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The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan Every Child Can Read

by John Bunyan · English · Gutenberg #39452 · 545,189 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan Every Child Can Read

Author: John Bunyan

Editor: Jesse Lyman Hurlbut


        
Release date: April 14, 2012 [eBook #39452]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39452

Credits: Produced by Julia Neufeld and The Online Distributed
        Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
        produced from images generously made available by The
        Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS BY JOHN BUNYAN EVERY CHILD CAN READ ***




Produced by Julia Neufeld and The Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)





Transcriber's note:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.


[Illustration: Christian Confides in His Wife.
                                   See page 13]




  THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

  BY JOHN BUNYAN

  EVERY CHILD CAN READ

  EDITED BY REV. JESSE LYMAN HURLBUT, D.D.

  ILLUSTRATED

  EVERY CHILD'S LIBRARY

  THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. PHILADELPHIA COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY THE JOHN C.
  WINSTON CO.




PREFACE


It may seem a very bold undertaking to change even a word of the book
which, next to the Bible, has been read by more people, old and young,
than any other book in the English language.

But, it must be remembered that, although the Pilgrim's Progress has
come to be a children's book, and is read more often by young people
than by those who are older, it was not in the purpose of John Bunyan to
write a book for children or even for the young.

The Pilgrim's Progress was a book for men and women; and it was aimed to
teach the great truths of the gospel. Hence while most of it is written
in a simple style,--as all books should be written,--it contains much
that a child cannot understand; not often in the story, but in the
conversations and discussions between the different persons. Some of
these conversations are in reality short sermons on doctrines and
teachings which Bunyan believed to be of great importance. But these are
beyond the minds of children and give them great trouble when the book
is read. They do not like to have them left out of the reading, thinking
that they may lose something interesting. Many a young person has
stumbled through the dull, doctrinal parts of the book, without
understanding them; and even grown people find them in our time somewhat
of a blemish upon the wonderful story, valuable as they were supposed to
be in Bunyan's own time.

For many years it has been in my mind, not to re-write the Pilgrim's
Progress, for that would destroy its greatest charm, but to change the
words here and there to simpler ones, and to omit all the conversations
and arguments concerning subjects belonging to the field of doctrine; in
other words to place the story of the Pilgrim's Progress in such a form
that every child ten years old can understand it. My purpose is to make
it plain and interesting to children, leaving the older form of the book
to be read by them when they become older.

Perhaps a short account of Bunyan's own life may add to the interest of
his book. John Bunyan was born in 1628 at Elstow, a small village near
Bedford, which is in the heart of England. His father was a poor man,
traveling on foot from place to place mending pots and pans and the
simple furniture of country kitchens, and the son followed the same
trade, and was known as a "tinker." He tells us that he lived a wild
life, and was especially known as one of the worst swearers in the
region.

When the great Civil War broke out in England, in 1642, between King
Charles the First and the Parliament, Bunyan became a soldier on the
side of the Commonwealth, as the party against the king was called. He
served in the army between 1644 and 1646.

In 1648, at the age of twenty years, he married a good young woman, who
led him to prayer and to a new life. But it was hard for one who had led
such a life as his had been to turn to God, and it cost the young man a
great struggle. It seemed to him that his past sins were like a load
upon his back, just as he afterward wrote of his "pilgrim," and it was
long before he found peace.

He became a member of a little Baptist society, and soon began to
preach. Crowds came to hear him, drawn by his earnest spirit and his
quaint striking manner. But when Charles the Second became king, no
religious services were allowed except those of the Church of England,
and all other meetings were forbidden. Bunyan however went on preaching,
until he was sent to prison in Bedford. In Bedford jail he stayed twelve
years. To find a means of living in jail, he made lace, and sold it as a
support for himself and his blind daughter.

If the prison was hard for Bunyan his sufferings were made a blessing to
untold millions, for while in Bedford jail he wrote the Pilgrim's
Progress. This story was intended to be a parable, like many of our
Saviour's teachings; that is, it put into the form of a story the life
of one who turns from sin, finds salvation through Christ, and in the
face of many difficulties makes his way through this world to heaven.
Even a child who reads or listens to the book will see this meaning in
part; and he will understand it better as he grows older.

In 1672 Bunyan was set free, and allowed to begin again his work as a
Baptist minister, and he soon became one of the most popular preachers
in all England. He died quite suddenly in 1688, when he was sixty years
old, and is buried in an old graveyard now near the center of London,
called Bunhill Fields Burial-ground. In the same ground is buried
another great writer, Daniel DeFoe, whose story of "Robinson Crusoe"
ranks next to the Pilgrim's Progress in the number of its readers; also
Isaac Watts, the author of many hymns sung in all the churches, and Mrs.
Susanna Wesley, the mother of the great John Wesley. Four people who
have left a deep mark upon the world, all lie near together in this
small cemetery in London.

Every child should read the Pilgrim's Progress as a story if no more
than a story; should read it until he knows it by heart. And the older
he grows the deeper will be the meaning that he will see in it.

                                              JESSE LYMAN HURLBUT.




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


  CHRISTIAN CONFIDES IN HIS WIFE         _Frontispiece_

                                                  PAGE
  EVANGELIST POINTS TO WICKET-GATE                  15

  CHRISTIAN BEFORE THE CROSS                        50

  CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL JOIN COMPANY               89

  HOPEFUL AND CHRISTIAN                            129

  ATHEIST LAUGHING AT CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL        170

  CHRISTIANA'S BOYS BEGAN TO EAT                   231

  TURN-AWAY RESISTING EVANGELIST                   357




THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS


PART I




CHAPTER I.


As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain
place where was a den,[1] and laid me down in that place to sleep; and
as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man
clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his
own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. I
looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein; and as he read, he
wept and trembled; and, not being able longer to contain, he brake out
with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I do?"

  [1] Bedford jail, in which Bunyan was twelve years a prisoner.

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained himself as long
as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his
distress; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble
increased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and
children; and thus he began to talk to them: "Oh my dear wife," said he,
"and you my sweet children, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by
reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am told to a
certainty that this our city will be burned with fire from heaven; in
which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee, my wife, and you, my
sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except some way of escape
can be found whereby we may be delivered." At this all his family were
sore amazed; not for that they believed that what he had said to them
was true, but because they thought that some frenzy or madness had got
into his head; therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping that
sleep might settle his brain, with all haste they got him to bed. But
the night was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore, instead of
sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So when the morning was come,
they would know how he did. He told them, Worse and worse: he also set
to talking to them again; but they began to be hardened. They also
thought to drive away his madness by harsh and surly treatment of him:
sometimes they would ridicule, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes
they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to
his chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to sorrow over his own
misery; he would also walk solitary in the fields, sometimes reading,
and sometimes praying; and thus for some days he spent his time.

[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN'S DISTRESS OF MIND]

Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was
(as he was wont) reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his
mind; and as he read, he burst out as he had done before, crying, "What
shall I do to be saved?"

I saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if he would run; yet
he stood still, because (as I perceived) he could not tell which way to
go. I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, who
asked, "Wherefore dost thou cry?"

[Illustration: Evangelist Points to Wicket-Gate.
                                   Page 15]

He answered, "Sir, I read in the book in my hand, that I am condemned to
die, and after that to come to judgment; and I find that I am not
willing to do the first, nor able to do the second."

Then said Evangelist, "Why not willing to die, since this life is
troubled with so many evils?" The man answered, "Because I fear that
this burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave, and
I shall fall into Tophet.[2] And, sir, if I be not fit to go to prison,
I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to death; and the
thoughts of these things make me cry."

  [2] Tophet here means hell.

Then said Evangelist, "If this be thy condition, why standest thou
still?"

He answered, "Because I know not whither to go." Then he gave him a
parchment roll, and there was written within, "Flee from the wrath to
come."

The man, therefore, read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully,
said, "Whither must I fly?" Then said Evangelist (pointing with his
finger over a very wide field), "Do you see yonder wicket-gate?" The man
said, "No." Then said the other, "Do you see yonder shining light?" He
said, "I think I do." Then said Evangelist, "Keep that light in your
eye, and go up directly thereto; so shalt thou see the gate; at which,
when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do." So I saw
in my dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not run far from his
own door, when his wife and children perceiving it, began to cry after
him to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on,
crying, "Life! life! eternal life!" So he looked not behind him, but
fled towards the middle of the plain.

[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN FLEES FROM THE CITY]

The neighbors also came out to see him run; and as he ran, some mocked,
others threatened, and some cried after him to return; and among those
that did so there were two that resolved to fetch him back by force. The
name of the one was Obstinate, and the name of the other Pliable. Now,
by this time the man was got a good distance from them; but, however,
they were resolved to pursue him, which they did, and in a little time
they overtook him. Then said the man, "Neighbors, wherefore are ye
come?" They said, "To persuade you to go back with us." But he said,
"That can by no means be: you dwell," said he, "in the City of
Destruction, the place also where I was born: I see it to be so; and,
dying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave, into a
place that burns with fire and brimstone. Be content, good neighbors,
and go along with me."

OBST. "What!" said Obstinate, "and leave our friends and comforts behind
us?"

CHRIS. "Yes," said Christian (for that was his name), "because that all
which you forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I
am seeking to enjoy; and if you would go along with me, and hold it, you
shall fare as I myself; for there, where I go, is enough and to spare.
Come away, and prove my words."

OBST. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to
find them?

CHRIS. I seek a place that can never be destroyed, one that is pure, and
that fadeth not away, and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there, to be
given, at the time appointed, to them that seek it with all their heart.
Read it so, if you will, in my book.

OBST. "Tush!" said Obstinate, "away with your book; will you go back
with us or no?"

CHRIS. "No, not I," said the other, "because I have put my hand to the
plough."

[Sidenote: DISCOURSES WITH PLIABLE]

OBST. Come, then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn again, and go home
without him: there is a company of these crazy-headed fools, that, when
they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men
that can render a reason.

PLI. Then said Pliable, "Don't revile; if what the good Christian says
is true, the things he looks after are better than ours; my heart
inclines to go with my neighbor."

OBST. What! more fools still? Be ruled by me, and go back; who knows
whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead you? Go back, go back, and be
wise.

CHRIS. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbor Pliable; there are such
things to be had which I spoke of, and many more glories besides. If you
believe not me, read here in this book; and for the truth of what is
told therein, behold, all is made by the blood of Him that made it.

PLI. "Well, neighbor Obstinate," said Pliable, "I begin to come to a
point; I intend to go along with this good man, and to cast in my lot
with him. But, my good companion, do you know the way to this desired
place?"

CHRIS. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evangelist, to speed me to
a little gate that is before us, where we shall receive directions about
the way.

PLI. Come, then, good neighbor, let us be going. Then they went both
together.

"And I will go back to my place," said Obstinate; "I will be no
companion of such misled, fantastical fellows."

Now, I saw in my dream, that, when Obstinate was gone back, Christian
and Pliable went talking over the plain; and thus they began:

CHRIS. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do? I am glad you are
persuaded to go along with me. Had even Obstinate himself but felt what
I have felt of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would
not thus lightly have given us the back.

PLI. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are none but us two here,
tell me now further what the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither
we are going.

CHRIS. I can better understand them with my mind than speak of them with
my tongue; but yet, since you are desirous to know, I will read of them
in my book.

PLI. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true?

CHRIS. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him that cannot lie.

PLI. Well said; what things are they?

CHRIS. There is an endless kingdom to be enjoyed, and everlasting life
to be given us, that we may live in that kingdom forever.

PLI. Well said; and what else?

CHRIS. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that will
make us shine like the sun in the sky.

PLI. This is very pleasant; and what else?

CHRIS. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow; for he that is owner
of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes.

PLI. And what company shall we have there?

CHRIS. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims, creatures that
shall dazzle your eyes to look on them. There also you shall meet with
thousands and ten thousands that have gone before us to that place; none
of them are hurtful, but all loving and holy; every one walking in the
sight of God, and standing in His presence with acceptance for ever. In
a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden crowns; there we
shall see the holy women with their golden harps; there we shall see
men that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of
beasts, drowned in the seas, for the love they bear to the Lord of the
place, all well, and clothed with everlasting life as with a garment.

PLI. The hearing of this is enough to delight one's heart. But are these
things to be enjoyed? How shall we get to be sharers thereof?

CHRIS. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath written that in this
book; the substance of which is, If we be truly willing to have it, He
will bestow it upon us freely.

PLI. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things; come
on, let us mend our pace.

CHRIS. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is
on my back.

[Sidenote: THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND]

Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew
nigh to a very miry slough or swamp, that was in the midst of the plain;
and they, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name
of the slough was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time,
being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of the
burden that was on his back, began to sink into the mire.

PLI. Then said Pliable, "Ah! neighbor Christian where are you now?"

CHRIS. "Truly," said Christian, "I do not know."

PLI. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his
fellow, "Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of? If we
have such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect between
this and our journey's end? May I get out again with my life, you shall
possess the brave country alone for me." And with that, he gave a
desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the
swamp which was next to his own house: so away he went, and Christian
saw him no more.

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone;
but still he tried to struggle to that side of the slough which was
farthest from his own house, and next to the wicket-gate; the which, he
did but could not get out because of the burden that was upon his back;
but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him whose name was Help,
and asked him, What he did there?

CHRIS. "Sir," said Christian, "I was bid to go this way by a man called
Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape the
wrath to come; and as I was going there I fell in here."

HELP. But why did you not look for the steps?

CHRIS. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way and fell in.

HELP. Then said he, "Give me thine hand." So he gave him his hand, and
he drew him out, and set him upon solid ground, and bade him go on his
way.

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, "Sir, wherefore,
since over this place is the way from the City of Destruction to yonder
gate, is it that this place is not mended, that poor travelers might go
thither with more safety?" And he said unto me, "This miry slough is
such a place as cannot be mended; it is the hollow whither the scum and
filth that go with the feeling of sin, do continually run, and therefore
it is called the Slough of Despond; for still, as the sinner is awakened
by his lost condition, there arise in his soul many fears, and doubts,
and discouraging alarms, which all of them get together and settle in
this place; and this is the reason of the badness of the ground.

"It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so
bad. His laborers also have, by the direction of His Majesty's
surveyors, been for about these sixteen hundred years employed about
this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended; yea, and to
my knowledge," said he, "here have been swallowed up at least twenty
thousand cart-loads, yea, millions, of wholesome teachings, that have at
all seasons been brought from all places of the King's dominions (and
they that can tell say they are the best materials to make good ground
of the place), if so be it might have been mended; but it is the Slough
of Despond still, and so will be when they have done what they can.

"True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and
substantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough;
but at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth
against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen; or, if they be,
men, through the dizziness of their heads, step aside, and then they are
bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there; but the ground
is good when they are got in at the gate."

Now, I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got home to his
house. So his neighbors came to visit him; and some of them called him
wise man for coming back, and some called him a fool for risking himself
with Christian; others again did mock at his cowardliness, saying
"Surely since you began to venture, I would not have been so base to
have given out for a few difficulties;" so Pliable sat sneaking among
them. But at last he got more confidence; and then they all turned their
tales, and began to abuse poor Christian behind his back. And thus much
concerning Pliable.

[Sidenote: WORLDLY WISEMAN'S COUNSEL]

Now, as Christian was walking solitary by himself, he espied one afar
off come crossing over the field to meet him; and their hap was to meet
just as they were crossing the way of each other. The gentleman's name
that met him was Mr. Worldly Wiseman: he dwelt in the town of Carnal
Policy, a very great town, and also hard by from whence Christian came.
This man, then, meeting with Christian, and having heard about
him--(for Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruction was
much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it
began to be the town-talk in some other places)--Mr. Worldly Wiseman
therefore, having some guess of him, by beholding his laborious going,
by noticing his sighs and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into
some talk with Christian:

WORLD. How now, good fellow! whither away after this burdened manner?

CHRIS. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I think poor creature had! And
whereas you ask me, Whither away? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder
wicket-gate before me; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put into
a way to be rid of my heavy burden.

WORLD. Hast thou a wife and children?

CHRIS. Yes; but I am so laden with this burden, that I cannot take that
pleasure in them as formerly; methinks I am as if I had none.

WORLD. Wilt thou hearken to me, if I give thee counsel?

CHRIS. If it be _good_, I will; for I stand in need of good counsel.

WORLD. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself
rid of thy burden; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then;
nor canst thou enjoy the blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee
till then.

CHRIS. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy
burden; but get it off myself I cannot; nor is there any man in our
country that can take it off my shoulders; therefore am I going this
way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden.

WORLD. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden?

CHRIS. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honorable
person; his name, as I remember, is Evangelist.

WORLD. I curse him for his counsel! there is not a more dangerous and
troublesome way in the world than is that into which he hath directed
thee; and that thou shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his advice.
Thou hast met with something, as I perceive, already; for I see the dirt
of the Slough of Despond is upon thee; but that slough is the beginning
of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way. Hear me: I
am older than thou: thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou
goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword,
lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, death, and what not. These
things are certainly true, having been proved by the words of many
people. And why should a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving
heed to a stranger?

CHRIS. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than
all these things which you have mentioned; nay, methinks I care not what
I meet with in the way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from
my burden.

WORLD. How camest thou by the burden at first?

CHRIS. By reading this book in my hand.

WORLD. I thought so. And it has happened unto thee as unto other weak
men, who, meddling with things too high for them, do suddenly fall into
thy crazy thoughts, which thoughts do not only unman men, as thine I
perceive have done thee, but they run them upon desperate efforts to
obtain they know not what.

CHRIS. I know what I would obtain; it is ease for my heavy burden.

WORLD. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers
attend it? Especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me,) I
could direct thee to the getting of what thou desirest, without the
dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself into. Yea, and the remedy
is at hand. Besides, I will add that, instead of those dangers, thou
shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content.

CHRIS. Sir, I pray, open this secret to me.

WORLD. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality), there
dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a very wise man, and a man of
very good name, that has skill to help men off with such burdens as
thine is from their shoulders; yea, to my knowledge he hath done a great
deal of good this way; aye, and besides, he hath skill to cure those
that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To him, as I
said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is not quite a
mile from this place; and if he should not be at home himself, he hath a
pretty young man as his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to
speak on) as well as the old gentleman himself. There, I say, thou
mayest be eased of thy burden; and if thou art not minded to go back to
thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee), thou mayest
send for thy wife and children to thee in this village, where there are
houses now standing empty, one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable
rate; provision is there also cheap and good; and that which will make
thy life the more happy is, to be sure there thou shalt live by honest
neighbors, in credit and good fashion.

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he concluded, "If
this be true which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take
his advice;" and with that, he thus further spake:

CHRIS. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house?

WORLD. Do you see yonder high hill?

CHRIS. Yes, very well.

WORLD. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come at is his.

[Sidenote: EVANGELIST AND CHRISTIAN.]

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house for
help; but, behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so
high, and also that side of it that was next the wayside did hang so
much over, that Christian was afraid to venture farther, lest the hill
should fall on his head; wherefore there he stood still, and knew not
what to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was
in his way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made
Christian afraid that he should be burnt: here, therefore, he sweat and
did quake for fear. And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr.
Worldly Wiseman's counsel; and with that, he saw Evangelist coming to
meet him, at the sight also of whom he began to blush for shame. So
Evangelist drew nearer and nearer; and, coming up to him, he looked upon
him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus began to reason
with Christian:

EVAN. "What dost thou here, Christian?" said he; at which words
Christian knew not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood
speechless before him. Then said Evangelist further, "Art thou not the
man that I found crying, without the walls of the City of Destruction?"

CHRIS. Yes, dear sir, I am the man.

EVAN. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate?

CHRIS. "Yes, dear sir," said Christian.

EVAN. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned aside? For thou
art now out of the way.

CHRIS. I met with a gentleman as soon as I had got over the Slough of
Despond, who persuaded me that I might, in the village before me, find a
man that could take off my burden.

EVAN. What was he?

CHRIS. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and got me at
last to yield: so I came hither, but when I beheld this hill, and how it
hangs over the way, I suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my
head.

EVAN. What said that gentleman to you?

CHRIS. Why, he asked me whither I was going, and I told him.

EVAN. And what said he then?

CHRIS. He asked me if I had a family, and I told him. But, said I, I am
so laden with the burden that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure
in them as formerly.

EVAN. And what said he then?

CHRIS. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him it was
ease that I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate to
receive further direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So
he said that he would show me a better way, and short, not so hard as
the way, sir, that you sent me in; which way, said he, will direct you
to a gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these burdens. So I
believed him, and turned out of that way into this, if haply I might
soon be eased of my burden. But, when I came to this place, and beheld
things as they are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger; but I now
know not what to do.

EVAN. Then said Evangelist, "Stand still a little, that I may show thee
the words of God." So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, "God
says in his book, 'See that ye refuse not him that speaketh; for if they
escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we
escape, if we turn away from Him that speaketh from heaven.' He said,
moreover, 'Now, the righteous man shall live by faith in God, but if any
man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him.'" He also did
thus apply them: "Thou art the man that art running into misery; thou
hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy
foot from the way of peace, even almost to the danger of thy everlasting
ruin."

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, "Woe is me, for I
am undone!" At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right
hand, saying, "All manner of sin and evil words shall be forgiven unto
men." "Be not faithless, but believing." Then did Christian again a
little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist.

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, "Give more earnest heed to the things
that I shall tell thee of. I will now show thee who it was that led thee
astray, and who it was also to whom he sent thee. That man that met thee
is one Worldly Wiseman; and rightly is he so called; partly because he
seeks only for the things of this world (therefore he always goes to the
town of Morality to church), and partly because he loveth that way best,
for it saveth him from the Cross; and because he is of this evil
temper, therefore he seeketh to turn you from my way though it is the
right way.

"He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is not able
to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of his
burden by him; no, nor ever is like to be: ye cannot be set right by any
such plan. Therefore, Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an enemy, and Mr. Legality
is a cheat; and, for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering
looks, he is but a fraud and cannot help thee. Believe me, there is
nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard of these wicked men, but
a design to rob thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from the way in
which I had set thee." After this, Evangelist called aloud to the
heavens for proof of what he had said; and with that there came words
and fire out of the mountain under which poor Christian stood, which
made the hair of his flesh stand up. The words were thus spoken: "As
many as are of the works of the law are under the curse."

Now, Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out
lamentably; even cursing the time in which he met with Mr. Worldly
Wiseman; still calling himself a thousand fools for listening to his
counsel. He also was greatly ashamed to think that this gentleman's
arguments should have the power with him so far as to cause him to
forsake the right way. This done, he spoke again to Evangelist, in words
and sense as follows:

CHRIS. Sir, what think you? Is there any hope? May I now go back, and go
up to the wicket-gate? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back
from thence ashamed? I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's counsel;
but may my sins be forgiven?

EVAN. Then said Evangelist to him, "Thy sin is very great, for by it
thou hast committed two evils; thou hast forsaken the way that is good,
to tread in forbidden paths. Yet will the man at the gate receive thee,
for he has good will for men; only," said he, "take heed that thou turn
not aside again, lest thou perish from the way, when his anger is
kindled but a little."




CHAPTER II.


Then did Christian begin to go back to the right road; and Evangelist,
after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God speed; so
he went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor, if
any asked him, would he give them an answer. He went like one that was
all the while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means think
himself safe, till again he was got in the way which he had left to
follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel: so after a 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 than once or twice, saying:

  "May I now enter here? Will He within
  Open to sorry me, though I have been
  An undeserving rebel? Then shall I
  Not fail to sing His lasting praise on high."

[Sidenote: GOODWILL OPENS THE GATE]

At last there came a grave person to the gate named Goodwill, who asked
who was there, and whence he came, and what he would have?

CHRIS. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the City of
Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may be set free from the
wrath to come; I would therefore, sir, since I am told that by this
gate is the way thither, know, if you are willing to let me in.

GOOD. "I am willing with all my heart," said he; and, with that, he
opened the gate.

So, when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. Then said
Christian, "What means that?" The other told him, "A little distance
from this gate there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub, the
Evil One, is the captain; from whence both he and they that are with him
shoot arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they may die
before they can enter in." Then said Christian, "I rejoice and tremble."
So when he was got in, the man of the gate asked him who directed him
thither.

CHRIS. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as I did; and he said
that you, sir, would tell me what I must do.

GOOD. An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it.

CHRIS. Now I begin to reap the benefit of the trouble which I have
taken.

GOOD. But how is it that you came alone?

CHRIS. Because none of my neighbors saw their danger, as I saw mine.

GOOD. Did any of them know you were coming?

CHRIS. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after
me to turn again; also some of my neighbors stood crying and calling
after me to return; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my
way.

GOOD. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back?

CHRIS. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable: but, when they saw that they
could not prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but Pliable came with me
a little way.

GOOD. But why did he not come through?

CHRIS. We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of
Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbor
Pliable discouraged, and would not venture farther. Wherefore, getting
out again on the side next his own house, he told me I should win the
brave country alone for him: so he went his way, and I came mine; he
after Obstinate, and I to this gate.

GOOD. Then said Goodwill, "Alas, poor man! is the heavenly glory of so
little worth with him, that he counteth it not worth running the risk of
a few difficulties to obtain it?"

CHRIS. "Truly," said Christian, "I have said the truth of Pliable; and
if I should also say the truth of myself, it will appear there is not
betterment betwixt him and myself. 'Tis true, he went on back to his own
house; but I also turned aside to go into the way of death, being
persuaded thereto by the words of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman."

GOOD. Oh! did he light upon you? What! he would have had you seek for
ease at the hands of Mr. Legality! They are both of them a very cheat.
But did you take his counsel?

CHRIS. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr. Legality, until I
thought that the mountain that stands by his house would have fallen
upon my head: wherefore there I was forced to stop.

GOOD. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of
many more; it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.

CHRIS. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there, had not
Evangelist happily met me again as I was musing in the midst of my
dumps; but it was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had
never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit
indeed for death by that mountain, than thus to stand talking with my
Lord. But, oh! what a favor this is to me, that yet I am to enter here!

GOOD. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all that they
have done before they come hither; they in no wise are cast out. And
therefore, good Christian, come a little with me, and I will teach thee
about the way thou must go. Look before thee: dost thou see this narrow
way? That is the way thou must go. It was cast up by the men of old,
prophets, Christ and His apostles, and it is as straight as a rule can
make it: this is the way thou must go.

CHRIS. "But," said Christian, "are there no turnings nor windings by
which a stranger may lose his way?"

GOOD. "Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are
crooked and wide; but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the
wrong, the right only being straight and narrow."

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further if he could not
help him off with his burden that was upon his back. For as yet he had
not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off without help.

He told him, "As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou comest
to the place of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of
itself."

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to turn again to his
journey.

So the other told him that as soon as 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.

[Sidenote: House of the Interpreter]

Then he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, where he
knocked over and over. At last one came to the door, and asked who was
there.

CHRIS. Sir, here is a traveler who was bid by a friend of the good man
of this house to call here for his benefit; 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.

CHRIS. "Sir," said Christian, "I am a man that am come from the City of
Destruction, and am going to Mount Zion; and I was told by the man that
stands at the gate at the head of this way, that, if I called here, you
would show me excellent things, such as would be helpful to me on my
journey."

INTER. Then said the Interpreter, "Come in; I will show thee that which
will be profitable to thee." So he commanded his man to light the
candle, and bid Christian follow him; so he led him into a private room,
and bid his man open a door; the which when he had done, Christian saw
the picture of a very grave person hung up against the wall; and this
was the fashion of it: it had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of
books in its hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world
was behind its back; it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of
gold did hang over its head.

CHRIS. Then said Christian, "What meaneth this?"

INTER. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand. He can say,
in the words of the apostle Paul, "Though ye have ten thousand teachers
in Christ, yet have you not many fathers; for in Christ Jesus I have
been your father through the Gospel." And whereas thou seest him with
his eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law
of truth writ on his lips, it is to show thee that his work is to know
and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as
if he pleaded with men. And whereas thou seest the world is cast behind
him, and that a crown hangs over his head; that is to show thee that,
slighting and despising the things that are in the world, for the love
that he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes
next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have
showed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is,
is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath
chosen to be thy guide, in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in
thy way; wherefore take good heed to what I have showed thee, and bear
well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou meet with
some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down to death.

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlor, that
was full of dust, because never swept; the which after he had looked at
it a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when
he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about that
Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter to
a girl that stood by, "Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room;" the
which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with ease.

CHRIS. Then said Christian, "What means this?"

INTER. The Interpreter answered, "This parlor is the heart of a man
that was never made pure by the sweet grace of the Gospel. The dust is
his sin, and inward evils that have defiled the whole man. He that began
to sweep at first is the law; but she that brought water, and did
sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest that, as soon as
the first began to sweep, the dust did fly so about that the room could
not by him be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith; this
is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its
working) from sin, doth revive, put strength into, and increase it in
the soul, even as it doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give
power to overcome. Again, as thou sawest the girl sprinkle the room with
water, upon which it was cleansed with ease; this is to show thee, that
when the Gospel comes, in the sweet and gracious power thereof, to the
heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the maiden 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 dwell in."

I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the hand,
and led him into a little room where sat two little children, each one
in his own chair. The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of
the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much discontented, but Patience
was very quiet. The Christian asked, "What is the reason of the
discontent of Passion?" The Interpreter answered, "The governor of them
would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of next year;
but he will have all now. Patience is willing to wait."

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure,
and poured it down at his feet; the which he took up, and rejoiced
therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but awhile,
and he had wasted all away, and had nothing left him but rags.

CHRIS. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, "Explain this matter more
fully to me."

INTER. So he said, "These two lads are pictures: Passion, of the men of
this world; and Patience, of the men of that which is to come: for, as
here thou seest, Passion will have all now, this year, that is to say in
this world; so are the men of this world; they must have all their good
things now; they cannot stay till the next year, that is, until the next
world, for their portion of good. That proverb, 'A bird in the hand is
worth two in the bush,' is of more weight with them than all the words
in the Bible of the good of the world to come. But, as thou sawest that
he had quickly wasted all away, and had presently left him nothing but
rags, so will it be with all such men at the end of this world."

CHRIS. Then said Christian, "Now I see that Patience has the best
wisdom, and that upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best
things. 2. And also because he will have the glory of his when the
other has nothing but rags."

INTER. Nay, you may add another; this, the glory of the next world will
never wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not
so much reason to laugh at Patience because he had his good things at
first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, because he had his
best things last; for first must give place to last, because last must
have his time to come; but last gives place to nothing, for there is not
another to succeed: he, therefore, that hath his portion first, must
needs have a time to spend it; but he that hath his portion last, must
have it lastingly.

CHRIS. Then I see it is not best to covet things that are now, but to
wait for things to come.

INTER. You say truth; "for the things that are seen soon pass away, but
the things that are not seen endure forever."

Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand
and led him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and
one standing by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet
did the fire burn higher and hotter.

CHRIS. Then said Christian, "What means this?"

INTER. The Interpreter answered, "This fire is the work of God that is
wrought in the heart: he that casts water upon it to extinguish and put
it out, is the devil; but, in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding
burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that." So
then he led him about to the other side of the wall, where he saw a man
with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually
cast, but secretly, into the fire.

CHRIS. Then said Christian, "What means this?"

INTER. The Interpreter answered, "This is Christ, who continually, with
the oil of His grace, helps 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 keep up the fire; this is to teach thee, that it is
hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is kept alive in the
soul."

I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him
into a pleasant place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful to
behold, at the sight of which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw
also upon the top thereof certain persons walking, who were clothed all
in gold.

Then said Christian, "May we go in thither?"

Then the Interpreter took him and led him up toward the door of the
palace; and behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as
desirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a little
distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and his ink-horn
before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein; he saw
also that in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being
resolved to do to the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they
could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man
started back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of a very
stout countenance come up to the man that sat there to write, saying,
"Set down my name, sir:" the which when he had done, he saw the man draw
his sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon
the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force; but the man, not at
all discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So that,
after he had received and given many wounds to those that attempted to
keep him out, he cut his way through them all and pressed forward into
the palace; at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that
were within, even of those that walked upon the top of the palace,
saying:

  "Come in, come in;
  Eternal glory thou shalt win."

So he went in, and was clothed in such garments as they. Then Christian
smiled, and said, "I think verily I know the meaning of this."

"Now," said Christian, "let me go hence." "Nay, stay," said the
Interpreter, "until I have showed thee a little more; and after that
thou shalt go on thy way." So he took him by the hand again, and led him
into a very dark room, where there sat a man in an iron cage.

Now, the man, to look on, seemed very sad. He sat with his eyes looking
down to the ground, his hands folded together; and he sighed as if he
would break his heart. Then said Christian, "What means this?" At which
the Interpreter bid him talk with the man.

Then said Christian to the man, "What art thou?" The man answered, "I am
what I was not once."

CHRIS. What wast thou once?

MAN. The man said, "I was once a fair and flourishing Christian, both in
mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others; I was once, as I thought,
fair for the Celestial City, and had even joy at the thoughts that I
should get thither."

CHRIS. Well, but what art thou now?

MAN. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this iron
cage. I cannot get out. Oh, _now_ I cannot!

CHRIS. But how camest thou in this condition?

MAN. I left off to watch and be sober. I gave free reins to sin; I
sinned against the light of the Word and the goodness of God; I have
grieved the Spirit, and He is gone; I tempted the devil, and he has come
to me; I have provoked God to anger, and He has left me; I have so
hardened my heart that I _cannot_ turn.

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, "But are there no hopes for such
a man as this?" "Ask him," said the Interpreter.

CHRIS. Then said Christian, "Is there no hope, but you must be kept in
the iron cage of despair?"

MAN. No, none at all.

CHRIS. Why? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.

MAN. I have crucified Him to myself afresh. I have despised His person.
I have despised His holiness; I have counted His blood an unholy thing;
I have shown contempt to the Spirit of mercy. Therefore I have shut
myself out of all the promises of God, and there now remains to me
nothing but threatenings, dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings of
certain judgment and fiery anger, which shall devour me as an enemy.

CHRIS. For what did you bring yourself into this condition?

MAN. For the desires, pleasures, and gains of this world; in the
enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight; but now every
one of those things also bite me, and gnaw me, like a burning worm.

CHRIS. But canst thou not now turn again to God?

MAN. God no longer invites me to come to Him. 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
remembered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee."

[Sidenote: THE DREAM OF THE JUDGMENT]

CHRIS. "Well," said Christian, "this is fearful! God help me to watch
and be sober, and to pray, that I may shun the cause of this man's
misery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now?"

INTER. Tarry till I show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on
thy way.

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber,
where there was one rising out of bed; and, as he put on his clothing,
he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, "Why doth this man thus
tremble?" The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of
his so doing. So he began, and said, "This night, as I was in my sleep,
I dreamed, and behold, the heavens grew exceeding black; also it
thundered and lightened in most fearful manner, that it put me into an
agony. So I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual
rate; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a Man
sitting upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven; they were
all in flaming fire; also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard
then a great voice saying, 'Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment.' And
with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were
therein came forth: some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward;
and some thought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw the
Man that sat upon the cloud open the book and bid the world draw near.
Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame that issued out and came
before Him, a certain distance betwixt Him and them, as betwixt the
judge and the prisoners at the bar. I heard it also called out to them
that stood around 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, smoke and coals of
fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, 'Gather
my wheat into the garner.' And, with that, I saw many catched up and
carried 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 awakened from my sleep."

CHRIS. But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight?

MAN. Why I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that I was not
ready for it. But this affrighted 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, troubled me; and, as I thought, the
judge had always His eye upon me, showing anger in His countenance.

INTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, "Hast thou considered
these things?"

CHRIS. 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 into the way that leads to the city."

So Christian went on his way, saying:

  "Here have I seen things rare and profitable;
  Things pleasant, dreadful; things to make me stable
  In what I have begun to take in hand:
  Then let me think on them, and understand
  Wherefore they showed me where; and let me be
  Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee."




CHAPTER III.


Now, I saw in my dream that the highway up which Christian was to go was
fenced on either side with a wall that was called Salvation. Up this
way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without great
difficulty, because of the load on his back.

He ran thus till he came to a place somewhat ascending; and upon that
place stood a Cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a tomb. So I saw
in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden
loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to
tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the tomb,
where it fell in, and I saw it no more.

[Illustration: Christian Before the Cross.
                                   Page 50]

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, "He
hath given me rest by His sorrow, and life by His death." Then he stood
still awhile to look and wonder; for it was very surprising to him that
the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden. He looked,
therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his head
sent the water down his cheeks. Now, as he stood looking and weeping,
behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and saluted him with "Peace be
to thee." So the first said to him, "Thy sins be forgiven thee;" the
second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with a change of
garments; the third also set a mark on his forehead, and gave him a roll
with a seal upon it, which he bade him look on as he ran, and that he
should give it in at the heavenly gate; so they went their way. Then
Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on, singing:

  "Thus far did I come laden with my sin;
  Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in,
  Till I came hither; what a place is this!
  Must here be the beginning of my bliss?
  Must here the burden fall from off my back?
  Must here the strings that bound it to me crack?
  Blest cross! blest sepulchre! blest rather be
  The Man that was there put to shame for me!"

[Sidenote: SIMPLE, SLOTH, PRESUMPTION]

I saw then in my dream that he went on thus, even until he came to the
bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep,
with fetters upon their heels. The name of one was Simple, of another
Sloth, and of the third Presumption.

Christian, then, seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if perhaps
he might awake them, and cried, "You are like them that sleep on the top
of a mast; for the deep sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom:
awake, therefore, and come away; be willing, also, and I will help you
off with your irons." He also told them, "If he that goeth about like a
roaring lion comes by, you will certainly become a prey to his teeth."
With that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: Simple
said, "I see no danger." Sloth said, "Yet a little more sleep." And
Presumption said, "Every tub must stand upon his own bottom." And so
they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way.

[Sidenote: FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY]

Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so little
care for the kindness of him that so offered to help them, both by
awakening of them, advising them, and offering to help them off with
their irons. And, as he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come
tumbling over the wall on the left hand of the narrow way; and they made
up apace to him. The name of one was Formalist, and the name of the
other was Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who thus
began talking with them:

CHRIS. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither go you?

FORM. and HYP. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and are going for
praise to Mount Zion.

CHRIS. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the beginning
of the way? Know ye not that it is written, "He that cometh not in by
the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a
robber?"

FORM. and HYP. They said that to go to the gate for entrance was, by all
their countrymen, counted too far about; and that therefore their usual
way was to make a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall as they
had done.

CHRIS. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the
city whither we are bound, thus to disobey His will?

FORM. and HYP. They told him, that as for that, he needed not trouble
his head thereabout; for what they did they had custom for, and could
show, if need were, testimony that could prove it for more than a
thousand years.

CHRIS. "But," said Christian, "will it stand a trial at law?"

FORM. and HYP. They told him that custom, it being of so long standing
as above a thousand years, would doubtless now be admitted as a thing
according to law by a fair judge. "And besides," said they, "if we get
into the way, what matter is it which way we may get in? If we are in,
we are in: thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came in at the
gate; and we are also in the way, that came tumbling over the wall:
wherein, now, is thy condition better than ours?"

CHRIS. I walk by the rule of my Master; you walk by the rude working
of your fancies. You are counted thieves already by the Lord of the way;
therefore I doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the way.
You come in by yourselves without His word, and shall go out by
yourselves without His mercy.

To this they made him but little answer; only they bid him look to
himself. Then I saw that they went on every man in his way, without much
talking one with another; save that these two men told Christian, that,
as to law and rules, they doubted not but that they should as carefully
do them as he. "Therefore," said they, "we see not wherein thou
differest from us, but by the coat which is on thy back, which was, as
we believe given thee by some of thy neighbors to hide the shame of thy
nakedness."

CHRIS. By laws and rules you will not be saved, since you came not in by
the door. And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given to me by
the Lord of the place whither I go; and that, as you say, to cover my
nakedness with. And I take it as a token of His kindness to me; for I
had nothing but rags before. And besides, thus I comfort myself as I go.
Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the city, the Lord thereof
will know me for good, since I have His coat on my back; a coat that He
gave me freely in the day that He stripped me of my rags. I have
moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no
notice, which one of my Lord's most intimate friends fixed there the day
that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I
had then given me a roll sealed, to comfort me by reading as I go in the
way; I was also bid to give it in at the heavenly gate, in token of my
certain going in after it; all which things, I doubt, you want, and want
them because you came not in at the gate.

To these things they gave him no answer; only they looked upon each
other, and laughed. Then I saw that they went on all, save that
Christian kept before, who had no more talk but with himself, and
sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably; also he would be often
reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which he
was refreshed.

[Sidenote: THE HILL OF DIFFICULTY]

I beheld then that they all went on till they came to the foot of the
Hill Difficulty, at the bottom of which was a spring. There were also in
the same place two other ways, besides that which came straight from the
gate; one turned to the left hand, and the other to the right, at the
bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the
name of that going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty.
Christian now went to the spring, and drank thereof to refresh himself,
and then began to go up the hill, saying:

  "The hill, though high, I covet to ascend;
  The difficulty will not me offend,
  For I perceive the way to life lies here.
  Come, pluck up, heart, let's neither faint nor fear.
  Better, though _difficult_, the right way to go,
  Than wrong, though _easy_, where the end is woe."

The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when they saw that
the hill was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go;
and supposing also that these two ways might meet again with that up
which Christian went, on the other side of the hill; therefore they were
resolved to go in those ways. Now, the name of one of those ways was
Danger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one took the way
which is called Danger, which led him into a great wood; and the other
took directly up the way to destruction, which led him into a wide
field, full of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose no
more.

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill, where I
perceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering
upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place.
Now, about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbor, made
by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travelers. Thither,
therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him; then he
pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his comfort; he
also now began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that was
given him as he stood by the cross. Thus pleasing himself a while, he at
last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained
him in that place until it was almost night; and in his sleep his roll
fell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping, there came one to him,
and awaked him, saying, "Go to the ant, thou sluggard;[3] consider her
ways, and be wise." And, with that, Christian suddenly started up, and
sped on his way, and went apace till he came to the top of the hill.

  [3] Idle one.

[Sidenote: TIMOROUS AND MISTRUST]

Now, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two men
running amain: the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other
Mistrust; to whom Christian said, "Sirs, what's the matter? You run the
wrong way." Timorous answered, that they were going to the city of Zion,
and had got up that difficult place: "but," said he, "the farther we go,
the more danger we meet with; wherefore we turned, and are going back
again."

"Yes," said Mistrust, "for just before us lie a couple of lions in the
way, whether sleeping or waking we know not; and we could not think, if
we came within reach, but they would presently pull us in pieces."

CHRIS. Then said Christian, "You make me afraid; but whither shall I fly
to be safe? If I go back to my own country, that is prepared for fire
and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there; if I can get to the
Celestial City, I am sure to be in safety there: I must venture. To go
back is nothing but death; to go forward is fear of death, and life
everlasting beyond it. I will yet go forward." So Mistrust and Timorous
ran down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But, thinking again of
what he heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, and found
it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not what to do;
for he wanted that which used to comfort him, and that which should have
been his pass into the Celestial City. Here, therefore, he began to be
greatly troubled, and knew not what to do. At last he bethought himself
that he had slept in the arbor that is on the side of the hill; and,
falling down upon his knees, he asked God's forgiveness for that his
foolish act, and then went back to look for his roll. But all the way he
went back, who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's
heart? Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he blamed
himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was
erected only for a little refreshment from his weariness. Thus,
therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this side and on that, all
the way as he went, if happily he might find his roll that had been his
comfort so many times in his journey. He went thus till he came again
within sight of the arbor where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed
his sorrow the more, by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of
sleeping into his mind. Thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing his
sinful sleep, saying, "O wretched man that I am, that I should sleep in
the day-time; that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I
should so indulge myself, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh which
the Lord of the hill hath builded only for the relief of the spirits of
pilgrims! How many steps have I taken in vain! Thus it happened to
Israel; for their sin they were sent back again by the way of the Red
Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow which I might have
trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might
I have been on my way by this time! I am made to tread those steps
thrice over which I needed not to have trod but once; yea, also, now I
am like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. Oh that I had not
slept!"

[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN RECOVERS HIS ROLL]

Now, by this time he was come to the arbor again, where for awhile he
sat down and wept; but at last (as Providence would have it), looking
sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll, the which
he, with trembling and haste, caught up, and put it into his bosom. But
who can tell how joyful this man was when he had got his roll again? for
this roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance at the desired
haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, giving thanks to God for
directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears
betook himself again to his journey. But oh, how nimbly now did he go up
the rest of the hill! Yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon
Christian; and this made him again recall the folly of his sleeping to
his remembrance; and thus he began again to condole with himself, "Oh,
thou sinful sleep! how for thy sake am I like to be benighted in my
journey. I must walk without the sun, darkness must cover the path of my
feet, and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because of my
sinful sleep." Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and
Timorous told him, of how they were frighted with the sight of the
lions. Then said Christian to himself again, "These beasts range in the
night for their prey; and if they should meet with me in the dark, how
should I avoid them? how should I escape being torn in pieces?" Thus he
went on his way. But, while he was thus bewailing his unhappy mistake,
he lifted up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace before
him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood just by the highway
side.

[Sidenote: WATCHFUL THE PORTER]

So I saw in my dream that he made haste, and went forward, that, if
possible, he might get lodging there. Now, before he had gone far, he
entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the
Porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before him as he went, he
espied two lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers by which
Mistrust and Timorous were driven back. (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 out unto him,
saying, "Is thy strength so small? fear not the lions, for they are
chained, and are placed there for the trial of faith where it is, and
for the finding out 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 words of the Porter, he heard them roar, but they did
him no harm. Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and
stood before the gate where the Porter was. Then said Christian to the
Porter, "Sir, what house is this? and may I lodge here to-night?"

The Porter answered, "This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and
He built it for the relief and security of pilgrims." The Porter also
asked whence he was, and whither he was going.

CHRIS. 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.

PORT. What is your name?

CHRIS. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless.

PORT. But how doth it happen that you come so late? The sun is set.

CHRIS. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am, I slept
in the arbor that stands on the hill-side. Nay, I had, notwithstanding
that, been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my roll, 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.

PORT. Well, I will call out one of the women of this place, who will, if
she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according
to the rules of the house.

So Watchful the Porter rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of
the door of the house a grave and beautiful young woman, named
Discretion, and asked why she was called.

The Porter answered, "This man is on a journey from the City of
Destruction to Mount Zion; but, being weary and benighted, he asked me
if he might lodge here to-night; so I told him I would call for thee,
who, after speaking with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, even
according to the law of the house."

[Sidenote: PIETY, PRUDENCE, CHARITY]

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 on the way; and he told her.
And at last she asked his name. So he said, "It is Christian; and I have
so much the more a desire to lodge here to-night, because, by what I
perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill for the relief
and safety of pilgrims." So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes;
and after a little pause, she said, "I will call forth two or three of
my family." So she ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and
Charity, who, after a little more discourse with him brought 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 sat down, they gave him something to drink, and agreed together,
that, until supper was ready, some of them should talk with Christian,
for the best use of the time; and they appointed Piety, Prudence, and
Charity to talk 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.

CHRIS. With a very good will, and I am glad that you are so well
disposed.

PIETY. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim's life?

[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN'S ADVENTURES]

CHRIS. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that
was in mine ears; to wit, that certain destruction did await 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?

CHRIS. 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 in the way that hath led me directly to
this house.

PIETY. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter?

CHRIS. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which will
stick by me as long as I live, especially three things; to wit, how
Christ, in despite of Satan, the Evil One maintains His work of grace
in the heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's
mercy; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the day of
judgment was come.

PIETY. Why? did you hear him tell his dream?

CHRIS. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought it made my heart ache
as he was telling of it; but yet I am glad I heard of it.

PIETY. Was that all you saw at the house of the Interpreter?

CHRIS. No; he took me, and had me where he showed me a stately palace;
and how the people were clad in gold that were in it; and how there came
a venturous man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood in the
door to keep him out; and how he was bid to come in and win eternal
glory. Methought those things did delight my heart. I would have stayed
at that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I had farther to
go.

PIETY. And what saw you else in the way?

CHRIS. Saw? Why, I went but a little farther, and I saw One, as I
thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon a tree; and the very sight of Him
made my burden fall off my back; for I groaned under a very heavy
burden, and then it fell down from off me. It was a strange thing to me,
for I never saw such a thing before; yea, and while I stood looking up
(for then I could not forbear looking), three Shining Ones came to me.
One of them told me that my sins were forgiven me; another stripped me
of my rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see; and the third
set the mark which you see in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll.
(And, with that, he plucked it out of his bosom.)

PIETY. But you saw more than this, did you not?

CHRIS. The things that I have told you were the best; yet some other
matters I saw; as namely I saw three men, Simple, Sloth, and
Presumption, lie asleep, a little out of the way as I came, with irons
upon their heels; but do you think I could wake them? I also saw
Formalist and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they
pretended, to Zion; but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did
tell them, but they would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard
work to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions' mouths; and
truly, if it had not been for the good man the Porter, that stands at
the gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might have gone back
again; but now I thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving of
me.

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his
answer to them.

PRU. Do you think sometimes of the country from whence you came?

CHRIS. Yes, but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if I had been
mindful of that country from whence I came out, I might have had an
opportunity to have returned; but now I desire a better country, that
is, a heavenly one.

PRU. Do you not yet bear away with you in your thoughts some of the
things that you did in the former time?

CHRIS. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and sinful
thoughts, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were
delighted. But now all those things are my grief; and, might I but
choose mine own things, I would choose never to think of those things
more; but when I would be doing that which is best, that which is worst
is with me.

PRU. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were overcome, which
at other times are your trouble?

CHRIS. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in
which such things happen to me.

PRU. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances, at times,
as if they were overcome?

CHRIS. Yes; when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and
when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also when I look
into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when my
thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it.

PRU. And what makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?

CHRIS. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the
cross; and there I hope to be rid of all these 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
the truth, I love Him because I was by Him eased of my burden; and I am
weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall die no more,
and with the company that shall continually cry, "Holy, holy, holy!"

[Sidenote: CHARITY TALKS WITH CHRISTIAN]

CHAR. Then said Charity to Christian, "Have you a family? are you a
married man?"

CHRIS. I have a wife and four small children.

CHAR. And why did you not bring them along with you?

CHRIS. Then Christian wept, and said, "Oh, how willingly would I have
done it! but they were all of them utterly against my going on
pilgrimage."

CHAR. But you should have talked to them, and endeavored to have shown
them the danger of staying behind.

CHRIS. So I did, and told them also what God had shown to me of the
destruction of our city; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and
they believed me not.

CHAR. And did you pray to God that He would bless your words to them?

CHRIS. Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that my
wife and poor children are very dear unto me.

CHAR. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of destruction?
for I suppose that you could see your destruction before you.

CHRIS. 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 fear of the
judgment that did hang over our heads: but all was not enough to prevail
with them to come with me.

CHAR. But what could they say for themselves why they came not?

CHRIS. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children
were given to the foolish delights of youth; so, what by one thing, and
what by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone.

CHAR. But did you not, with your vain life, hinder all that you by words
used by way of persuasion to bring them away with you?

CHRIS. Indeed, I cannot commend my life, for I am conscious to myself of
many failings therein. I know also, that a man, by his actions may soon
overthrow what, by proofs or persuasion, he doth labor to fasten upon
others for their good. Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving
them occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them averse to going on
pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell me I was too
precise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in which
they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say that, if what they saw in me
did hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or
of doing any wrong to my neighbor.

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 show themselves to be
resolutely opposed to good: thou hast freed thy soul from their blood.

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together till supper
was ready. So, when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now, the
table was furnished with fat things, and wine that was well refined; and
all their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill; as, namely,
about what He had done, and wherefore He did what He did, and why He had
builded that house; and by what they said, I perceived that He had been
a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had the power of
death, but not without great danger to Himself, which made me love Him
the more.

For, as they said, and as I believe (said Christian), He did it with the
loss of much blood. But that which puts the glory of grace into all He
did, was, that He did it out of pure love to this country. And, besides,
there were some of them of the household that said they had seen and
spoken with Him since He did die on the cross; and they have declared
that they had it from His own lips, that He is such a lover of poor
pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west.
They moreover gave an instance of what they affirmed; and that was, He
had stripped Himself of His glory, that He might do this for the poor;
and that they had heard Him say and affirm that He would not dwell in
the mountains of Zion alone. They said, moreover, that He had made many
pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their
home had been the dunghill.

Thus they talked together till late at night; and after they had
committed themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook
themselves to rest. The Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber,
whose window opened towards the sunrising. The name of the chamber was
Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke 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?"

[Sidenote: THE VIRGINS READ TO CHRISTIAN]

So in the morning they all got up; and after some more talking together,
they told him that he should not depart till they had shown him the
rarities of that place. And first they took him into the study, where
they showed him records of the greatest age; in which, as I remember in
my dream, they showed him first the history of the Lord of the hill,
that He was the son of the Ancient of Days, and had lived from the
beginning. Here also were more fully written 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 houses that could neither by length of
days nor decays of nature be destroyed.

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of His servants
had done; as, how they had conquered 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 enemies.

They then read again in another part of the records of the house, where
it was shown how willing their Lord was to receive into His favor any
even any, though they in time past had done great wrongs to His person
and rule. 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 foretellings of things that surely
come to pass, both to the dread and wonder of enemies, and the comfort
and happiness of pilgrims.

The next day they took him and led him into the armory, where they
showed him all manner of weapons which their Lord had provided for
pilgrims; as sword, shield, helmet, breast-plate, all-prayer, and shoes
that would not wear out. And there was here enough of this to harness
out as many men for the service of their Lord as there be stars in the
heaven for multitude.

They also showed him some of the things with which some of His servants
had done wonderful things. They showed him Moses' rod; the hammer and
nail with which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too,
with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed
him the ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They showed
him also the jaw-bone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They
showed him, moreover, the sling and stone with which David slew Goliath
of Gath, and the sword also with which their Lord will kill the Man of
Sin, in the day that He shall rise up to the battle. They showed him,
besides, many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted.
This done, they went to their rest again.

Then I saw in my dream that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but
they desired him to stay till the next day also; "and then," said they,
"we will, if the day be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains;" which
they said would yet further add to his comfort, because they were nearer
the desired haven than the place where at present he was. So he
consented and stayed. When the morning was up, they led him to the top
of the house, and bid him look south. So he did, and behold, at a great
distance he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with
woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and
fountains, very lovely to behold. Then he asked the name of the country.
They said it was Immanuel's Land; "and it is as common," said they, "as
this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there,
from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City, as the
shepherds that live there will make appear."

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he
should. "But first," said they, "let us go again into the armory." So
they did; and when he came there, they dressed him from head to foot
with armor of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the
way. He being, therefore, thus armed, walked out with his friends to the
gate; and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass by. Then
the Porter answered, "Yes."

CHRIS. "Pray, did you know him?" said he.

PORT. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful.

CHRIS. "Oh," said Christian, "I know him, he is my townsman, my near
neighbor; he comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think
he may be before?"

PORT. He has got by this time below the hill.

CHRIS. "Well," said Christian, "good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and
add to all thy blessings much increase for the kindness thou has shown
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 repeating their former discourses, till they came to go down
the hill. Then said Christian, "As it was difficult coming up, so far so
as I can see, it is dangerous going down." "Yes," said Prudence, "so it
is; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down the Valley of
Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way;
therefore," said they, "are we come out to accompany thee down the
hill." So he began to go down, but very warily; yet he caught a slip or
two.

Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when Christian was
gone down to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle
of wine, and a cluster of raisins; and then he went his way.




CHAPTER IV.


But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to
it; for he had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend
coming over the field to meet him: his name is Apollyon. Then did
Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back
or to stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no armor for
his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to him might give
him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with darts; therefore he
resolved to venture and stand his ground; for, thought he, had I no more
in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to
stand. So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now, the monster was hideous
to behold: he was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his
pride; he had wings like a dragon, and feet like a bear, and out of his
belly came fire and smoke; and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion.
When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful
countenance, and thus began to question with him:

[Sidenote: APOLLYON STAYS CHRISTIAN]

APOLLYON. Whence come you, and whither are you bound?

CHRIS. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place of all
evil, and am going to the City of Zion.

APOL. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects; for all that
country is mine, and I am the prince and God of it. How is it then that
thou hast run away from thy king? Were it not that I hope that thou
mayest do me more service, I would strike thee now at one blow to the
ground.

CHRIS. I was indeed born in your kingdom; 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 thoughtful
persons do, look out, if perhaps I might mend myself.

APOL. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects,
neither will I as yet lose thee; but, since thou complainest of thy
service and wages, be content to go back, and what our country will
afford I do here promise to give thee.

CHRIS. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes;
and how can I with fairness go back with thee?

APOL. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, "changed a bad
for a worse;" but it is common for those that have called themselves His
servants, after awhile to give Him the slip, and return again to me. Do
thou so too, and all shall be well.

CHRIS. I have given Him my faith, and sworn my service to Him; how,
then, can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor?

APOL. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by all,
if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back.

CHRIS. What I promised thee was in my youth, and besides, I count that
the Prince under whose banner I now stand is able to set me free, yea,
and to pardon also what I did as to my service with thee. And besides, O
thou destroying Apollyon, to speak the truth, I like His service, His
wages, His servants, His government, His company, and country, better
than thine; therefore leave off to persuade me further: I am His
servant, and I will follow Him.

APOL. Consider again when thou art in cold blood, what thou art likely
to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the most
part His servants come to an ill end, because they are disobedient
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 their hands; but as for me, how many times, as all the world
very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or fraud, those that
have faithfully served me, from Him and His, though taken by them! And
so I will deliver thee.

CHRIS. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to try
their love, whether they will cleave to Him to the end; and, as for the
ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their
account. For, for present deliverance, they do not much expect it; for
they stay for their glory, and then they shall have it when their prince
comes in His and the glory of the angels.

APOL. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to Him; and how
dost thou think to receive wages of Him?

CHRIS. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to Him?

APOL. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost
choked in the Gulf of Despond. Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid
of thy burden, whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had
taken it off. Thou didst sinfully sleep and lose thy choice things. Thou
wast almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the lions. And when
thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard, thou
art inwardly desirous of glory to thyself in all that thou sayest or
doest.

CHRIS. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; but the
Prince whom I serve and honor is merciful and ready to forgive. But
besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy own country; for there I
sucked them in, and I have groaned under them, been sorry for them, and
have obtained pardon of my Prince.

APOL. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, "I am an
enemy to this Prince; I hate His person, His laws, and people. I am come
out on purpose to withstand thee."

[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN THE CONQUEROR]

CHRIS. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King's highway,
the way of holiness: therefore take heed to yourself.

APOL. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way,
and said, "I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die; for
I swear by my infernal den, that thou shalt go no farther: here will I
spill thy soul." And, with that, he threw a flaming dart at his breast;
but Christian held a shield in his hand, with which he caught, and so
prevented the danger of that.

Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him; and
Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail, by the
which, notwithstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon
wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian give a
little back; Apollyon, therefore, followed his work amain, and Christian
again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore
combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite
spent. For you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must
needs grow weaker 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 pressed him to death,
so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as God would have it,
while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end
of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword,
and caught it, saying, "Rejoice not against me, 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 than conquerors through Him that loved us."
And, with that, Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings, and sped him
away, that Christian for a season saw him no more.

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard, as I
did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the
fight: he spake like a dragon; and, on the other side, what sighs and
groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him all the while give
so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon
with his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile and look upward;
but it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.

[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN GIVES THANKS]

CHRIS. So, when the battle was over, Christian said, "I will here give
thanks to Him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion; to
Him that did help me against Apollyon." And so he did, saying:

  "Great Satan, the captain of this fiend,
  Designed my ruin; therefore to this end
  He sent him harnessed out: and he with rage
  That hellish was, did fiercely me engage;
  But blessed angels helped me; and I,
  By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly:
  Therefore to God let me give lasting praise,
  And thank and bless His holy name always."

Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the tree of
life; the which Christian took, and laid upon the wounds that he had
received in the battle, and was healed immediately. He also sat down in
that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that was given to
him a little before: so, being refreshed, he went forth on 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 harm from Apollyon
quite through this valley.

Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the
Shadow of Death; and Christian must needs go through it, because the way
to the Celestial City lay through the midst of it. Now this valley is a
very solitary place; the prophet Jeremiah thus describes it: "A
wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought, and of the
shadow of death, a land that no man" but a Christian "passeth through,
and where no man dwelt."

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon,
as in the story you shall see.

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to the borders of
the Shadow of Death, there met him two men, children of them that
brought up an evil report of the good land, making haste to go back; to
whom Christian spake as follows:

CHRIS. Whither are you going?

MEN. They said, "Back, back! and we would have you to do so too, if
either life or peace is prized by you."

CHRIS. "Why, what's the matter?" said Christian.

MEN. "Matter!" said they: "we were going that way as you are going, and
went as far as we durst: and indeed we were almost past coming back; for
had we gone a little farther, we had not been here to bring the news to
thee."

CHRIS. "But what have you met with?" said Christian.

MEN. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but that
by good hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to
it.

CHRIS. "But what have you seen?" said Christian.

MEN. Seen! why, the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch: we also
saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit; we heard also
in that valley a continual howling and yelling, as of a people under
unutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and irons; and
over that hung the discouraging clouds of confusion; Death also does
always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful,
being utterly without order.

CHRIS. Then said Christian, "I perceive not yet, by what you have said,
but that this is my way to the desired haven."

MEN. Be it thy way, we will not choose it for ours.

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword
drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be attacked.

I saw then in my dream, as far as this valley reached, there was on the
right hand a very deep ditch; that ditch is it into which the blind have
led the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished.
Again, behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous quag, or
marsh, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his
foot to stand on: into that quag King David once did fall, and had no
doubt there been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out.

The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow, and therefore good
Christian was the more put to it; for when he sought, in the dark, to
shun the ditch, on the one hand he was ready to tip over into the mire
on the other; also when he sought to escape the mire, without great
carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on,
and I heard him here sigh bitterly, for besides the danger mentioned
above, the pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lifted up
his foot to go forward, he knew not where or upon what he should set it
next.

[Sidenote: A COMPANY OF FIENDS]

About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and
it stood also hard by the wayside. Now, thought Christian, what shall I
do? And ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such
abundance, with sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for
Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that he was forced to put up
his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called "All-Prayer." So
he cried in my hearing, "O Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul." Thus
he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching towards
him; also he heard doleful voices, and rushings to and fro, so that
sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like
mire in the streets. This frightful sight was seen, and those dreadful
noises were heard by him, for several miles together, and, coming to a
place where he thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to
meet him, he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to do.
Sometimes he had half a thought to go back; then again he thought he
might be half-way through the valley. He remembered, also, how he had
already vanquished many a danger, and that the danger of going back
might be much more than going forward. So he resolved to go on; yet the
fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. But, when they were come even
almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, "I will walk in
the strength of the Lord God." So they gave back, and came no farther.

[Sidenote: VALLEY OF SHADOW OF DEATH]

One thing I would not let slip: I took notice that now poor Christian
was so confounded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I
perceived it: just when he was come over against the mouth of the
burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him, and stepped up
softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many wicked words to him,
which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put
Christian more to it than anything he had met with before, even to think
that he should now speak evil of Him that he had so much loved before.
Yet, if he could have helped it, he would not have done it; but he had
not the wisdom either to stop his ears, or to know from whence those
wicked words came.

When Christian had traveled in this sorrowful condition some
considerable time he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going
before him, saying, "Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of
Death I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me."

Then he was glad, and that for these reasons:

First,--Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God were
in this valley as well as himself.

Secondly,--For that he perceived God was with them, though in that dark
and dismal state. And why not, thought he, with me, though by reason of
the kindness that attends this place, I cannot perceive it?

Thirdly,--For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company
by-and-by. So he went on, and called to him that was before; but he knew
not what to answer, for that he also thought himself to be alone. And
by-and-by the day broke. Then said Christian, "He hath turned the shadow
of death into the morning."

Now, morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return,
but to see, by the light of the day, what dangers he had gone through in
the dark. So he saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand,
and the quag that was on the other; also how narrow the way which led
betwixt them both. Also now he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and
dragons of the pit, but all afar off; for after break of day they came
not nigh; yet they were shown to him according to that which is written,
"He showeth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the
shadow of death."

Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the
dangers of his solitary way; which dangers, though he feared them much
before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of the day
made them plain to him. And about this time the sun was rising, and this
was another mercy to Christian; for you must note that, though the first
part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dangerous, yet this second
part, which he was yet to go, was if possible far more dangerous; for,
from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the
way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here,
and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings down there,
that, had it now been dark, as it was when he came the first part of the
way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away.
But, as I said just now the sun was rising. Then said he, "His candle
shineth on my head, and by His light I go through darkness."

[Sidenote: POPE AND PAGAN]

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now, I saw
in my dream that at the end of the valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and
mangled bodies of men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly;
and, while I was musing what should be the reason, I espied a little
before me a cave, where two giants, POPE and PAGAN, dwelt in old time;
by whose power and tyranny, the men whose bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay
there, were cruelly put to death. But by this place Christian went
without danger, whereat I somewhat wondered; but I have learnt since,
that Pagan has been dead many a day; and, as for the other, though he be
yet alive, he is, by reason of age, also of the many shrewd brushes that
he met with in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff in his joints,
that he can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth, grinning at
pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because he cannot come to
them.

So I saw that Christian went on his way; yet, at the sight of the old
man that sat at the mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to think,
especially because he spoke to him, though he could not go after him,
saying, "You will never mend till more of you be burned." But he held
his peace, and set a good face on it, and so went by and caught no hurt.
Then sang Christian:

  "O, world of wonders (I can say no less),
  That I should be preserved in that distress
  That I have met with here! Oh, blessed be
  That hand that from it hath delivered me!
  Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin,
  Did compass me, while I this vale was in;
  Yes, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie
  My path about, that worthless, silly I
  Might have been catched, entangled, and cast down;
  But, since I live, let Jesus wear the crown."

[Illustration: Christian and Faithful Join Company.
                                   Page 89]




CHAPTER V.


Now as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent which was
cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before them: up there,
therefore, Christian went; and looking forward, he saw Faithful before
him upon his journey. Then said Christian aloud, "Ho, ho! so-ho! stay,
and I will be your companion." At that Faithful looked behind him; to
whom Christian cried, "Stay, stay, till I come up to you." But Faithful
answered, "No, I am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind
me."

[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN JOINS FAITHFUL]

At this Christian was somewhat moved; and putting to all his strength,
he quickly got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him: so the last
was first. Then did Christian boastfully smile, because he had gotten
the start of his brother; but, not taking good heed to his feet, he
suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again until Faithful came
up to help him.

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on together, and had
sweet talk together of all things that had happened to them in their
pilgrimage; and thus Christian began:

CHRIS. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that I
have overtaken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can
walk as companions in this so pleasant a path.

FAITH. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company quite from
our town; but you did get the start of me, wherefore I was forced to
come thus much of the way alone.

CHRIS. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction before you set
out after me on your pilgrimage?

[Sidenote: WHAT WAS SAID IN THE CITY]

FAITH. Till I could stay no longer; for there was great talk, presently
after you were gone out, that our city would, in a short time, with fire
from heaven, be burned down to the ground.

CHRIS. What! did your neighbors talk so?

FAITH. Yes, it was for a while in everybody's mouth.

CHRIS. What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape the
danger?

FAITH. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I do
not think they did firmly believe it. For, in the heat of the talking I
heard some of them deridingly speak of you, and of your desperate
journey; for so they called this your pilgrimage. But I did believe, and
do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone from
above; and therefore I have made my escape.

CHRIS. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable?

FAITH. Yes, Christian; I heard that he followed you till he came to the
Slough of Despond, where, as some said, he fell in; but he would not be
known to have so done; but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that
kind of dirt.

CHRIS. And what said the neighbors to him?

FAITH. He hath, since his going back, been held greatly in derision, and
that among all sorts of people: some do mock and despise him, and scarce
any will set him on work. He is now seven times worse than if he had
never gone out of the city.

CHRIS. But why should they be set so against him, since they also
despise the way that he forsook?

FAITH. "Oh," they say, "hang him; he is a turncoat! he was not true to
his profession!" I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at
him and laugh at him, because he hath forsaken the way.

CHRIS. Had you no talk with him before you came out?

FAITH. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the other
side, as one ashamed of what he had done; so I spake not to him.

CHRIS. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that man, but now I
fear he will perish in the overthrow of the city. For it has happened to
him according to the true proverb, "The dog is turned to his vomit
again, and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire."

FAITH. These are my fears of him too; but who can hinder that which will
be?

CHRIS. "Well, neighbor Faithful," said Christian, "let us leave him, and
talk of things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now
what you have met with in the way as you came; for I know you have met
with some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder."

FAITH. I escaped the slough that I perceive you fell into, and got up to
the gate without that danger; only I met with one whose name was Wanton,
that had like to have done me a mischief.

CHRIS. It was well you escaped her net: Joseph was hard put to it by
her, and he escaped her as you did; but it had like to have cost him his
life. But what did she do to you?

FAITH. You cannot think (but that you know something) what a flattering
tongue she had; she lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me
all manner of enjoyment.

CHRIS. Nay, she did not promise you the enjoyment of a good conscience.

FAITH. You know what I mean--not the enjoyment of the soul, but of the
body.

CHRIS. Thank God you have escaped her: the abhorred of the Lord shall
fall into her ditch.

FAITH. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no.

CHRIS. Why, I suppose you did not consent to her desires?

FAITH. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing that I
had seen which saith, "Her steps take hold of hell." So I shut mine
eyes, because I would not be bewitched with her looks. Then she railed
on me, and I went my way.

CHRIS. Did you meet with no other assault as you came?

[Sidenote: FAITHFUL AND ADAM THE FIRST]

FAITH. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with
a very aged man, who asked me what I was and whither bound. I told him
that I was a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old
man, "Thou lookest like an honest fellow: wilt thou be content to dwell
with me, for the wages that I shall give thee?" Then I asked him his
name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam the First, and that
he dwelt in the town of Deceit. I asked him then what was his work, and
what the wages that he would give. He told me that his work was many
delights; and his wages, that I should be his heir at last. I further
asked him what house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he told
me that his house was filled with all the dainties of the world, and
that his servants were his own children. Then I asked him how many
children he had. He said that he had but three daughters, the Lust of
the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life, and that I
should marry them if I would. Then I asked, how long time he would have
me live with him? And he told me, As long as he lived himself.

CHRIS. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last?

FAITH. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the
man, for I thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as
I talked with him, I saw there written, "Put off the old man with his
deeds."

CHRIS. And how then?

FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, and
however he flattered, when he got home to his house he would sell me for
a slave. So I bid him forbear, for I would not come near the door of his
house. Then he reviled me, and told me that he would send such a one
after me that should make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go
away from him; but, just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him
take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that I
thought he had pulled part of me after himself: this made me cry, "O
wretched man!" So I went on my way up the hill. Now, when I had got
about half-way up, I looked behind me, and saw one coming after me,
swift as the wind; so he overtook me just about the place where the
settle stands.

CHRIS. "Just there," said Christian, "did I sit down to rest me; but
being overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my bosom."

FAITH. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me,
he was but a word and a blow; for down he knocked me, and laid me for
dead. But, when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him
wherefore he served me so. He said, because of my secret inclining to
Adam the First. And, with that, he struck me another deadly blow on the
breast, and beat me down backwards; so I lay at his feet as dead as
before. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy; but he said,
"I know not how to show mercy;" and, with that, he knocked me down
again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by, and bid
him forbear.

CHRIS. Who was that that bid him forbear?

FAITH. I did not know him at first; but, as He went by, I perceived the
holes in His hands and His side; then I concluded that He was our Lord.
So I went up the hill.

CHRIS. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none, neither
knoweth he how to show mercy to those that disobey his law.

FAITH. I know it very well: it was not the first time that he has met
with me. It was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and
that told me he would burn my house over my head if I stayed there.

CHRIS. But Did not you see the house that stood there, on the top of
that hill on the side of which Moses met you?

FAITH. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. But, for the lions,
I think they were asleep, for it was about noon; and because I had so
much of the day before me I passed by the Porter, and came down the
hill.

CHRIS. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by; but I wished you had
called at the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities,
that you would scarce have forgot them to the day of your death. But
pray tell me, did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility?

FAITH. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have
persuaded me to go back again with him: his reason was, for that the
valley was altogether without honor. He told me, moreover, that there to
go was the way to disoblige all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy,
Self-Conceit, Worldly-Glory, with others, who he knew, as he said, would
be very much offended if I made such a fool of myself as to wade through
this valley.

CHRIS. Well, and how did you answer him?

FAITH. I told him that, although all these that he named might claim
kindred of me, and that rightly (for, indeed, they were my relations
according to the flesh), yet, since I became a pilgrim, they have
disowned me, as I also have rejected them; and therefore they were to me
now no more than if they had never been of my lineage. I told him,
moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing;
for before honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a fall.
"Therefore," said I, "I had rather go through this valley to the honor
that was so accounted by the wisest, than choose that which he esteemed
most worthy of our affections."

CHRIS. Met you with nothing else in that valley?

[Sidenote: SHAME A BOLD VILLAIN]

FAITH. Yes, I met with Shame; but, of all the men that I met with in my
pilgrimage, he I think, bears the wrong name. The others would take
"No" for an answer, at least after some words of denial; but this
bold-faced Shame would never have done.

CHRIS. Why, what did he say to you?

FAITH. What? why, he objected against religion itself. He said it was a
pitiful, low, sneaking business for a man to mind religion. He said that
a tender conscience was an unmanly thing; and that for a man to watch
over his words and ways, so as to tie up himself from that liberty that
the brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto, would make him
the ridicule of all the people in our time. He objected also, that but a
few of the mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my opinion; nor any of
them neither, before they were persuaded to be fools, to venture the
loss of all for nobody else knows what. He, moreover, objected the base
and low estate and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of
the times in which they lived; also their ignorance, and want of
understanding in all worldly knowledge. Yea, he did hold me to it at
that rate also, about a great many more things than here I relate; as,
that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a
shame to come sighing and groaning home; that it was a shame to ask my
neighbor forgiveness for petty faults, or to give back what I had taken
from any. He said also that religion made a man grow strange to the
great, because of a few vices (which he called by finer names), and
because religion made him own and respect the base, who were of the same
religious company; "and is not this," said he, "a shame?"

CHRIS. And what did you say to him?

FAITH. Say? I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he put me so to
it that my blood came up in my face; even this Shame fetched it up, and
had almost beat me quite off. But at last I began to consider that that
which is highly esteemed among men is had in abomination with God. And I
thought again, This Shame tells me what men are, but it tells me nothing
what God, or the Word of God is. And I thought, moreover, that at the
day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life according to the
spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law of the
Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best--is best, though
all the men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers
His religion; seeing God prefers a tender conscience; seeing they that
make themselves fools for the kingdom of heaven are wisest, and that the
poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the greatest man in the world
that hates Him; Shame, depart! thou art an enemy to my salvation. Shall
I listen to thee against my sovereign Lord? how, then, shall I look Him
in the face at His coming? Should I now be ashamed of His way and
servants how can I expect the blessing? But, indeed, this Shame was a
bold villain: I could scarce shake him out of my company; yea, he would
be haunting of me, and continually whispering me in the ear with some
one or other of the weak things that attend religion. But at last I told
him it was in vain to attempt further in this business; for those things
that he despised, in those did I see most glory; and so, at last, I got
past this persistent one. And when I had shaken him off, then I began to
sing,

  "The trials that those men do meet withal,
  That are obedient to the heavenly call,
  Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,
  And come, and come, and come again afresh;
  That now, or some time else, we by them may
  Be taken, overcome, and cast away.
  Oh, let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then,
  Be vigilant and quit themselves like men!"

CHRIS. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villain so
bravely: for of all, as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for
he is so bold as to follow us in the streets, and to attempt to put us
to shame before all men; that is, to make us ashamed of that which is
good. But, if he was not himself bold, he would never attempt to do as
he does. But let us still resist him; for, notwithstanding all his bold
words, he promoteth the fool, and none else. "The wise shall inherit
glory," said Solomon; "but shame shall be the promotion of fools."

FAITH. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame who would have
us to be valiant for truth upon the earth.

CHRIS. You say true. But did you meet nobody else in that valley?

FAITH. No, not I; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through
that, and also through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

CHRIS. It was well for you! I am sure it fared far otherwise with me. I
had for a long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a
dreadful combat with that foul fiend Apollyon; yea, I thought verily he
would have killed me, especially when he got me down, and crushed me
under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces. For, as he threw
me, my sword flew out of my hand; nay, he told me he was sure of me; and
I cried to God, and He heard me, and delivered me out of all my
troubles. Then I entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had
no light for almost half the way through it. I thought I should have
been killed there over and over: but at last day broke, and the sun
rose, and I went through that which was behind with far more ease and
quiet.

[Sidenote: TALKATIVE OVERTAKEN]

Moreover, I saw in my dream that, as they went on, Faithful, as he
chanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name is Talkative walking
at a distance beside them; for in this place there was room enough for
them all to walk. He was a tall man, and something better looking at a
distance than near at hand. To this man Faithful spoke himself in this
manner:

FAITH. Friend, whither away? Are you going to the heavenly country?

TALK. I am going to that same place.

FAITH. That is well; then I hope we may have your good company.

TALK. With a very good will, will I be your companion.

FAITH. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time
in talking of things that are profitable.

TALK. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with
you or with any other; and I am glad that I have met with those that
incline to so good a work; for, to speak the truth, there are but few
who care thus to spend their time as they are in their travels, but
choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit; and this has
been a trouble to me.

FAITH. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented; for what things so
worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the
things of the God of heaven?

TALK. I like you wonderfully well, for your saying is full of the truth;
and I will add, What thing is so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to
talk of the things of God? What things so pleasant? that is, if a man
hath any delight in things that are wonderful. For instance, if a man
doth delight to talk of the history or the mystery of things, or if a
man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he
find things written so delightful, or so sweetly penned, as in the Holy
Scripture?

FAITH. That's true; but to be profited by such things in our talk should
be that which we design.

[Sidenote: TALKATIVE SELF-DECEIVED]

TALK. That is it that I said; for to talk of such things is most
profitable; for, by so doing, a man may get knowledge of many things; as
of the folly of earthly things, and the benefit of things above.
Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to turn from sin, to
believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like; by this, also, a man may learn
what are the great promises and comforts of the Gospel, to his own
enjoyment. Further, by this a man may learn to answer false opinions, to
prove the truth, and also to teach the ignorant.

FAITH. All this is true; and glad am I to hear these things from you.

TALK. Alas! the want of this is the cause that so few understand the
need of faith, and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in
order to eternal life.

FAITH. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of
God; no man attaineth to them by human working, or only by the talk of
them.

TALK. All that I know very well, for a man can receive nothing except it
be given him from heaven; I could give you a hundred scriptures for the
confirmation of this.

FAITH. "Well, then," said Faithful, "what is that one thing that we
shall at this time found our talk upon?"

TALK. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly or things earthly;
things in life or things in the gospel; things sacred or things worldly;
things past or things to come; things foreign or things at home; things
necessary or things accidental, provided that all be done to our profit.

FAITH. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and, stepping to Christian (for
he walked all this while by himself), he said to him, but softly, "What
a brave companion have we got! Surely this man will make a very
excellent pilgrim."

[Sidenote: FAITHFUL DISPUTES TALKATIVE]

CHRIS. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, "This man with whom
you are so taken will deceive with this tongue of his twenty of them
that know him not."

FAITH. Do you know him, then?

CHRIS. Know him? Yes, better than he knows himself.

FAITH. Pray what is he?

CHRIS. His name is Talkative; he dwelleth in our town. I wonder that you
should be a stranger to him: only I consider that our town is large.

FAITH. Whose son is he? and whereabout doth he dwell?

CHRIS. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in Prating Row, and is
known to all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of
Prating Row; and notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry
fellow.

FAITH. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.

CHRIS. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him,
for he is best abroad; near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he
is a pretty man brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of
the painter, whose pictures show best at a distance, but very near more
unpleasing.

FAITH. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled.

CHRIS. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) in this matter,
or that I should accuse any falsely. I will give you a further discovery
of him. This man is for any company, and for any talk. As he talketh now
with you, so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench; and the more
drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his
mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or conversation:
all he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise
therewith.

FAITH. Say you so? Then am I in this man greatly deceived.

CHRIS. Deceived! you may be sure of it. Remember the proverb, "They say,
and do not;" but the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. He
talketh of prayer, of turning to God, of faith, and of the new birth;
but he knows but only to talk of them. I have been in his family, and
have seen him both at home and abroad, and I know what I say of him is
the truth. His house is as empty of religion as the white of an egg is
of savor. There is there neither prayer nor sign of turning from sin;
yea, the brute, in his kind, serves God far better than he. He is the
very stain, reproach, and shame of religion to all that know him. It can
hardly have a good word in all that end of the town where he dwells,
through him. Thus say the common people that know him: "A saint abroad,
and a devil at home." His poor family finds it so: he is such a
fault-finder, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his servants,
that they neither know how to do for or speak to him. Men that have any
dealings with him say, it is better to deal with a Turk than with him,
for fairer dealing they shall have at their hands. This Talkative, if it
be possible, will go beyond them, cheat, beguile, and overreach them.
Besides, he brings up his sons to follow his steps; and, if he findeth
in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first
appearance of a tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads,
and by no means will employ them in much, or speak to their commendation
before others. For my part, I am of opinion that he has, by his wicked
life, caused many to stumble and fall, and will be, if God prevent not,
the ruin of many more.

FAITH. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you, not only because you
say you know him, but also because like a Christian you make your
reports of men. For I cannot think you speak these things of ill-will,
but because it is even so as you say.

CHRIS. Had I known him no more than you, I might, perhaps, have thought
of him as at first you did; yea, had he received this report only from
those that are enemies to religion, I should have thought it had been a
slander, a lot that often falls from bad men's mouths upon good men's
names and professions. But all these things, yea, and a great many more
as bad, of my own knowledge I can prove him guilty of. Besides, good men
are ashamed of him: they can neither call him brother nor friend; the
very naming of him among them makes them blush, if they know him.

FAITH. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I
shall better observe the difference between them.

CHRIS. They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul
and the body; for, as the body without the soul is but a dead carcase,
so _saying_, if it be alone, is but a dead carcase also. The soul of
religion is the practical part. "Pure religion and undefiled before God
and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and the widows in their
affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." This,
Talkative is not aware of: he thinks that hearing and saying will make a
good Christian, and thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as
the sowing of the seed; talking is not sufficient to prove that fruit is
indeed in the heart and life. And let us assure ourselves that, at the
day of doom, men shall be judged according to their fruits.

FAITH. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as sick
of it now. What shall we do to be rid of him?

CHRIS. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find that he
will soon be sick of your company too, except God shall touch his heart
and turn it.

FAITH. What would you have me to do?

CHRIS. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious conversation about
the power of religion and ask him plainly (when he has approved of it,
for that he will) whether this thing be set up in his heart, house or
conduct.

FAITH. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative,
"Come, what cheer? How is it now?"

TALK. Thank you, well: I thought we should have had a great deal of talk
by this time.

FAITH. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and, since you left it
with me to state the question, let it be this: How doth the saving grace
of God show itself when it is in the heart of man?

TALK. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of things.
Well, it is a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you.
And take my answer in brief, thus. First, where the grace of God is in
the heart, it causeth there a great outcry against sin. Secondly,--

FAITH. Nay, hold; let us consider of one at once. I think you should
rather say, it shows itself by inclining the soul to hate its sin.

TALK. Why, what difference is there between crying out against and
hating sin?

FAITH. Oh! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin in order to
appear good; but he cannot hate it except by a real dislike for it. I
have heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it
well enough in the heart, house, and life. Some cry out against sin,
even as the mother cries out against her child in her lap, when she
calleth it a naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it.

TALK. You are trying to catch me, I perceive.

FAITH. No, not I; I am only for setting things right. But what is the
second thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of God in the
heart?

TALK. Great knowledge of hard things in the Bible.

[Sidenote: TALKATIVE PARTS COMPANY]

FAITH. This sign should have been first; but, first or last, it is also
false; for knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries
of the Gospel, and yet no work of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have
all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so, consequently, be no child
of God. When Christ said, "Do ye know all these things?" and the
disciples had answered, "Yes," He added, "Blessed are ye if ye do them."
He doth not lay the blessing in the knowledge of them, but in the doing
of them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing: "He
that knoweth his master's will, and doeth it not." A man may know like
an angel, and yet be no Christian; therefore your sign of it is not
true. Indeed, to know, is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters;
but to do is that which pleaseth God.

TALK. You are trying to catch me again: this is not profitable.

FAITH. Well, if you please, name another sign how this work of grace
showeth itself where it is.

TALK. Not I; for I see we shall not agree.

FAITH. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it?

TALK. You may say what you please.

FAITH. God's work in the soul showeth itself either to him that hath it
or to standers by. To him that has it, it is shown by making him see and
feel his own sins. To others who are standing by it is shown by his
life, a life of doing right in the sight of God. And now, sir, as to
this brief account of the work of grace, and also the showing of it, if
you have aught to object, object; if not, then give me leave to ask you
a second question.

TALK. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear; let me, therefore,
have your second question.

FAITH. It is this: Have you felt your own sins, and have you turned from
them? And do your life and conduct show it the same? Or is your religion
in word or in tongue, and not in deed and truth? Pray, if you incline to
answer me in this, say no more than you know the God above will say
Amen to, and also nothing but what your conscience can approve you in;
for not he that commendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord
commendeth. Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when my conduct and all
my neighbors tell me I lie, is great wickedness.

TALK. Then Talkative at first began to blush; but, recovering himself,
thus he replied: "This kind of discourse I did not expect; nor am I
disposed to give an answer to such questions, because I count not myself
bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a questioner; and though
you should do so, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But, I pray,
will you tell me why you ask me such questions?"

FAITH. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that
you had aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I
have heard of you that you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and
that your life gives this your mouth-profession the lie. They say you
are a spot among Christians, and that religion fareth the worse for your
ungodly conduct; that some already have stumbled at your wicked ways,
and that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby: your religion,
and an alehouse, and greed for gain, and uncleanness, and swearing, and
lying, and vain company-keeping, etc., will stand together. You are a
shame to all who are members of the church.

TALK. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge so rashly as
you do, I cannot but conclude you are some peevish or cross man, not fit
to be talked with; and so adieu.

CHRIS. Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, "I told you how
it would happen; your words and his heart could not agree. He had rather
leave your company than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said: let
him go; the loss is no man's but his own: he has saved us the trouble of
going from him; for he continuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is, he
would have been but a blot in our company. Besides, the Apostle says,
'From such withdraw thyself.'"

FAITH. But I am glad we had this little talk with him; it may happen
that he will think of it again: however, I have dealt plainly with him,
and so am clear of his blood, if he perisheth.

CHRIS. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did. There is but
little of this faithful dealing with men now-a-days; and that makes
religion to be despised by so many; for they are these talkative fools,
whose religion is only in word, and are vile and vain in their life,
that, being so much admitted into the fellowship of the godly, do puzzle
the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish that all
men would deal with such as you have done; then should they either be
made more suitable to religion, or the company of saints would be too
hot for them.

FAITH. Then did Faithful say,

  "How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes!
  How bravely doth he speak! How he presumes
  To drive down all before him! But so soon
  As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon
  That's past the full, into the wane he goes;
  And so will all but he who heart-work knows."

Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by the way, and so made
that way easy, which would otherwise, no doubt, have been tedious to
them; for now they went through a wilderness.




CHAPTER VI.


Now, when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful
chanced to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after him, and he
knew him. "Oh!" said Faithful to his brother, "who comes yonder?" Then
Christian looked, and said, "It is my good friend Evangelist." "Ay, and
my good friend, too," said Faithful; "for it was he that set me the way
to the gate." Now was Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted
them:

EVAN. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and peace be to your helpers.

CHRIS. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist: the sight of thy face
brings to my thought thy former kindness and unwearied laboring for my
eternal good.

FAITH. "And a thousand times welcome," said good Faithful: "thy company,
O sweet Evangelist, how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims!"

EVAN. Then said Evangelist, "How hath it fared with you, my friends,
since the time of our last parting? What have you met with, and how have
you behaved yourselves?"

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had happened to
them in the way; and how, and with what difficulty, they had arrived to
that place.

EVAN. "Right glad am I," said Evangelist, "not that you met with trials,
but that you have been victors, and for that you have, notwithstanding
many weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day. I say, right
glad am I of this thing, and that for my own sake and yours. I have
sowed, and you have reaped; and the day is coming when 'both he that
sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together;' that is, if you
faint not. The crown is before you, and it is an uncorruptible one: so
run that you may obtain it. Some there be that set out for this crown,
and after they have gone far for it, another comes in and takes it from
them: 'Hold fast, therefore, that you have; let no man take your
crown.'"

Then Christian thanked him for his words, but told him withal that they
would have him speak further to them, for their help the rest of the
way; and the rather, for that they well knew that he was a prophet, and
could tell them of things that might happen unto them, and also how they
might resist and overcome them. To which request Faithful also
consented. So Evangelist began as followeth:

[Sidenote: EVANGELIST EXHORTS CHRISTIAN]

EVAN. My sons, you have heard, in the words of the truth of the Gospel,
that you must "through many trials enter into the kingdom of heaven;"
and again, that "in every city bonds and afflictions await you;" and
therefore you cannot expect that you should go long on your pilgrimage
without them in some sort or other. You have found something of the
truth of these words upon you already, and more will immediately follow;
for now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness, and
therefore you will soon come into a town that you will by-and-by see
before you; and in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies who
will strain hard but they will kill you; and be you sure that one or
both of you must seal the truth which you hold with blood: but be you
faithful unto death, and the King will give you a crown of life. He that
shall die there, although his death will be unnatural, and his pain,
perhaps, great, he will yet have the better of his fellow; not only
because he will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he
will escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of
his journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled
what I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit yourselves
like men, and commit the keeping of your souls to God in well-doing, as
unto a faithful Creator.

[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS AT VANITY FAIR]

Then I saw in my dream, that, when they were got out of the wilderness,
they presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town is
Vanity; and at the town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is
kept all the year long. It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the
town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, and also because all that
is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity; as is the saying of
the Wise, "All that cometh is vanity."

This is no newly begun business, but a thing of ancient standing. I will
show you the original of it.

Almost five thousand years ago, there were pilgrims walking to the
Celestial City, as these two honest persons are; and Beelzebub,
Apollyon, and Legion, with their companions, perceiving by the path that
the pilgrims made that their way to the city lay through this town of
Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair; a fair wherein should be
sold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long.
Therefore at this fair are all such things sold as houses, lands,
trades, places, honors, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts,
pleasures, and delights of all sorts, as wives, husbands, children,
masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls,
precious stones, and what not.

And, moreover, at this fair there are at all times to be seen jugglings,
cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of every
kind.

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, false
swearers, and that of a blood-red color.

And, as in other fairs of less moment there are several rows and streets
under their proper names, where such and such wares are vended; so here
likewise you have the proper places, rows, streets (namely, countries
and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair are soonest to be found.
Here are the Britain Row, the French Row, the Italian Row, the Spanish
Row, the German Row, where several sorts of vanities are to be sold.
But, as in other fairs some one commodity is as the chief of all the
fair, so the ware of Rome and her goods are greatly promoted in this
fair; only our English nation, with some others, have taken dislike
thereat.

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through this
town where this lusty fair is kept; and he that would go to the city,
and yet not go through this town, "must needs go out of the world." The
Prince of princes Himself, when here, went through this town to His own
country, and that upon a fair day too; yea, and as I think, it was
Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited Him to buy of his
vanities; yea, would have made Him lord of the fair, would He but have
done him reverence as He went through the town. Yea, because He was such
a person of honor, Beelzebub had Him from street to street, and showed
Him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, that he might, if
possible, allure that Blessed One to ask for and buy some of his
vanities; but He had no mind to the merchandise, and therefore left the
town without laying out so much as one farthing upon these vanities.
This fair, therefore, is an ancient thing of long-standing, and a very
great fair.

Now, these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair. Well,
so they did; but, behold, even as they entered into the fair, all the
people in the fair were moved and the town itself, as it were, in a
hubbub about them, and that for several reasons; for,

First,--The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of garments as were
different from the raiment of any that traded in that fair. The people,
therefore, of the fair, made a great gazing upon them: some said they
were fools; some, they were bedlams; and some, they were outlandish men.

Secondly,--And, as they wondered at their apparel, so they did likewise
at their speech; for few could understand what they said. They naturally
spoke the language of Canaan; but they that kept the fair were the men
of this world. So that from one end of the fair to the other, they
seemed barbarians each to the other.

Thirdly,--But that which did not a little amuse the store-keepers was,
that these pilgrims set very light by all their wares. They cared not so
much as to look upon them; and if they called upon them to buy, they
would put their fingers in their ears, and cry, "Turn away mine eyes
from beholding vanity," and look upwards, signifying that their trade
and traffic were in heaven.

One chanced, mockingly, beholding the actions of the men, to say unto
them, "What will you buy?" But they, looking gravely upon him, said, "We
buy the truth." At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men
the more: some mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and
some calling on others to smite them. At last things came to a hubbub
and great stir in the fair, insomuch that all order was confounded. Now
was word presently brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly
came down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take these men
for trial about whom the fair was almost overturned. So the men were
brought to trial, and they that sat upon them asked them whence they
came, whither they went, and what they did there in such an unusual
garb. The men told them that they were pilgrims and strangers in the
world, and that they were going to their own country, which was the
heavenly Jerusalem, and that they had given no occasion to the men of
the town, nor yet to the merchants, thus to abuse them, and to hinder
them in their journey, except it was for that, when one asked them what
they would buy, they said they would buy the truth. But they that were
appointed to examine them did not believe them to be any other than
crazy people and mad, or else such as came to put all things into a
confusion in the fair. Therefore they took them and beat them, and
besmeared them with dirt, and then put them into the cage, that they
might be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair. There, therefore,
they lay for some time, and were made the objects of any man's sport, or
malice, or revenge; the great one of the fair laughing still at all that
befell them. But, the men being patient, and "not rendering railing for
railing, but contrariwise blessing," and giving good words for bad, and
kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that were more
observing and less opposed than the rest, began to check and blame the
baser sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men. They,
therefore, in an angry manner, let fly at them again, counting them as
bad as the men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed to be in
league with them, and should be made partakers of their misfortunes. The
others replied, that, for aught they could see, the men were quiet and
sober, and intended nobody any harm; and that there were many that
traded in their fair that were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea,
and pillory too, than were the men that they had abused. Thus, after
divers words had passed on both sides (the men behaving themselves all
the while very wisely and soberly before them,) they fell to some blows,
and did harm to one another. Then were these two poor men brought before
the court again, and there charged as being guilty of the late hubbub
that had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons
upon them, and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example
and terror to others, lest any should speak in their behalf, or join
themselves unto them. But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet
more wisely, and received the wrongs and shame that were cast upon them
with so much meekness and patience, that it won to their side (though
but few in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the fair. This
put the other party in yet a greater rage, insomuch that they resolved
upon the death of these two men. Wherefore they threatened that neither
cage nor irons should serve their turn, but that they should die for the
abuse they had done, and for deceiving the men of the fair.

[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS IN STOCKS]

Then were they remanded to the cage again, until further order should be
taken with them. So they put them in, and made their feet fast in the
stocks.

Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard from
their faithful friend Evangelist, and were more confirmed in their way
and sufferings, by what he told them would happen to them. They also now
comforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, even he should
have the best of it; therefore each man secretly wished he might have
that privilege. But, committing themselves to the all-wise disposal of
Him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the
condition in which they were, until they should be otherwise disposed
of.

[Sidenote: LORD HATE-GOOD]

Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to their
trial, in order to their being condemned. When the time was come, they
were brought before their enemies, and placed on trial. The judge's name
was Lord Hate-good: the charges against both were one and the same in
substance, though somewhat varying in form; the contents whereof were
this: "That they were enemies to and disturbers of their trade; that
they had made riots and divisions in the town, and had won a party to
their own most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their
prince."

Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself against that
which had set itself against Him that is higher than the highest. "And,"
said he, "as for disturbances, I make none, being myself a man of peace;
the parties that were won to us, were won by beholding our truth and
innocence, and they are only turned from the worse to the better. And,
as to the king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our
Lord, I defy him and all his angels."

[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS ON TRIAL]

Then it was made known that they that had aught to say for their lord
the king against the prisoner at the bar should forthwith appear and
give in their evidence. So there came in three witnesses; to wit, Envy,
Superstition, and Pickthank. They were then asked if they knew the
prisoner at the bar, and what they had to say for their lord the king
against him.

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect: "My lord, I have known
this man a long time, and will attest upon my oath before this honorable
bench that he is--"

JUDGE. Hold! Give him his oath.

ENVY. So they sware him. Then said he, "My lord, this man,
notwithstanding his name, Faithful is one of the vilest men in our
country. He cares for neither prince nor people, law nor custom, but
doth all that he can to possess all men with certain of his disloyal
notions, which he in the general calls principles of faith and holiness.
And in particular, I heard him once myself affirm that Christianity and
the customs of our town of Vanity were opposite, and could not be
reconciled. By which saying, my lord, he doth at once not only condemn
all our laudable doings, but us in the doing of them."

JUDGE. Then did the judge say to him, "Hast thou any more to say?"

ENVY. My lord, I could say much more, only I would not be tiresome to
the court. Yet, if need be, when the other gentlemen have given in their
evidence, rather than anything shall be wanting that will dispatch him,
I will have more to speak against him. So he was bid stand by.

Then they called Superstition, and bade him look upon the prisoner. They
also asked what he could say for their lord the king against him. Then
they sware him: so he began:

SUPER. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor do I
desire to have further knowledge of him. However, this I know, that he
is a very pestilent fellow, from some discourse the other day that I had
with him in this town; for then, talking with him, I heard him say that
our religion was naught, and such by which a man could by no means
please God. Which saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows
what necessarily thence will follow; to wit, that we still do worship in
vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be destroyed: and this is
that which I have to say.

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew, in behalf of their
lord the king, against the prisoner at the bar.

PICK. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I have known a long
time, and have heard him speak things that ought not to be spoken, for
he hath railed on our noble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken
contemptuously of his honorable friends, whose names are, the Lord
Old-man, the Lord Carnal-Delight, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord
Desire-of-Vain-Glory, my old Lord Lust, Sir Having Greedy, with all the
rest of our nobility and he hath said, moreover, that, if all men were
of his mind, if possible there is not one of these noblemen should have
any longer a being in this town. Besides, he has not been afraid to rail
on you, my lord, who are now appointed to be his judge, calling you an
ungodly villain, with many other such-like abusive terms, with which he
hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town.

JUDGE. When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge directed his
speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, "Thou runagate, heretic, and
traitor! hast thou heard what these honest gentlemen have witnessed
against thee?"

FAITH. May I speak a few words in my own defense?

JUDGE. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain
immediately upon the place; yet, that all men may see our gentleness
towards thee, let us hear what thou, vile runagate, hast to say.

FAITH. 1. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken, I have
never said aught but this, that what rule, or laws, or custom, or people
were flat against the Word of God, are opposite to Christianity. If I
have said amiss in this, convince me of my error, and I am ready here
before you to take back my words.

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition and his charge against me,
I said only this, that in the worship of God there is required true
faith. But there can be no true faith without a knowledge of the will of
God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the worship of God that is not
agreeable to the word of God will not profit to eternal life.

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding terms, as that I
am said to rail, and the like), that the prince of this town, with all
the rabblement his attendants, by this gentleman named, are more fit for
a being in hell than in this town and country. And so the Lord have
mercy upon me!

Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by to hear
and observe), "Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about whom so
great an uproar hath been made in this town; you have also heard what
these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against him; also you have heard
his reply and confession. It lieth now in your breast to hang him or to
save his life; but yet I think meet to instruct you into our law.

"There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh, the great servant to our
prince, that, lest those of a contrary religion should multiply and grow
too strong for him, their males should be thrown into the river. There
was also an act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another of
his servants, that whoever would not fall down and worship his golden
image should be thrown into a fiery furnace. There was also an act made
in the days of Darius, that whoso for some time called upon any god but
him should be cast into the lions' den. Now, the substance of these laws
this rebel has broken, not only in thought (which is not to be borne,)
but also in word and deed, which must, therefore, needs be intolerable.
You see he disputeth against our religion; and for the reason that he
hath confessed he deserveth to die the death."

[Sidenote: FAITHFUL DIES AT THE STAKE]

Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr. Blind-man, Mr. No-good, Mr.
Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr.
Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable, who
every one gave in his private voice against him among themselves, and
afterwards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before the
Judge. And first among themselves, Mr. Blind-man, the foreman, said, "I
see clearly that this man is a heretic." Then said Mr. No-good, "Away
with such a fellow from the earth!" "Ay," said Mr. Malice, "for I hate
the very look of him." Then said Mr. Love-lust, "I could never endure
him." "Nor I," said Mr. Live-loose; "for he would always be condemning
my way." "Hang him, hang him!" said Mr. Heady. "A sorry scrub," said Mr.
High-mind. "My heart riseth against him," said Mr. Enmity. "He is a
rogue," said Mr. Liar. "Hanging is too good for him," said Mr. Cruelty.
"Let us dispatch him out of the way," said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr.
Implacable, "Might I have all the world given to me, I could not be
reconciled to him; therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty of
death."

And so they did: therefore he was presently condemned to be had from the
place where he was, to the place from whence he came, and there to be
put to the most cruel death that could be invented.

They therefore brought him out, to do with him according to their law;
and first they scourged him, then they buffeted him, then they lanced
his flesh with knives; after that they stoned him with stones, then
pricked him with their swords, and, last of all, they burned him to
ashes at the stake. Thus came Faithful to his end.

Now, I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple
of horses waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his enemies had slain
him) was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through the
clouds with sound of trumpet the nearest way to the Celestial Gate. But
as for Christian, he had some delay, and was sent back to prison; so he
there remained for a space. But He who overrules all things, having the
power of their rage in his own hand, so wrought it about that Christian
for that time escaped them, and went his way. And as he went, he sang,
saying,

  "Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully professed
  Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest,
  When faithless ones, with all their vain delights,
  Are crying out under their hellish plights.
  Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive;
  For though they killed thee, thou art yet alive."

[Illustration: Hopeful and Christian.
                                   Page 120]




CHAPTER VII.


Now, I saw in my dream, that Christian went forth not alone; for there
was one whose name was Hopeful (being so made by looking upon Christian
and Faithful in their words and behavior in their sufferings at the
fair,) who joined himself unto him, and, entering into a brotherly
pledge told him that he would be his companion. Thus one died to show
faithfulness to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to be a
companion with Christian in his pilgrimage. This Hopeful also told
Christian that there were many more of the men in the fair that would
take their time and follow after.

[Sidenote: BY-ENDS OF FAIR-SPEECH]

So I saw that, quickly after they were got out of the fair, they
overtook one that was going before them, whose name was By-ends; so they
said to him, "What countryman, sir? and how far go you this way?" He
told them that he came from the town of Fair-speech, and he was going to
the Celestial City; but told them not his name.

CHRIS. "From Fair-speech! are there any that be good live there?"

BY. "Yes," said By-ends, "I hope."

CHRIS. Pray, sir, what may I call you?

BY. I am a stranger to you, and you to me: if you be going this way, I
shall be glad of your company; if not, I must be content.

CHRIS. This town of Fair-speech, I have heard of it; and, as I remember,
they say it's a wealthy place.

BY. Yes, I will assure you that it is; and I have very many rich kindred
there.

CHRIS. Pray, who are your kindred there? if a man may be so bold.

BY. Almost the whole town; but in particular my Lord Turnabout, my Lord
Timeserver, my Lord Fair-speech, from whose ancestors that town first
took its name; also Mr. Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Anything;
and the parson of our parish, Mr. Two-tongues, was my mother's own
brother by father's side; and to tell you the truth, I am become a
gentleman of good quality; yet my great-grandfather was but a waterman,
looking one way and rowing another, and I got most of my estate by the
same occupation.

CHRIS. Are you a married man?

BY. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of a
virtuous woman; she was my Lady Feigning's daughter: therefore she came
of a very honorable family, and is arrived to such a pitch of breeding,
that she knows how to carry it to all, even to prince and peasant. 'Tis
true we somewhat differ in religion from those of the stricter sort, yet
but in two small points: First, we never strive against wind and tide;
secondly, we are always most zealous when Religion is well dressed and
goes in his silver slippers: we love much to walk with him in the
street if the sun shines and the people praise him.

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful, saying, "It
runs in my mind that this is one By-ends, of Fair-speech; and if it be
he, we have as very a knave in our company as dwelleth in all these
parts." Then said Hopeful, "Ask him; methinks he should not be ashamed
of his name." So Christian came up with him again, and said, "Sir, you
talk as if you knew something more than all the world doth; and if I
take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you. Is not your
name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech?"

BY. This is not my name; but, indeed, it is a nickname that is given me
by some that cannot abide me, and I must be content to bear it as a
reproach, as other good men have borne theirs before me.

CHRIS. But did you never give an occasion to men to call you by this
name?

BY. Never, never! The worst that ever I did to give them an occasion to
give me this name was, that I had always the luck to jump in my judgment
with the present way of the times, whatever it was, and my chance was to
gain thereby. But if things are thus cast upon me, let me count them a
blessing; but let not the malicious load me therefore with reproach.

CHRIS. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard of; and, to
tell you what I think, I fear this name belongs to you more properly
than you are willing we should think it doth.

BY. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it: you shall find me
a fair company-keeper if you still admit me your companion.

CHRIS. If you will go with us, you must go against wind and tide; the
which, I perceive, is against your opinion; you must also own Religion
in his rags, as well as when in his silver slippers; and stand by him,
too, when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh the streets with
applause.

BY. You must not impose or lord it over my faith; leave it to my
liberty, and let me go with you.

CHRIS. Not a step farther, unless you will do in what I declare as we
do.

BY. Then said By-ends, "I never desert my old principles, since they are
harmless and profitable. If I may not go with you, I must do as I did
before you overtook me, even go by myself, until some overtake me that
will be glad of my company."

[Sidenote: MONEY-LOVE'S PRINCIPLES]

Now, I saw in my dream that Christian and Hopeful forsook him, and kept
their distance before him; but one of them, looking back, saw three men
following Mr. By-ends; and, behold, as they came up with him, he made
them a very low bow, and they also gave him a compliment. The men's
names were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. Money-love, and Mr. Save-all; men
that Mr. By-ends had been formerly acquainted with; for in their
boyhood they were schoolfellows, and taught by one Mr. Gripe-man a
schoolmaster in Love-gain, which is a market town in the county of
Coveting, in the North. This schoolmaster taught them the art of
getting, either by violence, cheating, flattery, lying, or by putting on
a pretence of religion; and these four gentlemen had learned much of the
art of their master, so that they could each of them have kept such a
school themselves.

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. Money-love
said to Mr. By-ends, "Who are they upon the road before us?" for
Christian and Hopeful were yet within view.

BY. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after their mode, are
going on pilgrimage.

MONEY. Alas! why did they not stay, that we might have had their good
company? for they, and we, and you, sir, I hope, are all going on
pilgrimage.

BY. We are so, indeed; but the men before us are so rigid, and love so
much their own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the opinions of
others, that, let a man be ever so godly, yet, if he agrees not with
them in all things, they thrust him quite out of their company.

SAVE. That is bad; but we read of some that are righteous overmuch, and
such men's rigidness makes them to judge and condemn all but themselves.
But I pray, what and how many were the things wherein you differed?

BY. Why, they, after their headstrong manner conclude that it is their
duty to rush on their journey all weathers; and I am for waiting for
wind and tide. They are for taking the risk of all for God at a clap;
and I am for taking all advantages to secure my life and property. They
are for holding their notions, though all other men be against them; but
I am for religion in what and so far as, the times and my safety will
bear it. They are for Religion when in rags and contempt; but I am for
him when he walks in his golden slippers, in the sunshine, and with
applause.

HOLD. Ay, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends; for, for my part,
I can count him but a fool, that, having the liberty to keep what he
has, shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents. It is
best to make hay while the sun shines. You see how the bee lieth still
all winter, and bestirs her only when she can have profit and pleasure.
God sends sometimes rain and sometimes sunshine; if they be such fools
to go through the rain, yet let us be content to take fair weather along
with us. For my part, I like that religion best that will stand with the
safety of God's good blessings unto us; for who can imagine, that is
ruled by his reason, since God has bestowed upon us the good things of
this life, but that He would have us keep them for His sake? Abraham and
Solomon grew rich in religion; and Job says that "a good man should lay
up gold as dust;" but he must not be such as the men before us, if they
be as you have described them.

SAVE. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and therefore there
needs no more words about it.

MONEY. No, there needs no more words about this matter, indeed; for he
that believes neither Scripture nor reason (and you see we have both on
our side), neither knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety.

And so these four men, Mr. By-ends, Mr. Money-love, Mr. Save-all, and
old Mr. Hold-the-world, walked on together, while Christian and Hopeful
were far in advance.

[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL]

Then Christian and Hopeful went on till they came to a delicate plain,
called Ease, where they went with much content; but that plain was but
narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now at the farther side of
that plain was a little hill, called Lucre,[4] and in that hill a silver
mine, which some of them that had formerly gone that way, because of the
rarity of it, had turned aside to see; but going too near the brink of
the pit, the ground, being deceitful under them, broke, and they were
slain; some also had been maimed there, and could not to their dying day
be their own men again.

  [4] An old word meaning "money" or "riches."

Then I saw in my dream that a little off the road, over against the
silver mine, stood Demas (gentleman-like) to call to passengers to come
and see; who said to Christian and his fellow, "Ho! turn aside hither,
and I will show you a thing."

CHRIS. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way?

DEMAS. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it for treasure; if
you will come, with a little pains you may richly provide for
yourselves.

HOPE. Then said Hopeful, "Let us go see."

CHRIS. "Not I," said Christian. "I have heard of this place before now,
and how many have there been slain; and besides, that treasure is a
snare to those that seek it, for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage."

CHRIS. Then Christian called to Demas, saying, "Is not the place
dangerous? Hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage?"

DEMAS. Not very dangerous, except to those that are careless. But
withal, he blushed as he spake.

CHRIS. Then said Christian to Hopeful, "Let us not stir a step, but
still keep on our way."

HOPE. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he hath the same
invitation as we, he will turn in thither to see.

CHRIS. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way; and a
hundred to one but he dies there.

DEMAS. Then Demas called out again, saying, "But will you not come over
and see?"

CHRIS. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, "Demas, thou art an
enemy to the right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast been already
condemned for thine own turning aside, by one of His Majesty's judges;
and why seekest thou to have us condemned also? Besides, if we at all
turn aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof, and will
there put us to shame where we should stand with boldness before Him."

Demas cried again that he also was one of their company, a pilgrim like
themselves, and that, if they would tarry a little, he also himself
would walk with them.

CHRIS. Then said Christian, "What is thy name? Is it not the same by the
which I have called thee?"

DEMAS. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham.

CHRIS. I know you: Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your
father, and you have trod in their steps. It is but a devilish prank
that thou usest: thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest
no better reward. Assure thyself that when we come to the King, we will
tell him of this thy behavior. Thus they went their way.

By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within sight,
and they at the first beck went over to Demas. Now, whether they fell
into the pit by looking over the brink thereof, or whether they went
down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the bottom by the damps
that commonly arise, of these things I am not certain; but this I
observed, that they never were seen again in the way. Then sang
Christian:

  "By-ends and silver Demas both agree;
  One calls; the other runs, that he may be
  A sharer in his lucre; so these two
  Take up in this world, and no farther go."

Now, I saw that just on the other side of the plain the pilgrims came to
a place where stood an old monument hard by the highway-side; at the
sight of which they were both concerned, because of the strangeness of
the form thereof; for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman
changed into the shape of a pillar. Here, therefore, they stood looking
and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what they should make
thereof. At last Hopeful espied written above, upon the head thereof, a
writing in an unusual hand; but he, being no scholar, called to
Christian (for he was learned,) to see if he could pick out the meaning;
so he came, and after a little laying of letters together, he found the
same to be this, "Remember Lot's wife." So he read it to his fellow;
after which, they both concluded that that was the pillar of salt into
which Lot's wife was turned, for her looking back with a covetous heart
when she was going from Sodom. Which sudden and amazing sight gave them
occasion for speaking thus:

CHRIS. Ah, my brother! this is a seasonable sight. It came just in time
to us after the invitation which Demas gave us to come over to view the
hill Lucre; and, had we gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast
inclining to do, my brother, we had, for aught I know, been made
ourselves, like this woman, a spectacle for those that shall come after
to behold.

HOPE. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder that I am
not now as Lot's wife; for wherein was the difference betwixt her sin
and mine? She only looked back, and I had a desire to go see. Let God's
goodness be praised; and let me be ashamed that ever such a thing should
be in mine heart.

CHRIS. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help for time to
come. This woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not by the
destruction of Sodom; yet she was destroyed by another, as we see: she
is turned into a pillar of salt.

HOPE. What a mercy is it that neither thou, but especially I, am not
made myself this example! This gives reason to us to thank God, to fear
before Him and always to remember Lot's wife.

[Sidenote: RIVER OF THE WATER OF LIFE]

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 this river;
here, therefore, Christian and his companion walked with great delight;
they drank also of the water of the river, which was pleasant and
enlivening to their weary spirits. Besides, on the banks of this river
on either side were green trees 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 ate to prevent
illness, especially such diseases that come 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 they lay down again to
sleep. This they did several days and nights. Then they sang:

  "Behold ye, how these crystal streams do glide,
  To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side;
  The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell,
  Yield dainties for them; and he who can tell
  What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield,
  Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field."

So when they were disposed to go on (for they were not as yet at their
journey's end,) they ate and drank, and departed.

Now, I beheld in my dream that they had not journeyed far, but the river
and the way for a time parted, at which they were not a little sorry;
yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the way from the river was
rough, and their feet tender by reason of their travels; so the souls of
the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way. Wherefore, still
as they went on they wished for a better way. Now, a little before them
there was, on the left hand of the road, a meadow, and a stile to go
over into it, and that meadow is called By-path Meadow. Then said
Christian to his fellow, "If this meadow lieth along by our wayside,
let's go over it." Then he went to the stile to see; and behold, a path
lay along by the way on the other side of the fence. "It is according to
my wish," said Christian; "here is the easiest going. Come, good
Hopeful, and let us go over."

HOPE. But how if this path should lead us out of the way?

[Sidenote: VAIN-CONFIDENCE]

CHRIS. "That is not likely," said the other. "Look, doth it not go along
by the wayside?" So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after
him over the stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the
path, they found it very easy to their feet; and withal, they, looking
before them, espied a man walking as they did, and his name was
Vain-Confidence: so they called after him, and asked him whither that
way led. He said, "To the Celestial Gate." "Look," said Christian, "did
not I 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 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 careless fools,
withal and was dashed in pieces with his fall.

Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they called to know the
matter; but there was none to answer, 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 most dreadful manner, and the water
rose amain.

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, "Oh that I had kept on my way!"

CHRIS. Who could have thought that this path should have led us out of
the way?

HOPE. I was afraid on't at the very first, and therefore gave you that
gentle caution. I would have spoken plainer, but that you are older than
I.

CHRIS. Good brother, be not offended. I am very sorry I have brought
thee out of the way, and that I have put thee into such great danger.
Pray, my brother, forgive me: I did not do it of any evil intent.

HOPE. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee, and believe, too,
that this shall be for our good.

CHRIS. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother; but we must not
stand still: let us try to go back again.

HOPE. But, good brother, let me go before.

CHRIS. 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, 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 undertook to go
back; but it was so dark, and the flood so high, that, in their going
back, they had like to have been drowned nine or ten times.

[Sidenote: GIANT DESPAIR]

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 until daybreak; 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 than they.
They had also but little to say, for they knew themselves in fault. The
giant, therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle,
into a very dark dungeon, nasty and smelling vilely 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 people whom they knew. Now, in this place Christian had
double sorrow, because it was through his thoughtless haste that they
were brought into this distress.

[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS IN A DUNGEON]

Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So, when he
was gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done; to wit, that he had
taken a couple of prisoners and cast them into his dungeon for
trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best to
do further to them. So she asked him what they were, whence they came,
and whither they were bound; and he told her. Then she advised 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 fell to abusing them as if
they were dogs, although they never gave him 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 sorrow over their misery and to
mourn under their distress. So all that day they spent their time in
nothing but sighs and bitter grief. The next night she, talking with her
husband about them further, and understanding that they were yet alive,
did advise him to tell them to make away with 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 choose life, seeing it is attended with so much bitterness?"
But they desired him to let them go. With that, he looked ugly upon
them, and rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself,
but that he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes, in sunshiny
weather, fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his hands,
wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before to consider what to do.
Then did the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best
to take his advice or no; and thus they began to discourse:

CHRIS. "Brother," said Christian, "what shall we do? The life 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 chooseth strangling rather than
life, and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon. Shall we be
ruled by the giant?"

[Sidenote: HOPEFUL CHEERS CHRISTIAN]

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 think:
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 advice 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." 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, who 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 that he may, in a
short time, have another of his fits before us, and he 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 try to my utmost to get
from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it before.
But however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure awhile: 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 calm the mind of his brother;
so they continued together in the dark that day, in their sad and
doleful condition.

Well, towards evening, the giant goes down into the dungeon again, to
see if his prisoners had taken his counsel. But, when he came there, he
found them alive; and truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of
bread and water, and by reason of the wounds they received when he beat
them, they could do little but breathe. But, I say, he found them alive;
at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them that, seeing they
had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them than if they had
never been born.

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a
swoon; but, coming a little to himself again, they renewed their
discourse about the giant's advice and whether yet they had best to take
it or no. Now, Christian again seemed 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 us
have a little more patience. Remember how thou showedst thyself the man
at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet
of bloody death. Wherefore, let us (at least to avoid the shame that it
becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as well as
we can."

Now, night being come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed,
she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his
advice: to which he replied, "They are sturdy rogues; they choose rather
to bear all hardship than to make away with themselves." Then said she,
"Take them unto the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and
skulls of those that thou hast already killed; and make them believe,
ere a week comes to an end, thou wilt tear them also in pieces, as thou
hast done their fellows before them."

So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them again, and takes
them into the castle-yard and shows them as his wife had bidden him.
"These," said he, "were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed
in my grounds as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them 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 talking 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 picklocks 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."

[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS ESCAPE]

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 into this earnest speech: "What a fool," quoth he, "am I to
lie in a foul-smelling dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I
have a key in my bosom called Promise, that will, I am sure, open any
lock in Doubting Castle." Then said Hopeful, "That is good news, good
brother: pluck it out of thy bosom, and try."

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the
dungeon door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door
flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he
went to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, and with his
key opened that door also. After, he went to the iron gate, for that
must be opened too; but that lock went exceedingly hard, yet the key did
open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed;
but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant
Despair who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to
fail; for his fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after
them. Then they went on, and came to the King's highway again, and so
were safe because they were out of Giant Despair's rule.

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
agreed to build 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 Celestial Country,
and seeks to destroy His holy pilgrims." Many, therefore, that followed
after, read what was written, and escaped the danger. This done, they
sang as follows:

  "Out of the way we went, and then we found
  What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground:
  And let them that come after have a care,
  Lest heedlessness make them as we to fare;
  Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are
  Whose Castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair."




CHAPTER VIII.

[Sidenote: THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS]


They went then till they came to the Delectable[5] 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
were on the tops of these mountains shepherds feeding their flocks, and
they stood by the highway-side. The pilgrims, therefore, went to them,
and leaning upon their staves (as is common with weary pilgrims when
they stand to talk with any by the way), they asked, "Whose delightful
mountains are these, and whose be the sheep that feed upon them?"

  [5] This word means "pleasant," or "delightful."

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.

CHRIS. Is this the way to the Celestial City?

SHEP. You are just in your way.

CHRIS. How far is it thither?

SHEP. Too far for any but those who shall get thither indeed.

CHRIS. Is the way safe or dangerous?

SHEP. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe; but sinners shall fall
therein.

CHRIS. 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 care for strangers; therefore the good of the place is
before you.

I saw also in my dream that when the shepherds perceived that they were
wayfaring men, they also put questions to them (to which they made
answer as in other places), as, "Whence came you?" and "How got you into
the way?" and, "By what means have you so persevered therein? for but
few of them that begin to come hither do show their faces 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 took them to their tents, and
made them partake of what was ready at present. They said moreover, "We
would that you should stay here awhile, to be acquainted with us, and
yet more to cheer yourselves with the good of these Delectable
Mountains." They then told them that they were content to stay. So they
went to rest that night, because it was very late.

[Sidenote: THE SHEPHERDS CONDUCT THEM]

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 show these
pilgrims some wonders?" So, when they had concluded to do it, they had
them first to the top of the hill called Error, which was very steep on
the farthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So Christian
and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to
pieces by a fall they had had from the top. Then said Christian, "What
meaneth this?" Then 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 rising from the dead?" They answered, "Yes."
Then said the shepherds, "Those you see lie dashed to 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; and 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 side of this
way?" They answered, "Ye

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