies and transports of the soul are when it
is so saved, as I may say, out of the very grave; and I do not wonder
now at that custom, viz., that when a malefactor who has the halter
about his neck, is tied up, and just going to be turned off, and has a
reprieve brought to him--I say, I do not wonder that they bring a
surgeon with it, to let him blood that very moment they tell him of
it, that the surprise may not drive the animal spirits from the heart,
and overwhelm him:--
"For sudden joys, like griefs, confound at first."
I walked about on the shore, lifting up my hands, and my whole being,
as I may say, wrapt up in the contemplation of my deliverance, making
a thousand gestures and motions which I cannot describe, reflecting
upon all my comrades that were drowned, and that there should not be
one soul saved but myself; for, as for them, I never saw them
afterwards, or any sign of them, except three of their hats, one cap,
and two shoes that were not fellows.
I cast my eyes to the stranded vessel, when the breach and froth of
the sea being so big I could hardly see it, it lay so far off, and
considered, Lord! how was it possible I could get on shore?
After I had solaced my mind with the comfortable part of my condition,
I began to look round me to see what kind of place I was in, and what
was next to be done, and I soon found my comforts abate, and that, in
a word, I had a dreadful deliverance; for I was wet, had no clothes to
shift me, nor anything either to eat or drink to comfort me, neither
did I see any prospect before me but that of perishing with hunger, or
being devoured by wild beasts; and that which was particularly
afflicting to me was, that I had no weapon either to hunt and kill any
creature for my sustenance, or to defend myself against any other
creatures that might desire to kill me for theirs. In a word, I had
nothing about me but a knife, a tobacco-pipe, and a little tobacco in
a box. This was all my provision; and this threw me into terrible
agonies of mind, that for a while I ran about like a madman. Night
coming upon me, I began, with a heavy heart, to consider what would be
my lot if there were any ravenous beasts in that country, seeing at
night they always come abroad for their prey.
All the remedy that offered to my thoughts at that time was, to get up
into a thick bushy tree like a fir, but thorny, which grew near me,
and where I resolved to sit all night, and consider the next day what
death I should die, for as yet I saw no prospect of life. I walked
about a furlong from the shore, to see if I could find any fresh water
to drink, which I did, to my great joy; and having drank, and put a
little tobacco in my mouth to prevent hunger, I went to the tree, and
getting up into it, endeavored to place myself so, as that if I should
sleep I might not fall; and having cut me a short stick, like a
truncheon for my defense, I took up my lodging, and having been
excessively fatigued, I fell fast asleep, and slept as comfortably as,
I believe, few could have done in my condition, and found myself the
most refreshed with it that I think I ever was on such an occasion.
UNLOADING A WRECK
_By Daniel Defoe_
My next work was to view the country and seek a proper place for my
habitation, and where to stow my goods to secure them from whatever
might happen. Where I was, I yet knew not; whether on the continent or
on an island; whether inhabited or not inhabited; whether in danger of
wild beasts or not. There was a hill, not above a mile from me, which
rose up very steep and high, and which seemed to overtop some other
hills, which lay as in a ridge from it, northward. I took out one of
the fowling-pieces and one of the pistols, and a horn of powder; and
thus armed, I traveled for discovery up to the top of that hill,
where, after I had with great labor and difficulty got to the top, I
saw my fate to my great affliction, viz., that I was in an island
environed every way with the sea, no land to be seen, except some
rocks which lay a great way off, and two small islands less than this,
which lay about three leagues to the west.
I found, also, that the island I was in was barren, and, as I saw good
reason to believe, uninhabited, except by wild beasts, of whom,
however, I saw none; yet I saw abundance of fowls, but knew not their
kinds; neither, when I killed them, could I tell what was fit for
food, and what not. At my coming back, I shot at a great bird which I
saw sitting upon a tree on the side of a great wood. I believe it was
the first gun that had been fired there since the creation of the
world. I had no sooner fired, but from all the parts of the wood there
arose an innumerable number of fowls of many sorts, making a confused
screaming, and crying every one according to his usual note; but not
one of them of any kind that I knew. As for the creature I killed, I
took it to be a kind of a hawk, its color and beak resembling it, but
it had no talons or claws more than common; its flesh was carrion, and
fit for nothing.
Contented with this discovery, I came back to my raft, and fell to
work to bring my cargo on shore, which took me up the rest of that
day; and what to do with myself at night I knew not, nor indeed where
to rest; for I was afraid to lie down on the ground, not knowing but
some wild beast might devour me, though, as I afterwards found, there
was really no need for those fears. However, as well as I could, I
barricaded myself round with the chests and boards that I had brought
on shore, and made a kind of a hut for that night's lodging; as for
food, I yet saw not which way to supply myself, except that I had seen
two or three creatures like hares run out of the wood where I shot the
fowl.
I now began to consider, that I might yet get a great many things out
of the ship which would be useful to me, and particularly some of the
rigging and sails, and such other things as might come to land; and I
resolved to make another voyage on board the vessel, if possible. And
as I knew that the first storm that blew must necessarily break her
all in pieces, I resolved to set all other things apart till I got
everything out of the ship that I could get. Then I called a council,
that is to say, in my thoughts, whether I should take back the raft,
but this appeared impracticable; so I resolved to go as before, when
the tide was down; and I did so, only that I stripped before I went
from my hut, having nothing on but a chequered shirt and a pair of
linen drawers, and a pair of pumps on my feet.
I got on board the ship as before, and prepared a second raft, and
having had experience of the first, I neither made this so unwieldy,
nor loaded it so hard; but yet I brought away several things very
useful to me; as, first, in the carpenter's stores I found two or
three bags full of nails and spikes, a great screw-jack, a dozen or
two of hatchets, and, above all, that most useful thing called a
grindstone. All these I secured, together with several things
belonging to the gunner, particularly two or three iron crows, and two
barrels of musket bullets, seven muskets, and another fowling-piece,
with some small quantity of powder more; a large bag full of
smallshot, and a great roll of sheet lead; but this last was so heavy
I could not hoist it up to get it over the ship's side. Besides these
things, I took all the men's clothes that I could find, and a spare
foretop sail, a hammock, and some bedding; and with this I loaded my
second raft, and brought them all safe on shore, to my very great
comfort.
[Illustration: I GOT ON BOARD THE SHIP AS BEFORE AND PREPARED A SECOND
RAFT. I TOOK ALL THE MEN'S CLOTHES THAT I COULD FIND, AND A SPARE
FORETOP SAIL, A HAMMOCK, AND SOME BEDDING: AND WITH HIS I LOADED MY
SECOND RAFT, AND BROUGHT THEM ALL SAFE ON SHORE, TO MY VERY GREAT
COMFORT]
I was under some apprehensions during my absence from the land that at
least my provisions might be devoured on shore; but when I came back,
I found no sign of any visitor, only there sat a creature like a
wildcat upon one of the chests, which, when I came towards it, ran
away a little distance, and then stood still. She sat very composed
and unconcerned, and looked full in my face, as if she had a mind to
be acquainted with me. I presented my gun at her; but as she did not
understand it, she was perfectly unconcerned at it, nor did she offer
to stir away; upon which I tossed her a bit of biscuit, though, by the
way, I was not very free of it, for my store was not great. However, I
spared her a bit, I say, and she went to it, smelled of it, and ate
it, and looked (as pleased) for more; but I thanked her, and could
spare no more, so she marched off.
Having got my second cargo on shore, though I was fain to open the
barrels of powder and bring them by parcels, for they were too heavy,
being large casks, I went to work to make me a little tent with the
sail and some poles which I cut for that purpose; and into this tent I
brought everything that I knew would spoil either with rain or sun;
and I piled all the empty chests and casks up in a circle round the
tent, to fortify it from any sudden attempt, either from man or beast.
When I had done this I blocked up the door of the tent with some
boards within, and an empty chest set up on end without; and spreading
one of the beds upon the ground, laying my two pistols just at my
head, and my gun at length by me, I went to bed for the first time,
and slept very quietly all night, for I was very weary and heavy; for
the night before I had slept little, and had labored very hard all
day, as well to fetch all those things from the ship, as to get them
on shore.
I had the biggest magazine of all kinds now that ever was laid up, I
believe, for one man; but I was not satisfied still, for while the
ship sat upright in that posture, I thought I ought to get everything
out of her that I could. So every day at low water I went on board,
and brought away something or other; but, particularly, the third time
I went I brought away as much of the rigging as I could, as also all
the small ropes and rope-twine I could get, with a piece of spare
canvas, which was to mend the sails upon occasion, and the barrel of
wet gunpowder; in a word, I brought away all the sails first and last,
only that I was fain to cut them in pieces, and bring as much at a
time as I could; for they were no more useful to be sails, but as mere
canvas only.
But that which comforted me more still was that, at last of all, after
I had made five or six such voyages as these, and thought I had
nothing more to expect from the ship that was worth my meddling
with,--I say, after all this, I found a great hogshead of bread, and
three large runlets of rum or spirits, and a box of sugar, and a
barrel of fine flour; this was surprising to me, because I had given
over expecting any more provisions, except what was spoilt by the
water. I soon emptied the hogshead of that bread, and wrapped it up
parcel by parcel in pieces of the sails, which I cut out; and, in a
word, I got all this safe on shore also.
The next day I made another voyage. And now, having plundered the ship
of what was portable and fit to hand out, I began with the cables; and
cutting the great cable into pieces, such as I could move, I got two
cables and a hawser on shore, with all the iron-work I could get; and
having cut down the sprit-sail yard, and the mizzen yard, and
everything I could to make a large raft, I loaded it with all those
heavy goods, and came away. But my good luck began now to leave me;
for this raft was so unwieldy, and so overladen, that after I was
entered the little cove where I had landed the rest of my goods, not
being able to guide it so handily as I did the other, it overset, and
threw me and all my cargo into the water. As for myself, it was no
great harm, for I was near the shore; but as to my cargo, it was great
part of it lost, especially the iron, which I expected would have been
of great use to me. However, when the tide was out I got most of the
pieces of cable ashore, and some of the iron, though with infinite
labor; for I was fain to dip for it into the water, a work which
fatigued me very much. After this I went every day on board, and
brought away what I could get.
I had been now thirteen days on shore, and had been eleven times on
board the ship; in which time I had brought away all that one pair of
hands could well be supposed capable to bring, though I believe
verily, had the calm weather held, I should have brought away the
whole ship piece by piece. But preparing the twelfth time to go on
board, I found the wind begin to rise. However, at low water I went on
board, and though I thought I had rummaged the cabin so effectually as
that nothing more could be found, yet I discovered a locker with
drawers in it, in one of which I found two or three razors, and one
pair of large scissors, with some ten or a dozen of good knives and
forks; in another, I found about thirty-six pounds value in money,
some European coin, some Brazil, some pieces of eight, some gold, some
silver.
I smiled to myself at the sight of this money. "O drug!" said I aloud,
"what art thou good for? Thou art not worth to me, no, not the taking
off of the ground; one of those knives is worth all this heap. I have
no manner of use for thee; even remain where thou art, and go to the
bottom as a creature whose life is not worth saving." However, upon
second thoughts I took it away; and wrapping all this in a piece of
canvas, I began to think of making another raft; but while I was
preparing this, I found the sky overcast, and the wind began to rise,
and in a quarter of an hour it blew a fresh gale from the shore. It
presently occurred to me that it was in vain to pretend to make a raft
with the wind off shore, and that it was my business to be gone before
the tide of flood began, otherwise I might not be able to reach the
shore at all. Accordingly I let myself down into the water, and swam
across the channel, which lay between the ship and the sands, and even
that with difficulty enough, partly with the weight of the things I
had about me, and partly the roughness of the water; for the wind rose
very hastily, and before it was quite high water it blew a storm.
But I was gotten home to my little tent, where I lay with all my
wealth about me very secure. It blew very hard all that night, and in
the morning when I looked out, behold, no more ship was to be seen. I
was a little surprised, but recovered myself with this satisfactory
reflection, viz., that I had lost no time, nor abated no diligence, to
get everything out of her that could be useful to me, and that indeed
there was little left in her that I was able to bring away if I had
had more time.
ROBINSON CRUSOE'S FIRST HOME ON THE ISLAND
_By Daniel Defoe_
I now gave over any more thoughts of the ship, or of anything out of
her, except what might drive on shore from her wreck, as indeed divers
pieces of her afterwards did; but those things were of small use to
me.
My thoughts were now wholly employed about securing myself against
either savages, if any should appear, or wild beasts, if any were in
the island; and I had many thoughts of the method how to do this, and
what kind of dwelling to make, whether I should make me a cave in the
earth, or a tent upon the earth; and, in short, I resolved upon both,
the manner and description of which it may not be improper to give an
account of.
I soon found the place I was in was not for my settlement,
particularly because it was upon a low moorish ground near the sea,
and I believed would not be wholesome; and more particularly because
there was no fresh water near it. So I resolved to find a more healthy
and more convenient spot of ground.
I consulted several things in my situation, which I found would be
proper for me. First, health and fresh water, I just now mentioned.
Secondly, shelter from the heat of the sun. Thirdly, security from
ravenous creatures, whether men or beasts. Fourthly, a view to the
sea, that if God sent any ship in sight I might not lose any advantage
for my deliverance, of which I was not to banish all my expectation
yet.
In search of a place proper for this, I found a little plain on the
side of a rising hill, whose front towards this little plain was steep
as a house-side, so that nothing could come down upon me from the top.
On the side of this rock there was a hollow place, worn a little way
in, like the entrance or door of a cave; but there was not really any
cave, or way into the rock at all.
On the flat of the green, just before this hollow place, I resolved to
pitch my tent. This plain was not above an hundred yards broad, and
about twice as long, and lay like a green before my door, and at the
end of it descended irregularly every way down into the low grounds by
the seaside. It was on the N.N.W. side of the hill, so that I was
sheltered from the heat every day, till it came to a W. and by S. sun,
or thereabouts, which in those countries is near the setting.
Before I set up my tent, I drew a half-circle before the hollow place,
which took in about ten yards in its semi-diameter from the rock, and
twenty yards in its diameter from its beginning and ending. In this
half-circle I pitched two rows of strong stakes, driving them into the
ground till they stood very firm like piles, the biggest end being out
of the ground about five feet and a half, and sharpened on the top.
The two rows did not stand above six inches from one another.
Then I took the pieces of cable which I had cut in the ship, and laid
them in rows one upon another, within the circle, between these two
rows of stakes, up to the top, placing other stakes in the inside
leaning against them, about two feet and a half high, like a spur to a
post; and this fence was so strong that neither man nor beast could
get into it, or over it. This cost me a great deal of time and labor,
especially to cut the piles in the woods, bring them to the place, and
drive them into the earth.
The entrance into this place I made to be not by a door, but by a
short ladder to go over the top; which ladder, when I was in, I lifted
over after me, and so I was completely fenced in, and fortified, as I
thought, from all the world, and consequently slept secure in the
night, which otherwise I could not have done; though, as it appeared
afterward, there was no need of all this caution from the enemies that
I apprehended danger from.
Into this fence or fortress, with infinite labor, I carried all my
riches, all my provisions, ammunition, and stores, of which you have
the account above; and I made me a large tent, which, to preserve me
from the rains that in one part of the year are very violent there, I
made double, viz., one smaller tent within, and one larger tent above
it, and covered the uppermost with a large tarpaulin, which I had
saved among the sails. And now I lay no more for a while in the bed
which I had brought on shore, but in a hammock, which was indeed a
very good one, and belonged to the mate of the ship.
Into this tent I brought all my provisions, and everything that would
spoil by the wet; and having thus enclosed all my goods, I made up the
entrance, which, till now, I had left open, and so passed and
repassed, as I said, by a short ladder.
When I had done this, I began to work my way into the rock; and
bringing all the earth and stones that I dug down out through my tent,
I laid them up within my fence in the nature of a terrace, so that it
raised the ground within about a foot and a half; and thus I made me a
cave just behind my tent which served me like a cellar to my house.
It cost me much labor and many days before all these things were
brought to perfection, and therefore I must go back to some other
things which took up some of my thoughts. At the same time it
happened, after I had laid my scheme for the setting up my tent and
making the cave, that a storm of rain falling from a thick dark cloud,
a sudden flash of lightning happened, and after that a great clap of
thunder, as is naturally the effect of it. I was not so much surprised
with the lightning as I was with a thought which darted into my mind
as swift as the lightning itself. Oh, my powder! My very heart sunk
within me when I thought, that at one blast all my powder might be
destroyed, on which, not my defense only, but the providing me food,
as I thought, entirely depended. I was nothing near so anxious about
my own danger; though had the powder taken fire, I had never known who
had hurt me.
Such impression did this make upon me that after the storm was over I
laid aside all my works, my building and fortifying, and applied
myself to make bags and boxes to separate the powder, and keep it a
little and a little in a parcel, in hope that whatever might come it
might not all take fire at once, and to keep it so apart that it
should not be possible to make one part fire another. I finished this
work in about a fortnight; and I think my powder, which in all was
about 240 pounds' weight, was divided in not less than a hundred
parcels. As to the barrel that had been wet, I did not apprehend any
danger from that, so I placed it in my new cave, which in my fancy I
called my kitchen, and the rest I hid up and down in holes among the
rocks, so that no wet might come to it, marking very carefully where I
laid it.
In the interval of time while this was doing, I went out once, at
least, every day with my gun, as well to divert myself as to see if I
could kill anything fit for food, and as near as I could to acquaint
myself with what the island produced. The first time I went out, I
presently discovered that there were goats in the island, which was a
great satisfaction to me; but then it was attended with this
misfortune to me, viz., that they were so shy, so subtle, and so swift
of foot that it was the difficultest thing in the world to come at
them. But I was not discouraged at this, not doubting but I might now
and then shoot one, as it soon happened; for after I had found their
haunts a little, I laid wait in this manner for them. I observed if
they saw me in the valleys, though they were upon the rocks, they
would run away as in a terrible fright; but if they were feeding in
the valleys, and I was upon the rocks, they took no notice of me, from
whence I concluded that, by the position of their optics, their sight
was so directed downward that they did not readily see objects that
were above them. So afterward I took this method: I always climbed the
rocks first to get above them, and then had frequently a fair mark.
The first shot I made among these creatures I killed a she-goat, which
had a little kid by her, which she gave suck to, which grieved me
heartily; but when the old one fell, the kid stood stock still by her
till I came and took her up; and not only so, but when I carried the
old one with me upon my shoulders, the kid followed me quite to my
enclosure; upon which I laid down the dam, and took the kid in my
arms, and carried it over my pale, in hopes to have bred it up tame;
but it would not eat, so I was forced to kill it, and eat it myself.
These two supplied me with flesh a great while, for I eat sparingly,
and saved my provisions, my bread especially, as much as possibly I
could.
Having now fixed my habitation, I found it absolutely necessary to
provide a place to make a fire in, and fuel to burn; and what I did
for that, as also how I enlarged my cave, and what conveniences I
made, I shall give a full account of in its place. But I must first
give some little account of myself, and of my thoughts about living,
which it may well be supposed were not a few.
I had a dismal prospect of my condition; for as I was not cast away
upon that island without being driven, as is said, by a violent storm,
quite out of the course of our intended voyage, and a great way, viz.,
some hundreds of leagues, out of the ordinary course of the trade of
mankind, I had great reason to consider it as a determination of
Heaven that in this desolate place, and in this desolate manner, I
should end my life. The tears would run plentifully down my face when
I made these reflections, and sometimes I would expostulate with
myself, why Providence should thus completely ruin its creatures, and
render them so absolutely miserable, so without help abandoned, so
entirely depressed, that it could hardly be rational to be thankful
for such a life.
But something always returned swift upon me to check these thoughts,
and to reprove me; and particularly one day, walking with my gun in my
hand by the seaside, I was very pensive upon the subject of my present
condition, when Reason, as it were, expostulated with me t' other way,
thus: "Well, you are in a desolate condition, it is true, but pray
remember, where are the rest of you? Did not you come eleven of you
into the boat? Where are the ten? Why were not they saved, and you
lost? Why were you singled out? Is it better to be here, or there?"
And then I pointed to the sea. All evils are to be considered with the
good that is in them, and with what worse attends them.
Then it occurred to me again, how well I was furnished for my
subsistence, and what would have been my case if it had not happened,
which was an hundred thousand to one, that the ship floated from the
place where she first struck and was driven so near to the shore that
I had time to get all these things out of her; what would have been my
case, if I had been to have lived in the condition in which I at first
came on shore, without necessaries of life, or necessaries to supply
and procure them? "Particularly," said I aloud (though to myself),
"what should I have done without a gun, without ammunition, without
any tools to make anything, or to work with, without clothes, bedding,
a tent, or any manner of covering?" and that now I had all these to a
sufficient quantity, and was in a fair way to provide myself in such a
manner, as to live without my gun when my ammunition was spent; so
that I had a tolerable view of subsisting without any want as long as
I lived. For I considered from the beginning how I would provide for
the accidents that might happen, and for the time that was to come,
even not only after my ammunition should be spent, but even after my
health or strength should decay.
I confess I had not entertained any notion of my ammunition being
destroyed at one blast--I mean, my powder being blown up by lightning;
and this made the thoughts of it so surprising to me when it lightened
and thundered, as I observed just now.
ROBINSON CRUSOE BUILDS A BOAT
_By Daniel Defoe_
You may be sure my thoughts ran many times upon the prospect of land
which I had seen from the other side of the island, and I was not
without secret wishes that I were on shore there, fancying that seeing
the mainland, and in an inhabited country, I might find some way or
other to convey myself farther, and perhaps at last find some means of
escape.
But all this while I made no allowance for the dangers of such a
condition, and how I might fall into the hands of savages, and perhaps
such as I might have reason to think far worse than the lions and
tigers of Africa; that if I once came into their power, I should run a
hazard more than a thousand to one of being killed, and perhaps of
being eaten; for I had heard that the people of the Caribbean coasts
were cannibals, or man-eaters, and I knew by the latitude that I could
not be far off from that shore. That suppose they were not cannibals,
yet that they might kill me, as many Europeans who had fallen into
their hands had been served, even when they had been ten or twenty
together, much more I, that was but one, and could make little or no
defense,--all these things, I say, which I ought to have considered
well of, and did cast up in my thoughts afterwards, yet took up none
of my apprehensions at first, but my head ran mightily upon the
thought of getting over to the shore.
Now I wished for my boy Xury, and the long-boat with the
shoulder-of-mutton sail, with which I sailed above a thousand miles on
the coast of Africa; but this was in vain. Then I thought I would go
and look at our ship's boat, which, as I have said, was blown up upon
the shore a great way, in the storm, when we were first cast away. She
lay almost where she did at first, but not quite; and was turned, by
the force of the waves and the winds, almost bottom upwards, against a
high ridge of beachy rough sand, but no water about her, as before.
If I had had hands to have refitted her, and to have launched her into
the water, the boat would have done well enough, and I might have gone
back into the Brazils with her easily enough; but I might have
foreseen that I could no more turn her, and set her upright upon her
bottom, than I could remove the island. However, I went to the woods,
and cut levers and rollers, and brought them to the boat, resolved to
try what I could do; suggesting to myself that if I could but turn her
down, I might easily repair the damage she had received, and she would
be a very good boat, and I might go to sea in her very easily.
I spared no pains, indeed, in this piece of fruitless toil, and spent,
I think, three or four weeks about it. At last, finding it impossible
to heave it up with my little strength, I fell to digging away the
sand, to undermine it, and so to make it fall down, setting pieces of
wood to thrust and guide it right in the fall. But when I had done
this, I was unable to stir it up again, or to get under it, much less
to move it forward towards the water; so I was forced to give it over.
And yet, though I gave over the hopes of the boat, my desire to
venture over for the main increased, rather than decreased, as the
means for it seemed impossible.
This at length put me upon thinking whether it was not possible to
make myself a canoe, or _periagua_, such as the natives of those
climates make, even without tools, or, as I might say, without hands,
viz., of the trunk of a great tree. This I not only thought possible,
but easy, and pleased myself extremely with the thoughts of making it,
and with my having much more convenience for it than any of the
negroes or Indians; but not at all considering the particular
inconveniences which I lay under more than the Indians did, viz., want
of hands to move it, when it was made, into the water, a difficulty
much harder for me to surmount than all the consequences of want of
tools could be to them. For what was it to me, that when I had chosen
a vast tree in the woods, I might with much trouble cut it down, if,
after I might be able with my tools to hew and dub the outside into
the proper shape of a boat, and burn or cut out the inside to make it
hollow, so to make a boat of it; if, after all this, I must leave it
just there where I found it, and was not able to launch it into the
water?
One would have thought I could not have had the least reflection upon
my mind of my circumstance while I was making this boat, but I should
have immediately thought how I should get it into the sea; but my
thoughts were so intent upon my voyage over the sea in it that I never
once considered how I should get it off of the land; and it was
really, in its own nature, more easy for me to guide it over
forty-five miles of sea than about forty-five fathoms of land, where
it lay, to set it afloat in the water.
I went to work upon this boat the most like a fool that ever man did
who had any of his senses awake. I pleased myself with the design,
without determining whether I was ever able to undertake it. Not but
that the difficulty of launching my boat came often into my head; but
I put a stop to my own inquiries into it by this foolish answer which
I gave myself: "Let's first make it; I'll warrant I'll find some way
or other to get it along when 't is done."
This was a most preposterous method; but the eagerness of my fancy
prevailed, and to work I went. I felled a cedar-tree: I question much
whether Solomon ever had such a one for the building of the Temple at
Jerusalem. It was five feet ten inches diameter at the lower part next
the stump, and four feet eleven inches diameter at the end of
twenty-two feet, after which it lessened for a while, and then parted
into branches. It was not without infinite labor that I felled this
tree. I was twenty days hacking and hewing at it at the bottom; I was
fourteen more getting the branches and limbs, and the vast spreading
head of it cut off, which I hacked and hewed through with axe and
hatchet, and inexpressible labor. After this, it cost me a month to
shape it and dub it to a proportion, and to something like the bottom
of a boat, that it might swim upright as it ought to do. It cost me
near three months more to clear the inside, and work it so as to make
an exact boat of it. This I did, indeed, without fire, by mere mallet
and chisel, and by the dint of hard labor, till I had brought it to be
a very handsome _periagua_, and big enough to have carried six and
twenty men, and consequently big enough to have carried me and all my
cargo.
When I had gone through this work, I was extremely delighted with it.
The boat was really much bigger than I ever saw a canoe or _periagua_
that was made of one tree, in my life. Many a weary stroke it had
cost, you may be sure; and there remained nothing but to get it into
the water; and had I gotten it into the water, I make no question but
I should have begun the maddest voyage, and the most unlikely to be
performed, that ever was undertaken.
But all my devices to get it into the water failed me, though they
cost me infinite labor too. It lay about one hundred yards from the
water, and not more; but the first inconvenience was, it was uphill
towards the creek. Well, to take away this discouragement, I resolved
to dig into the surface of the earth, and so make a declivity. This I
began, and it cost me a prodigious deal of pains; but who grudges
pains that have their deliverance in view? But when this was worked
through, and this difficulty managed, it was still much at one, for I
could no more stir the canoe than I could the other boat.
Then I measured the distance of ground, and resolved to cut a dock or
canal, to bring the water up to the canoe, seeing I could not bring
the canoe down to the water. Well, I began this work; and when I began
to enter into it, and calculate how deep it was to be dug, how broad,
how the stuff to be thrown out, I found that by the number of hands I
had, being none but my own, it must have been ten or twelve years
before I should have gone through with it; for the shore lay high, so
that at the upper end it must have been at least twenty feet deep; so
at length, though with great reluctancy, I gave this attempt over
also.
This grieved me heartily; and now I saw, though too late, the folly of
beginning a work before we count the cost and before we judge rightly
of our own strength to go through with it.
THE MYSTERIOUS FOOTPRINT
_By Daniel Defoe_
I was something impatient to have the use of my boat, though very
loath to run any more hazards; and therefore sometimes I sat
contriving ways to get her about the island, and at other times I sat
myself down contented enough without her. But I had a strange
uneasiness in my mind to go down to the point of the island where, as
I have said, in my last ramble, I went up the hill to see how the
shore lay, and how the current set, that I might see what I had to do.
This inclination increased upon me every day, and at length I resolved
to travel thither by land, following the edge of the shore. I did so;
but had anyone in England been to meet such a man as I was, it must
either have frighted him, or raised a great deal of laughter; and as I
frequently stood still to look at myself, I could not but smile at the
notion of my traveling through Yorkshire, with such an equipage, and
in such a dress. Be pleased to take a sketch of my figure, as
follows:--
I had a great high shapeless cap, made of a goat-skin, with a flap
hanging down behind, as well to keep the sun from me, as to shoot the
rain off from running into my neck; nothing being so hurtful in these
climates as the rain upon the flesh, under the clothes.
I had a short jacket of goat-skin, the skirts coming down to about the
middle of my thighs; and a pair of open-kneed breeches of the same.
The breeches were made of the skin of an old he-goat, whose hair hung
down such a length on either side, that, like pantaloons, it reached
to the middle of my legs. Stockings and shoes I had none, but had made
me a pair of somethings, I scarce know what to call them, like
buskins, to flap over my legs, and lace on either side like
spatterdashes; but of a most barbarous shape, as indeed were all the
rest of my clothes.
I had on a broad belt of goat-skin dried, which I drew together with
two thongs of the same, instead of buckles; and in a kind of frog on
either side of this, instead of a sword and a dagger, hung a little
saw and a hatchet, one on one side, one on the other. I had another
belt, not so broad, and fastened in the same manner, which hung over
my shoulder; and at the end of it, under my left arm, hung two
pouches, both made of goat-skin too; in one of which hung my powder,
in the other my shot. At my back I carried my basket, on my shoulder
my gun, and over my head a great clumsy, ugly goat-skin umbrella, but
which, after all, was the most necessary thing I had about me, next to
my gun. As for my face, the color of it was really not so mulatto-like
as one might expect from a man not at all careful of it, and living
within nineteen degrees of the equinox. My beard I had once suffered
to grow till it was about a quarter of a yard long; but as I had both
scissors and razors sufficient, I had cut it pretty short, except what
grew on my upper lip, which I had trimmed into a large pair of
Mahometan whiskers such as I had seen worn by some Turks whom I saw at
Sallee; for the Moors did not wear such, though the Turks did. Of
these mustachios or whiskers, I will not say they were long enough to
hang my hat upon them, but they were of a length and shape monstrous
enough, and such as, in England, would have passed for frightful.
But all this is by the bye; for as to my figure I had so few to
observe me that it was of no manner of consequence; so I say no more
to that part. In this kind of figure I went my new journey, and was
out five or six days. I traveled first along the seashore, directly to
the place where I first brought my boat to an anchor, to get up upon
the rocks. And having no boat now to take care of, I went over the
land, a nearer way, to the same height that I was upon before; when,
looking forward to the point of the rocks which lay out, and which I
was obliged to double with my boat, as is said above, I was surprised
to see the sea all smooth and quiet, no rippling, no motion, no
current, any more there than in other places.
I was at a strange loss to understand this, and resolved to spend some
time in the observing it, to see if nothing from the sets of the tide
had occasioned it. But I was presently convinced how it was, viz.,
that the tide of ebb setting from the west, and joining with the
current of waters from some great river on the shore, must be the
occasion of this current; and that according as the wind blew more
forcibly from the west, or from the north, this current came near, or
went farther from the shore; for waiting thereabouts till evening, I
went up to the rock again, and then the tide of ebb being made, I
plainly saw the current again as before, only that it run farther off,
being near half a league from the shore; whereas in my case it set
close upon the shore, and hurried me and my canoe along with it,
which, at another time, it would not have done.
This observation convinced me that I had nothing to do but to observe
the ebbing and the flowing of the tide, and I might very easily bring
my boat about the island again. But when I began to think of putting
it in practice, I had such a terror upon my spirits at the remembrance
of the danger I had been in that I could not think of it again with
any patience; but, on the contrary, I took up another resolution,
which was more safe, though more laborious; and this was, that I would
build, or rather make me another _periagua_, or canoe, and so have one
for one side of the island, and one for the other.
You are to understand that now I had, as I may call it, two
plantations in the island; one, my little fortification or tent, with
the wall about it, under the rock, with the cave behind me, which, by
this time, I had enlarged into several apartments or caves, one within
another. One of these, which was the driest and largest, and had a
door out beyond my wall or fortification, that is to say, beyond where
my wall joined to the rock, was all filled up with the large earthen
pots, of which I have given an account, and with fourteen or fifteen
great baskets, which would hold five or six bushels each, where I laid
up my stores of provision, especially my corn, some in the ear, cut
off short from the straw, and the other rubbed out with my hand.
As for my wall, made, as before, with long stakes or piles, those
piles grew all like trees, and were by this time grown so big, and
spread so very much, that there was not the least appearance, to any
one's view, of any habitation behind them.
Near this dwelling of mine, but a little farther within the land, and
upon lower ground, lay my two pieces of corn ground, which I kept duly
cultivated and sowed, and which duly yielded me their harvest in its
season; and whenever I had occasion for more corn, I had more land
adjoining as fit as that.
Besides this, I had my country seat, and I had now a tolerable
plantation there also; for, first, I had my little bower, as I called
it, which I kept in repair; that is to say, I kept the hedge which
circled it in constantly fitted up to its usual height, the ladder
standing always in the inside. I kept the trees, which at first were
no more than my stakes, but were now grown very firm and tall,--I kept
them always so cut that they might spread and grow thick and wild, and
make the more agreeable shade, which they did effectually to my mind.
In the middle of this, I had my tent always standing, being a piece of
a sail spread over poles, set up for that purpose, and which never
wanted any repair or renewing; and under this I had made me a squab or
couch, with the skins of the creatures I had killed, and with other
soft things, and a blanket laid on them, such as belonged to our
sea-bedding, which I had saved, and a great watch-coat to cover me;
and here, whenever I had occasion to be absent from my chief seat, I
took up my country habitation.
Adjoining to this I had my enclosures for my cattle, that is to say,
my goats. And as I had taken an inconceivable deal of pains to fence
and enclose this ground, so I was so uneasy to see it kept entire,
lest the goats should break through, that I never left off till, with
infinite labor, I had stuck the outside of the hedge so full of small
stakes, and so near to one another, that it was rather a pale than a
hedge, and there was scarce room to put a hand through between them;
which afterwards, when those stakes grew, as they all did in the next
rainy season, made the enclosure strong like a wall,--indeed, stronger
than any wall.
This will testify for me that I was not idle, and that I spared no
pains to bring to pass whatever appeared necessary for my comfortable
support; for I considered the keeping up a breed of tame creatures
thus at my hand would be a living magazine of flesh, milk, butter, and
cheese for me as long as I lived in the place, if it were to be forty
years; and that keeping them in my reach depended entirely upon my
perfecting my enclosures to such a degree that I might be sure of
keeping them together; which, by this method, indeed, I so effectually
secured that when these little stakes began to grow, I had planted
them so very thick I was forced to pull some of them up again.
In this place also I had my grapes growing, which I principally
depended on for my winter store of raisins, and which I never failed
to preserve very carefully, as the best and most agreeable dainty of
my whole diet. And indeed they were not agreeable only, but physical,
wholesome, nourishing, and refreshing to the last degree.
As this was also about halfway between my other habitation and the
place where I had laid up my boat, I generally stayed and lay here in
my way thither; for I used frequently to visit my boat, and I kept all
things about or belonging to her in very good order. Sometimes I went
out in her to divert myself, but no more hazardous voyages would I go,
nor scarce ever above a stone's cast or two from the shore, I was so
apprehensive of being hurried out of my knowledge again by the
currents or winds, or any other accident. But now I come to a new
scene of my life.
It happened one day, about noon, going towards my boat, I was
exceedingly surprised with the print of a man's naked foot on the
shore, which was very plain to be seen in the sand. I stood like one
thunderstruck, or as if I had seen an apparition. I listened, I looked
round me, I could hear nothing, nor see anything. I went up to a
rising ground, to look farther. I went up the shore, and down the
shore, but it was all one; I could see no other impression but that
one. I went to it again to see if there were any more, and to observe
if it might not be my fancy; but there was no room for that, for there
was exactly the very print of a foot--toes, heel, and every part of a
foot. How it came thither I knew not, nor could in the least imagine.
But after innumerable fluttering thoughts, like a man perfectly
confused and out of myself, I came home to my fortification, not
feeling, as we say, the ground I went on, but terrified to the last
degree, looking behind me at every two or three steps, mistaking every
bush and tree, and fancying every stump at a distance to be a man; nor
is it possible to describe how many various shapes affrighted
imagination represented things to me in, how many wild ideas were
found every moment in my fancy, and what strange, unaccountable
whimsies came into my thoughts by the way.
[Illustration: ONE DAY ABOUT NOON, GOING TOWARDS MY BOAT, I WAS
SURPRISED WITH THE PRINT OF A MAN'S NAKED FOOT ON THE SHORE, WHICH WAS
VERY PLAIN TO BE SEEN IN THE SAND. I STOOD LIKE ONE THUNDERSTRUCK, OR
AS IF I HAD SEEN AN APPARITION. I LISTENED, I LOOKED ROUND ME, I COULD
HEAR NOTHING, NOR SEE ANYTHING. I WENT UP TO A RISING GROUND TO LOOK
FARTHER.]
When I came to my castle, for so I think I called it ever after this,
I fled into it like one pursued. Whether I went over by the ladder, as
first contrived, or went in at the hole in the rock, which I called a
door, I cannot remember; no, nor could I remember the next morning,
for never frighted hare fled to cover, or fox to earth, with more
terror of mind than I to this retreat.
I slept none that night. The farther I was from the occasion of my
fright, the greater my apprehensions were; which is something contrary
to the nature of such things, and especially to the usual practice of
all creatures in fear. But I was so embarrassed with my own frightful
ideas of the thing, that I formed nothing but dismal imaginations to
myself, even though I was now a great way off it. Sometimes I fancied
it must be the devil, and reason joined in with me upon this
supposition; for how should any other thing in human shape come into
the place? Where was the vessel that brought them? What marks were
there of any other footsteps? And how was it possible a man should
come there? But then to think that Satan should take human shape upon
him in such a place, where there could be no manner of occasion for
it, but to leave the print of his foot behind him, and that even for
no purpose too, for he could not be sure I should see it; this was an
amusement the other way. I considered that the devil might have found
out abundance of other ways to have terrified me than this of the
single print of a foot; that as I lived quite on the other side of the
island, he would never have been so simple to leave a mark in a place
where it was ten thousand to one whether I should ever see it or not,
and in the sand too, which the first surge of the sea, upon a high
wind, would have defaced entirely. All this seemed inconsistent with
the thing itself, and with all the notions we usually entertain of the
subtilty of the devil.
Abundance of such things as these assisted to argue me out of all
apprehensions of its being the devil; and I presently concluded, then,
that it must be some more dangerous creature, viz., that it must be
some of the savages of the mainland over against me, who had wandered
out to sea in their canoes, and, either driven by the currents or by
contrary winds, had made the island, and had been on shore, but were
gone away again to sea, being as loath, perhaps, to stay in this
desolate island as I should have been to have them.
While these reflections were rolling upon my mind, I was very thankful
in my thoughts that I was so happy as not to be thereabouts at that
time, or that they did not see my boat, by which they would have
concluded that some inhabitants had been in the place, and perhaps
have searched farther for me. Then terrible thoughts racked my
imagination about their having found my boat, and that there were
people here; and that if so, I should certainly have them come again
in greater numbers, and devour me; that if it should happen so that
they should not find me, yet they would find my enclosure, destroy all
my corn, carry away all my flock of tame goats, and I should perish at
last for mere want.
Thus my fear banished all my religious hope. All that former
confidence in God, which was founded upon such wonderful experience as
I had had of His goodness, now vanished, as if He that had fed me by
miracle hitherto could not preserve, by His power, the provision which
He had made for me by His goodness. I reproached myself with my
easiness, that would not sow any more corn one year than would just
serve me till the next season, as if no accident could intervene to
prevent my enjoying the crop that was upon the ground. And this I
thought so just a reproof that I resolved for the future to have two
or three years' corn beforehand, so that, whatever might come, I might
not perish for want of bread.
How strange a chequer work of Providence is the life of man! and by
what secret differing springs are the affections hurried about as
differing circumstances present! To-day we love what to-morrow we
hate; to-day we seek what to-morrow we shun; to-day we desire what
to-morrow we fear; nay, even tremble at the apprehensions of. This was
exemplified in me, at this time, in the most lively manner imaginable;
for I, whose only affliction was that I seemed banished from human
society, that I was alone, circumscribed by the boundless ocean, cut
off from mankind, and condemned to what I called silent life; that I
was as one whom Heaven thought not worthy to be numbered among the
living, or to appear among the rest of His creatures; that to have
seen one of my own species would have seemed to me a raising me from
death to life, and the greatest blessing that Heaven itself, next to
the supreme blessing of salvation, could bestow; I say, that I should
now tremble at the very apprehensions of seeing a man, and was ready
to sink into the ground at but the shadow or silent appearance of a
man's having set his foot in the island!
Such is the uneven state of human life; and it afforded me a great
many curious speculations afterwards, when I had a little recovered my
first surprise. I considered that this was the station of life the
infinitely wise and good providence of God had determined for me;
that, as I could not foresee what the ends of Divine wisdom might be
in all this, so I was not to dispute His sovereignty, who, as I was
His creature, had an undoubted right, by creation, to govern and
dispose of me absolutely as He thought fit, and who, as I was a
creature who had offended Him, had likewise a judicial right to
condemn me to what punishment He thought fit; and that it was my part
to submit to bear His indignation, because I had sinned against Him.
I then reflected that God, who was not only righteous, but omnipotent,
as He had thought fit thus to punish and afflict me, so He was able to
deliver me; that if He did not think fit to do it, 't was my
unquestioned duty to resign myself absolutely and entirely to His
will; and, on the other hand, it was my duty also to hope in Him, pray
to Him, and quietly to attend the dictates and directions of His daily
providence.
These thoughts took me up many hours, days, nay, I may say, weeks and
months; and one particular effect of my cogitations on this occasion I
cannot omit, viz., one morning early, lying in my bed, and filled with
thought about my danger from the appearance of savages, I found it
discomposed me very much; upon which those words of the Scripture came
into my thoughts, "Call upon Me in the day of trouble, and I will
deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me."
Upon this, rising cheerfully out of my bed, my heart was not only
comforted, but I was guided and encouraged to pray earnestly to God
for deliverance. When I had done praying, I took up my Bible, and
opening it to read, the first words that presented to me were, "Wait
on the Lord, and be of good cheer, and He shall strengthen thy heart;
wait, I say, on the Lord." It is impossible to express the comfort
this gave me. In answer, I thankfully laid down the book, and was no
more sad, at least, not on that occasion.
In the middle of these cogitations, apprehensions, and reflections, it
came into my thought one day that all this might be a mere chimera of
my own; and that this foot might be the print of my own foot, when I
came on shore from my boat. This cheered me up a little too, and I
began to persuade myself it was all a delusion, that it was nothing
else but my own foot; and why might not I come that way from the boat,
as well as I was going that way to the boat? Again, I considered also
that I could by no means tell, for certain, where I had trod, and
where I had not; and that if, at last, this was only the print of my
own foot, I had played the part of those fools who strive to make
stories of spectres and apparitions, and then are frighted at them
more than anybody.
Now I began to take courage, and to peep abroad again, for I had not
stirred out of my castle for three days and nights, so that I began to
starve for provision; for I had little or nothing within doors but
some barley-cakes and water. Then I knew that my goats wanted to be
milked too, which usually was my evening diversion; and the poor
creatures were in great pain and inconvenience for want of it; and,
indeed, it almost spoiled some of them, and almost dried up their
milk.
Heartening myself, therefore, with the belief that this was nothing
but the print of one of my own feet, and so I might be truly said to
start at my own shadow, I began to go abroad again, and went to my
country house to milk my flock. But to see with what fear I went
forward, how often I looked behind me, how I was ready, every now and
then, to lay down my basket, and run for my life, it would have made
any one have thought I was haunted with an evil conscience, or that I
had been lately most terribly frighted; and so, indeed, I had.
However, as I went down thus two or three days, and having seen
nothing, I began to be a little bolder, and to think there was really
nothing in it but my own imagination. But I could not persuade myself
fully of this till I should go down to the shore again, and see this
print of a foot, and measure it by my own, and see if there was any
similitude or fitness, that I might be assured it was my own foot. But
when I came to the place, first, it appeared evidently to me that when
I laid up my boat, I could not possibly be on shore anywhere
thereabout; secondly, when I came to measure the mark with my own
foot, I found my foot not so large by a great deal. Both these things
filled my head with new imaginations, and gave me the vapors again to
the highest degree; so that I shook with cold, like one in an ague;
and I went home again, filled with the belief that some man or men had
been on shore there; or, in short, that the island was inhabited, and
I might be surprised before I was aware. And what course to take for
my security, I knew not.
Oh, what ridiculous resolution men take when possessed with fear! It
deprives them of the use of those means which reason offers for their
relief. The first thing I proposed to myself was to throw down my
enclosures, and turn all my tame cattle wild into the woods, that the
enemy might not find them, and then frequent the island in prospect of
the same or the like booty; then to the simple thing of digging up my
two corn-fields, that they might not find such a grain there, and
still be prompted to frequent the island; then to demolish my bower
and tent, that they might not see any vestiges of habitation, and be
prompted to look farther, in order to find out the persons inhabiting.
These were the subject of the first night's cogitation, after I was
come home again, while the apprehensions which had so overrun my mind
were fresh upon me, and my head was full of vapors, as above. Thus
fear of danger is ten thousand times more terrifying than danger
itself when apparent to the eyes; and we find the burden of anxiety
greater, by much, than the evil which we are anxious about; and, which
was worse than all this, I had not that relief in this trouble from
the resignation I used to practice that I hoped to have. I looked, I
thought, like Saul, who complained not only that the Philistines were
upon him, but that God had forsaken him; for I did not now take due
ways to compose my mind, by crying to God in my distress, and resting
upon His providence, as I had done before, for my defense and
deliverance; which, if I had done, I had at least been more cheerfully
supported under this new surprise, and perhaps carried through it with
more resolution.
This confusion of my thoughts kept me waking all night, but in the
morning I fell asleep; and having, by the amusement of my mind, been,
as it were, tired, and my spirits exhausted, I slept very soundly, and
waked much better composed than I had ever been before. And now I
began to think sedately; and upon the utmost debate with myself, I
concluded that this island, which was so exceeding pleasant, fruitful,
and no farther from the mainland than as I had seen, was not so
entirely abandoned as I might imagine; that although there were no
stated inhabitants who lived on the spot, yet that there might
sometimes come boats off from the shore, who, either with design, or
perhaps never but when they were driven by cross winds, might come to
this place; that I had lived here fifteen years now, and had not met
with the least shadow or figure of any people yet; and that if at any
time they should be driven here, it was probable they went away again
as soon as ever they could, seeing they had never thought fit to fix
there upon any occasion to this time; that the most I could suggest
any danger from, was from any such casual accidental landing of
straggling people from the main, who, as it was likely, if they were
driven hither, were here against their wills; so they made no stay
here, but went off again with all possible speed, seldom staying one
night on shore, lest they should not have the help of the tides and
daylight back again; and that, therefore, I had nothing to do but to
consider of some safe retreat, in case I should see any savages land
upon the spot.
THE COMING OF FRIDAY
_By Daniel Defoe_
I was surprised, one morning early, with seeing no less than five
canoes all on shore together on my side the island, and the people who
belonged to them all landed, and out of my sight. The number of them
broke all my measures; for seeing so many, and knowing that they
always came four, or six, or sometimes more, in a boat, I could not
tell what to think of it, or how to take my measures to attack twenty
or thirty men single-handed; so I lay still in my castle, perplexed
and discomforted. However, I put myself into all the same postures for
an attack that I had formerly provided, and was just ready for action
if anything had presented. Having waited a good while, listening to
hear if they made any noise, at length, being very impatient, I set my
guns at the foot of my ladder, and clambered up to the top of the
hill, by my two stages, as usual; standing so, however, that my head
did not appear above the hill, so that they could not perceive me by
any means. Here I observed, by the help of my perspective glass, that
they were no less than thirty in number, that they had a fire kindled,
that they had had meat dressed. How they had cooked it, that I knew
not, or what it was; but they were all dancing, in I know not how many
barbarous gestures and figures, their own way, round the fire.
While I was thus looking on them, I perceived by my perspective two
miserable wretches dragged from the boats, where, it seems, they were
laid by, and were now brought out for the slaughter. I perceived one
of them immediately fell, being knocked down, I suppose, with a club
or wooden sword, for that was their way, and two or three others were
at work immediately, cutting him open for their cookery, while the
other victim was left standing by himself, till they should be ready
for him. In that very moment, this poor wretch seeing himself a little
at liberty, Nature inspired him with hopes of life, and he started
away from them, and ran with incredible swiftness along the sands
directly towards me,--I mean towards that part of the coast where my
habitation was.
I was dreadfully frighted (that I must acknowledge) when I perceived
him to run my way, and especially when, as I thought, I saw him
pursued by the whole body; and now I expected that part of my dream
was coming to pass, and that he would certainly take shelter in my
grove; but I could not depend, by any means, upon my dream for the
rest of it, viz., that the other savages would not pursue him thither,
and find him there. However, I kept my station, and my spirits began
to recover when I found that there were not above three men that
followed him; and still more was I encouraged when I found that he
outstripped them exceedingly in running, and gained ground of them; so
that if he could but hold it for half an hour, I saw easily he would
fairly get away from them all.
There was between them and my castle the creek, which I mentioned
often at the first part of my story, when I landed my cargoes out of
the ship; and this I saw plainly he must necessarily swim over, or the
poor wretch would be taken there. But when the savage escaping came
thither he made nothing of it, though the tide was then up; but
plunging in, swam through in about thirty strokes or thereabouts,
landed, and ran on with exceeding strength and swiftness. When the
three persons came to the creek, I found that two of them could swim,
but the third could not, and that, standing on the other side, he
looked at the other, but went no further, and soon after went softly
back, which, as it happened, was very well for him in the main.
I observed that the two who swam were yet more than twice as long
swimming over the creek as the fellow was that fled from them. It came
now very warmly upon my thoughts, and indeed irresistibly, that now
was my time to get me a servant, and perhaps a companion or assistant,
and that I was called plainly by Providence to save this poor
creature's life. I immediately run down the ladders with all possible
expedition, fetched my two guns, for they were both but at the foot of
the ladders, as I observed above, and getting up again, with the same
haste, to the top of the hill, I crossed toward the sea, and having a
very short cut, and all down hill, clapped myself in the way between
the pursuers and the pursued, hallooing aloud to him that fled, who,
looking back, was at first perhaps as much frighted at me as at them;
but I beckoned with my hand to him to come back; and, in the meantime,
I slowly advanced towards the two that followed; then rushing at once
upon the foremost, I knocked him down with the stock of my piece. I
was loath to fire, because I would not have the rest hear; though, at
that distance, it would not have been easily heard, and being out of
sight of the smoke, too, they would not have easily known what to make
of it. Having knocked this fellow down, the other who pursued with him
stopped, as if he had been frighted, and I advanced apace towards him;
but as I came nearer, I perceived presently he had a bow and arrow,
and was fitting it to shoot at me; so I was then necessitated to shoot
at him first, which I did, and killed him at the first shot.
The poor savage who fled, but had stopped, though he saw both his
enemies fallen and killed, as he thought, yet was so frighted with the
fire and noise of my piece that he stood stock still, and neither came
forward or went backward, though he seemed rather inclined to fly
still than to come on. I hallooed again to him, and made signs to come
forward, which he easily understood, and came a little way, then
stopped again, and then a little further, and stopped again; and I
could then perceive that he stood trembling, as if he had been taken
prisoner, and had just been to be killed, as his two enemies were. I
beckoned him again to come to me, and gave him all the signs of
encouragement that I could think of; and he came nearer and nearer,
kneeling down every ten or twelve steps, in token of acknowledgment
for my saving his life. I smiled at him, and looked pleasantly, and
beckoned to him to come still nearer. At length he came close to me,
and then he kneeled down again, kissed the ground, and laid his head
upon the ground, and taking me by the foot, set my foot upon his head.
This, it seems, was in token of swearing to be my slave forever. I
took him up, and made much of him, and encouraged him all I could. But
there was more work to do yet; for I perceived the savage whom I
knocked down was not killed, but stunned with the blow, and began to
come to himself; so I pointed to him, and showing him the savage, that
he was not dead, upon this he spoke some words to me; and though I
could not understand them, yet I thought they were pleasant to hear;
for they were the first sound of a man's voice that I had heard, my
own excepted, for above twenty-five years. But there was no time for
such reflections now. The savage who was knocked down recovered
himself so far as to sit up upon the ground, and I perceived that my
savage began to be afraid; but when I saw that, I presented my other
piece at the man, as if I would shoot him. Upon this my savage, for so
I call him now, made a motion to me to lend him my sword, which hung
naked in a belt by my side; so I did. He no sooner had it but he runs
to his enemy, and, at one blow, cut off his head as cleverly, no
executioner in Germany could have done it sooner or better; which I
thought very strange for one who, I had reason to believe, never saw a
sword in his life before, except their own wooden swords. However, it
seems, as I learned afterwards, they make their wooden swords so
sharp, so heavy, and the wood is so hard, that they will cut off heads
even with them, ay, and arms, and that at one blow too. When he had
done this, he comes laughing to me in sign of triumph, and brought me
the sword again, and with abundance of gestures, which I did not
understand, laid it down, with the head of the savage that he had
killed, just before me.
But that which astonished him most was to know how I had killed the
other Indian so far off; so pointing to him, he made signs to me to
let him go to him; so I bade him go, as well as I could. When he came
to him, he stood like one amazed, looking at him, turned him first on
one side, then on t'other, looked at the wound the bullet had made,
which, it seems, was just in his breast, where it had made a hole, and
no great quantity of blood had followed; but he had bled inwardly, for
he was quite dead. He took up his bow and arrows, and came back; so I
turned to go away, and beckoned to him to follow me, making signs to
him that more might come after them.
Upon this he signed to me that he should bury them with sand, that
they might not be seen by the rest if they followed; and so I made
signs again to him to do so. He fell to work, and in an instant he had
scraped a hole in the sand with his hands big enough to bury the first
in, and then dragged him into it, and covered him, and did so also by
the other. I believe he had buried them both in a quarter of an hour.
Then calling him away, I carried him, not to my castle, but quite away
to my cave, on the farther part of the island; so I did not let my
dream come to pass in that part, viz., that he came into my grove for
shelter.
Here I gave him bread and a bunch of raisins to eat, and a draught of
water, which I found he was indeed in great distress for, by his
running; and having refreshed him, I made signs for him to go lie down
and sleep, pointing to a place where I had laid a great parcel of
rice-straw, and a blanket upon it, which I used to sleep upon myself
sometimes; so the poor creature laid down, and went to sleep.
He was a comely, handsome fellow, perfectly well made, with straight
strong limbs, not too large, tall and well-shaped, and, as I reckon,
about twenty-six years of age. He had a very good countenance, not a
fierce and surly aspect, but seemed to have something very manly in
his face; and yet he had all the sweetness and softness of an European
in his countenance too, especially when he smiled. His hair was long
and black, not curled like wool; his forehead very high and large; and
a great vivacity and sparkling sharpness in his eyes. The color of his
skin was not quite black, but very tawny; and yet not of an ugly,
yellow, nauseous tawny, as the Brazilians and Virginians, and other
natives of America are, but of a bright kind of a dun olive color,
that had in it something very agreeable, though not very easy to
describe. His face was round and plump; his nose small, not flat like
the negroes; a very good mouth, thin lips, and his fine teeth well
set, and white as ivory.
After he had slumbered, rather than slept, about half an hour, he
waked again, and comes out of the cave to me, for I had been milking
my goats, which I had in the enclosure just by. When he espied me, he
came running to me, laying himself down again upon the ground, with
all the possible signs of an humble, thankful disposition, making a
many antic gestures to show it. At last he lays his head flat upon the
ground, close to my foot, and sets my other foot upon his head, as he
had done before, and after this made all the signs to me of
subjection, servitude, and submission imaginable, to let me know how
he would serve me as long as he lived. I understood him in many
things, and let him know I was very well pleased with him. In a little
time I began to speak to him, and teach him to speak to me; and first
I made him know his name should be Friday, which was the day I saved
his life. I called him so for the memory of the time. I likewise
taught him to say master, and then let him know that was to be my
name. I likewise taught him to say yes and no, and to know the meaning
of them. I gave him some milk in an earthen pot, and let him see me
drink it before him, and sop my bread in it; and I gave him a cake of
bread to do the like, which he quickly complied with, and made signs
that it was very good for him.
I kept there with him all that night; but as soon as it was day, I
beckoned to him to come with me, and let him know I would give him
some clothes; at which he seemed very glad, for he was stark naked. As
we went by the place where he had buried the two men, he pointed
exactly to the place, and showed me the marks that he had made to find
them again, making signs to me that we should dig them up again, and
eat them. At this I appeared very angry, expressed my abhorrence of
it, made as if I would vomit at the thoughts of it, and beckoned with
my hand to him to come away; which he did immediately, with great
submission. I then led him up to the top of the hill, to see if his
enemies were gone; and pulling out my glass, I looked, and saw plainly
the place where they had been, but no appearance of them or of their
canoes; so that it was plain tha
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