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John Bunyan



John Bunyan

English author

born November 1628, Elstow, Bedfordshire, England
died August 31, 1688, London

celebrated English minister and preacher, author of The Pilgrim’s Progress (1678), the book that was the most characteristic expression of the Puritan religious outlook. His other works include doctrinal and controversial writings; a spiritual autobiography, Grace Abounding (1666); and the allegory The Holy War (1682).

Early life

Bunyan, the son of a brazier, or traveling tinker, was brought up “among a multitude of poor plowmen’s children” in the heart of England’s agricultural Midlands. He learned to read and write at a local grammar school, but he probably left school early to learn the family trade. Bunyan’s mind and imagination were formed in these early days by influences other than those of formal education. He absorbed the popular tales of adventure that appeared in chapbooks and were sold at fairs like the great one held at Stourbridge near Cambridge (it provided the inspiration for Vanity Fair in The Pilgrim’s Progress). Though his family belonged to the Anglican church, he also became acquainted with the varied popular literature of the English Puritans: plain-speaking sermons, homely moral dialogues, books of melodramatic judgments and acts of divine guidance, and John Foxe’s The Book of Martyrs. Above all he steeped himself in the English Bible; the Authorized Version was but 30 years old when he was a boy of 12.

Bunyan speaks in his autobiography of being troubled by terrifying dreams. It may be that there was a pathological side to the nervous intensity of these fears; in the religious crisis of his early manhood his sense of guilt took the form of delusions. But it seems to have been abnormal sensitiveness combined with the tendency to exaggeration that caused him to look back on himself in youth as “the very ringleader of all . . . that kept me company into all manner of vice and ungodliness.”

In 1644 a series of misfortunes separated the country boy from his family and drove him into the world. His mother died in June, his younger sister Margaret in July; in August his father married a third wife. The English Civil Wars had broken out, and in November he was mustered in a Parliamentary levy and sent to reinforce the garrison at Newport Pagnell. The governor was Sir Samuel Luke, immortalized as the Presbyterian knight of the title in Samuel Butler’s Hudibras. Bunyan remained in Newport until July 1647 and probably saw little fighting.

His military service, even if uneventful, brought him in touch with the seething religious life of the left-wing sects within Oliver Cromwell’s army, the preaching captains, and those Quakers, Seekers, and Ranters who were beginning to question all religious authority except that of the individual conscience. In this atmosphere Bunyan became acquainted with the leading ideas of the Puritan sectaries, who believed that the striving for religious truth meant an obstinate personal search, relying on free grace revealed to the individual, and condemning all forms of public organization.

Some time after his discharge from the army (in July 1647) and before 1649, Bunyan married. He says in his autobiography, Grace Abounding, that he and his first wife “came together as poor as poor might be, not having so much household-stuff as a dish or spoon betwixt us both.” His wife brought him two evangelical books as her only dowry. Their first child, a blind daughter, Mary, was baptized in July 1650. Three more children, Elizabeth, John, and Thomas, were born to Bunyan’s first wife before her death in 1658. Elizabeth, too, was baptized in the parish church there in 1654, though by that time her father had been baptized by immersion as a member of the Bedford Separatist church.

Conversion and ministry

Bunyan’s conversion to Puritanism was a gradual process in the years following his marriage (1650–55); it is dramatically described in his autobiography. After an initial period of Anglican conformity in which he went regularly to church, he gave up, slowly and grudgingly, his favourite recreations of dancing and bell ringing and sports on the village green and began to concentrate on his inner life. Then came agonizing temptations to spiritual despair lasting for several years. The “storms” of temptation, as he calls them, buffeted him with almost physical violence; voices urged him to blaspheme; the texts of Scriptures, which seemed to him to threaten damnation, took on personal shape and “did pinch him very sore.” Finally one morning he believed that he had surrendered to these voices of Satan and had betrayed Christ: “Down I fell as a bird that is shot from the tree.” In his psychopathic isolation he presents all the features of the divided mind of the maladjusted as they have been analyzed in the 20th century. Bunyan, however, had a contemporary psychological instrument for the diagnosis of his condition: the pastoral theology of 17th-century Calvinism, which interpreted the grim doctrine of election and predestination in terms of the real needs of souls, the evidence of spiritual progress in them, and the covenant of God’s grace. Both techniques, that of the modern analyst and that of the Puritan preacher, have in common the aim of recovering the integrity of the self; and this was what Bunyan achieved as he emerged, from his period of spiritual darkness, gradually beginning to feel that his sin was “not unto death” and that there were texts to comfort as well as to terrify. He was aided in his recovery by his association with the Bedford Separatist church and its dynamic leader, John Gifford. He entered into full communion about 1655.

The Bedford community practiced adult Baptism by immersion, but it was an open-communion church, admitting all who professed “faith in Christ and holiness of life.” Bunyan soon proved his talents as a lay preacher. Fresh from his own spiritual troubles, he was fitted to warn and console others: “I went myself in Chains to preach to them in Chains, and carried that Fire in my own Conscience that I persuaded them to beware of.” He was also active in visiting and exhorting church members, but his main activity in 1655–60 was in controversy with the early Quakers, both in public debate up and down the market towns of Bedfordshire and in his first printed works, Some Gospel Truths Opened (1656) and A Vindication of Some Gospel Truths Opened (1657). The Quakers and the open-communion Baptists were rivals for the religious allegiance of the “mechanics,” or small tradesmen and artificers, in both town and country. Bunyan soon became recognized as a leader among the sectaries.

The Restoration of Charles II brought to an end the 20 years in which the separated churches had enjoyed freedom of worship and exercised some influence on government policy. On Nov. 12, 1660, at Lower Samsell in South Bedfordshire, Bunyan was brought before a local magistrate and, under an old Elizabethan act, charged with holding a service not in conformity with those of the Church of England. He refused to give an assurance that he would not repeat the offense, was condemned at the assizes in January 1661, and was imprisoned in the county jail. In spite of the courageous efforts of his second wife (he had married again in 1659) to have his case brought up at the assizes, he remained in prison for 12 years. A late 17th-century biography, added to the early editions of Grace Abounding, reveals that he relieved his family by making and selling “long Tagg’d laces”; prison conditions were lenient enough for him to be let out at times to visit friends and family and to address meetings.

Literary activity

During this imprisonment Bunyan wrote and published his spiritual autobiography (Grace Abounding, 1666). It reveals his incarceration to have been a spiritual opportunity as well as an ordeal, allowing “an inlet into the Word of God.” Bunyan’s release from prison came in March 1672 under Charles II’s Declaration of Indulgence to the Nonconformists. The Bedford community had already chosen him as their pastor in January, and a new meetinghouse was obtained. In May he received a license to preach together with 25 other Nonconformist ministers in Bedfordshire and the surrounding counties. His nickname “Bishop Bunyan” suggests that he became the organizing genius in the area. When persecution was renewed he was again imprisoned for illegal preaching; the circumstances of this imprisonment have remained more obscure than those of the first, though it does not appear to have lasted longer than six months. A bond of surety for his release, dated June 1677, has survived, so it is likely that this second detention was in the first half of that year. Since The Pilgrim’s Progress was published soon after this, in February 1678, it is probable that he had begun to write it not in the second imprisonment but in the first, soon after the composition of Grace Abounding, and when the examination of his inner life contained in that book was still strong.

Literary style

Bunyan’s literary achievement, in his finest works, is by no means that of a naively simple talent, as has been the view of many of his critics. His handling of language, colloquial or biblical, is that of an accomplished artist. He brings to his treatment of human behaviour both shrewd awareness and moral subtlety, and he demonstrates a gift for endowing the conceptions of evangelical theology with concrete life and acting out the theological drama in terms of flesh and blood.

Bunyan thus presents a paradox, since the impulse that originally drove him to write was purely to celebrate his faith and to convert others, and like other Puritans he was schooled to despise the adornments of style and to treat literature as a means to an end. Bunyan’s effort to reach behind literary adornments so as to obtain an absolutely naked rendering of the truth about his own spiritual experience causes him in Grace Abounding to forge a highly original style. In this style, which is rich in powerful physical imagery, the inner life of the Christian is described; body and soul are so involved that it is impossible to separate bodily from mental suffering in the description of his temptations. He feels “a clogging and a heat at my breast-bone as if my bowels would have burst out”; a preacher’s call to abandon the sin of idle pastimes “did benumb the sinews of my best delights”; and he can say of one of the texts of scripture that seemed to him to spell his damnation that it “stood like a mill-post at my back.” The attempt to communicate the existential crisis of the human person without style had created a style of its own.

The use of a highly subjective prose style to express personal states of mind is Bunyan’s first creative achievement, but he also had at his disposal the more traditional style he used in sermons, treatises, and scriptural exposition. In the allegories some of his greatest imaginative successes are due to his dreamlike, introspective style with its subtle personal music; but it is the workaday vigour and concreteness of the prose technique practiced in the sermons which provide a firm stylistic background to these imaginative flights.

The Pilgrim’s Progress

Bunyan’s great allegorical tale was published by Nathaniel Ponder in 1678. Because it recapitulates in symbolic form the story of Bunyan’s own conversion, there is an intense, life-or-death quality about Christian’s pilgrimage to the Heavenly City in the first part of the book. This sense of urgency is established in the first scene as Christian in the City of Destruction reads in his book (the Bible) and breaks out with his lamentable cry, “What shall I do?” It is maintained by the combats along the road with giants and monsters such as Apollyon and Giant Despair, who embody spiritual terrors. The voices and demons of the Valley of the Shadow of Death are a direct transcription of Bunyan’s own obsessive and neurotic fears during his conversion. Episodes of stirring action like these alternate with more stationary passages, and there are various conversations between the pilgrims and those they encounter on the road, some pious and some providing light relief when hypocrites like Talkative and Ignorance are exposed. The halts at places of refreshment like the Delectable Mountains or the meadow by the River of Life evoke an unearthly spiritual beauty.

The narrative of The Pilgrim’s Progress may seem episodic, but Calvinist theology provides a firm underlying ground plan. Only Christ, the Wicket Gate, admits Christian into the right road, and before he can reach it he has to be shown his error in being impressed by the pompous snob Worldly Wiseman, who stands for mere negative conformity to moral and social codes. Quite early in his journey Christian loses his burden of sin at the Cross, so he now knows that he has received the free pardon of Christ and is numbered among the elect. It might seem that all the crises of the pilgrimage were past, yet this initiation of grace is not the end of the drama but the beginning. Christian, and the companions who join him, Faithful and Hopeful, are fixed in the path of salvation, so that it is the horrors of the temptations they have to undergo that engage the reader’s attention. The reader views Christian’s agonized striving through his own eyes and shares Christian’s uncertainty about the outcome.

Though conscientiously symbolic throughout, the narrative of The Pilgrim’s Progress does not lose the feel of common life. In the character sketches and humorous passages scattered throughout the book, Bunyan’s genius for realistic observation prevents the conversion allegory from becoming too inward and obsessed. Bunyan displays a sharp eye for behaviour and a sardonic sense of humour in his portrayals of such reprobates as Ignorance and Talkative; these moral types are endowed with the liveliness of individuals by a deft etching in of a few dominant features and gestures. And finally, Christian himself is a transcript from life; Bunyan, the physician of souls with a shrewd eye for backsliders, had faithfully observed his own spiritual growth.

The Pilgrim’s Progress was instantly popular with all social classes upon its publication, though it was perhaps the last great expression of the folk tradition of the common people before the divisive effects of modern enlightened education began to be felt.

Later life and works

Bunyan continued to tend the needs of the Bedford church and the widening group of East Anglian churches associated with it. As his fame increased with his literary reputation, he also preached in Congregational churches in London. Bunyan followed up the success of The Pilgrim’s Progress with other works. His The Life and Death of Mr. Badman (1680) is more like a realistic novel than an allegory in its portrait of the unrelievedly evil and unrepentant tradesman Mr. Badman. The book gives an insight into the problems of money and marriage when the Puritans were settling down after the age of persecution and beginning to find their social role as an urban middle class.

The Holy War (1682), Bunyan’s second allegory, has a carefully wrought epic structure and is correspondingly lacking in the spontaneous inward note of The Pilgrim’s Progress. The town of Mansoul is besieged by the hosts of the devil, is relieved by the army of Emanuel, and is later undermined by further diabolic attacks and plots against his rule. The metaphor works on several levels; it represents the conversion and backslidings of the individual soul, as well as the story of mankind from the Fall through to the Redemption and the Last Judgment; there is even a more precise historical level of allegory relating to the persecution of Nonconformists under Charles II. The Pilgrim’s Progress, Second Part (1684), tells the story of the pilgrimage of Christian’s wife, Christiana, and her children to the Celestial City. This book gives a more social and humorous picture of the Christian life than the First Part and shows Bunyan lapsing from high drama into comedy, but the great concluding passage on the summoning of the pilgrims to cross the River of Death is perhaps the finest single thing Bunyan ever wrote.

In spite of his ministerial responsibilities Bunyan found time to publish a large number of doctrinal and controversial works in the last 10 years of his life. He also composed rough but workmanlike verse of religious exhortation; one of his most interesting later volumes is the children’s book A Book for Boys and Girls (1686), vigorous poems serving as comments on emblematic pictures.

Bunyan died in 1688, in London, after one of his preaching visits, and was buried in Bunhill Fields, the Nonconformists’ traditional burying ground.


Until the decline of religious faith and the great increase in books of popular instruction in the 19th century, The Pilgrim’s Progress, like the Bible, was to be found in every English home and was known to every ordinary reader. In literary estimation, however, Bunyan remained beyond the pale of polite literature during the 18th century, though his greatness was acknowledged by Jonathan Swift and Samuel Johnson. Later literary historians noted his indirect influence on the 18th-century novel, particularly the introspective fiction of Daniel Defoe and Samuel Richardson. After the Romantic movement he was recognized as a type of natural genius and placed alongside Homer and Robert Burns. Twentieth-century scholarship has made it possible to see how much he owed to the tradition of homiletic prose and to Puritan literary genres already developed when he began to write. But the sublime tinker remains sublime, if less isolated from his fellows than was formerly thought; the genius of The Pilgrim’s Progress remains valid. Nothing illustrates better the profound symbolic truth of this noted work than its continuing ability, even in translation, to evoke responses in readers belonging to widely separated cultural traditions.

Thomas Babington Macaulay’s biography on John Bunyan appeared in the eighth edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica (see the Britannica Classic: John Bunyan).

Roger Sharrock




The Pilgrim's Progress

John Bunyan

One of the most popular works ever written in the English language, John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress continues to be published in new editions, remain on bestseller lists, and retain an enduring relevance today. Much of this appeal lies in its combination of unadorned piety with narrative simplicity, a combination that meant for centuries it was read in conjunction with the Bible as the primary work of Christian devotion and reflection. Bunyan was, however, a more controversial figure than the conservative reputation of The Pilgrim's Progress suggests. His own spiritual struggles are documented in his Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners (1666) and he probably wrote part of The Pilgrim's Progress in prison for religious dissent. If one avoids the anodyne modern spelling versions, one can still find in the protagonist Christian's journey a powerful sense of seventeenth-century religious conviction (the first part of modern editions was published in 1678, the second part followed in 1684).
The first part follows Christian as he journeys to the Celestial City.on the way encountering memorable characters such as Talkative, Faithful, Evangelist, and Hopeful, and passing through temptation and torment in the City of Destruction, Castle Doubt, and Vanity Fair. The second part traces the same journey undertaken by Christian's wife Christiana and his children, and takes on quite a different character. Regardless of a reader's personal religious convictions, these allegorical journeys become emblematic of the spiritual and moral struggle of the individual in the world.The Vanity Fair episode, in which the protagonists are assailed by temptation, apathy, self-love, and consumerist excess, seems as relevant to twenty-first century life as it was to seventeenth-century England.




Ňyđĺ of work: Novel
Author: John Bunyan (1628-1688)
Type of plot: Religious allegory
Time of plot: Any time since Christ
Locale: Anywhere
First published: (Part I, 1678; Part II, 1684)


One of the most widely read books in English literature, The Pilgrim's Progress is a prose allegory relating the journey and adventures of Christian, who flees the City of Destruction and sets out for the Celestial City. Since Bunyan, a devout Puritan, wished his book to be accessible to the common people, he wrote in a straightforward, unadorned prose that has simple grandeur and nobility appropriate to its subject matter. Much of the success of The Pilgrim's Progress is also the result of its vivid characterizations.



Principal Characters

Christian, an example of all God-fearing Protestants, whose adventures are recounted as events in a dream experienced by the narrator. Originally called Graceless, of the race of Japhet, Christian becomes distressed with his life in the City of Destruction and insists that his wife and four children accompany him in search of salvation. When they refuse to leave, Christian determines to set out alone. His life thereafter consists of hardships, sufferings, and struggles to overcome obstacles—physical and emotional—which beset his path. At the outset, Christian's family and neighbors, Pliable and Obstinate, try to dissuade him from breaking away from his sins of the past. Then Evangelist appears with a parchment roll on which is inscribed, "Fly from the Wrath to Come." On his long journey, Christian finds that human beings he meets offer distractions and hindrance, even bodily harm and violence. Mr. Worldly Wiseman turns him aside from his set purpose until Evangelist intervenes. Simple, Sloth, Presumption, Formalist, Hypocrisy, Timorous, and Mistrust seek to dissuade or discourage Christian because of the rigors of the straight and narrow way. The Giant of the Doubting Castle and his wife beat and torture Christian and Hopeful. In the Valley of Humiliation Christian engages in mortal combat with a monstrous creature named Apollyon for more than half a day, but at last emerges triumphant. In many times of peril, Christian is fortunate in having companions who can assist him: Evangelist, who gets him out of difficulties or warns him of impending strife; Help, who comes to his aid when he falls into the Slough of Despond; Faithful, who is by his side at Vanity Fair; Hopeful, who comforts him at the Doubting Castle and encourages him to give up bravely at the River of Death. In this narrative of a pilgrim's adventures, Christian must constantly overcome temptations and dangers that would thwart his goal, impede his progress toward eternal life, or prevent him from reaching Heaven; but with the aid of his religious fervor and the advice and counsel of a few true friends, he achieves salvation.
Evangelist, Christian's adviser and guide, particularly in times of danger. Evangelist shows him the way to avoid destruction, directs him to the Wicket Gate, and warns him of people such as Mr. Worldly Wiseman and of the dangers at Vanity Fair.
Apollyon (a-pol'lyon), the fiend in the Valley of Humiliation. Apollyon has scales like a fish, feet like a bear, wings like a dragon, and a mouth like a lion; he spouts fire and smoke from his belly, and he discourses like a devil in his attempt to keep Christian from continuing his journey.
Giant Despair, the giant owner of Doubting Castle. He imprisons Christian and Faithful, beats them, and threatens death, until Christian uses a key of Promise to make their escape.
Faithful, Christian's traveling companion. Imprisoned, tortured, and put to death by the people of Vanity Fair, he is transported to the Celestial Gate in a chariot.
Hopeful, another wayfarer. He joins Christian at Vanity Fair and accompanies him through various adventures on the way to eternal salvation.
Good-Will, who tells Christian that if he knocks the gate that is blocking his way will be opened, so that he may see a vision of the Day of Judgment.
Ignorance, a native of the country of Conceit. Refusing to accept the beliefs of Christian and Hopeful, he continues on the journey until he is seized and thrust into Hell.
Mr. Worldly Wiseman, a dweller in the town of Carnal-Policy. He advises Christian to go to Legality and get relief from the burden of sins which Christian carries on his back.
Three Shining Ones, who clothe Christian with new raiment after his burdens fall off before the Cross.
Obstinate and Pliable, neighbors of Christian. Both try to keep Christian from leaving the City of Destruction. Obstinate remains behind, but Pliable goes with Christian until he deserts him at the Slough of Despond.
Interpreter, who instructs Christian in the mysteries of faith.
Discretion, Prudence, Piety, and Charity, virgins who arm Christian with the sword and shield of faith.
Pope and Pagan, giants whose caves Christian must pass after reciting verses from the Psalms to protect himself from devils issuing from one of the gates of Hell.
Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, shepherds who point out the Celestial Gate to Christian and Hopeful.



The Story

One day, according to Bunyan, he lay down in a den to sleep; in his sleep, he dreamed that he saw a man standing in a field and crying out in pain and sorrow because he and his whole family as well as the town in which they lived were to be destroyed. Christian, for that was his name, knew of this catastrophe because he had read about it in the book he held in his hands, the Bible. Evangelist, the preacher of Christianity, soon came up to Christian and presented him with a roll of paper on which it was written that he should flee from the wrath of God and make his way from the City of Destruction to the City of Zion. Running home with this hope of salvation, Christian tried to get his neighbors and family to go away with him, but they would not listen and thought he was either sick or mad. Finally, he shut his ears to his family's entreaties to stay with them and ran off toward the light in the distance. Under the light, he knew he would find the wicket gate that opened into Heaven.
On his way, he met Pliant and Obstinate; Christian was so distracted by them that he fell in a bog called the Slough of Despond. He could not get out because of the bundle of sins on his back. Finally, Help came along and aided Christian out of the sticky mire. Going on his way, he soon fell in with Mr. Worldly Wiseman, who tried to convince Christian that he would lead a happier life if he gave up his trip toward the light and settled down to the comforts of a burdenless town life. Fearing that Christian was about to be led astray, Evangelist came up to the two men and quickly showed the errors in Mr. Worldly Wiseman's arguments.
Soon Christian arrived at a closed gate, where he met Good-Will, who told him that if he knocked the gate would be opened to him. Christian did so. He was invited into the gatekeeper's house by the Interpreter and learned from him the meaning of many of the Christian mysteries. He was shown pictures of Christ and Passion and Patience; Despair in a cage of iron bars; and finally, a vision of the Day of Judgment, when evil men will be sent to the bottomless pit and good men will be carried up to Heaven. Christian was filled with both hope and fear after having seen these things. Continuing on his journey, he came to the Holy Cross and the Sepulcher of Christ. There his burden of sins fell off, and he was able to take to the road with renewed vigor.
Soon he met Sloth, Simple. Presumption, Formalism, and Hypocrisy, but he kept to his way and they kept to theirs. Later, Christian lay down to sleep for a while. When he went on again, he forgot to pick up the roll of paper Evangelist had given him. Remembering it later, he hurried back to find it. Running to make up the time lost, he suddenly found himself confronted by two lions. He was afraid to pass by them until the porter of the house by the side of the road told him that the lions were chained and that he had nothing to fear. The porter then asked Christian to come into the house. There he was well treated and shown some of the relics of biblical antiquity by four virgins, Discretion, Prudence, Piety, and Charity. They gave him good advice and sent him on his journey armed with the sword and shield of Christian faith.
In the Valley of Humiliation, Christian was forced to fight the giant devil Apollyon, whose body was covered with the shiny scales of pride. Christian was wounded in this battle, but after he had chased away the devil, he healed his wounds with leaves from the Tree of Life, which grew nearby. After the Valley of Humiliation came the Valley of the Shadow of Death, in which Christian had to pass one of the gates to Hell. In order to save himself from the devils who issued out of the terrible hole, he recited some of the verses from the Psalms.
After passing through this danger, he had to go by the caves of the old giants Pope and Pagan; when he had done so, he caught up with a fellow traveler, Faithful. As the two companions went along, they met Evangelist, who warned them of the dangers in the town of Vanity Fair.
Vanity Fair was a town of ancient foundation which since the beginning of time had tried to lure men away from the path to Heaven. Here all the vanities of the world were sold, and the people who dwelt there were cruel and stupid and had no love for travelers such as Christian and Faithful. After having learned these things, the two companions promised to be careful and went down into the town. There they were arrested and tried because they would buy none of the town's goods. Faithful was sentenced to be burned alive, and Christian was put in prison. When Faithful died in the fire, a chariot descended from Heaven and took him up to God. Christian escaped from the prison. Accompanied by a young man named Hopeful, who had been impressed by Faithful's reward, he set off once more.
They passed through the Valley of Ease, where they were tempted to dig in a mine whose silver was free to all. As they left the valley, they saw the pillar of salt that had once been Lot's wife. They became lost and were captured by a giant, Despair, who lived in Doubting Castle; there they were locked in vaults beneath the castle walls. Finally, Christian remembered he had a key called Promise in his pocket; with this they escaped from the prison.
They met four shepherds, Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, who showed them the Celestial Gate and warned them of the paths to Hell. Then the two pilgrims passed by the Valley of Conceit, where they were met by Ignorance and other men who had not kept to the straight and narrow path. They passed on to the country of Beulah. Far off they saw the gates of the city of Heaven, glistening with pearls and precious stones. Thinking that all their troubles were behind them, they lay down to rest.
When they went on toward the city, they came to the River of Death. They entered the river and began to wade through the water. Soon Christian became afraid; the more afraid he became, the deeper the waters rolled. Hopeful shouted to him to have hope and faith. Cheered by these words, Christian became less afraid, the water became less deep, and finally they both got across safely. They ran up the hill toward Heaven, and shining angels led them through the gates.



Critical Analysis

John Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress represents a work that is at once fascinating theology, political tract, and literary masterpiece. It is also a book that exemplifies the post-Gutenberg power of the press to elevate and make universal the experiences of one writer or thinker above centuries of tradition. As Bunyan's most famous work, it was a by-product of the Protestant Reformation, which—by making available to individuals copies of the Bible—inevitably multiplied interpretations of the Bible and, thereby, advanced the notion of Christian personal experience. When the King James Version of the Bible was published in 1611, English Christians were freed from the tyranny of monolithic biblical interpretation by autocratic churchmen. A Bible in the vernacular emancipated the spirit and the imagination of members of the Protestant churches, evoking new metaphors and symbols for the Christian's journey through the world. The Pilgrim's Progress undermines the notion of a normative brand of Christian discipleship or path ;o Heaven created by the institutional church. At the s^rre time, The Pilgrim's Progress shares with the medieval 'radition of mystery and morality plays the technique or' allegory, wherein the author uses archetypal char:,ters or situations to advance his narrative and confin.i its meaning. This tradition is itself built upon the charact, istic teaching of Christ, who used parables to teach his most poignant lessons to his first century audience. It should be noted, however, that the book was not written or published without risk to both Bunyan himself and the band of Christian Baptists to whom he ministered and for whom he wrote The Pilgrim's Progress. Writing the manuscript from jail (he was frequently incarcerated for preaching without a license), Bunyan discovered that even in Protestant England certain sects and demoninations could be despised and regarded as heterodox. Bunyan's Puritanism—a call for the church to be separate from the world while at the same time claiming it for God, the only rightful king—continually brought him into conflict with his religious critics and rivals.
To call The Pilgrim's Progress a religious allegory is to draw attention to the fact that its characters and situations symbolize particular qualities and actions that should inform the Christian's life. Christian, the pilgrim of the story, is simultaneously Bunyan and any of his fellow Protestant believers as they face a world whose signposts and boundaries have been knocked down. What appears to be true may be misleading or, worse, a ruse of the Devil; the circumspect believer trusts not in his senses but in the revelation of God—namely, the Bible. In Christian, we find an undisguised proclamation of Bunyan's belief that salvation is a gift of God's mercy and not a laurel or achievement won by good works or adherence to either civil or Mosaic law. As a pilgrim, Christian is on a journey to the Celestial City, a journey that will comprise both his conversion and his eventual death. His progress toward that destination is measured by his triumphs over distractions, perilous spiritual battles, temptations to unbelief, and general weariness. His obstacles include not only himself but also erstwhile friends and associates such as Mr. Worldly Wiseman and demonic influences such as Apollyon, who appear to speak authoritatively about faith and discipleship but are deluded sirens attempting to waylay him in "the wilderness of the world." Bunyan makes it abundantly clear, however, that Christian's final success is conditional not on his own cleverness or artful dodging but on his enduring trust in the irresistible grace of God.
It is important, then, to see Bunyan's creation as a political defense of the Separatist church and a worthy attempt to work out its radical theology in allegory. Despite the attempts of critics in later ages to see in Christian an Everyman character, Bunyan is most likely writing about one of the elect—the man or woman whose life is touched by grace—and not the prototypical agnostic or uncommitted soul who searches for God out of his own curiosity. The Puritan believer that Bunyan depicts here defines his faith very particularly in terms of his relationship to four realms: selfhood, Scripture, church, and world. Regarding his own selfhood, the Puritan believer names himself as a sinful creature, called to abstain from all appearance of evil, casting a jaundiced eye toward anything that smacks of worldliness. As a reader of Scripture, he is, with few exceptions, a consistent literalist, conceiving of its mode of revelation in inerrant, monolithic, encyclopedically authoritative terms. As a member of the church, he embraces its separatism, its hard-won peculiarity and anachronistic nature in relation to the world; it is for him an outpost on the edge of chaos. As one in but not of the world, he views the cosmos as basically irredeemable without the intervention of God— occupied territory under the dominion of the Devil. He awaits rescue from another world.
As a representative Puritan writer, Bunyan is, one might say, much more interested in proclaiming the revelation of the Bible than in narrating events from imagined histories, as a William Shakespeare or Samuel Johnson might do. Consequently, for Bunyan, the range of characters and character traits, plot lines and resolutions, and options in form, diction, and tone are fixed in advance by the propriety of biblical modesty and decorum. The Puritan, in a word, mistrusts Western literacy, the great tradition of worldly inspired texts and endless textual analysis. A good, righteous text should speak for itself, univocally; as an author, Bunyan is undismayed by charges that his characters are stock or obvious. That is exactly his point of view. His confidence that Scripture has "thoroughly equipped him for every good work" encourages him to use its content as the sole source of his characterizations and plot. Thus, Bunyan projected the original readers of The Pilgrim's Progress as an interpretive community prepared to receive it as a work parallel in spirit and content to the Bible, a commentary or elaboration of sorts that sent them back to the real text, which could reveal the ultimate source of their faith and salvation.
Bunyan shares with Christians outside of his Puritanism an acceptance of the fact that all are exiles of Eden, but there is one difference: He does not want to return to the Garden. It is enough for him to know that Adam and Eve have eaten of the tree of knowledge of good and evil; he himself has no interest in digesting such fruit, rejecting the futile attempt to substitute other dramas, stories, and predicaments for the simple truth of the one true predicament: All are lost and without hope, save for God's mercy. Other kinds of nondidactic narratives are read, or rather dismissed, as worldly competition for the allegiance and energy of the believer—secular attempts to undermine the authority of the Bible. The world is already full of texts to distract, annoy, and alienate mankind. What possible interest could the pilgrim take in stories that galvanize or privilege the polyphonic, problematic fiction of sinful post-Babel humanity? How could such cacophony yield anything salutary or illuminating?
Thus, Christian, Bunyan's stalwart protagonist, leaves the Garden behind; he does not seek a heaven on earth, which would be merely a Vanity Fair. While he and Faithful both understand that there is no way back to it, even for the born-again, and both are prepared for martyrdom, only Faithful is called to it. God has another destiny for Christian. Sacred history is a line leading to a final resolution, not a cycle and still less a random occurrence of unconnected events. Bunyan's agenda has nothing to do with broadening, pluralizing, or expanding. His focus is the Narrow Path, the Single Eye, the One Way. He is interested in winning souls, not granting them college degrees. Thus, in a sense, he creates in Christian a pilgrim who holds his faith unreflectively—not in the sense that it is unexamined but in the sense that he rejects attempts to validate it with secular wisdom. That is Christian's charm; trusting fully in what he believes, he is called to put his faith on the line and into play in dramatic confrontations with the voices of despair and unbelief. Bunyan demonstrates consistently that the pilgrim must resist attempts to objectify his faith and become self-conscious and prideful about it. If Christian's life is a significant story in any way, it is the same as anyone's might be: "Once I was lost, but now I'm found." His story—history—is God's story, not his. His heavenly commission is to announce the terms of the kingdom, not to debate its merits, as if it were somehow contingent. He and his brethren know that their true battle is against principalities and powers, not flesh and blood—and thus present themselves as perfect for development in an allegorical treatment.
Bunyan's narrative, like Bunyan himself, is unpretentious, earnest, and amazingly unsentimental. Defiant, insular, certain though the world says he has no right to certainty, he espouses a faith which cannot be artificially stimulated or enriched by civil religion or ritualistic piety. Christ and the Bible alone are the source of salvation and his guide through the perils of earthly life. Like his pilgrim, Bunyan is interested most of all not in the faith he holds but in the faith that holds him.



The Pilgrim's Progress

Transcribed by C.E.K.

Part One


The Author's Apology
for his Book

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

And thus it was: I, writing of the way
And race of saints, in this our gospel day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,
In more than twenty things which I set down.
This done, I twenty more had in my crown;
And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.

Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out
The book that I already am about.

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

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my scribble; nor did I intend
But to divert myself in doing this
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss.

Thus, I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white.
For, having now my method by the end,
Still as I pulled, it came; and so I penned
It down: until it came at last to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

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

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

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

I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it, thus to gratify.
I did not know but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight.

For those which were not for its coming forth,
I said to them, Offend you I am loth,
Yet, since your brethren pleased with it be,
Forbear to judge till you do further see.

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone;
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone.
Yea, that I might them better palliate,
I did too with them thus expostulate:--

May I not write in such a style as this?
In such a method, too, and yet not miss
My end--thy good? Why may it not be done?
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops,
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either,
But treasures up the fruit they yield together;
Yea, so commixes both, that in her fruit
None can distinguish this from that: they suit
Her well when hungry; but, if she be full,
She spews out both, and makes their blessings null.

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

How does the fowler seek to catch his game
By divers means! all which one cannot name:
His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell:
He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell
Of all his postures? Yet there's none of these
Will make him master of what fowls he please.
Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this,
Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss.

If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell,
And may be found too in an oyster-shell;
If things that promise nothing do contain
What better is than gold; who will disdain,
That have an inkling of it, there to look,
That they may find it? Now, my little book,
(Though void of all these paintings that may make
It with this or the other man to take)
Is not without those things that do excel
What do in brave but empty notions dwell.

`Well, yet I am not fully satisfied,
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried.'

Why, what's the matter? `It is dark.' What though?
`But it is feigned.' What of that? I trow?
Some men, by feigned words, as dark as mine,
Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine.

`But they want solidness.' Speak, man, thy mind.
`They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind.'

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

Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude
That I want solidness--that I am rude;
All things solid in show not solid be;
All things in parables despise not we;
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are, of our souls bereave.

My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.

The prophets used much by metaphors
To set forth truth; yea, who so considers
Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see,
That truths to this day in such mantles be.

Am I afraid to say, that holy writ,
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,
Is everywhere so full of all these things--
Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs
From that same book that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.

Come, let my carper to his life now look,
And find there darker lines than in my book
He findeth any; yea, and let him know,
That in his best things there are worse lines too.

May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I dare adventure ten,
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.
Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find,
Informs the judgement, rectifies the mind;
Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit; the memory too it doth fill
With what doth our imaginations please;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.

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

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

1. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no abuse
Put on the words, things, readers; or be rude
In handling figure or similitude,
In application; but, all that I may,
Seek the advance of truth this or that way
Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave
(Example too, and that from them that have
God better pleased, by their words or ways,
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days)
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee that excellentest are.

2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight
For writing so: indeed, if they abuse
Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use
To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me,
Which way it pleases God; for who knows how,
Better than he that taught us first to plough,
To guide our mind and pens for his design?
And he makes base things usher in divine.

3. I find that holy writ in many places
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing, to set forth another;
Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother
Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.
And now before I do put up my pen,
I'll shew the profit of my book, and then
Commit both thee and it unto that Hand
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand.

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize;
It shews you whence he comes, whither he goes;
What he leaves undone, also what he does;
It also shows you how he runs and runs,
Till he unto the gate of glory comes.

It shows, too, who set out for life amain,
As if the lasting crown they would obtain;
Here also you may see the reason why
They lose their labour, and like fools do die.

This book will make a traveller of thee,
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be;
It will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its directions understand:
Yea, it will make the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.

Art thou for something rare and profitable?
Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable?
Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember
From New-Year's day to the last of December?
Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs,
And may be, to the helpless, comforters.

This book is writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect:
It seems a novelty, and yet contains
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.
Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy?
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly?
Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation?
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation?
Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see
A man in the clouds, and hear him speak to thee?
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep?
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep?
Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm,
And find thyself again without a charm?
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knowest not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not,

By reading the same lines? Oh, then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on
a certain place where was a Den <The Jail/Gaol>, and I laid me down
in that place to sleep: and, as I slept, I dreamed a dream.
I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags,
standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house,
a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. [Isa. 64:6;
Luke 14:33; Ps. 38:4; Hab. 2:2; Acts 16:30,31] 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,
<His Outcry> he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying,
"What shall I do?" [Acts 2:37]

In this plight, therefore, he went home and refrained 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:
O my dear wife, said he, and you the children of my bowels,
I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason of a burden
that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am for certain informed that
this our city <This world> will be burned with fire from heaven;
in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee my wife,
and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin,
except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found,
whereby we may be delivered. <He knows not the way yet/He knows no way
of escape as of yet> At this his relations were sore amazed;
not for that they believed that what he had said to them was true,
but because they thought that some frenzy distemper had got into
his head; therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping
that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed.
But the night was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore,
instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So,
when the morning was come, they would know how he did.
He told them, Worse and worse: he also set to talking to them again;
but they began to be hardened. <Carnal physic for a sick soul>
They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly
carriages to him; sometimes they would deride, sometimes they
would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him.
Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for
and pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he would also
walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying:
and thus for some days he spent his time.

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

I saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if he would run;
yet he stood still, because, as I perceived, he could not tell
which way to go. I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist
coming to him and asked, Wherefore dost thou cry? [Job 33:23]

He answered, Sir, I perceive by the book in my hand, that I am
condemned to die, and after that to come to judgement [Heb. 9:27];
and I find that I am not willing to do the first [Job 16:21],
nor able to do the second. [Ezek. 22:14]

CHRISTIAN no sooner leaves the World but meets
EVANGELIST, who lovingly him greets
With tidings of another: and doth show
Him how to mount to that from this below.

Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since this life
is attended with so many evils? The man answered, Because I fear
that this burden is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave,
and I shall fall into Tophet. [Isa. 30:33] And, Sir, if I be not fit
to go to prison, I am not fit, I am sure, to go to judgement,
and from thence to execution; and the thoughts of these things
make me cry.

<Conviction of the necessity of flying>
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. [Matt. 3.7]

The man therefore read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully,
said, Whither must I fly? Then said Evangelist, pointing with
his finger over a very wide field, Do you see yonder wicket-gate?
[Matt. 7:13,14] <Christ, and the way to Him cannot be found
without the Word> The man said, No. Then said the other,
Do you see yonder shining light? [Ps. 119:105; 2 Pet. 1:19] 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, but his wife and children,
perceiving it, began to cry after him to return; but the man
put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, Life! life!
eternal life! [Luke 14:26] So he looked not behind him,
but fled towards the middle of the plain. [Gen. 19:17]

<They that fly from the wrath to come, are a gazing-stock of the world>
The neighbours also came out to see him run [Jer. 20:10]; 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. <Obstinate and Pliable follow him>
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, Neighbours,
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 neighbours,
and go along with me.

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

CHR. Yes, said Christian, for that was his name, because that ALL
which you shall forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little
of that which I am seeking to enjoy [2 Cor. 4:18]; and,
if you will go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself;
for there, where I go, is enough and to spare. [Luke 15:17]
Come away, and prove my words.

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

CHR. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that
fadeth not away [1 Pet. 1:4], and it is laid up in heaven,
and safe there [Heb. 11:16], to be bestowed, at the time appointed,
on them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book.

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

CHR. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my hand
to the plough. [Luke 9:62]

OBST. Come, then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn again, and go home
without him; there is a company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that,
when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes
than seven men that can render a reason. [Prov. 26:16]

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 neighbour.

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.

<Christian and Obstinate pull for Pliable's soul>
CHR. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour, Pliable;
there are such things to be had which I spoke of, and many
more glorious besides. If you believe not me, read here in this book;
and for the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed
by the blood of Him that made it. [Heb. 9:17-22; 13:20]

PLI. Well, neighbour Obstinate, said Pliable, <Pliable contented to go
with Christian> 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?

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

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

OBST. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate;
<Obstinate goes railing back> 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
their discourse. <Talk between Christian and Pliable>

CHR. Come, neighbour 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.



Part 2

PLI. Come, neighbour 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.

CHR. I can better conceive of them with my mind, than speak of them
with my tongue <God's things unspeakable>: but yet, since you are
desirous to know, I will read of them in my book.

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

CHR. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him that cannot lie. [Titus 1:2]

PLI. Well said; what things are they?

CHR. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life
to be given us, that we may inhabit that kingdom for ever. [Isa. 45:17;
John 10:28,29]

PLI. Well said; and what else?

CHR. There are crowns and glory to be given us, and garments
that will make us shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven.
[2 Tim. 4:8; Rev. 3:4; Matt. 13:43]

PLI. This is very pleasant; and what else?

CHR. There shall be no more crying, nor Sorrow: for He that is
owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes. [Isa. 25.6-8;
Rev. 7:17, 21:4]

PLI. And what company shall we have there?

CHR. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims,
creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. [Isa. 6:2]
There also you shall meet with thousands and ten thousands
that have gone before us to that place; none of them are hurtful,
but loving and holy; every one walking in the sight of God,
and standing in his presence with acceptance for ever.
[1 Thess. 4:16,17; Rev. 5:11] In a word, there we shall see the elders
with their golden crowns [Rev. 4:4], there we shall see the holy virgins
with their golden harps [Rev. 14:1-5], there we shall see men
that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts,
drowned in the seas, for the love that they bare to the Lord
of the place, all well, and clothed with immortality as with a garment.
[John 12:25; 2 Cor. 5:4]

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

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

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

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

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

PLI. Then said Pliable; Ah! neighbour Christian, where are you now?

CHR. 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
betwixt this and our journey's end? May I get out again with my life,
you shall possess the brave country alone for me. <It is not enough
to be pliable> And, with that, he gave a desperate struggle or two,
and got out of the mire on that side of the slough which was next to
his own house: so away he went, and Christian saw him no more.

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone:
but still he endeavoured to struggle to that side of the slough
that was still further from his own house, and next to the wicket-gate;
<Christian in trouble seeks still to get further from his own house>
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?

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

<The Promises>
HELP. But why did not you look for the steps?

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

<Help lifts him up>
HELP. Then said he, Give me thy hand: so he gave him his hand,
and he drew him out, and set him upon sound ground, and bid him
go on his way. [Ps. 40:2]

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, Sir, wherefore,
since over this place is the way from the City of Destruction
to yonder gate, is it that this plat is not mended, that poor travellers
might go thither with more security? And he said unto me,
<What makes the Slough of Despond> This miry slough is such a place
as cannot be mended; it is the descent whither the scum and filth
that attends conviction for sin doth continually run, and therefore
it is called the Slough of Despond; for still, as the sinner is awakened
about his lost condition, there ariseth in his soul many fears,
and doubts, and discouraging apprehensions, which all of them
get together, and settle in this place. And this is the reason
of the badness of this ground.

It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so bad.
[Isa. 35:3,4] His labourers also have, by the direction of
His Majesty's surveyors, been for above these sixteen hundred years
employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might
have been mended: yea, and to my knowledge, said he,
here have been swallowed up at least twenty thousand cart-loads,
yea, millions of wholesome instructions, that have at all seasons
been brought from all places of the King's dominions, and they that
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.

<The promises of forgiveness and acceptance to life by faith in Christ>
True, there are, by the direction of the Law-giver, certain good and
substantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough;
but at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth,
as it doth against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen;
or, if they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, step beside,
and then they are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps
be there; but the ground is good when they are once got in at the gate.
[1 Sam. 12:23]

<Pliable got home, and is visited of his neighbours>
Now, I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got home
to his house again, so that his neighbours came to visit him;
<His entertainment by them at his return> and some of them called him
wise man for coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding 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 deride poor Christian behind his back.
And thus much concerning Pliable.

<Mr. Worldly Wiseman meets with Christian>
Now, as Christian was walking solitarily 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 some inkling of him,--
for Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruction was
much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt,
but also it began to be the town talk in some other places,--
Mr. Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess of him,
by beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs and groans,
and the like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian.

<Talk betwixt Mr. Worldly Wiseman and Christian>
WORLD. How now, good fellow, whither away after this burdened manner?

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

WORLD. Hast thou a wife and children?

CHR. Yes; but I am so laden with this burden that I cannot take
that pleasure in them as formerly; methinks I am as if I had none.
[1 Cor 7:29]

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

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

<Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel to Christian>
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 benefits
of the blessing which God hath bestowed upon thee till then.

CHR. 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?

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

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

<The frame of the heart of a young Christian>
CHR. 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.

<Worldly Wiseman does not like that men should be serious
in reading the Bible>
WORLD. How camest thou by the burden at first?

CHR. By reading this book in my hand.

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

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

<Whether Mr. Worldly Wiseman prefers morality before the strait gate>
WORLD. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers
attend it? especially since, hadst thou but patience to hear me,
I could direct thee to the obtaining of what thou desirest,
without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself into; yea,
and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, that instead of
those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship,
and content.

CHR. Pray, Sir, 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 judicious man,
and a man of very good name, that has skill to help men off
with such burdens as thine are from their shoulders: yea,
to my knowledge, he hath done a great deal of good this way;
ay, and besides, he hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed
in their wits with their burdens. To him, as I said, thou mayest go,
and be helped presently. His house is not quite a mile from this place,
and if he should not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man
to his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on)
as well as the old gentleman himself; there, I say, thou mayest be
eased of thy burden; and if thou art 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 to this village,
where there are houses now stand empty, one of which thou mayest have
at reasonable rates; provision is there also cheap and good;
and that which will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure,
there thou shalt live by honest neighbours, in credit and good fashion.

<Christian snared by Worldly Wiseman's words>
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 spoke.

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

<Mount Sinai>
WORLD. Do you see yonder hill?

CHR. Yes, very well.

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

<Christian afraid that Mount Sinai would fall on his head>
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 further,
lest the hill should fall on his head; wherefore there he stood still
and wotted not what to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to him
than while he was in his way. There came also flashes of fire
out of the hill, that made Christian afraid that he should be burned.
[Ex. 19:16,18] Here, therefore, he sweat and did quake for fear.
[Heb. 12:21]

When Christians unto carnal men give ear,
Out of their way they go, and pay for 't dear;
For Master Worldly Wiseman can but shew
A saint the way to bondage and to woe.

<Evangelist findeth Christian under Mount Sinai, and looketh severely
upon him>
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.

<Evangelist reasons afresh 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 not thou the man that I found crying without the walls
of the City of Destruction?

CHR. Yes, dear Sir, I am the man.

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

CHR. Yes, dear Sir, said Christian.

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

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

EVAN. What was he?

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

EVAN. What said that gentleman to you?

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

EVAN. And what said he then?

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

EVAN. And what said he then?

CHR. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him
that 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 shew me a better way,
and short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, Sir, that you
set me in; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house
that hath skill to take off these burdens, so I believed him,
and turned out of that way into this, if haply I might be soon eased
of my burden. But when I came to this place, and beheld things
as they are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger:
but I now know not what to do.

<Evangelist convinces Christian of his error>
EVAN. Then, said Evangelist, stand still a little, that I may show thee
the words of God. So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist,
"See that ye refuse not him 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." [Heb. 12:25]
He said, moreover, "Now the just shall live by faith: but if any man
draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him." [Heb. 10:38]
He also did thus apply them: Thou art the man that art running into
this misery; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most High,
and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, even almost
to the hazarding of thy perdition.

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, "Woe is me,
for I am undone!" At the sight of which Evangelist caught him
by the right hand, saying, "All manner of sin and blasphemies
shall be forgiven unto men." [Matt. 12:31, Mark 3:28]
"Be not faithless, but believing." [John 20:27] Then did Christian
again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first,
before Evangelist.

<Mr. Worldly Wiseman described by 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 deluded thee, and who it was also to whom he sent thee.
--The man that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman, and rightly is he
so called; partly, because he savoureth only the doctrine of this world,
[1 John 4:5] (therefore he always goes to the town of Morality
to church): and partly because he loveth that doctrine best,
for it saveth him best from the cross. [Gal 6:12] And because
he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways,
though right. Now there are three things in this man's counsel,
that thou must utterly abhor.

<Evangelist discovers the deceit of Mr. Worldly Wiseman>

1. His turning thee out of the way.
2. His labouring to render the cross odious to thee. And,
3. His setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto
the administration of death.

First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way;
and thine own consenting thereunto: because this is to reject
the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel of a Worldly Wiseman.
The Lord says, "Strive to enter in at the strait gate" [Luke 13:24],
the gate to which I sent thee; for "strait is the gate that leadeth
unto life, and few there be that find it." [Matt. 7:14]
From this little wicket-gate, and from the way thereto,
hath this wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee
almost to destruction; hate, therefore, his turning thee out of the way,
and abhor thyself for hearkening to him.

Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to render the cross
odious unto thee; for thou art to prefer it "before the treasures
in Egypt." [Heb. 11:25,26] Besides the King of glory hath told thee,
that he that "will save his life shall lose it." [Mark 8:35;
John 12:25; Matt. 10:39] And, "He that cometh after me,
and hateth not his father, and mother, and wife, and children,
and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also,
he cannot be my disciple." [Luke 14:26] I say, therefore,
for man to labour to persuade thee, that that shall be thy death,
without which, THE TRUTH hath said, thou canst not have eternal life;
this doctrine thou must abhor.

Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that leadeth
to the ministration of death. And for this thou must consider to whom
he sent thee, and also how unable that person was to deliver thee
from thy burden.

<The bond-woman>
He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality,
is the son of the bond-woman which now is, and is in bondage
with her children [Gal 4:21-27]; and is, in a mystery, this Mount Sinai,
which thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she,
with her children, are in bondage, how canst thou expect by them
to be made free? This Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free
from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of his burden by him; no,
nor ever is like to be: ye cannot be justified by the works of the law;
for by the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his burden:
therefore, Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat;
and for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks,
he is but a hypocrite and cannot help thee. Believe me,
there is nothing in all this noise, that thou hast heard of these
sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation,
by turning thee from the way in which I had set thee. After this,
Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for confirmation of what
he had said: and with that there came words and fire
out of the mountain under which poor Christian stood, that made
the hair of his flesh stand up. The words were thus pronounced:
`As many as are of the works of the law are under the curse;
for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things
which are written in the book of the law to do them.' [Gal. 3:10]

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

<Christian inquires if he may yet be happy>
CHR. Sir, what think you? Is there hope? May I now go back
and go up to the wicket-gate? Shall I not be abandoned for this,
and sent back from thence ashamed? I am sorry I have hearkened to
this man's counsel. But may my sin be forgiven?

<Evangelist comforts him>
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 goodwill for men; only, said he,
take heed that thou turn not aside again, `lest thou perish from
the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little.' [Ps. 2:12]
Then did Christian address himself to go back; and Evangelist,
after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God-speed.
So he went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way;
nor, if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them an answer.
He went like one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground,
and could by no means think himself safe, till again he was got
into the way which he left, to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel.
So, in process of time, Christian got up to the gate.
Now, over the gate there was written, `Knock, and it shall be opened
unto you.' [Matt 7:8]

"He that will enter in must first without
Stand knocking at the Gate, nor need he doubt
That is A KNOCKER but to enter in;
For God can love him, and forgive his sin."

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying--

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

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

CHR. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from
the City of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion,
that I may be delivered from the wrath to come. I would therefore,


Part 3


Sir, since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither,
know if you are willing to let me in?

<The gate will be opened to broken-hearted sinners>
GOOD-WILL. I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that
he opened the gate.

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull.
Then said Christian, What means that? The other told him.
A little distance from this gate, there is erected a strong castle,
of which Beelzebub is the captain; <Satan envies those that enter
the strait gate> from thence, both he and them that are with him
shoot arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they may die
before they can enter in.

<Christian entered the gate with joy and trembling>
Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was got in,
the man of the gate asked him who directed him thither?

<Talk between Good-will and Christian>
CHR. Evangelist bid me come hither, and knock, (as I did);
and he said that you, Sir, would tell me what I must do.

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

CHR. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards.

GOOD-WILL. But how is it that you came alone?

CHR. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger, as I saw mine.

GOOD-WILL. Did any of them know of your coming?

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

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

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

GOOD-WILL. But why did he not come through?

<A man may have company when he sets out for heaven,
and yet go thither alone>
CHR. We, indeed, came both together, until we came
at the Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell.
And then was my neighbour, Pliable, discouraged, and would not
venture further. Wherefore, getting out again on that side
next to his own house, he told me I should possess the brave country
alone for him; so he went his way, and I came mine--
he after Obstinate, and I to this gate.

GOOD-WILL. Then said Good-will, Alas, poor man! is the celestial glory
of so small esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth
running the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it?

<Christian accuses himself before the man at the gate>
CHR. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable,
and if I should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear
there is no betterment betwixt him and myself. It is true,
he went back to his own house, but I also turned aside to go
in the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments
of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman.

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

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

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

CHR. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there,
had not Evangelist happily met me again, as I was musing in the midst
of my 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 favour is this to me,
that yet I am admitted entrance here!

<Christian comforted again>
GOOD-WILL. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all
that they have done before they came hither. They are in no wise
cast out [John vi.37]; and therefore, good Christian, come a little way
with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go.
<Christian directed yet on his way> Look before thee;
dost thou see this narrow way? THAT is the way thou must go;
it was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ, and his apostles;
and it is as straight as a rule can make it. This is the way
thou must go.

<Christian afraid of losing his way>
CHR. But, said Christian, are there no turnings or windings by which
a stranger may lose his way?

GOOD-WILL. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this,
and they are crooked and wide. But thus thou mayest distinguish
the right from the wrong, the right only being straight and narrow.
[Matt 7:14]

<Christian weary of his burden>
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.

<There is no deliverance from guilt and burden of sin,
but by the death and blood of Christ>
He told him, As to thy burden, be content to bear it, until thou comest
to the place of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back
of itself.

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself
to his journey. So the other told him, That by that he was gone
some distance from the gate, he would come at the house
of the 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.

<Christian comes to the 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.

CHR. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance
of the good-man of this house to call here for my profit;
I would therefore speak with the master of the house.
So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time,
came to Christian, and asked him what he would have.

<He is entertained>
CHR. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from
the City of Destruction, and am going to the Mount Zion;
and I was told by the man that stands at the gate, at the head
of this way, that if I called here, you would show me excellent things,
such as would be a help to me in my journey.

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

CHR. Then said Christian, What meaneth this?

<The meaning of the picture>
INTER. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand;
he can beget children [1 Cor. 4:15], travail in birth with children
[Gal. 4:19], and nurse them himself when they are born.
And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lift up to heaven,
the best of books in his hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips,
it is to show thee that his work is to know and unfold dark things
to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded with men:
and whereas thou seest the world as cast behind him, and that a crown
hangs over his head, that is to show thee that slighting and despising
the things that are present, for the love that he hath
to his Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes next
to have glory for his reward. <Why he showed him the picture first>
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 authorised to be
thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in the way;
wherefore, take good heed to what I have shewed thee, and bear well
in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou meet with
some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down to death.

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

CHR. Then said Christian, What means this?

INTER. The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the heart of a man
that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the gospel;
the dust is his original sin and inward corruptions, that have defiled
the whole man. He that began to sweep at first, is the Law;
but she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel.
Now, whereas thou sawest, that so soon as the first began to sweep,
the dust did so fly about that the room by him could not be cleansed,
but that thou wast almost choked therewith; this is to shew thee,
that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin,
doth revive, put strength into, and increase it in the soul,
even as it doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power
to subdue. [Rom. 7:6; 1 Cor. 15:56; Rom. 5:20]

Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water,
upon which it was cleansed with pleasure; this is to show thee,
that when the gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof
to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust
by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued,
and the soul made clean through the faith of it, and consequently fit
for the King of glory to inhabit. [John 15:3; Eph. 5:26; Acts 15:9;
Rom. 16:25,26; John 15:13]

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

<Passion has his desire>
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.
<And quickly lavishes all away> But I beheld but a while,
and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him but rags.

CHR. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter
more fully to me.

<The matter expounded>
INTER. So he said, These two lads are figures: Passion, of the men
of this world; and Patience, of the men of that which is to come;
for as here thou seest, Passion will have all now this year,
that is to say, in this world; so are the men of this world,
they must have all their good things now, they cannot stay
till next year, that is until the next world, for their portion of good.
<The worldly man for a bird in the hand> That proverb,
`A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush', is of more authority
with them than are all the Divine testimonies of the good of the world
to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away,
and had presently left him nothing but rags; so will it be with all
such men at the end of this world.

<Patience has the best wisdom>
CHR. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom,
and that upon many accounts. First, because he stays
for the best things. Second, and also because he will have
the glory of his, when the other has nothing but rags.

<Things that are first must give place; but things that are last
are lasting>
INTER. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of the next world
will never wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion
had not so much reason to laugh at Patience, because he had
his good things first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion,
because he had his best things last; for first must give place to last,
because last must have his time to come; but last gives place
to nothing; for there is not another to succeed. He, therefore,
that hath his portion first, must needs have a time to spend it;
but he that hath his portion last, must have it lastingly;
<Dives had his good things first> therefore it is said of Dives,
"Thou in thy life-time receivedst thy good things, and likewise
Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented."
[Luke 16:25]

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

<The first things are but temporal>
INTER. You say the truth: "For the things which are seen are temporal;
but the things which are not seen are eternal." [2 Cor. 4:18]
But though this be so, yet since things present and our fleshly appetite
are such near neighbours one to another; and again,
because things to come, and carnal sense, are such strangers
one to another; therefore it is, that the first of these so suddenly
fall into amity, and that distance is so continued between the second.

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

Then said Christian, What means this?

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

Then said Christian, What means this?

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually,
with the oil of his grace, maintains the work already begun
in the heart: by the means of which, notwithstanding what the devil
can do, the souls of his people prove gracious still. [2 Cor. 12:9]
And in that thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain
the fire, that is to teach thee that it is hard for the tempted
to see how this work of grace is maintained in the soul.

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

Then said Christian, May we go in thither?

<The valiant man>
Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up towards the door
of the palace; and behold, at the door stood a great company of men,
as desirous to go in; but durst not. There also sat a man
at a little distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book
and his inkhorn before him, to take the name of him that should
enter therein; he saw also, that in the doorway stood many men in armour
to keep it, being resolved to do the men that would enter
what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian somewhat in 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 after he had received
and given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out,
he cut his way through them all [Acts 14:.22], 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,

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

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

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

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

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

CHR. What wast thou once?

MAN. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing professor,
both in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others; I once was,
as I thought, fair for the Celestial City, and had then even joy
at the thoughts that I should get thither. [Luke 8:13]

CHR. Well, but what art thou now?

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

CHR. But how camest thou in this condition?

MAN. I left off to watch and be sober. I laid the reins,
upon the neck of my lusts; I sinned against the light of the Word
and the goodness of God; I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone;
I tempted the devil, and he is come to me; I have provoked God to anger,
and he has left me: I have so hardened my heart, that I cannot repent.

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no hope for such
a man as this? Ask him, said the Interpreter. Nay, said Christian,
pray, Sir, do you.

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

MAN. No, none at all.

INTER. Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.

MAN. I have crucified him to myself afresh [Heb. 6:6];
I have despised his person [Luke 19:14]; I have despised
his righteousness; I have "counted his blood an unholy thing";
I have "done despite to the Spirit of grace". [Heb. 10:28-29]
Therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises,
and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings,
dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings, of certain judgement
and fiery indignation, which shall devour me as an adversary.

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

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

INTER. But canst thou not now repent and turn?

MAN. God hath denied me repentance. His Word gives me no encouragement
to believe; yea, himself hath shut me up in this iron cage;
nor can all the men in the world let me out. O eternity, eternity!
how shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with in eternity!

INTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this man's misery
be remembered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.

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

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

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber,
where there was one rising out of bed; and as he put on his raiment,
he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man
thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian
the reason of his so doing. So he began and said, This night,
as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew
exceeding black; also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise,
that it put me into an agony; so I looked up in my dream,
and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate, upon which I heard
a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sit upon a cloud,
attended with the thousands of heaven; they were all in flaming fire:
also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a voice saying,
"Arise, ye dead, and come to judgement"; and with that the rocks rent,
the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth.
Some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some sought
to hide themselves under the mountains. [1 Cor. 15:52; 1 Thes. 4:16;
Jude 14; John 5:28,29; 2 Thes. 1:7,8; Rev. 20:11-14; Isa. 26:21;
Micah 7:16,17; Ps. 95:1-3; Dan. 7:10] Then I saw the man
that sat upon the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near.
Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out
and came from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them,
as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar. [Mal. 3:2,3;
Dan. 7:9,10] I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on
the man that sat on the cloud, Gather together the tares, the chaff,
and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake. [Matt. 3:12; 13:30;
Mal. 4:1] And with that, the bottomless pit opened, just whereabout
I stood; out of the mouth of which there came, in an abundant manner,
smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said
to the same persons, "Gather my wheat into the garner." [Luke 3:17]
And with that I saw many catched up and carried away into the clouds,
but I was left behind. [1 Thes. 4:16,17] I also sought to hide myself,
but I could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye
upon me; my sins also came into my mind; and my conscience did accuse me
on every side. [Rom. 3:14,15] Upon this I awaked from my sleep.

CHR. But what is it that made you so afraid of this sight?

MAN. Why, I thought that the day of judgement was come,
and that I was not ready for it: but this frighted me most,
that the angels gathered up several, and left me behind;
also the pit of hell opened her mouth just where I stood.
My conscience, too, afflicted me; and, as I thought, the Judge
had always his eye upon me, shewing indignation in his countenance.

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered
all these things?

CHR. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear.

INTER. Well, keep all things so in thy mind that they may be as a goad
in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must go.
Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself
to his journey. Then said the Interpreter, The Comforter be always
with thee, good Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads
to the City. So Christian went on his way, saying--

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

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which Christian was to go,
was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall
was called Salvation. [Isa. 26:1] 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 at a place somewhat ascending,
and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom,
a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up
with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders,
and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do,
till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in,
and I saw it no more.

<When God Releases us of our guilt and burden we are as those
that leap for joy>
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,


Part 4


even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down
his cheeks. [Zech. 12:10] Now, as he stood looking and weeping,
behold three Shining Ones came to him and saluted him with
"Peace be unto thee". So the first said to him, "Thy sins be
forgiven thee" [Mark 2:5]; the second stripped him of his rags,
and clothed him with change of raiment [Zech. 3:4]; the third also
set a mark on his forehead, and gave him a roll with a seal upon it,
which he bade him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in
at the Celestial Gate. [Eph. 1:13] So they went their way.

"Who's this? the Pilgrim. How! 'tis very true,
Old things are past away, all's become new.
Strange! he's another man, upon my word,
They be fine feathers that make a fine bird.

<A Christian can sing though alone, when God doth give him
the joy of his heart>
Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing--

"Thus far I did 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 there was put to shame for me!"

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

Christian then seeing them lie in this case went to them,
if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, You are like them
that sleep on the top of a mast, for the Dead Sea is under you--
a gulf that hath no bottom. [Prov. 23:34] 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. [1 Pet. 5:8]
<There is no persuasion will do, if God openeth not the eyes>
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 fat must stand upon its own bottom;
what is the answer else that I should give thee?" And so they lay down
to sleep again, and Christian went on his way.

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

<Christian talked with them>
CHR. 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.

CHR. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at
the beginning of the way? Know you not that it is written,
that he that cometh not in by the door, "but climbeth up some other way,
the same is a thief and a robber?" [John 10:1]

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.

CHR. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the city
whither we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will?

<They that come into the way, but not by the door,
think that they can say something in vindication of their own practice>
FORM. and HYP. They told him, that, as for that, he needed not
to trouble his head thereabout; for what they did they had custom for;
and could produce, if need were, testimony that would witness it
for more than a thousand years.

CHR. But, said Christian, will your practice stand a trial at law?

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

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

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

<Christian has got his Lord's coat on his back, and is
comforted therewith; he is comforted, also, with his mark and his roll>
CHR. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you
came not in by the door. [Gal. 2:16] And as for this coat that is on
my back, it was given me by the Lord of the place whither I go;
and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I take it as
a token of 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 this 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 associates fixed there in the day
that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover,
that I had then given me a roll, sealed, to comfort me by reading
as I go on the way; I was also bid to give it in at the Celestial Gate,
in token of my certain going in after it; all which things, I doubt,
you want, and want them because you came not in at the gate.

<Christian has talk with himself>
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 that sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably;
also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones
gave him, by which he was refreshed.

<He comes to the Hill 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 the going up
the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian now went
to the spring, and drank thereof, to refresh himself [Isa. 49:10],
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 danger of turning out of the way>
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 these 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.

"Shall they who wrong begin yet rightly end?
Shall they at all have safety for their friend?
No, no; in headstrong manner they set out,
And headlong will they fall at last no doubt."

<A ward of grace>
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 arbour, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshing
of weary travellers; thither, therefore, Christian got, where also
he sat down to rest him. Then he pulled his roll out of his bosom,
and read therein to his comfort; he also now began afresh to take
a review of the coat or garment that was given him as he stood
by the cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, 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. <He that sleeps is a loser>
Now, as he was sleeping, there came one to him, and awaked him, saying,
Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be wise.
[Prov. 6:6] And with that Christian started up, and sped him on
his way, and went apace, till he came to the top of the hill.

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

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

<Christian shakes off fear>
CHR. Then said Christian, You make me afraid, but whither shall I fly
to be safe? If I go back to mine own country, that is prepared
for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there.
If I can get to the Celestial City, I am sure to be in safety there.
I must venture. To go back is nothing but death; to go forward
is fear of death, and life-everlasting beyond it. I will yet
go forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill,
and Christian went on his way. <Christian missed his roll
wherein he used to take comfort> But, thinking again of what
he had heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll,
that he might read therein, and be comforted; but he felt,
and found it not. Then was Christian in great distress,
and knew not what to do; for he wanted that which used to relieve him,
and that which should have been his pass into the Celestial City.
<He is perplexed for his roll> Here, therefore, he begun to be
much perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he bethought himself
that he had slept in the arbour that is on the side of the hill;
and, falling down upon his knees, he asked God's forgiveness for that
his foolish act, and then went back to look for his roll.
But all the way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow
of Christian's heart? Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept,
and oftentimes he chid himself for being so foolish to fall asleep
in that place, which was erected only for a little refreshment
for his weariness. Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking
on this side and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might
find his roll, that had been his comfort so many times in his journey.
He went thus, till he came again within sight of the arbour
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.
[Rev. 2:5; 1 Thes. 5:7,8] <Christian bewails his foolish sleeping>
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 the flesh, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh,
which the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief
of the spirits of pilgrims!

How many steps have I took in vain! Thus it happened to Israel,
for their sin; they were sent back again by the way of the Red Sea;
and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I might have trod
with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might I
have been on my way by this time! I am made to tread those steps
thrice over, which I needed not to have trod but once; yea,
now also I am like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent.
O, that I had not slept!

<Christian findeth his roll where he lost it>
Now, by this time he was come to the arbour again, where for a while
he sat down and wept; but at last, as Christian would have it,
looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll;
the which he, with trembling and haste, catched up, and put it into
his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was when he had gotten
his roll again! for this roll was the assurance of his life
and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it up
in his bosom, gave thanks to God for directing his eye to the place
where it lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again
to his journey. But oh, how nimbly now did he go up the rest
of the hill! Yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian;
and this made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping
to his remembrance; and thus he again began to condole with himself:
O thou sinful sleep; how, for thy sake, am I like to be benighted
in my journey! I must walk without the sun; darkness must cover
the path of my feet; and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures,
because of my sinful sleep. [1 Thes. 5:6,7] Now also he remembered
the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him of; how they were frighted
with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian to himself again,
These beasts range in the night for their prey; and if they should
meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them? How should I escape
being by them torn in pieces? Thus he went on his way.
But while he was thus bewailing his unhappy miscarriage,
he lift up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace
before him, the name of which was Beautiful; and it stood just by
the highway side.

So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went forward,
that if possible he might get lodging there. Now, before he had
gone far, he entered into a very narrow passage, which was about
a furlong off the porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before him
as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought he,
I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by.
(The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.)
Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them,
for he thought nothing but death was before him. But the porter
at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian
made a halt as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying,
Is thy strength so small? [Mark 8:34-37] Fear not the lions,
for they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith
where it is, and for discovery of those that had none.
Keep in the midst of the path, no hurt shall come unto thee.

"Difficulty is behind, Fear is before,
Though he's got on the hill, the lions roar;
A Christian man is never long at ease,
When one fright's gone, another doth him seize."

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the lions,
but taking good heed to the directions of the porter;
he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. Then he clapped
his hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate
where the porter was. Then said Christian to the porter,
Sir, what house is this? And may I lodge here to-night?
The porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of the hill,
and he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims.
The porter also asked whence he was, and whither he was going.

CHR. I am come from the City of Destruction, and am going
to Mount Zion; but because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may,
to lodge here to-night.

POR. What is your name?

CHR. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless;
I came of the race of Japheth, whom God will persuade to dwell
in the tents of Shem. [Gen. 9:27]

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

CHR. I had been here sooner, but that, "wretched man that I am!"
I slept in the arbour that stands on the hillside; nay, I had,
notwithstanding that, been here much sooner, but that, in my sleep.
I lost my evidence, and came without it to the brow of the hill
and then feeling for it, and finding it not, I was forced
with sorrow of heart, to go back to the place where I slept my sleep,
where I found it, and now I am come.

POR. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will,
if she likes your talk, bring you into the rest of the family,
according to the rules of the house. So Watchful, the porter,
rang a bell, at the sound of which came out at the door of the house,
a grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why
she was called.

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

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going,
and he told her. She asked him also how he got into the way;
and he told her. Then she asked him what he had seen and met with
in the way; and he told, her. And last she asked his name; so he said,
It is Christian, and I have so much the more a desire to lodge
here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built
by the Lord of the hill for the relief and security of pilgrims.
So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes; and after
a little pause, she said, I will call forth two or three more
of the family. So she ran to the door, and called out Prudence,
Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more discourse with him,
had him into the family; and many of them, meeting him at the threshold
of the house, said, Come in, thou blessed of the Lord;
this house was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to entertain
such pilgrims in. Then he bowed his head, and followed them
into the house. So when he was come in and sat down, they gave him
something to drink, and consented together, that until supper was ready,
some of them should have some particular discourse with Christian,
for the best improvement of time; and they appointed Piety,
and Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him; and thus they began:

<Piety discourses him>
PIETY. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving to you,
to receive you in our house this night, let us, if perhaps we may
better ourselves thereby, talk with you of all things
that have happened to you in your pilgrimage.

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

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

<How Christian was driven out of his own country>
CHR. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound
that was in mine ears: to wit, that unavoidable destruction
did attend me, if I abode in that place where I was.

PIETY. But how did it happen that you came out of your country
this way?

<How he got into the way to Zion>
CHR. It was as God would have it; for when I was under the fears
of destruction, I did not know whither to go; but by chance
there came a man, even to me, as I was trembling and weeping,
whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the wicket-gate,
which else I should never have found, and so set me into the way
that hath led me directly to this house.

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

<A rehearsal of what he saw in the way>
CHR. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which
will stick by me as long as I live; especially three things: to wit,
how Christ, in despite of Satan, maintains his work of grace
in the heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes
of God's mercy; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep
the day of judgement was come.

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

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

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

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

PIETY. And what saw you else in the way?

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

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

CHR. The things that I have told you were the best;
yet some other matters I saw, as, namely--I saw three men,
Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep a little out of the way,
as I came, with irons upon their heels; but do you think
I could awake them? I also saw Formality 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.

<Prudence discourses him>
PRUD. Do you not think sometimes of the country from whence you came?

<Christian's thoughts of his native country>
CHR. Yes, but with much shame and detestation: "Truly,
if I had been mindful of that country from whence I came out,
I might have had opportunity to have returned; but now I desire
a better country, that is, an heavenly." [Heb. 11:15,16]

PRUD. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things
that then you were conversant withal?

<Christian distasted with carnal cogitations>
CHR. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward
and carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself,
were delighted; but now all those things are my grief;
and might I but choose mine own things, <Christian's choice>
I would choose never to think of those things more; but when I would
be doing of that which is best, that which is worst is with me.
[Rom 7:16-19]

PRUD. Do you not find sometimes, as if those things were vanquished,
which at other times are your perplexity?

<Christian's golden hours>
CHR. Yes, but that is seldom; but they are to me golden hours
in which such things happen to me.

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

<How Christian gets power against his corruptions>
CHR. Yes, when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it;
and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it;
also when I look into the roll that I carry in my bosom,
that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going,
that will do it.

PRUD. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?

<Why Christian would be at Mount Zion>
CHR. Why, there I hope to see him alive that did hang dead on the cross;
and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me
an annoyance to me; there, they say, there is no death; and there I shall
dwell with such company as I like best. [Isa. 25:8; Rev. 21:4]
For, to tell you truth, I love him, because I was by him eased of
my burden; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where
I shall die no more, and with the company that shall continually cry,
"Holy, Holy, Holy!"

<Charity discourses him>
Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family? Are you
a married man?

CHR. I have a wife and four small children.

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

<Christian's love to his wife and children>
CHR. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly
would I have done it! but they were all of them utterly averse
to my going on pilgrimage.


Part 5

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

CHR. So I did; and told them also of 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. [Gen. 19:14]

CHAR. And did you pray to God that he would bless your counsel to them?

CHR. Yes, and that with much affection: for you must think
that my wife and poor children were very dear unto me.

CHAR. But did you tell them of your own sorrow, and fear
of destruction? for I suppose that destruction was visible enough
to you.

<Christian's fears of perishing might be read in his very countenance>
CHR. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears
in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under
the apprehension of the judgement that did hang over our heads;
but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me.

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

<The cause why his wife and children did not go with him>
CHR. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children
were given to the foolish delights of youth: so what by one thing,
and what by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone.

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

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

<Christian clear of their blood if they perish>
CHAR. Indeed Cain hated his brother, "because his own works were evil,
and his brother's righteous" [1 John 3:12]; and if thy wife and children
have been offended with thee for this, they thereby show themselves
to be implacable to good, and "thou hast delivered thy soul
from their blood". [Ezek. 3:19]

<What Christian had to his supper>
Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together
until supper was ready. So when they had made ready,
they sat down to meat. <Their talk at supper time> Now the table
was furnished "with fat things, and with wine that was well refined":
and all their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill;
as, namely, about what he had done, and wherefore he did what he did,
and why he had builded that house. And by what they said,
I perceived that he had been a great 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.
[Heb. 2:14,15]

For, as they said, and as I believe (said Christian), he did it with
the loss of much blood; but that which put glory of grace
into all he did, was, that he did it out of pure love to his country.
And besides, there were some of them of the household that said
they had been and spoke with him since he did die on the cross;
and they have attested that they had it from his own lips,
that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the like is not
to be found from the east to the west.

<Christ makes princes of beggars>
They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed, and that was,
he had stripped himself of his glory, that he might do this
for the poor; and that they heard him say and affirm,
"that he would not dwell in the mountain of Zion alone."
They said, moreover, that he had made many pilgrims princes,
though by nature they were beggars born, and their original
had been the dunghill. [1 Sam 2:8; Ps. 113:7]

<Christian's bedchamber>
Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and after
they had committed themselves to their Lord for protection,
they betook themselves to rest: the Pilgrim they laid
in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sun-rising:
the name of the chamber was Peace; where he slept till break of day,
and then he awoke and sang--

"Where am I now? Is this the love and care
Of Jesus for the men that pilgrims are?
Thus to provide! that I should be forgiven!
And dwell already the next door to heaven!"

<Christian had into the study, and what he saw there>
So in the morning they all got up; and, after some more discourse,
they told him that he should not depart till they had shown him
the rarities of that place. And first they had him into the study,
where they showed him records of the greatest antiquity; in which,
as I remember my dream, they showed him first the pedigree of the Lord
of the hill, that he was the son of the Ancient of Days, and came by
that eternal generation. Here also was more fully recorded the acts
that he had done, and the names of many hundreds that he had taken
into his service; and how he had placed them in such habitations that
could neither by length of days, nor decays of nature, be dissolved.

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his servants
had done: as, how they had "subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness,
obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence
of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness
were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight
the armies of the aliens." [Heb 11:33,34]

They then read again, in another part of the records of the house,
where it was shewed how willing their Lord was to receive
into his favour any, even any, though they in time past had offered
great affronts to his person and proceedings. Here also were
several other histories of many other famous things, of all which
Christian had a view; as of things both ancient and modern;
together with prophecies and predictions of things that have
their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement
of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims.

<Christian had into the armoury>
The next day they took him and had him into the armoury,
where they showed him all manner of furniture, which their Lord
had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate,
ALL-PRAYER, and shoes that would not wear out. And there was here
enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord
as there be stars in the heaven for multitude.

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

<Christian showed the Delectable Mountains>
Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to go forward;
but they desired him to stay till the next day also;
and then, said they, we will, if the day be clear, show you
the Delectable Mountains, which, they said, would yet further add
to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven
than the place where at present he was; so he consented and stayed.
When the morning was up, they had him to the top of the house,
and bid him look south; so he did: and behold, at a great distance,
he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods,
vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs
and fountains, very delectable to behold. [Isa. 33:16,17]
Then he asked the name of the country. They said it was
Immanuel's Land; and it is as common, said they, as this hill is,
to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there from thence,
said they, thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City,
as the shepherds that live there will make appear.

<Christian sets forward>
Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing
he should. But first, said they, let us go again into the armoury.
<Christian sent away armed> So they did; and when they came there,
they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof,
lest, perhaps, he should meet with assaults in the way. He being,
therefore, thus accoutred, walketh out with his friends to the gate,
and there he asked the porter if he saw any pilgrims pass by.
Then the porter answered, Yes.

CHR. Pray, did you know him? said he.

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

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

POR. He is got by this time below the hill.

<How Christian and the Porter greet at parting>
CHR. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be with thee,
and add to all thy blessings much increase, for the kindness that thou
hast showed to me.

<The Valley of Humiliation>
Then he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety, Charity,
and Prudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill.
So they went on together, reiterating their former discourses,
till they came to go down the hill. Then said Christian,
As it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous
going down. Yes, said Prudence, so it is, for it is a hard matter
for a man to go down into the Valley of Humiliation, as thou art now,
and to catch no slip by the way; therefore, said they, are we come out
to accompany thee down the hill. So he began to go down,
but very warily; yet he caught a slip or two.

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

<Christian has no armour for his back>
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 armour for his back; and therefore thought
that to turn the back to him might give him the greater advantage
with ease to pierce him with his darts. <Christian's resolution
at the approach of Apollyon> Therefore he resolved to venture
and stand his ground; for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye
than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand.

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was
hideous to behold; he was clothed with scales, like a fish,
(and they are his pride,) he had wings like a dragon, feet like a bear,
and out of his belly came fire and smoke, and his mouth was as
the mouth of a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him
with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question with him.

APOL. Whence come you? and whither are you bound?

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

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

CHR. I was born, indeed, in your dominions, but your service was hard,
and your wages such as a man could not live on, "for the wages of sin
is death" [Rom 6:23]; therefore, when I was come to years, I did,
as other considerate persons do, look out, if, perhaps,
I might mend myself.

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

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

<Apollyon undervalues Christ's service>
APOL. Thou hast done in this, according to the proverb,
"Changed a bad for a worse"; but it is ordinary for those that have
professed themselves his servants, after a while to give him the slip,
and return again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well.

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

<Apollyon pretends to be merciful>
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.

CHR. What I promised thee was in my nonage; and, besides,
I count the Prince under whose banner now I stand is able to absolve me;
yea, and to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with thee;
and besides, O thou destroying Apollyon! to speak truth,
I like his service, his wages, his servants, his government,
his company, and country, better than thine; and, therefore,
leave off to persuade me further; I am his servant,
and I will follow him.

<Apollyon pleads the grievous ends of Christians, to dissuade Christian
from persisting in his way>
APOL. Consider, again, when thou art in cool blood,
what thou art like to meet with in the way that thou goest.
Thou knowest that, for the most part, his servants come to an ill end,
because they are transgressors against me and my ways.
How many of them have been put to shameful deaths! and, besides,
thou countest his service better than mine, whereas he never came yet
from the place where he is to deliver any that served him
out of 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.

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

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

CHR. Wherein, O Apollyon! have I been unfaithful to him?

<Apollyon pleads Christian's infirmities against 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 thing; thou wast, also, almost persuaded to go back
at the sight of the lions; and when thou talkest of thy journey,
and of what thou hast heard and seen, thou art inwardly desirous
of vain-glory in all that thou sayest or doest.

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

<Apollyon in a rage falls upon Christian>
APOL. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying,
I am an enemy to this Prince; I hate his person, his laws, and people;
I am come out on purpose to withstand thee.

CHR. Apollyon, beware what you do; for I am in the King's 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 further;
here will I spill thy soul.

And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast; but Christian had
a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented
the danger of that.

<Christian wounded in his understanding, faith, and conversation>
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.

<Apollyon casteth to the ground the Christian>
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 of his last blow, thereby to make a full end
of this good man, Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his sword,
and caught it, saying, "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy;
when I fall I shall arise" [Micah 7:8]; <Christian's victory
over Apollyon> 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". [Rom. 8:37] And with that Apollyon spread forth
his dragon's wings, and sped him away, that Christian for a season
saw him no more. [James 4:7]

<A brief relation of the combat by the spectator>
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.

A more unequal match can hardly be,--
CHRISTIAN must fight an Angel; but you see,
The valiant man by handling Sword and Shield,
Doth make him, tho' a Dragon, quit the field.

<Christian gives God thanks for deliverance>
So when the battle was over, Christian said, "I will here give thanks
to him that delivered me out of the mouth of the lion,
to him that did help me against Apollyon." And so he did, saying--

Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend,
Design'd my ruin; therefore to this end
He sent him harness'd out: and he with rage
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage.
But blessed Michael helped me, and I,
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly.
Therefore to him let me give lasting praise,
And thank and bless his holy name always.

<Christian goes on his journey with his sword drawn in his hand>
Then there came to him a hand, with some of the leaves
of the tree of life, the which Christian took, and applied to the wounds
that he had received in the battle, and was healed immediately.
He also sat down in that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle
that was given him a little before; so, being refreshed,
he addressed himself to his journey, with his sword drawn in his hand;
for he said, I know not but some other enemy may be at hand. But he met
with no other affront from Apollyon quite through this valley.

<The Valley of the Shadow of Death>
Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of
the Shadow of Death, and Christian must needs go through it,
because the way to the Celestial City lay through the midst of it.
Now, this valley is a very solitary place. The prophet Jeremiah
thus describes it: "A wilderness, a land of deserts and of pits,
a land of drought, and of the shadow of death, a land that no man"
(but a Christian) "passed through, and where no man dwelt." [Jer. 2:6]

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

<The children of the spies go back>
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 [Num. 13],
making haste to go back; to whom Christian spake as follows:--

CHR. 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.

CHR. 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 further, we had not been here to bring the news
to thee.

CHR. 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. [Ps. 44:19; 107:10]

CHR. But what have you seen? said Christian.

MEN. Seen! Why, the Valley itself, which is as dark as pitch;
we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit;
we heard also in that Valley a continual howling and yelling,
as of a people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound
in affliction and irons; and over that Valley hangs
the discouraging clouds of confusion. Death also doth always
spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful,
being utterly without order. [Job 3:5; 10:22]

CHR. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what you have said,
but that this is my way to the desired haven. [Jer. 2:6]

MEN. Be it thy way; we will not choose it for ours. So, they parted,
and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword
drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted.

I saw then in my dream, so far as this valley reached,
there was on the right hand a very deep ditch; that ditch is it
into which the blind have led the blind in all ages, and have both
there miserably perished. [Ps. 69:14,15] Again, behold,
on the left hand, there was a very dangerous quag, into which,
if even a good man falls, he can find no bottom for his foot
to stand on. Into that quag King David once did fall, and had no doubt
therein been smothered, had not HE that is able plucked him out.

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

Poor man! where art thou now? thy day is night.
Good man, be not cast down, thou yet art right,
Thy way to heaven lies by the gates of Hell;
Cheer up, hold out, with thee it shall go well.

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. [Eph. 6:18] So he cried
in my hearing, "O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul!" [Ps. 116:4]
Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be
reaching towards him. Also he heard doleful voices, and rushings
to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces,
or trodden down like mire in the streets. <Christian put to a stand,
but for a while> This frightful sight was seen, and these
dreadful noises were heard by him for several miles together;
and, coming to a place where he thought he heard a company of fiends
coming forward to meet him, he stopped, and began to muse
what he had best to do. Sometimes he had half a thought to go back;
then again he thought he might be half way through the valley;
he remembered also how he had already vanquished many a danger,
and that the danger of going back might be much more than for
to go forward; so he resolved to go on. Yet the fiends seemed to come


Part 6


nearer and nearer; but when they were come even almost at him,
he cried out with a most vehement voice, "I will walk in the strength
of the Lord God!" so they gave back, and came no further.

<Christian made believe that he spake blasphemies,
when it was Satan that suggested them into his mind>
One thing I would not let slip. I took notice that now poor Christian
was so confounded, that he did not know his own voice;
and thus I perceived it. Just when he was come over against
the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him,
and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested
many grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought
had proceeded from his own mind. This put Christian more to it
than anything that he met with before, even to think that he should now
blaspheme him that he loved so much before; yet, if he could
have helped it, he would not have done it; but he had not the discretion
either to stop his ears, or to know from whence these blasphemies came.

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition
some considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man,
as going before him, saying, "Though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me."
[Ps. 23:4]

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 impediment that attends this place,
I cannot perceive it. [Job 9:11]

Thirdly, For that he hoped, could he overtake them, to have company
by and by. So he went on, and called to him that was before;
but he knew not what to answer; for that he also thought to be alone.
And by and by the day broke; then said Christian,
He hath turned "the shadow of death into the morning". [Amos 5:8]

<Christian glad at break of day>
Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return,
but to see, by the light of the day, what hazards he had gone through
in the dark. So he saw more perfectly the ditch that was on
the one hand, and the mire that was on the other; also how narrow
the way was which led betwixt them both; also now he saw the hobgoblins,
and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off,
(for after break of day, they came not nigh;) yet they were discovered
to him, according to that which is written, "He discovereth deep things
out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow of death."
[Job 12:22]

<The second part of this valley very dangerous>
Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from
all the dangers of his solitary way; which dangers,
though he feared them more before, yet he saw them more clearly now,
because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him.
And about this time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy
to Christian; for you must note, that though the first part
of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was 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 upon my head, and by his light I walk
through darkness." [Job 29:3]

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

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

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

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 again, "Stay, stay,
till I come up to you!" But Faithful answered, "No, I am upon my life,
and the avenger of blood is behind me."

<Christian overtakes 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 vain-gloriously smile,
because he had gotten the start of his brother; but not taking
good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell,
and could not rise again until Faithful came up to help him.

<Christian's fall makes Faithful and he go lovingly together>
Then I saw in my dream they went very lovingly on together,
and had sweet discourse of all things that had happened to them
in their pilgrimage; and thus Christian began:

CHR. My honoured 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.

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

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

CHR. What! did your neighbours talk so?

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

CHR. 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 discourse, I heard some of them deridingly speak of you and of
your desperate journey, (for so they called this your pilgrimage),
but I did believe, and do still, that the end of our city
will be with fire and and brimstone from above; and therefore
I have made my escape.

CHR. Did you hear no talk of neighbour Pliable?

FAITH. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he came
at 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.

CHR. And what said the neighbours to him?

<How Pliable was accounted of, when he got home>
FAITH. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in derision,
and that among all sorts of people; some do mock and despise him;
and scarce will any set him on work. He is now seven times worse
than if he had never gone out of the city.

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

FAITH. Oh, they say, hang him, he is a turncoat! he was not true
to his profession. I think God has stirred up even his enemies to
hiss at him, and make him a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way.
[Jer. 29:18,19]

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

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

CHR. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that man;
but now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of the city;
for it is happened to him according to the true proverb,
"The dog is turned to his own vomit again; and the sow that was washed,
to her wallowing in the mire." [2 Pet. 2:22]

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

CHR. Well, neighbour 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.

<Faithful assaulted by Wanton>
FAITH. I escaped the Slough that I perceived you fell into,
and got up to the gate without that danger; only I met with one
whose name was Wanton, who had like to have done me a mischief.

CHR. It was well you escaped her net; Joseph was hard put to it by her,
and he escaped her as you did; but it had like to have cost him
his life. [Gen. 39:11-13] But what did she do to you?

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

CHR. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience.

FAITH. You know what I mean; all carnal and fleshly content.

CHR. Thank God you have escaped her: "The abhorred of the Lord
shall fall into her ditch." [Ps. 22:14]

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

CHR. Why, I trow, you did not consent to her desires?

FAITH. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing
that I had seen, which said, "Her steps take hold on hell." [Prov. 5:5]
So I shut mine eyes, because I would not be bewitched with her looks.
[Job 31:1] Then she railed on me, and I went my way.

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

<He is assaulted by 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 am 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. [Eph. 4:22] I asked him then what was his work,
and what the wages he would give. He told me that his work
was many delights; and his wages that I should be his heir at last.
I further asked him what house he kept, and what other servants he had.
So he told me that his house was maintained with all the dainties
in the world; and that his servants were those of his own begetting.
Then I asked if he had any children. 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 all if I would.
[1 John 2:16] Then I asked how long time he would have me
live with him? And he told me, As long as he lived himself.

CHR. 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."

CHR. And how then?

FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said,
and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house,
he would sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear to talk,
for I would not come near the door 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!" [Rom. 7:24] So I went on my way up the hill.

Now when I had got about half-way up, I looked behind,
and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind; so he overtook me
just about the place where the settle stands.

CHR. 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 backward; so I lay
at his foot 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.

CHR. 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 in his side;
then I concluded that he was our Lord. So I went up the hill.

<The temper of Moses>
CHR. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none,
neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law.

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

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

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

CHR. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by, but I wish
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?

<Faithful assaulted by Discontent>
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 honour. He told me,
moreover, that there to go was the way to disobey all my friends,
as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-conceit, Worldly-glory, with others,
who he knew, as he said, would be very much offended,
if I made such a fool of myself as to wade through this valley.

CHR. Well, and how did you answer him?

<Faithful's answer to Discontent>
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 honour is humility,
and a haughty spirit before a fall. Therefore, said I,
I had rather go through this valley to the honour that was so accounted
by the wisest, than choose that which he esteemed most worthy
our affections.

CHR. Met you with nothing else in that valley?

<He is assaulted with Shame>
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 be said nay, after a little argumentation,
and somewhat else; but this bold-faced Shame would never have done.

CHR. 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 hectoring liberty that the brave spirits
of the times accustom themselves unto, would make him the ridicule
of the times. He objected also, that but few of the mighty, rich,
or wise, were ever of my opinion [1 Cor. 1:26; 3:18; Phil. 3:7,8];
nor any of them neither [John 7:48], before they were persuaded
to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness, to venture
the loss of all, for nobody 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 natural science.
Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also, about a great many
more things than here I relate; as, that it was a shame to sit
whining and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to come
sighing and groaning home: that it was a shame to ask my neighbour
forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution
where I have taken from any. He said, also, that religion made a man
grow strange to the great, because of a few vices, which he called
by finer names; and made him own and respect the base,
because of the same religious fraternity. And is not this, said he,
a shame?

CHR. And what did you say to him?

FAITH. Say! I could not tell what to say at the 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." [Luke 16:15]
And I thought again, this Shame tells me what men are;
but it tells me nothing what God or the Word of God is.
And I thought, moreover, that at the day of doom, we shall not be doomed
to death or life according to the hectoring spirits of the world,
but according to the wisdom and law of the Highest. Therefore,
thought I, what God says is best, indeed 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 entertain thee
against my sovereign Lord? How then shall I look him in the face
at his coming? Should I now be ashamed of his ways and servants,
how can I expect the blessing? [Mark 8:38] 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 infirmities
that attend religion; but at last I told him it was but in vain
to attempt further in this business; for those things that he disdained,
in those did I see most glory; and so at last I got past
this importunate one. And when I had shaken him off,
then I began 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 sometime 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.

CHR. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villain
so bravely; for of all, as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name;
for he is so bold as to follow us in the streets, and to attempt
to put us to shame before all men: that is, to make us ashamed
of that which is good; but if he was not himself audacious,
he would never attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him;
for notwithstanding all his bravadoes, he promoteth the fool
and none else. "The wise shall inherit glory, said Solomon,
but shame shall be the promotion of fools." [Prov. 3:35]

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

CHR. You say true; but did you meet nobody else in that valley?

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

CHR. 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: but I cried to God, and he heard me,
and delivered me out of all my troubles. Then I entered into
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost
half the way through it. I thought I should have been killed there,
over and over; but at last day broke, and the sun rose,
and I went through that which was behind with far more ease and quiet.

<Talkative described>
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 more comely at a distance than at hand.
To this man Faithful addressed himself in this manner:

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

TALK. I am going to the same place.

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

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

<Faithful and Talkative enter discourse>
FAITH. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time
in discoursing of things that are profitable.

<Talkative's dislike of bad discourse>
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 that 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 hath been a trouble for 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 wonderful well, for your sayings are full
of conviction; and I will add, what thing is so pleasant,
and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God?
What things so pleasant (that is, if a man hath any delight in things
that are wonderful)? For instance, if a man doth delight to talk
of the history or the mystery of things; or if a man doth love to talk
of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he find things recorded
so delightful, and so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture?

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

<Talkative's fine discourse>
TALK. That is it that I said; for to talk of such things
is most profitable; for by so doing, a man may get knowledge
of many things; as of the vanity of earthly things, and the benefit
of things above. Thus, in general, but more particularly by this,
a man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency
of our works, the need of Christ's righteousness, &c. Besides,
by this a man may learn, by talk, what it is to repent, to believe,
to pray, to suffer, or the like; by this also a man may learn
what are the great promises and consolations of the gospel,
to his own comfort. Further, by this a man may learn
to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also
to instruct the ignorant.

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

TALK. Alas! the want of this is the cause why so few understand
the need of faith, and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul,
in order to eternal life; but ignorantly live in the works of the law,


Part 7


by which a man can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven.

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

<O brave Talkative>
TALK. All this I know very well; for a man can receive nothing,
except it be given him from Heaven; all is of grace, not of works.
I could give you a hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this.

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

<O brave Talkative>
TALK. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly,
or things earthly; things moral, or things evangelical; things sacred,
or things profane; things past, or things to come; things foreign,
or things at home; things more essential, or things circumstantial;
provided that all be done to our profit.

<Faithful beguiled by Talkative>
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.

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

FAITH. Do you know him, then?

<Christian makes a discovery of Talkative, telling Faithful who he was>
CHR. Know him! Yes, better than he knows himself.

FAITH. Pray, what is he?

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

FAITH. Whose son is he? And whereabout does he dwell?

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

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

CHR. That is, to them who have not 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.

CHR. God forbid that I should jest (although 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.

<Talkative talks, but does not>
CHR. Deceived! you may be sure of it; remember the proverb,
"They say and do not." [Matt. 23:3] But the kingdom of God
is not in word, but in Power. [1 Cor 4:20] He talketh of prayer,
of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth; but he knows but only
to talk of them. I have been in his family, and have observed him
both at home and abroad; and I know what I say of him is the truth.
<His house is empty of religion> His house is as empty of religion
as the white of an egg is of savour. There is there neither prayer
nor sign of repentance for sin; yea, the brute in his kind serves God
far better than he. <He is a stain to religion> 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. [Rom. 2:24,25] <The Proverb that goes of him>
Thus say the common people that know him, A saint abroad,
and a devil at home. His poor family finds it so; he is such a churl,
such a railer at and so unreasonable with his servants,
that they neither know how to do for or speak to him.
<Men shun to deal with him> Men that have any dealings with him say
it is better to deal with a Turk than with him; for fairer dealing
they shall have at their hands. This Talkative (if it be possible)
will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides,
he brings up his sons to follow his steps; and if he findeth
in any of them a foolish timorousness, (for so he calls
the first appearance of a tender conscience,) he calls them
fools and blockheads, and by no means will employ them in much,
or speak to their commendations 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 that you
speak these things of ill-will, but because it is even so as you say.

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

FAITH. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things,
and hereafter I shall better observe this distinction.

<The carcass of religion>
CHR. 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 carcass, so saying, if it be alone, is but a dead carcass 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 widows in their affliction, and to keep himself
unspotted from the world." [James 1:27; see vv. 22-26]
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. [Matt. 13, 25] It will not be said then,
Did you believe? but, Were you doers, or talkers only?
and accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world
is compared to our harvest; and you know men at harvest
regard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be accepted
that is not of faith, but I speak this to show you how insignificant
the profession of Talkative will be at that day.

<Faithful convinced of the badness of Talkative>
FAITH. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he describeth
the beast that is clean. [Lev. 11:3-7; Deut. 14:6-8] He is such a one
that parteth the hoof and cheweth the cud; not that parteth
the hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud,
but yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof.
And this truly resembleth Talkative; he cheweth the cud,
he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the word; but he divideth not
the hoof, he parteth not with the way of sinners; but, as the hare,
he retaineth the foot of a dog or bear, and therefore he is unclean.

<Talkative like to things that sound without life>
CHR. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true gospel sense
of those texts. And I will add another thing: Paul calleth some men,
yea, and those great talkers, too, sounding brass and tinkling cymbals;
that is, as he expounds them in another place, things without life,
giving sound. [1 Cor. 13:1-3; 14:7] Things without life, that is,
without the true faith and grace of the gospel; and consequently,
things that shall never be placed in the kingdom of heaven
among those that are the children of life; though their sound,
by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice of an angel.

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

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

FAITH. What would you have me to do?

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

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 discover itself when it is in
the heart of man?

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

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

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

<To cry out against sin, no sign of grace>
FAITH. Oh, a great deal. A man may cry out against sin of policy,
but he cannot abhor it, but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it.
I have heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit,
who yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conversation.
Joseph's mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been
very holy; but she would willingly, notwithstanding that,
have committed uncleanness with him. Some cry out against sin
even as the mother cries out against her child in her lap,
when she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then falls
to hugging and kissing it.

TALK. You lie at the catch, I perceive.

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

TALK. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries.

<Great knowledge no sign of grace>
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.
[1 Cor. 13] Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing,
and so consequently be no child of God. When Christ said,
"Do you know all these things?" and the disciples had answered, Yes;
he addeth, "Blessed are ye if ye do them." He doth not lay the blessing
in the knowing of them, but in the doing of them. For there is
a knowledge that is not attended with doing: He that knoweth
his masters will, and doeth it not. A man may know like an angel,
and yet be no Christian, therefore your sign of it is not true.
Indeed, to know is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters,
but to do is that which pleaseth God. Not that the heart can be good
without knowledge; for without that, the heart is naught.
<Knowledge and knowledge> There is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge.
Knowledge that resteth in the bare speculation of things;
and knowledge that is accompanied with the grace of faith and love;
which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the heart:
the first of these will serve the talker; but without the other
the true Christian is not content. <True knowledge attended
with endeavors> "Give me understanding, and I shall keep thy law;
yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart." [Ps. 119:34]

TALK. You lie at the catch again; this is not for edification.

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

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

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

TALK. You may use your liberty.

<One good sign of grace>
FAITH. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself,
either to him that hath it, or to standers by.

To him that hath it thus: It gives him conviction of sin,
especially of the defilement of his nature and the sin of unbelief,
(for the sake of which he is sure to be damned, if he findeth not mercy
at God's hand, by faith in Jesus Christ [John 16:8, Rom. 7:24,
John 16:9, Mark 16:16]). This sight and sense of things worketh in him
sorrow and shame for sin; he findeth, moreover, revealed in him
the Saviour of the world, and the absolute necessity of closing with him
for life, at the which he findeth hungerings and thirstings after him;
to which hungerings, &c., the promise is made. [Ps. 38:18, Jer. 31:19,
Gal. 2:16, Acts 4:12, Matt. 5:6, Rev. 21:6] Now, according to
the strength or weakness of his faith in his Saviour,
so is his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his desires
to know him more, and also to serve him in this world.
But though I say it discovereth itself thus unto him,
yet it is but seldom that he is able to conclude that this
is a work of grace; because his corruptions now, and his abused reason,
make his mind to misjudge in this matter; therefore,
in him that hath this work, there is required a very sound judgement
before he can, with steadiness, conclude that this is a work of grace.

To others, it is thus discovered:

1. By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ.
[Rom. 10:10, Phil. 1:27, Matt. 5:19]

2. By a life answerable to that confession; to wit, a life of holiness,
heart-holiness, family-holiness, (if he hath a family),
and by conversation-holiness in the world which, in the general,
teacheth him, inwardly, to abhor his sin, and himself for that,
in secret; to suppress it in his family and to promote holiness
in the world; not by talk only, as a hypocrite or talkative person
may do, but by a practical subjection, in faith and love,
to the power of the Word. [John 14:15, Ps. 50:23, Job 42:5-6,
Eze. 20:43] And now, Sir, as to this brief description
of the work of grace, and also the discovery of it,
if you have aught to object, object; if not, then give me leave
to propound to you a second question.

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

<Another good sign of grace>
FAITH. It is this: Do you experience this first part
of this description of it? and doth your life and conversation
testify the same? or standeth 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 justify 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 conversation, and all my neighbours, tell me I lie,
is great wickedness.

<Talkative not pleased with Faithful's question>
TALK. Then Talkative at first began to blush; but, recovering himself,
thus he replied: You come now to experience, to conscience, and God;
and to appeal to him for justification of what is spoken.
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 catechiser, and,
though you should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my judge.
But, I pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions?

<The reasons why Faithful put to him that question>
FAITH. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not
that you had aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth,
I have heard of you, that you are a man whose religion lies in talk,
and that your conversation gives this your mouth-profession the lie.
<Faithful's plain dealing with Talkative> They say, you are a spot
among Christians; and that religion fareth the worse
for your ungodly conversation; that some have already stumbled at your
wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby;
your religion, and an ale-house, and covetousness, and uncleanness,
and swearing, and lying, and vain-company keeping, &c.,
will stand together. The proverb is true of you which is said
of a whore, to wit, that she is a shame to all women;
so are you a shame to all professors.

<Talkative flings away from Faithful>
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 melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed with; and so adieu.

<A good riddance>
CHR. Then came up Christian, and said to his brother,
I told you how it would happen: your words and his lusts
could not agree; he had rather leave your 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 discourse with him;
it may happen that he will think of it again: however,
I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of his blood,
if he perisheth.

CHR. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did;
there is but little of this faithful dealing with men now-a-days,
and that makes religion to stink so in the nostrils of many, as it doth;
for they are these talkative fools whose religion is only in word,
and are debauched and vain in their conversation, that
(being so much admitted into the fellowship of the godly)
do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere.
I wish that all men would deal with such as you have done:
then should they either be made more conformable to religion,
or the company of saints would be too hot for them. Then did
Faithful say,

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

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

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

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

<They are glad at the sight of him>
CHR. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist, the sight of thy countenance
brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied labouring
for my eternal good.

FAITH. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful. Thy company,
O sweet Evangelist, how desirable it is 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 at that place.

<His exhortation to them>
EVAN. Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have met
with trials, but that you have been victors; and for that you have,
notwithstanding many weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day.

I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine own sake
and yours. I have sowed, and you have reaped: and the day is coming,
when both he that sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together;
that is, if you hold out: "for in due season ye shall reap,
if ye faint not." [John 4:36, Gal. 6:9] The crown is before you,
and it is an incorruptible one; so run, that you may obtain it.
[1 Cor. 9:24-27] Some there be that set out for this crown,
and, after they have gone far for it, another comes in,
and takes it from them: hold fast, therefore, that you have;
let no man take your crown. [Rev. 3:11] You are not yet out
of the gun-shot of the devil; you have not resisted unto blood,
striving against sin; let the kingdom be always before you,
and believe steadfastly concerning things that are invisible.
Let nothing that is on this side the other world get within you;
and, above all, look well to your own hearts, and to the lusts thereof,
"for they are deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked";
set your faces like a flint; you have all power in heaven and earth
on your side.

<They do thank him for his exhortation>
CHR. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation; 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:--

<He predicteth what troubles they shall meet with in Vanity Fair,
and encourageth them to steadfastness>
EVAN. My sons, you have heard, in the words of the truth of the gospel,
that you must, through many tribulations, enter into
the kingdom of heaven. And, again, that in every city
bonds and afflictions abide in 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 testimonies upon you already, and more will immediately follow;
for now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness,
and therefore you will soon come into a town that you will by and by
see before you; and in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies,
who will strain hard but they will kill you; and be you sure
that one or both of you must seal the testimony which you hold,
with blood; but be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you
a crown of life.

<He whose lot it will be there to suffer,
will have the better of his brother>
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 your God in well-doing,
as unto a faithful Creator.

Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out of the wilderness,
they presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town
is Vanity; and at the town there is a fair kept, called 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."
[Eccl. 1; 2:11,17; 11:8; Isa. 11:17]

This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of ancient standing;
I will show you the original of it.

<The antiquity of this fair>
Almost five thousand years agone, 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 merchandise sold, as houses, lands, trades, places,
honours, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures,
and delights of all sorts, as whores, bawds, wives, husbands, children,
masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls,
precious stones, and what not.

And, moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be seen
juggling 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,
adulteries, false swearers, and that of a blood-red colour.

<The streets of this fair>
And as in other fairs of less moment, there are the 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, (viz. countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair
are soonest to be found. Here is 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


Part 8


is as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of Rome and her merchandise
is greatly promoted in this fair; only our English nation,
with some others, have taken a dislike thereat.

<Christ went through this fair>
Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through
this town where this lusty fair is kept; and he that will go
to the city, and yet not go through this town, must needs go out
of the world. [1 Cor. 5:10] <Christ bought nothing in this fair>
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.
[Matt. 4:8, Luke 4:5-7] Yea, because he was such a person of honour,
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 the Blessed One to cheapen 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.

<The pilgrims enter the fair>
Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair.
<The fair in a hubbub about them> 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--

<The first cause of the hubbub>
First, The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment
as was diverse 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 are outlandish men. [1 Cor. 2:7-8]

<Second cause of the hubbub>
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.

<Third cause of the hubbub>
Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the merchandisers 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 was in heaven. [Ps. 119:37,
Phil. 3:19-20]

<Fourth cause of the hubbub>
One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men,
to say unto them, What will ye buy? But they, looking gravely upon him,
answered, "We buy the truth." [Prov. 23:23] <They are mocked>
At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men the more;
some mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully,
and some calling upon others to smite them. <The fair in a hubbub>
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
into examination, about whom the fair was almost overturned.
<They are examined> So the men were brought to examination;
and they that sat upon them, asked them whence they came,
whither they went, and what they did there, in such an unusual garb?
<They tell who they are, and whence they came> 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,
[Heb. 11:13-16] and that they had given no occasion to the men
of the town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them,
and to let them in their journey, except it was for that,
when one asked them what they would buy, they said they would buy
the truth. <They are not believed> But they that were appointed to
examine them did not believe them to be any other than bedlams and mad,
or else such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair.
<They are put in the cage> 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.

Behold Vanity Fair! the Pilgrims there
Are chain'd and stand beside:
Even so it was our Lord pass'd here,
And on Mount Calvary died.

<Their behaviour in the cage>
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 good words for bad, and kindness for injuries done,
some men in the fair that were more observing, and less prejudiced
than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort
for their continual abuses done by them to the men; they, therefore,
in angry manner, let fly at them again, counting them as bad
as the men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed confederates,
and should be made partakers of their misfortunes.
<The men of the fair do fall out among themselves about these two men>
The other 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 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 among themselves, and did harm one to another.
<They are made the authors of this disturbance> Then were these
two poor men brought before their examiners again, and there charged
as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been in the fair.
<They are led up and down the fair in chains, for a terror to others>
So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them,
and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example and a terror
to others, lest any should speak in their behalf, or join themselves
unto them. <Some of the men of the fair won to them>
But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely,
and received the ignominy and shame that was 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 yet into greater rage,
insomuch that they concluded the death of these two men.
<Their adversaries resolve to kill them> Wherefore they threatened,
that the cage nor irons should serve their turn, but that they
should die, for the abuse they had done, and for deluding the men
of the fair.

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

<They are again put into the cage, and after brought to trial>
Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth
to their trial, in order to their condemnation. When the time was come,
they were brought before their enemies and arraigned. The judge's name
was Lord Hate-good. Their indictment was one and the same in substance,
though somewhat varying in form, the contents whereof were this:--

<Their indictment>
"That they were enemies to and disturbers of their trade;
that they had made commotions and divisions in the town,
and had won a party to their own most dangerous opinions,
in contempt of the law of their prince."

Now, FAITHFUL, play the man, speak for thy God:
Fear not the wicked's malice; nor their rod:
Speak boldly, man, the truth is on thy side:
Die for it, and to life in triumph ride.

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

Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught to say
for their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar,
should forthwith appear and give in their evidence. So there came in
three witnesses, to wit, Envy, Superstition, and 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.

<Envy begins>
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 honourable bench, that he is--

JUDGE. Hold! Give him his oath. (So they sware him.) Then he said--

ENVY. My Lord, this man, notwithstanding his plausible name,
is one of the vilest men in our country. He neither regardeth
prince nor people, law nor custom; but 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 diametrically opposite,
and could not be reconciled. By which saying, my Lord,
he doth at once not only condemn all our laudable doings,
but us in the doing of them.

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 tedious
to the court. Yet, if need be, when the other gentlemen have given in
their evidence, rather than anything shall be wanting
that will despatch him, I will enlarge my testimony against him.
So he was bid to stand by. Then they called Superstition,
and bid 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.

<Superstition follows>
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 that,
the other day, 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 sayings of his, my Lord,
your Lordship very well knows, what necessarily thence will follow,
to wit, that we do still worship in vain, are yet in our sins,
and finally shall be damned; and this is that which I have to say.

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

<Pickthank's testimony>
Pick. My Lord, and you gentlemen all, This fellow I have known
of a long time, and have heard him speak things that ought not
to be spoke; for he hath railed on our noble prince Beelzebub,
and hath spoken contemptibly of his honourable friends,
<Sins are all lords and great ones> whose names are
the Lord Old Man, the Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord Luxurious,
the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy,
with all the rest of our nobility; and he hath said, moreover,
That if all men were of his mind, if possible, there is not
one of these noblemen should have any longer a being in this town.
Besides, he hath not been afraid to rail on you, my Lord,
who are now appointed to be his judge, calling you an ungodly villain,
with many other such like vilifying terms, with which
he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town.

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 defence?

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.

<Faithful's defence of himself>
FAITH. 1. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken,
I never said aught but this, That what rule, or laws, or customs,
or people, were flat against the Word of God, are diametrically opposite
to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this, convince me of my error,
and I am ready here before you to make my recantation.

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 a Divine faith; but there can be no Divine faith
without a Divine revelation of the will of God. Therefore,
whatever is thrust into the worship of God that is not agreeable
to Divine revelation, cannot be done but by a human faith,
which faith will not be profitable to eternal life.

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!

<The Judge's speech to the jury>
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 breasts to hang him or 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. [Exo. 1:22] There was also an Act made
in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another of his servants,
that whosoever would not fall down and worship his golden image,
should be thrown into a fiery furnace. [Dan. 3:6] There was also
an Act made in the days of Darius, that whoso, for some time,
called upon any god but him, should be cast into the lions' den.
[Dan. 6] Now the substance of these laws this rebel has broken,
not only in thought, (which is not to be borne), but also
in word and deed; which must therefore needs be intolerable.

For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposition,
to prevent mischief, no crime being yet apparent;
but here is a crime apparent. For the second and third,
you see he disputeth against our religion; and for the treason
he hath confessed, he deserveth to die the death.

<The jury and their names>
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 verdict against him among themselves,
and afterwards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty
before the Judge. <Everyones private verdict> 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 looks of him. Then said Mr. Love-lust,
I could never endure him. Nor I, said Mr. Live-loose,
for he would always be condemning my way. Hang him, hang him,
said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr. High-mind.
My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity. He is a rogue,
said Mr. Liar. Hanging is too good for him, said Mr. Cruelty.
Let us despatch him out of the way, said Mr. Hate-light.
Then said Mr. Implacable, Might I have all the world given me,
I could not be reconciled to him; <They conclude to bring him in guilty
of death> 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.

<The cruel death of Faithful>
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.

<A chariot and horses wait to take away Faithful>
Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot
and a couple of horses, waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as
his adversaries had despatched him) was taken up into it,
and straightway was carried up through the clouds,
with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the Celestial Gate.

Brave FAITHFUL, bravely done in word and deed;
Judge, witnesses, and jury have, instead
Of overcoming thee, but shown their rage:
When they are dead, thou'lt live from age to age*.

*In the New Heaven and New Earth. {footnote from one edition}

<Christian is still alive>
But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remanded
back to prison. So he there remained for a space;
but He that 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--

<The song that Christian made of Faithful after his death>
Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest
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 kill'd thee, thou art yet alive!

<Christian has another companion>
Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not forth alone,
for there was one whose name was Hopeful (being made so
by the beholding of Christian and Faithful in their words and behaviour,
in their sufferings at the fair), who joined himself unto him, and,
entering into a brotherly covenant, told him that he would be
his companion. Thus, one died to bear testimony to the truth,
and another rises out of his ashes, to be a companion with Christian
in his pilgrimage. <There are more of the men of the fair will follow>
This Hopeful also told Christian, that there were many more
of the men in the fair, that would take their time and follow after.

<They overtake By-ends>
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).

From Fair-speech! said Christian. Is there any good that lives there?
[Prov. 26:25]

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

CHR. Pray, Sir, what may I call you? said Christian.

<By-ends loath to tell his name>
BY-ENDS. I am a stranger to you, and you to me: if you be going
this way, I shall be glad of your company; if not, I must be content.

CHR. This town of Fair-speech, said Christian, I have heard of;
and, as I remember, they say it is a wealthy place.

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

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

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

CHR. Are you a married man?

<The wife and kindred of By-ends>
BY-ENDS. 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 honourable family, and is arrived
to such a pitch of breeding, that she knows how to carry it to all,
even to prince and peasant. <Where By-ends differs from others
in religion> It is 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 goes in his silver slippers;
we love much to walk with him in the street, if the sun shines,
and the people applaud 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-ENDS. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nick-name
that is given me by some that cannot abide me: and I must be content
to bear it as a reproach, as other good men have borne theirs before me.

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

<How By-ends got his name>
BY-ENDS. 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 get thereby; but if things
are thus cast upon me, let me count them, a blessing;
but let not the malicious load me therefore with reproach.

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

<He desires to keep company with Christian>
BY-ENDS. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it;
you shall find me a fair company-keeper, if you will still admit me
your associate.

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

BY-ENDS. You must not impose, nor lord it over my faith;
leave me to my liberty, and let me go with you.

CHR. Not a step further, unless you will do in what I propound as we.

Then said By-ends, I shall 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.

<By-ends and Christian part>
Now I saw in my dream that Christian and Hopeful forsook him,
and kept their distance before him; but one of them looking back,
saw three men following Mr. By-ends, and behold, as they
came up with him, he made them a very low conge {conge'};
and they also gave him a compliment. <He has new companions>
The men's names were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. Money-love,
and Mr. Save-all; men that Mr. By-ends had formerly been
acquainted with; for in their minority they were schoolfellows,
and were 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,
cozenage, flattery, lying, or by putting on the guise of religion;
and these four gentlemen had attained much of the art of their master,
so that they could each of them have kept such a school themselves.

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-ends' character of the pilgrims>
BY-ENDS. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after their mode,
are going on pilgrimage.

MONEY-LOVE. 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-ENDS. 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 never so godly,
yet if he jumps not with them in all things, they thrust him
quite out of their company.

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

BY-ENDS. Why, they, after their headstrong manner,
conclude that it is duty to rush on their journey all weathers;
and I am for waiting for wind and tide. They are for hazarding all


Part 9


for God at a clap; and I am for taking all advantages to secure
my life and estate. They are for holding their notions,
though all other men are 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-THE-WORLD. Ay, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends;
for, for my part, I can count him but a fool, that, having the liberty
to keep what he has, shall be so unwise as to lose it.
Let us be wise as serpents; it is best to make hay when the sun shines;
you see how the bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only
when she can have profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain,
and sometimes sunshine; if they be such fools to go through the first,
yet let us be content to take fair weather along with us. For my part,
I like that religion best that will stand with the security
of God's 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 shall lay up gold as dust.
But he must not be such as the men before us, if they be
as you have described them.

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

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

BY-ENDS. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage;
and, for our better diversion from things that are bad,
give me leave to propound unto you this question:--

Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, &c., should have
an advantage lie before him, to get the good blessings of this life,
yet so as that he can by no means come by them except,
in appearance at least, he becomes extraordinarily zealous
in some points of religion that he meddled not with before,
may he not use these means to attain his end, and yet be
a right honest man?

MONEY-LOVE. I see the bottom of your question; and,
with these gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavour to shape you
an answer. And first, to speak to your question as it concerns
a minister himself: Suppose a minister, a worthy man,
possessed but of a very small benefice, and has in his eye a greater,
more fat, and plump by far; he has also now an opportunity
of getting of it, yet so as by being more studious, by preaching
more frequently and zealously, and, because the temper of the people
requires it, by altering of some of his principles; for my part,
I see no reason but a man may do this, (provided he has a call), ay,
and more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest man. For why--

1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful, (this cannot
be contradicted), since it is set before him by Providence; so then,
he may get it, if he can, making no question for conscience' sake.

2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious,
a more zealous preacher, &c., and so makes him a better man;
yea, makes him better improve his parts, which is according to
the mind of God.

3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his people,
by dissenting, to serve them, some of his principles,
this argueth, (1) That he is of a self-denying, temper;
(2) Of a sweet and winning deportment; and so (3) more fit
for the ministerial function.

4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small for a great,
should not, for so doing, be judged as covetous; but rather,
since he has improved in his parts and industry thereby,
be counted as one that pursues his call, and the opportunity
put into his hands to do good.

And now to the second part of the question, which concerns
the tradesman you mentioned. Suppose such a one to have
but a poor employ in the world, but by becoming religious,
he may mend his market, perhaps get a rich wife, or more and far better
customers to his shop; for my part, I see no reason but that this
may be lawfully done. For why--

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever
a man becomes so.

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to my shop.

3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets that
which is good, of them that are good, by becoming good himself;
so then here is a good wife, and good customers, and good gain,
and all these by becoming religious, which is good; therefore,
to become religious, to get all these, is a good and profitable design.

This answer, thus made by this Mr. Money-love to Mr. By-ends's question,
was highly applauded by them all; wherefore they concluded
upon the whole, that it was most wholesome and advantageous.
And because, as they thought, no man was able to contradict it,
and because Christian and Hopeful were yet within call,
they jointly agreed to assault them with the question as soon
as they overtook them; and the rather because they had opposed
Mr. By-ends before. So they called after them, and they stopped,
and stood still till they came up to them; but they concluded,
as they went, that not Mr. By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-the-world,
should propound the question to them, because, as they supposed,
their answer to him would be without the remainder of that heat
that was kindled betwixt Mr. By-ends and them, at their parting
a little before.

So they came up to each other, and after a short salutation,
Mr. Hold-the-world propounded the question to Christian and his fellow,
and bid them to answer it if they could.

CHR. Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may answer
ten thousand such questions. For if it be unlawful to follow Christ
for loaves, (as it is in the sixth of John), how much more
abominable is it to make of him and religion a stalking-horse
to get and enjoy the world! Nor do we find any other than heathens,
hypocrites, devils, and witches, that are of this opinion.

1. Heathens; for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind to the daughter
and cattle of Jacob, and saw that there was no way for them
to come at them, but by becoming circumcised, they say
to their companions, If every male of us be circumcised,
as they are circumcised, shall not their cattle, and their substance,
and every beast of theirs, be ours? Their daughter and their cattle
were that which they sought to obtain, and their religion
the stalking-horse they made use of to come at them.
Read the whole story. [Gen. 34:20-23]

2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion;
long prayers were their pretence, but to get widows' houses
was their intent; and greater damnation was from God their judgment.
[Luke 20:46-47]

3. Judas the devil was also of this religion; he was religious
for the bag, that he might be possessed of what was therein;
but he was lost, cast away, and the very son of perdition.

4. Simon the witch was of this religion too; for he would have had
the Holy Ghost, that he might have got money therewith;
and his sentence from Peter's mouth was according. [Acts 8:19-22]

5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man that
takes up religion for the world, will throw away religion for the world;
for so surely as Judas resigned the world in becoming religious,
so surely did he also sell religion and his Master for the same.
To answer the question, therefore, affirmatively, as I perceive
you have done, and to accept of, as authentic, such answer,
is both heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish; and your reward will be
according to your works. Then they stood staring one upon another,
but had not wherewith to answer Christian. Hopeful also approved of
the soundness of Christian's answer; so there was a great silence
among them. Mr. By-ends and his company also staggered and kept behind,
that Christian and Hopeful might outgo them. Then said Christian
to his fellow, If these men cannot stand before the sentence of men,
what will they do with the sentence of God? And if they are mute
when dealt with by vessels of clay, what will they do when they shall be
rebuked by the flames of a devouring fire?

<The ease that pilgrims have is but little in this life>
Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went 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.
<Lucre Hill a dangerous hill> Now at the further side of that plain
was a little hill called Lucre, and in that hill a silver mine,
which some of them that had formerly gone that way,
because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see; but going too near
the 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.

<Demas at the Hill Lucre. He calls to Christian and Hopeful
to come to him>
Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road,
over against the silver mine, stood Demas (gentlemanlike)
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.

CHR. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way to see it?

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

<Hopeful tempted to go, but Christian holds him back>
Hope. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see.

CHR. 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. Then Christian called to Demas, saying,
Is not the place dangerous? Hath it not hindered many
in their pilgrimage? [Hos. 14:8]

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

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

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

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

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

<Christian roundeth up Demas>
CHR. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas,
thou art an enemy to the right ways of the Lord of this way,
and hast been already condemned for thine own turning aside,
by one of His Majesty's judges [2 Tim. 4:10]; and why seekest thou
to bring us into the like condemnation? Besides, if we at all
turn aside, our Lord and King will certainly hear thereof,
and will there put us to shame, where we would stand with boldness
before him.

Demas cried again, that he also was one of their fraternity;
and that if they would tarry a little, he also himself
would walk with them.

CHR. 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.

CHR. I know you; Gehazi was your great-grandfather,
and Judas your father; and you have trod in their steps.
[2 Kings 5:20, Matt. 26:14,15, 27:1-5] 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 do him word of this
thy behaviour. Thus they went their way.

<By-ends goes over to Demas>
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 do
Take up in this world, and no further go.

<They see a strange monument>
Now I saw that, just on the other side of this 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 transformed
into the shape of a pillar; here, therefore they stood looking,
and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what
they should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied written above
the head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand; but he being no scholar,
called to Christian (for he was learned) to see if he could pick out
the meaning; so he came, and after a little laying of letters together,
he found the same to be this, "Remember Lot's Wife". So he read it
to his fellow; after which they both concluded that that was
the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was turned,
for her looking back with a covetous heart, when she was going
from Sodom for safety. [Gen. 19:26] Which sudden and amazing sight
gave them occasion of this discourse.

CHR. Ah, my brother! this is a seasonable sight;
it came opportunely to us after the invitation which Demas gave us
to come over to view the Hill Lucre; and had we gone over,
as he desired us, and as thou wast 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 grace be adored, and let me be ashamed that ever such a thing
should be in mine heart.

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

HOPE. True; and she may be to us both caution and example;
caution, that we should shun her sin; or a sign of what judgment
will overtake such as shall not be prevented by this caution;
so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, with the two hundred and fifty men
that perished in their sin, did also become a sign or example to others
to beware. [Num. 26:9,10] But above all, I muse at one thing, to wit,
how Demas and his fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for
that treasure, which this woman, but for looking behind her after,
(for we read not that she stepped one foot out of the way) was turned
into a pillar of salt; especially since the judgment which overtook her
did make her an example, within sight of where they are;
for they cannot choose but see her, did they but lift up their eyes.

CHR. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that
their hearts are grown desperate in the case; and I cannot tell who
to compare them to so fitly, as to them that pick pockets
in the presence of the judge, or that will cut purses under the gallows.
It is said of the men of Sodom, that they were sinners exceedingly,
because they were sinners before the Lord, that is, in his eyesight,
and notwithstanding the kindnesses that he had showed them [Gen. 13:13];
for the land of Sodom was now like the garden of Eden heretofore.
[Gen. 13:10] This, therefore, provoked him the more to jealousy,
and made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of heaven
could make it. And it is most rationally to be concluded, that such,
even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight, yea,
and that too in despite of such examples that are set continually
before them, to caution them to the contrary, must be partakers
of severest judgments.

HOPE. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but what a mercy is it,
that neither thou, but especially I, am not made myself this example!
This ministereth occasion to us to thank God, to fear before him,
and always to remember Lot's wife.

<A river>
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". [Ps. 65:9, Rev. 22, Ezek. 47]
Now their way lay just upon the bank of the river; here, therefore,
Christian and his companion walked with great delight;
they drank also of the water of the river, which was pleasant,
and enlivening to their weary spirits: <Trees by the river.
The fruit and leaves of the tree> besides, on the banks of this river,
on either side, were green trees, that bore all manner of fruit;
and the leaves of the trees were good for medicine;
with the fruit of these trees they were also much delighted;
and the leaves they eat to prevent surfeits, and other diseases
that are incident to those that heat their blood by travels.
<A meadow in which they lie down to sleep> On either side of the river
was also a meadow, curiously beautified with lilies, and it was green
all the year long. In this meadow they lay down, and slept;
for here they might lie down safely. When they awoke,
they gathered again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again
of the water of the river, and then lay down again to sleep.
[Ps. 23:2, Isa. 14:30] Thus they did several days and nights.
Then they sang--

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

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

<By-path Meadow>
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. [Num. 21:4] Wherefore,
still as they went on, they wished for better way. Now,
a little before them, there was on the left hand of the road a meadow,
and a stile to go over into it; and that meadow is called
By-path Meadow. <One temptation does make way for another> Then said
Christian to his fellow, If this meadow lieth along by our wayside,
let us go over into it. Then he went to the stile to see, and behold,
a path lay along by the way, on the other side of the fence.
It is according to my wish, said Christian. Here is the easiest going;
come, good Hopeful, and let us go over.

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

<Strong Christians may lead weak ones out of the way>
CHR. That is not like, 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. <See what it is too suddenly
to fall in with strangers> When they were gone over,
and were got into the path, they found it very easy for their feet;
and withal, they, looking before them, espied a man walking as they did,
(and his name was Vain-confidence); so they called after him,
and asked him whither that way led. He said, To the 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 the sight of him that went before.

<A pit to catch the vain-glorious in>
He, therefore, that went before, (Vain-confidence by name),
not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit [Isa. 9:16],
which was on purpose there made, by the Prince of those grounds,
to catch vain-glorious fools withal, and was dashed in pieces
with his fall.

<Reasoning between Christian and Hopeful>
Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they called to know
the matter, but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning.
Then said Hopeful, Where are we now? Then was his fellow silent,
as mistrusting that he had led him out of the way; and now it began
to rain, and thunder, and lighten in a very dreadful manner;
and the water rose amain.

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

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

HOPE. I was afraid on it at the very first, and therefore gave you
that gentle caution. I would have spoken plainer, but that you
are older than I.

<Christian's repentance for leading of his brother out of the way>
CHR. Good brother, be not offended; I am sorry I have brought thee
out of the way, and that I have put thee into such imminent danger;
pray, my brother, forgive me; I did not do it of an evil intent.

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

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

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

CHR. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there be any danger,
I may be first therein, because by my means we are both gone out
of the way.

<They are in danger of drowning as they go back>
HOPE. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first; for your mind
being troubled may lead you out of the way again. Then,
for their encouragement, they heard the voice of one saying,
"Set thine heart toward the highway, even the way which thou wentest;
turn again." [Jer. 31:21] But by this time the waters
were greatly risen, by reason of which the way of going back
was very dangerous. (Then I thought that it is easier going out
of the way, when we are in, than going in when we are out.)
Yet they adventured to go back, but it was so dark,
and the flood was so high, that in their going back they had like
to have been drowned nine or ten times.

<They sleep in the grounds of 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 the daybreak; but, being weary,
they fell asleep. <He finds them in his grounds, and carries them
to Doubting Castle> 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 also had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault.
<The grievousness of their imprisonment> The Giant, therefore,
drove them before him, and put them into his castle,
into a very dark dungeon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of these
two men. [Ps. 88:18] Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning
till Saturday night, without one bit of bread, or drop of drink,
or light, or any to ask how they did; they were, therefore,
here in evil case, and were far from friends and acquaintance.
Now in this place Christian had double sorrow, because it was through
his unadvised counsel that they were brought into this distress.

The pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh,
Will seek its ease; but oh! how they afresh
Do thereby plunge themselves new griefs into!
Who seek to please the flesh, themselves undo.

<On Thursday, Giant Despair beats his prisoners>
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 counselled him that when he arose in the morning
he should beat them without any mercy. So, when he arose,
he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down into
the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of them
as if they were dogs, although they 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 condole their misery
and to mourn under their distress. So all that day they spent the time
in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night, she,
talking with her husband about them further, and understanding they were
yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away themselves.
<On Friday, Giant Despair counsels them to kill 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.
<The giant sometimes has fits> 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


Part 10


of his hand; wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before, to consider
what to do. Then did the prisoners consult between themselves
whether it was best to take his counsel or no; and thus they began
to discourse:--

<Christian crushed>
CHR. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? The life that
we now live is miserable. For my part I know not whether is best,
to live thus, or to die out of hand. "My soul chooseth strangling
rather than life", and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon.
[Job 7:15] Shall we be ruled by the Giant?

<Hopeful comforts him>
HOPE. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, and death would be
far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide; but yet,
let us consider, the Lord of the country to which we are going
hath said, Thou shalt do no murder: no, not to another man's person;
much more, then, are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves.
Besides, he that kills another, can but commit murder upon his body;
but for one to kill himself is to kill body and soul at once.
And, moreover, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave;
but hast thou forgotten the hell, for certain the murderers go?
"For no murderer hath eternal life," &c. And let us consider, again,
that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair. Others,
so far as I can understand, have been taken by him, as well as we;
and yet have escaped out of his hand. Who knows, but the God
that made the world may cause that Giant Despair may die? or that,
at some time or other, he may forget to lock us in? or that he may,
in a short time, have another of his fits before us, and may lose
the use of his limbs? and if ever that should come to pass again,
for my part, I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man,
and to try my utmost to get from under his hand. I was a fool
that I did not try to do it before; but, however, my brother,
let us be patient, and endure a while. The time may come
that may give us a happy release; but let us not be our own murderers.
With these words Hopeful at present did moderate the mind
of his brother; so they continued together (in the dark) that day,
in their sad and doleful condition.

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

<Christian still dejected>
At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian
fell into a swoon; but, coming a little to himself again,
they renewed their discourse about the Giant's counsel; and whether yet
they had best to take it or no. Now Christian again seemed to be
for doing it, but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth:--

<Hopeful comforts him again, by calling former things to remembrance>
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 exercise a little more patience; remember how thou
playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain,
nor cage, nor yet of bloody death. Wherefore let us (at least
to avoid the shame, that becomes not a Christian to be found in)
bear up with patience as well as we can.

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

<On Saturday, the Giant threatened that shortly he would
pull them in pieces>
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 discourse
of their prisoners; and withal the old Giant wondered,
that he could neither by his blows nor his 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.

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray,
and continued in prayer till almost break of day.

<A key in Christian's bosom, called Promise, opens any lock
in Doubting Castle>
Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed,
brake out in this passionate speech:-- What a fool, quoth he, am I,
thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty!
I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded,
open any lock in Doubting Castle. Then said Hopeful,
That 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 damnable hard, yet the key did open it.
Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed,
but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked
Giant Despair, who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners,
felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took him again,
so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on,
and came to the King's highway, and so were safe, because they were
out of his jurisdiction.

<A pillar erected by Christian and his fellow>
Now, when they were over the stile, they began to contrive
with themselves what they should do at that stile to prevent those
that should come after from falling into the hands of Giant Despair.
So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon
the side thereof this sentence--"Over this stile is the way
to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair,
who despiseth the King of the 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 makes them, as we, to fare.
Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are,
Whose castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair.

<The Delectable Mountains>
They went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains,
which mountains belong to the Lord of that hill of which
we have spoken before; so they went up to the mountains,
to behold the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and fountains
of water; where also they drank and washed themselves,
and did freely eat of the vineyards. <They are refreshed
in the mountains> Now there were on the tops of these mountains
Shepherds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the highway side.
<Talk with the Shepherds> The Pilgrims therefore went to them,
and leaning upon their staves, (as is common with weary pilgrims
when they stand to talk with any by the way), they asked,
Whose Delectable Mountains are these? And whose be the sheep
that feed upon them?

Mountains delectable they now ascend,
Where Shepherds be, which to them do commend
Alluring things, and things that cautious are,
Pilgrims are steady kept by faith and fear.

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. [John 10:11]

CHR. Is this the way to the Celestial City?

SHEP. You are just in your way.

CHR. How far is it thither?

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

CHR. Is the way safe or dangerous?

SHEP. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe; but the transgressors
shall fall therein. [Hos. 14:9]

CHR. Is there, in this place, any relief for pilgrims
that are weary and faint in the way?

SHEP. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge not to be
forgetful to entertain strangers, therefore the good of the place
is before you. [Heb. 13:1-2]

<The Shepherds welcome them>
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 face on these mountains. But when the Shepherds heard
their answers, being pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly
upon them, and said, Welcome to the Delectable Mountains.

<The names of the Shepherds>
The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful,
and Sincere, took them by the hand, and had them to their tents,
and made them partake of that which was ready at present.
They said, moreover, We would that ye should stay here awhile,
to be acquainted with us; and yet more to solace yourselves
with the good of these Delectable Mountains. They then told them,
that they were content to stay; so they went to their rest that night,
because it was very late.

<They are shown wonders>
Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the Shepherds called up
to 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?
<The Mountain of Error> So when they had concluded to do it,
they had them first to the top of a hill called Error,
which was very steep on the furthest 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
that they had from the top. Then said Christian, What meaneth this?
The Shepherds answered, Have you not heard of them that were made to err
by hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus as concerning the faith
of the resurrection of the body? [2 Tim. 2:17,18] They answered, Yes.
Then said the Shepherds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces
at the bottom of this mountain are they; and they have continued
to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others
to take heed how they clamber too high, or how they come too near
the brink of this mountain.

<Mount Caution>
Then I saw that they had them to the top of another mountain,
and the name of that is Caution, and bid them look afar off;
which, when they did, they perceived, as they thought,
several men walking up and down among the tombs that were there;
and they perceived that the men were blind, because they
stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could not get out
from among them. Then said Christian, What means this?

The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little below
these mountains a stile, that led into a meadow, on the left hand
of this way? They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds,
From that stile there goes a path that leads directly
to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, and these,
pointing to them among the tombs, came once on pilgrimage,
as you do now, even till they came to that same stile;
and because the right way was rough in that place, they chose to go
out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair,
and cast into Doubting Castle; where, after they had been a while
kept in the dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes,
and led them among those tombs, where he has left them to wander
to this very day, that the saying of the wise man might be fulfilled,
"He that wandereth out of the way of understanding, shall remain in
the congregation of the dead." [Pro. 21:16] Then Christian and Hopeful
looked upon one another, with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing
to the Shepherds.

<A by-way to hell>
Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them to another place,
in a bottom, where was a door in the side of a hill,
and they opened the door, and bid them look in. They looked in,
therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and smoky;
they also thought that they heard there a rumbling noise as of fire,
and a cry of some tormented, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone.
Then said Christian, What means this? The Shepherds told them,
This is a by-way to hell, a way that hypocrites go in at; namely,
such as sell their birthright, with Esau; such as sell their master,
with Judas; such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alexander;
and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife.
Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that these had on them,
even every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have now; had they not?

SHEP. Yes, and held it a long time too.

HOPE. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their day,
since they notwithstanding were thus miserably cast away?

SHEP. Some further, and some not so far, as these mountains.

Then said the Pilgrims one to another, We have need to cry to the Strong
for strength.

SHEP. Ay, and you will have need to use it, when you have it, too.

<The Shepherds' perspective glass>
By this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go forward,
and the Shepherds a desire they should; so they walked together
towards the end of the mountains. Then said the Shepherds
one to another, Let us here show to the Pilgrims the gates
of the Celestial City, if they have skill to look through
our perspective glass. <The Hill Clear> The Pilgrims then
lovingly accepted the motion; so they had them to the top
of a high hill, called Clear, and gave them their glass to look.

<The fruits of servile fear>
Then they essayed to look, but the remembrance of that last thing
that the Shepherds had shown them, made their hands shake;
by means of which impediment, they could not look steadily
through the glass; yet they thought they saw something like the gate,
and also some of the glory of the place. Then they went away,
and sang this song--

Thus, by the Shepherds, secrets are reveal'd,
Which from all other men are kept conceal'd.
Come to the Shepherds, then, if you would see
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be.

<A twofold caution>
When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds gave them a note
of the way. Another of them bid them beware of the Flatterer.
The third bid them take heed that they sleep not upon
the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid them God-speed.
So I awoke from my dream.

<The Country of Conceit, out of which came Ignorance>
And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two Pilgrims
going down the mountains along the highway towards the city.
Now, a little below these mountains, on the left hand,
lieth the country of Conceit; from which country there comes
into the way in which the Pilgrims walked, a little crooked lane.
Here, therefore, they met with a very brisk lad, that came out
of that country; and his name was Ignorance. So Christian asked him
from what parts he came, and whither he was going.

<Christian and Ignorance have some talk>
IGNOR. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there
a little on the left hand, and I am going to the Celestial City.

CHR. But how do you think to get in at the gate? for you may find
some difficulty there.

IGNOR. As other people do, said he.

CHR. But what have you to show at that gate, that may cause
that the gate should be opened to you?

<The ground of Ignorance's hope>
IGNOR. I know my Lord's will, and I have been a good liver;
I pay every man his own; I pray, fast, pay tithes, and give alms,
and have left my country for whither I am going.

CHR. But thou camest not in at the wicket-gate that is at the head
of this way; thou camest in hither through that same crooked lane,
and therefore, I fear, however thou mayest think of thyself,
when the reckoning day shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy charge
that thou art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance
into the city.

<He saith to every one that he is a fool>
IGNOR. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me, I know you not;
be content and follow the religion of your country, and I will follow
the religion of mine. I hope all will be well. And as for the gate
that you talk of, all the world knows that that is a great way off
of our country. I cannot think that any man in all our parts
doth so much as know the way to it, nor need they matter
whether they do or no, since we have, as you see, a fine,
pleasant green lane, that comes down from our country,
the next way into the way.

<How to carry it to a fool>
When Christian saw that the man was "wise in his own conceit",
he said to Hopeful, whisperingly, "There is more hope of a fool than
of him." [Prov. 26:12] And said, moreover, "When he that is a fool
walketh by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one
that he is a fool." [Eccl. 10:3] What, shall we talk further with him,
or out-go him at present, and so leave him to think of what
he hath heard already, and then stop again for him afterwards,
and see if by degrees we can do any good to him? Then said Hopeful--

Let Ignorance a little while now muse
On what is said, and let him not refuse
Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain
Still ignorant of what's the chiefest gain.
God saith, those that no understanding have,
Although he made them, them he will not save.

HOPE. He further added, It is not good, I think, to say all to him
at once; let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him anon,
even as he is able to bear it.

<The destruction of one Turn-away>
So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now when they had
passed him a little way, they entered into a very dark lane,
where they met a man whom seven devils had bound with
seven strong cords, and were carrying of him back to the door
that they saw on the side of the hill. [Matt. 12:45, Prov. 5:22]
Now good Christian began to tremble, and so did Hopeful his companion;
yet as the devils led away the man, Christian looked to see
if he knew him; and he thought it might be one Turn-away,
that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. But he did not perfectly see
his face, for he did hang his head like a thief that is found.
But being once past, Hopeful looked after him, and espied on his back
a paper with this inscription, "Wanton professor and damnable apostate".
<Christian telleth his companion a story of Little-faith>
Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to remembrance,
that which was told me of a thing that happened to a good man hereabout.
The name of the man was Little-faith, but a good man, and he dwelt
in the town of Sincere. The thing was this:-- At the entering in
at this passage, <Broad-way Gate> there comes down from Broad-way Gate,
<Dead Man's Lane> a lane called Dead Man's Lane; so called because of
the murders that are commonly done there; and this Little-faith
going on pilgrimage, as we do now, chanced to sit down there, and slept.
Now there happened, at that time, to come down the lane,
from Broad-way Gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names
were Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, (three brothers),
and they espying Little-faith, where he was, came galloping up
with speed. Now the good man was just awake from his sleep,
and was getting up to go on his journey. So they came up all to him,
and with threatening language bid him stand. At this
Little-faith looked as white as a clout, and had neither power to fight
nor fly. <Little-faith robbed by Faint-heart, Mistrust and Guilt>
Then said Faint-heart, Deliver thy purse. <They got away his silver,
and knocked him down> But he making no haste to do it
(for he was loath to lose his money), Mistrust ran up to him,
and thrusting his hand into his pocket, pulled out thence
a bag of silver. Then he cried out, Thieves! Thieves! With that Guilt,
with a great club that was in his hand, struck Little-faith on the head,
and with that blow felled him flat to the ground, where he lay bleeding
as one that would bleed to death. All this while the thieves stood by.
But, at last, they hearing that some were upon the road,
and fearing lest it should be one Great-grace, that dwells in the city
of Good-confidence, they betook themselves to their heels,
and left this good man to shift for himself. Now, after a while,
Little-faith came to himself, and getting up, made shift
to scrabble on his way. This was the story.

HOPE. But did they take from him all that ever he had?

<Little-faith lost not his best things>
Chr. No; the place where his jewels were they never ransacked,
so those he kept still. But, as I was told, the good man
was much afflicted for his loss, for the thieves got most of
his spending-money. <Little-faith forced to beg to his journey's end>
That which they got not (as I said) were jewels, also he had
a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring him to
his journey's end [1 Peter 4:18]; nay, if I was not misinformed,
he was forced to beg as he went, to keep himself alive;
for his jewels he might not sell. But beg, and do what he could,
he went (as we say) with many a hungry belly the most part
of the rest of the way.

HOPE. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his certificate,
by which he was to receive his admittance at the Celestial Gate?

<He kept not his best things by his own cunning. [2 Tim. 1:14]>
CHR. It is a wonder; but they got not that, though they missed it
not through any good cunning of his; for he, being dismayed with
their coming upon him, had neither power nor skill to hide anything;
so it was more by good Providence than by his endeavour,
that they missed of that good thing.

HOPE. But it must needs be a comfort to him, that they got not
his jewels from him.

CHR. It might have been great comfort to him, had he used it
as he should; but they that told me the story said, that he made
but little use of it all the rest of the way, and that because
of the dismay that he had in the taking away his money; indeed,
he forgot it a great part of the rest of his journey; and besides,
when at any time it came into his mind, and he began to be
comforted therewith, then would fresh thoughts of his loss come again
upon him, and those thoughts would swallow up all. [1 Peter 1:9]

<He is pitied by both>
HOPE. Alas! poor man! This could not but be a great grief to him.

CHR. Grief! ay, a grief indeed. Would it not have been so to any of us,
had we been used as he, to be robbed, and wounded too,
and that in a strange place, as he was? It is a wonder he did not
die with grief, poor heart! I was told that he scattered almost
all the rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints;
telling also to all that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way
as he went, where he was robbed, and how; who they were that did it,
and what he lost; how he was wounded, and that he hardly escaped
with his life.

HOPE. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not put him upon
selling or pawning some of his jewels, that he might have wherewith
to relieve himself in his journey.

<Christian snubbeth his fellow for unadvised speaking>
CHR. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell
to this very day; for what should he pawn them, or to whom
should he sell them? In all that country where he was robbed,
his jewels were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief
which could from thence be administered to him. Besides,
had his jewels been missing at the gate of the Celestial City,
he had (and that he knew well enough) been excluded from
an inheritance there; and that would have been worse to him
than the appearance and villainy of ten thousand thieves.

HOPE. Why art thou so tart, my brother? Esau sold his birthright,
and that for a mess of pottage, and that birthright was
his greatest jewel; and if he, why might not Little-faith do so too?
[Heb. 12:16]

<A discourse about Esau and Little-faith>
CHR. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do many besides,
and by so doing exclude themselves from the chief blessing,
as also that caitiff did; but you must put a difference betwixt
Esau and Little-faith, and also betwixt their estates.
<Esau was ruled by his lusts> Esau's birthright was typical,
but Little-faith's jewels were not so; Esau's belly was his god,
but Little-faith's belly was not so; Esau's want lay
in his fleshly appetite, Little-faith's did not so. Besides,
Esau could see no further than to the fulfilling of his lusts;


Part 11


"Behold, I am at the point to die, (said he), and what profit
shall this birthright do me?" [Gen. 25:32] But Little-faith,
though it was his lot to have but a little faith, was by his
little faith kept from such extravagances, and made to see and prize
his jewels more than to sell them, as Esau did his birthright.
<Esau never had faith> You read not anywhere that Esau had faith, no,
not so much as a little; therefore, no marvel if, where the flesh only
bears sway, (as it will in that man where no faith is to resist),
if he sells his birthright, and his soul and all, and that to
the devil of hell; for it is with such, as it is with the ass,
who in her occasions cannot be turned away. [Jer. 2:24]
When their minds are set upon their lusts, they will have them
whatever they cost. <Little-faith could not live upon Esau's pottage>
But Little-faith was of another temper, his mind was on things divine;
his livelihood was upon things that were spiritual, and from above;
therefore, to what end should he that is of such a temper
sell his jewels (had there been any that would have bought them)
to fill his mind with empty things? <A comparison between
the turtle-dove and the crow> Will a man give a penny to fill his belly
with hay; or can you persuade the turtle-dove to live upon carrion
like the crow? Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn,
or mortgage, or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot;
yet they that have faith, saving faith, though but a little of it,
cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy mistake.

HOPE. I acknowledge it; but yet your severe reflection
had almost made me angry.

CHR. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds that are
of the brisker sort, who will run to and fro in untrodden paths,
with the shell upon their heads; but pass by that, and consider
the matter under debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee and me.

<Hopeful swaggers>
HOPE. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my heart,
are but a company of cowards; would they have run else, think you,
as they did, at the noise of one that was coming on the road?
Why did not Little-faith pluck up a greater heart? He might, methinks,
have stood one brush with them, and have yielded when
there had been no remedy.

<No great heart for God, where there is but little faith>
CHR. That they are cowards, many have said, but few have found it so
in the time of trial. As for a great heart, Little-faith had none;
and I perceive by thee, my brother, hadst thou been the man concerned,
thou art but for a brush, and then to yield.

<We have more courage when out, than when in the conflict>
And, verily, since this is the height of thy stomach,
now they are at a distance from us, should they appear to thee
as they did to him they might put thee to second thoughts.

<Christian tells his own experience in this case>
But, consider again, they are but journeymen thieves,
they serve under the king of the bottomless pit, who, if need be,
will come into their aid himself, and his voice is as
the roaring of a lion. [1 Pet. 5:8] I myself have been engaged
as this Little-faith was, and I found it a terrible thing.
These three villains set upon me, and I beginning, like a Christian,
to resist, they gave but a call, and in came their master. I would,
as the saying is, have given my life for a penny, but that,
as God would have it, I was clothed with armour of proof.
Ay, and yet, though I was so harnessed, I found it hard work
to quit myself like a man. No man can tell what in that combat
attends us, but he that hath been in the battle himself.

HOPE. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but suppose
that one Great-grace was in the way.

<The King's champion>
CHR. True, they have often fled, both they and their master,
when Great-grace hath but appeared; and no marvel; for he is
the King's champion. But, I trow, you will put some difference betwixt
Little-faith and the King's champion. All the King's subjects are not
his champions, nor can they, when tried, do such feats of war as he.
Is it meet to think that a little child should handle Goliath
as David did? Or that there should be the strength of an ox in a wren?
Some are strong, some are weak; some have great faith, some have little.
This man was one of the weak, and therefore he went to the wall.

HOPE. I would it had been Great-grace for their sakes.

CHR. If it had been, he might have had his hands full;
for I must tell you, that though Great-grace is excellent good
at his weapons, and has, and can, so long as he keeps them
at sword's point, do well enough with them; yet, if they get within him,
even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or the other, it shall go hard
but they will throw up his heels. And when a man is down, you know,
what can he do?

Whoso looks well upon Great-grace's face, shall see those scars
and cuts there, that shall easily give demonstration of what I say.
Yea, once I heard that he should say, (and that when he
was in the combat), "We despaired even of life." How did these
sturdy rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar?
Yea, Heman, and Hezekiah, too, though champions in their day,
were forced to bestir them, when by these assaulted; and yet,
notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly brushed by them. Peter,
upon a time, would go try what he could do; but though some do say
of him that he is the prince of the apostles, they handled him so,
that they made him at last afraid of a sorry girl.

<Leviathan's sturdiness>
Besides, their king is at their whistle. He is never out of hearing;
and if at any time they be put to the worst, he, if possible,
comes in to help them; and of him it is said, The sword of him
that layeth at him cannot hold the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon;
he esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot
make him flee; sling stones are turned with him into stubble.
Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.
[Job 41:26-29] What can a man do in this case? <The excellent mettle
that is in Job's horse> It is true, if a man could, at every turn,
have Job's horse, and had skill and courage to ride him,
he might do notable things; for his neck is clothed with thunder,
he will not be afraid of the grasshopper; the glory of his nostrils
is terrible: he paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength,
he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear,
and is not affrighted, neither turneth he back from the sword.
The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear, and the shield.
He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage, neither believeth he
that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets,
Ha, ha! and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of
the captains, and the shouting. [Job 39:19-25]

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to meet with
an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, when we hear of others
that they have been foiled, Nor be tickled at the thoughts
of our own manhood; for such commonly come by the worst when tried.
Witness Peter, of whom I made mention before. He would swagger, ay,
he would; he would, as his vain mind prompted him to say, do better,
and stand more for his Master than all men; but who so foiled,
and run down by these villains, as he?

When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on
the King's highway, two things become us to do:

1. To go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield with us;
for it was for want of that, that he that laid so lustily at Leviathan
could not make him yield; for, indeed, if that be wanting,
he fears us not at all. Therefore, he that had skill hath said,
"Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able
to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked." [Eph. 6:16]

<It is good to have a convoy>
2. It is good, also, that we desire of the King a convoy,
yea, that he will go with us himself. This made David rejoice
when in the Valley of the Shadow of Death; and Moses was rather
for dying where he stood, than to go one step without his God.
[Exo. 33:15] Oh, my brother, if he will but go along with us,
what need we be afraid of ten thousands that shall set themselves
against us? [Ps. 3:5-8, 27:1-3] But, without him, the proud helpers
"fall under the slain". [Isa. 10:4]

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now; and though,
through the goodness of him that is best, I am, as you see, alive,
yet I cannot boast of my manhood. Glad shall I be, if I meet with
no more such brunts; though I fear we are not got beyond all danger.
However, since the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured me,
I hope God will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised Philistine.
Then sang Christian--

Poor Little-faith! Hast been among the thieves?
Wast robb'd? Remember this, whoso believes,
And gets more faith, shall then a victor be
Over ten thousand, else scarce over three.

<A way, and a way>
So they went on and Ignorance followed. They went then till they came
at a place where they saw a way put itself into their way,
and seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they should go:
and here they knew not which of the two to take, for both seemed
straight before them; therefore, here they stood still to consider.
<The Flatterer finds them> And as they were thinking about the way,
behold a man, black of flesh, but covered with a very light robe,
came to them, and asked them why they stood there. They answered
they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not which of these ways
to take. Follow me, said the man, it is thither that I am going.
<Christian and his fellow deluded> So they followed him in the way
that but now came into the road, which by degrees turned,
and turned them so from the city that they desired to go to,
that, in little time, their faces were turned away from it;
yet they followed him. But by and by, before they were aware,
he led them both within the compass of a net, in which they were both
so entangled that they knew not what to do; and with that
the white robe fell off the black man's back. <They are taken in a net>
Then they saw where they were. Wherefore, there they lay crying
some time, for they could not get themselves out.

<They bewail their condition>
CHR. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I see myself in error.
Did not the Shepherds bid us beware of the flatterers?
As is the saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day.
A man that flattereth his neighbour, spreadeth a net for his feet.
[Prov. 29:5]

<A Shining One comes to them with a whip in his hand>
HOPE. They also gave us a note of directions about the way,
for our more sure finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten
to read, and have not kept ourselves from the paths of the destroyer.
Here David was wiser than we; for, saith he, "Concerning the works
of men, by the word of thy lips, I have kept me from the paths
of the destroyer." [Ps. 17:4] Thus they lay bewailing themselves
in the net. At last they espied a Shining One coming towards them
with a whip of small cord in his hand. When he was come
to the place where they were, he asked them whence they came,
and what they did there. They told him that they were poor pilgrims
going to Zion, but were led out of their way by a black man,
clothed in white, who bid us, said they, follow him,
for he was going thither too. Then said he with the whip,
It is Flatterer, a false apostle, that hath transformed himself
into an angel of light. [Prov. 29:5, Dan. 11:32, 2 Cor. 11:13,14]
So he rent the net, and let the men out. Then said he to them,
Follow me, that I may set you in your way again. So he led them back
to the way which they had left to follow the Flatterer.
Then he asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last night?
They said, With the Shepherds upon the Delectable Mountains.
<They are examined, and convicted of forgetfulness> He asked them then
if they had not of those Shepherds a note of direction for the way.
They answered, Yes. But did you, said he, when you were at a stand,
pluck out and read your note? They answered, No. He asked them, Why?
They said, they forgot. He asked, moreover, if the Shepherds did not
bid them beware of the Flatterer? <Deceivers fine spoken>
They answered, Yes, but we did not imagine, said they,
that this fine-spoken man had been he. [Rom. 16:18]

<They are whipped and sent on their way>
Then I saw in my dream that he commanded them to lie down; which,
when they did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good way
wherein they should walk [Deut. 25:2]; and as he chastised them he said,
"As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous, therefore,
and repent." [2 Chron. 6:26,27, Rev. 3:19] This done, he bid them
go on their way, and take good heed to the other directions
of the shepherds. So they thanked him for all his kindness,
and went softly along the right way, singing--

Come hither, you that walk along the way;
See how the pilgrims fare that go astray.
They catched are in an entangling net,
'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget:
'Tis true they rescued were, but yet you see,
They're scourged to boot. Let this your caution be.

Now, after a while, they perceived, afar off, one coming softly
and alone, all along the highway to meet them. Then said Christian
to his fellow, Yonder is a man with his back towards Zion,
and he is coming to meet us.

<The Atheist meets them>
HOPE. I see him; let us take heed to ourselves now,
lest he should prove a flatterer also. So he drew nearer and nearer,
and at last came up unto them. His name was Atheist,
and he asked them whither they were going.

CHR. We are going to Mount Zion.

<He laughs at them>
Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter.

CHR. What is the meaning of your laughter?

ATHEIST. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are,
to take upon you so tedious a journey, and you are like to have
nothing but your travel for your pains.

<They reason together>
CHR. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received?

ATHEIST. Received! There is no such place as you dream of
in all this world.

CHR. But there is in the world to come.

ATHEIST. When I was at home in mine own country, I heard as you
now affirm, and from that hearing went out to see, and have been
seeking this city this twenty years; but find no more of it
than I did the first day I set out. [Jer. 22:12, Eccl. 10:15]

CHR. We have both heard and believe that there is such a place
to be found.

<The Atheist takes up his content in this world>
ATHEIST. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come thus far
to seek; but finding none, (and yet I should, had there been such
a place to be found, for I have gone to seek it further than you),
I am going back again, and will seek to refresh myself with the things
that I then cast away, for hopes of that which, I now see, is not.

<Christian proveth his brother>
CHR. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow, Is it true
which this man hath said?

<Hopeful's gracious answer>
Hope. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers; remember what it hath
cost us once already for our hearkening to such kind of fellows.
What! no Mount Zion? Did we not see, from the Delectable Mountains
the gate of the city? Also, are we not now to walk by faith?
Let us go on, said Hopeful, lest the man with the whip
overtake us again. [2 Cor. 5:7] <A remembrance of former chastisements
is a help against present temptations> You should have taught me
that lesson, which I will round you in the ears withal: "Cease,
my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err from the words
of knowledge." [Prov. 19:27] I say, my brother, cease to hear him,
and let us "believe to the saving of the soul". [Heb. 10:39]

<A fruit of an honest heart>
CHR. My brother, I did not put the question to thee for that
I doubted of the truth of our belief myself, but to prove thee,
and to fetch from thee a fruit of the honesty of thy heart.
As for this man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this world.
Let thee and I go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth,
"and no lie is of the truth". [1 John 2:21]

HOPE. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. So they turned
away from the man; and he, laughing at them, went his way.

<They are come to the Enchanted Ground>
I saw then in my dream, that they went till they came into
a certain country, whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy,
if he came a stranger into it. <Hopeful begins to be drowsy>
And here Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy of sleep;
wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin to grow so drowsy
that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes, let us lie down here
and take one nap.

<Christian keeps him awake>
CHR. By no means, said the other, lest sleeping, we never awake more.

HOPE. Why, my brother? Sleep is sweet to the labouring man;
we may be refreshed if we take a nap.

CHR. Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid us beware
of the Enchanted Ground? He meant by that that we should beware
of sleeping; "Therefore let us not sleep, as do others,
but let us watch and be sober." [1 Thess. 5:6]

<He is thankful>
HOPE. I acknowledge myself in a fault, and had I been here alone
I had by sleeping run the danger of death. I see it is true
that the wise man saith, Two are better than one. Hitherto hath
thy company been my mercy, and thou shalt have a good reward
for thy labour. [Eccl. 9:9]

<To prevent drowsiness, they fall to good discourse>
CHR. Now then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness in this place,
let us fall into good discourse.

HOPE. With all my heart, said the other.

<Good discourse prevents drowsiness>
CHR. Where shall we begin?

HOPE. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if you please.

CHR. I will sing you first this song:--

<The Dreamers' Note>
When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither,
And hear how these two pilgrims talk together:
Yea, let them learn of them, in any wise,
Thus to keep ope their drowsy slumb'ring eyes.
Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well,
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell.

<They begin at the beginning of their conversion>
CHR. Then Christian began and said, I will ask you a question.
How came you to think at first of so doing as you do now?

HOPE. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after
the good of my soul?

CHR. Yes, that is my meaning.

HOPE. I continued a great while in the delight of those things
which were seen and sold at our fair; things which, I believe now,
would have, had I continued in them, still drowned me
in perdition and destruction.

CHR. What things are they?

<Hopeful's life before conversion>
HOPE. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also,
I delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, swearing, lying,
uncleanness, Sabbath-breaking, and what not, that tended to
destroy the soul. But I found at last, by hearing and considering
of things that are divine, which indeed I heard of you,
as also of beloved Faithful that was put to death for his faith
and good living in Vanity Fair, that "the end of these things is death".
[Rom.6:21-23] And that for these things' sake "cometh the wrath of God
upon the children of disobedience". [Eph.5:6]

CHR. And did you presently fall under the power of this conviction?

<Hopeful at first shuts his eyes against the light>
HOPE. No, I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin,
nor the damnation that follows upon the commission of it;
but endeavoured, when my mind at first began to be shaken with the Word,
to shut mine eyes against the light thereof.

CHR. But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus
to the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon you?

<Reasons of his resisting the light>
HOPE. The causes were, 1. I was ignorant that this was
the work of God upon me. I never thought that, by awakenings for sin,
God at first begins the conversion of a sinner. 2. Sin was yet
very sweet to my flesh, and I was loath to leave it. 3. I could not
tell how to part with mine old companions, their presence and actions
were so desirable unto me. 4. The hours in which convictions
were upon me were such troublesome and such heart-affrighting hours
that I could not bear, no not so much as the remembrance of them,
upon my heart.

CHR. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your trouble.

HOPE. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind again,
and then I should be as bad, nay, worse, than I was before.

CHR. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again?

<When he had lost his sense of sin, what brought this again>
HOPE. Many things; as,

1. If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or,

2. If I have heard any read in the Bible; or,

3. If mine head did begin to ache; or,

4. If I were told that some of my neighbours were sick; or,

5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead; or,

6. If I thought of dying myself; or,

7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others;

8. But especially, when I thought of myself, that I must quickly
come to judgment.

CHR. And could you at any time, with ease, get off the guilt of sin,
when by any of these ways it came upon you?

HOPE. No, not I, for then they got faster hold of my conscience;
and then, if I did but think of going back to sin, (though my mind
was turned against it), it would be double torment to me.

CHR. And how did you do then?

<When he could no longer shake off his guilt by sinful courses,
then he endeavors to mend>
HOPE. I thought I must endeavour to mend my life; for else, thought I,
I am sure to be damned.

CHR. And did you endeavour to mend?

HOPE. Yes; and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company too;
and betook me to religious duties, as prayer, reading, weeping for sin,
speaking truth to my neighbours, &c. These things did I,
with many others, too much here to relate.

CHR. And did you think yourself well then?

<Then he thought himself well>
HOPE. Yes, for a while; but at the last, my trouble came tumbling
upon me again, and that over the neck of all my reformations.

CHR. How came that about, since you were now reformed?

<Reformation at last could not help, and why>
HOPE. There were several things brought it upon me,
especially such sayings as these: "All our righteousnesses
are as filthy rags." [Isa. 64:6] "By the works of the law
shall no flesh be justified." [Gal. 2:16] "When ye shall have done
all those things, say, We are unprofitable", [Luke 17:10] with many more
such like. From whence I began to reason with myself thus:
If ALL my righteousnesses are filthy rags; if, by the deeds of the law,
NO man can be justified; and if, when we have done ALL,
we are yet unprofitable, then it is but a folly to think of heaven
by the law. <His being a debtor by the law troubled him>
I further thought thus: If a man runs a hundred pounds
into the shopkeeper's debt, and after that shall pay for all that he
shall fetch; yet, if this old debt stands still in the book uncrossed,
for that the shopkeeper may sue him, and cast him into prison
till he shall pay the debt.

CHR. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself?

HOPE. Why; I thought thus with myself. I have, by my sins,
run a great way into God's book, and that my now reforming
will not pay off that score; therefore I should think still,
under all my present amendments, But how shall I be freed from
that damnation that I have brought myself in danger of by
my former transgressions?

CHR. A very good application: but, pray, go on.

<His espying bad things in his best duties troubled him>
HOPE. Another thing that hath troubled me, even since
my late amendments, is, that if I look narrowly into the best
of what I do now, I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself
with the best of that I do; so that now I am forced to conclude,
that notwithstanding my former fond conceits of myself and duties,
I have committed sin enough in one duty to send me to hell,
though my former life had been faultless.

CHR. And what did you do then?

<This made him break his mind to Faithful, who told him the way
to be saved>
HOPE. Do! I could not tell what to do, until I brake my mind
to Faithful, for he and I were well acquainted. And he told me,


Part 12


that unless I could obtain the righteousness of a man that never
had sinned, neither mine own, nor all the righteousness of the world
could save me.

CHR. And did you think he spake true?

HOPE. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied
with mine own amendment, I had called him fool for his pains;
but now, since I see mine own infirmity, and the sin that cleaves
to my best performance, I have been forced to be of his opinion.

CHR. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to you,
that there was such a man to be found, of whom it might justly be said
that he never committed sin?

<At which he started at present>
HOPE. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely,
but after a little more talk and company with him,
I had full conviction about it.

CHR. And did you ask him what man this was, and how you must
be justified by him?

<A more particular discovery of the way to be saved>
HOPE. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth on
the right hand of the Most High. And thus, said he, you must
be justified by him, even by trusting to what he hath done by himself,
in the days of his flesh, and suffered when he did hang on the tree.
I asked him further, how that man's righteousness could be
of that efficacy to justify another before God? And he told me
he was the mighty God, and did what he did, and died the death also,
not for himself, but for me; to whom his doings, and the worthiness
of them, should be imputed, if I believed on him. [Heb. 10, Rom. 6,
Col. 1, 1 Pet. 1]

CHR. And what did you do then?

<He doubts of acceptation>
HOPE. I made my objections against my believing, for that I thought
he was not willing to save me.

CHR. And what said Faithful to you then?

<He is better instructed>
HOPE. He bid me go to him and see. Then I said it was presumption;
but he said, No, for I was invited to come. [Matt. 11:28]
Then he gave me a book of Jesus, his inditing, to encourage me
the more freely to come; and he said, concerning that book,
that every jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than heaven and earth.
[Matt. 24:35] Then I asked him, What I must do when I came; and he
told me, I must entreat upon my knees, with all my heart and soul,
the Father to reveal him to me. [Ps. 95:6, Dan. 6:10, Jer. 29:12,13]
Then I asked him further, how I must make my supplication to him?
And he said, Go, and thou shalt find him upon a mercy-seat,
where he sits all the year long, to give pardon and forgiveness
to them that come. I told him that I knew not what to say when I came.
<He is bid to pray> And he bid me say to this effect:
God be merciful to me a sinner, and make me to know and believe
in Jesus Christ; for I see, that if his righteousness had not been,
or I have not faith in that righteousness, I am utterly cast away.
Lord, I have heard that thou art a merciful God, and hast ordained
that thy Son Jesus Christ should be the Saviour of the world;
and moreover, that thou art willing to bestow him upon
such a poor sinner as I am, (and I am a sinner indeed); Lord,
take therefore this opportunity and magnify thy grace
in the salvation of my soul, through thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen.
[Exo. 25:22, Lev. 16:2, Num. 7:89, Heb. 4:16]

CHR. And did you do as you were bidden?

<He prays>
HOPE. Yes; over, and over, and over.

CHR. And did the Father reveal his Son to you?

HOPE. Not at the first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, nor fifth;
no, nor at the sixth time neither.

CHR. What did you do then?

HOPE. What! why I could not tell what to do.

CHR. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying?

<He thought to leave off praying>
HOPE. Yes; an hundred times twice told.

CHR. And what was the reason you did not?

<He durst not leave off praying, and why>
HOPE. I believed that that was true which had been told me,
to wit, that without the righteousness of this Christ,
all the world could not save me; and therefore, thought I with myself,
if I leave off I die, and I can but die at the throne of grace.
And withal, this came into my mind, "Though it tarry, wait for it;
because it will surely come, it will not tarry." [Heb. 2:3]
So I continued praying until the Father showed me his Son.

CHR. And how was he revealed unto you?

<Christ is revealed to him, and how>
HOPE. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes
of my understanding; [Eph. 1:18,19] and thus it was:
One day I was very sad, I think sadder than at any one time in my life,
and this sadness was through a fresh sight of the greatness and vileness
of my sins. And as I was then looking for nothing but hell,
and the everlasting damnation of my soul, suddenly, as I thought,
I saw the Lord Jesus Christ look down from heaven upon me, and saying,
"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."
[Acts 16:30,31]

But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner.
And he answered, "My grace is sufficient for thee." [2 Cor.12:9]
Then I said, But, Lord, what is believing? And then I saw
from that saying, "He that cometh to me shall never hunger,
and he that believeth on me shall never thirst", that believing
and coming was all one; and that he that came, that is,
ran out in his heart and affections after salvation by Christ,
he indeed believed in Christ. [John 6:35] Then the water
stood in mine eyes, and I asked further. But, Lord,
may such a great sinner as I am be indeed accepted of thee,
and be saved by thee? And I heard him say, "And him that cometh to me,
I will in no wise cast out." [John 6:37] Then I said, But how, Lord,
must I consider of thee in my coming to thee, that my faith may be
placed aright upon thee? Then he said, "Christ Jesus came
into the world to save sinners." [1 Tim. 1:15] "He is the end
of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth." [Rom. 10:4]
"He died for our sins, and rose again for our justification."
[Rom. 4:25] "He loved us, and washed us from our sins
in his own blood." [Rev. 1:5] "He is mediator betwixt God and us."
[1 Tim. 2:5] "He ever liveth to make intercession for us."
[Heb. 7:24,25] From all which I gathered, that I must
look for righteousness in his person, and for satisfaction for my sins
by his blood; that what he did in obedience to his Father's law,
and in submitting to the penalty thereof, was not for himself,
but for him that will accept it for his salvation, and be thankful.
And now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes full of tears,
and mine affections running over with love to the name, people,
and ways of Jesus Christ.

CHR. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed;
but tell me particularly what effect this had upon your spirit.

HOPE. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding all
the righteousness thereof, is in a state of condemnation.
It made me see that God the Father, though he be just,
can justly justify the coming sinner. It made me greatly ashamed
of the vileness of my former life, and confounded me with the sense
of mine own ignorance; for there never came thought into my heart
before now that showed me so the beauty of Jesus Christ.
It made me love a holy life, and long to do something for
the honour and glory of the name of the Lord Jesus; yea,
I thought that had I now a thousand gallons of blood in my body,
I could spill it all for the sake of the Lord Jesus.

I saw then in my dream that Hopeful looked back and saw Ignorance,
whom they had left behind, coming after. Look, said he to Christian,
how far yonder youngster loitereth behind.

CHR. Ay, ay, I see him; he careth not for our company.

HOPE. But I trow it would not have hurt him had he
kept pace with us hitherto.

CHR. That is true; but I warrant you he thinketh otherwise.

HOPE. That, I think, he doth; but, however, let us tarry for him.
So they did.

<Young Ignorance comes up again; their talk>
Then Christian said to him, Come away, man, why do you stay so behind?

IGNOR. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a great deal
than in company, unless I like it the better.

Then said Christian to Hopeful, (but softly), Did I not tell you
he cared not for our company? But, however, said he, come up,
and let us talk away the time in this solitary place.
Then directing his speech to Ignorance, he said, Come, how do you?
How stands it between God and your soul now?

<Ignorance's hope, and the ground of it>
IGNOR. I hope well; for I am always full of good motions,
that come into my mind, to comfort me as I walk.

CHR. What good motions? pray, tell us.

IGNOR. Why, I think of God and heaven.

CHR. So do the devils and damned souls.

IGNOR. But I think of them and desire them.

CHR. So do many that are never like to come there.
"The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing." [Prov. 13:4]

IGNOR. But I think of them, and leave all for them.

CHR. That I doubt; for leaving all is a hard matter: yea,
a harder matter than many are aware of. But why, or by what,
art thou persuaded that thou hast left all for God and heaven.

IGNOR. My heart tells me so.

CHR. The wise man says, "He that trusts his own heart is a fool."
[Prov. 28:26]

IGNOR. This is spoken of an evil heart, but mine is a good one.

CHR. But how dost thou prove that?

IGNOR. It comforts me in hopes of heaven.

CHR. That may be through its deceitfulness; for a man's heart
may minister comfort to him in the hopes of that thing for which
he yet has no ground to hope.

IGNOR. But my heart and life agree together, and therefore
my hope is well grounded.

CHR. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together?

IGNOR. My heart tells me so.

CHR. Ask my fellow if I be a thief! Thy heart tells thee so!
Except the Word of God beareth witness in this matter,
other testimony is of no value.

IGNOR. But is it not a good heart that hath good thoughts?
and is not that a good life that is according to God's commandments?

CHR. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts,
and that is a good life that is according to God's commandments;
but it is one thing, indeed, to have these, and another thing
only to think so.

IGNOR. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life according
to God's commandments?

CHR. There are good thoughts of divers kinds; some respecting
ourselves, some God, some Christ, and some other things.

<What are good thoughts>
IGNOR. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves?

CHR. Such as agree with the Word of God.

IGNOR. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with the Word of God?

CHR. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves
which the Word passes. To explain myself--the Word of God
saith of persons in a natural condition, "There is none righteous,
there is none that doeth good." [Rom. 3] It saith also,
that "every imagination of the heart of man is only evil,
and that continually." [Gen. 6:5] And again, "The imagination
of man's heart is evil from his youth." [Rom. 8:21] Now then,
when we think thus of ourselves, having sense thereof,
then are our thoughts good ones, because according to the Word of God.

IGNOR. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad.

CHR. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought concerning thyself
in thy life. But let me go on. As the Word passeth a judgment
upon our heart, so it passeth a judgment upon our ways; and when
OUR thoughts of our hearts and ways agree with the judgment which
the Word giveth of both, then are both good, because agreeing thereto.

IGNOR. Make out your meaning.

CHR. Why, the Word of God saith that man's ways are crooked ways;
not good, but perverse. [Ps. 125:5, Prov. 2:15] It saith
they are naturally out of the good way, that they have not known it.
[Rom. 3] Now, when a man thus thinketh of his ways,--I say,
when he doth sensibly, and with heart-humiliation, thus think,
then hath he good thoughts of his own ways, because his thoughts
now agree with the judgment of the Word of God.

IGNOR. What are good thoughts concerning God?

CHR. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, when our thoughts of God
do agree with what the Word saith of him; and that is,
when we think of his being and attributes as the Word hath taught,
of which I cannot now discourse at large; but to speak of him
with reference to us: Then we have right thoughts of God,
when we think that he knows us better than we know ourselves,
and can see sin in us when and where we can see none in ourselves;
when we think he knows our inmost thoughts, and that our heart,
with all its depths, is always open unto his eyes; also,
when we think that all our righteousness stinks in his nostrils,
and that, therefore, he cannot abide to see us stand before him
in any confidence, even in all our best performances.

IGNOR. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think God can see
no further than I? or, that I would come to God in the best
of my performances?

CHR. Why, how dost thou think in this matter?

IGNOR. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in Christ
for justification.

CHR. How! think thou must believe in Christ, when thou seest not thy
need of him! Thou neither seest thy original nor actual infirmities;
but hast such an opinion of thyself, and of what thou dost,
as plainly renders thee to be one that did never see a necessity
of Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee before God.
How, then, dost thou say, I believe in Christ?

IGNOR. I believe well enough for all that.

CHR. How dost thou believe?

<The faith of Ignorance>
IGNOR. I believe that Christ died for sinners, and that I shall be
justified before God from the curse, through his gracious acceptance
of my obedience to his law. Or thus, Christ makes my duties,
that are religious, acceptable to his Father, by virtue of his merits;
and so shall I be justified.

CHR. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith:--

1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith; for this faith is nowhere
described in the Word.

2. Thou believest with a false faith; because it taketh justification
from the personal righteousness of Christ, and applies it to thy own.

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person,
but of thy actions; and of thy person for thy actions' sake,
which is false.

4. Therefore, this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave thee
under wrath, in the day of God Almighty; for true justifying faith
puts the soul, as sensible of its condition by the law, upon flying
for refuge unto Christ's righteousness, which righteousness of his
is not an act of grace, by which he maketh for justification,
thy obedience accepted with God; but his personal obedience to the law,
in doing and suffering for us what that required at our hands;
this righteousness, I say, true faith accepteth; under the skirt
of which, the soul being shrouded, and by it presented
as spotless before God, it is accepted, and acquit from condemnation.

IGNOR. What! would you have us trust to what Christ, in his own person,
has done without us? This conceit would loosen the reins of our lust,
and tolerate us to live as we list; for what matter how we live,
if we may be justified by Christ's personal righteousness from all,
when we believe it?

CHR. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art thou;
even this thy answer demonstrateth what I say. Ignorant thou art
of what justifying righteousness is, and as ignorant how to secure
thy soul, through the faith of it, from the heavy wrath of God.
Yea, thou also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith
in this righteousness of Christ, which is, to bow and win over
the heart to God in Christ, to love his name, his word, ways,
and people, and not as thou ignorantly imaginest.

HOPE. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him from heaven.

<Ignorance jangles with them>
IGNOR. What! you are a man for revelations! I believe that what
both you, and all the rest of you, say about that matter,
is but the fruit of distracted brains.

HOPE. Why, man! Christ is so hid in God from the natural apprehensions
of the flesh, that he cannot by any man be savingly known,
unless God the Father reveals him to them.

<He speaks reproachfully of what he knows not>
IGNOR. That is your faith, but not mine; yet mine, I doubt not,
is as good as yours, though I have not in my head so many whimsies
as you.

CHR. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought not so slightly
to speak of this matter; for this I will boldly affirm,
even as my good companion hath done, that no man can know Jesus Christ
but by the revelation of the Father; [Matt. 11:27] yea, and faith too,
by which the soul layeth hold upon Christ, if it be right,
must be wrought by the exceeding greatness of his mighty power;
the working of which faith, I perceive, poor Ignorance,
thou art ignorant of. [1 Cor. 12:3, Eph. 1:18,19] Be awakened, then,
see thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus;
and by his righteousness, which is the righteousness of God,
for he himself is God, thou shalt be delivered from condemnation.

<The talk broke up>
IGNOR. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with you.
Do you go on before; I must stay a while behind.

Then they said--

Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be,
To slight good counsel, ten times given thee?
And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know,
Ere long, the evil of thy doing so.
Remember, man, in time, stoop, do not fear;
Good counsel taken well, saves: therefore hear.
But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be
The loser, (Ignorance), I'll warrant thee.

Then Christian addressed thus himself to his fellow:--

CHR. Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that thou and I
must walk by ourselves again.

So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before,
and Ignorance he came hobbling after. Then said Christian
to his companion, It pities me much for this poor man,
it will certainly go ill with him at last.

HOPE. Alas! there are abundance in our town in his condition,
whole families, yea, whole streets, and that of pilgrims too;
and if there be so many in our parts, how many, think you,
must there be in the place where he was born?

CHR. Indeed the Word saith, "He hath blinded their eyes,
lest they should see", &c. But now we are by ourselves,
what do you think of such men? Have they at no time, think you,
convictions of sin, and so consequently fears that their state
is dangerous?

HOPE. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for you are
the elder man.

CHR. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they may; but they being
naturally ignorant, understand not that such convictions tend
to their good; and therefore they do desperately seek to stifle them,
and presumptuously continue to flatter themselves in the way of
their own hearts.

<The good use of fear>
HOPE. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to men's good,
and to make them right, at their beginning to go on pilgrimage.

CHR. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right; for so says the Word,
"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."
[Prov. 1:7, 9:10, Job 28:28, Ps. 111:10]

HOPE. How will you describe right fear?

<Right fear>
CHR. True or right fear is discovered by three things:--

1. By its rise; it is caused by saving convictions for sin.

2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for salvation.

3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence of God,
his Word, and ways, keeping it tender, and making it afraid
to turn from them, to the right hand or to the left,
to anything that may dishonour God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit,
or cause the enemy to speak reproachfully.

HOPE. Well said; I believe you have said the truth.
Are we now almost got past the Enchanted Ground?

CHR. Why, art thou weary of this discourse?

HOPE. No, verily, but that I would know where we are.

<Why ignorant persons stifle convictions>
CHR. We have not now above two miles further to go thereon.
But let us return to our matter. <In general> Now the ignorant
know not that such convictions as tend to put them in fear
are for their good, and therefore they seek to stifle them.

HOPE. How do they seek to stifle them?

<In particular>
CHR. 1. They think that those fears are wrought by the devil,
(though indeed they are wrought of God); and, thinking so,
they resist them as things that directly tend to their overthrow.

2. They also think that these fears tend to the spoiling
of their faith, when, alas, for them, poor men that they are,
they have none at all! and therefore they harden their hearts
against them.

3. They presume they ought not to fear; and, therefore,
in despite of them, wax presumptuously confident.

4. They see that those fears tend to take away from them
their pitiful old self-holiness, and therefore they resist them
with all their might.

HOPE. I know something of this myself; for, before I knew myself,
it was so with me.

CHR. Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbour Ignorance
by himself, and fall upon another profitable question.

HOPE. With all my heart, but you shall still begin.

<Talk about one Temporary>
CHR. Well then, did you not know, about ten years ago,
one Temporary in your parts, who was a forward man in religion then?

<Where he dwelt>
HOPE. Know him! yes, he dwelt in Graceless, a town about two miles
off of Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turnback.

<He was towardly once>
CHR. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well,
that man was much awakened once; I believe that then he had
some sight of his sins, and of the wages that were due thereto.

HOPE. I am of your mind, for, my house not being above three miles
from him, he would ofttimes come to me, and that with many tears.
Truly I pitied the man, and was not altogether without hope of him;
but one may see, it is not every one that cries, Lord, Lord.

CHR. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrimage,


Part 13


as we do now; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one Save-self, and
then he became a stranger to me.

HOPE. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a little inquire
into the reason of the sudden backsliding of him and such others.

CHR. It may be very profitable, but do you begin.

<Reasons why towardly ones go back>
HOPE. Well, then, there are in my judgment four reasons for it:--

1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their minds
are not changed; therefore, when the power of guilt weareth away,
that which provoked them to be religious ceaseth, wherefore they
naturally turn to their own course again, even as we see the dog
that is sick of what he has eaten, so long as his sickness prevails
he vomits and casts up all; not that he doth this of a free mind
(if we may say a dog has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach; but now,
when his sickness is over, and so his stomach eased,
his desire being not at all alienate from his vomit, he turns him about and
licks up all, and so it is true which is written, "The dog is turned to his own
vomit again." [2 Pet. 2:22] Thus I say,
being hot for heaven, by virtue only of the sense and fear
of the torments of hell, as their sense of hell and the fears
of damnation chills and cools, so their desires for heaven and salvation cool
also. So then it comes to pass, that when their guilt and fear
is gone, their desires for heaven and happiness die, and they return
to their course again.

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster them; I speak
now of the fears that they have of men, for "the fear of man
bringeth a snare". [Prov. 29:25] So then, though they seem to be
hot for heaven, so long as the flames of hell are about their ears,
yet when that terror is a little over, they betake themselves
to second thoughts; namely, that it is good to be wise, and not to run (for they
know not what) the hazard of losing all, or, at least,
of bringing themselves into unavoidable and unnecessary troubles,
and so they fall in with the world again.

3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in their way; they are
proud and haughty; and religion in their eye
is low and contemptible, therefore, when they have lost their sense
of hell and wrath to come, they return again to their former course.

4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them.
They like not to see their misery before they come into it;
though perhaps the sight of it first, if they loved that sight,
might make them fly whither the righteous fly and are safe.
But because they do, as I hinted before, even shun the thoughts
of guilt and terror, therefore, when once they are rid
of their awakenings about the terrors and wrath of God,
they harden their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will
harden them more and more.

CHR. You are pretty near the business, for the bottom of all
is for want of a change in their mind and will. And therefore
they are but like the felon that standeth before the judge,
he quakes and trembles, and seems to repent most heartily,
but the bottom of all is the fear of the halter; not that he hath
any detestation of the offence, as is evident, because,
let but this man have his liberty, and he will be a thief,
and so a rogue still, whereas, if his mind was changed,
he would be otherwise.

HOPE. Now I have showed you the reasons of their going back,
do you show me the manner thereof.

CHR. So I will willingly.

<How the apostate goes back>
1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may,
from the remembrance of God, death, and judgment to come.

2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet prayer,
curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, and the like.

3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm Christians.

4. After that they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, reading,
godly conference, and the like.

5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats
of some of the godly; and that devilishly, that they may have
a seeming colour to throw religion (for the sake of some infirmity
they have espied in them) behind their backs.

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves with,
carnal, loose, and wanton men.

7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in secret;
and glad are they if they can see such things in any
that are counted honest, that they may the more boldly do it
through their example.

8. After this they begin to play with little sins openly.

9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as they are.
Thus, being launched again into the gulf of misery, unless a miracle
of grace prevent it, they everlastingly perish in their own deceivings.
Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the Pilgrims were got over
the Enchanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah, whose air was
very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through it,
they solaced themselves there for a season. Yea, here they heard
continually the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear on the
earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land.
[Isa. 62:4, Song of Solomon 2:10-12] In this country
the sun shineth night and day; wherefore this was beyond
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach
of Giant Despair, neither could they from this place so much as see
Doubting Castle. <Angels> Here they were within sight of the city
they were going to, also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in
this land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because it was
upon the borders of heaven. In this land also, the contract between
the bride and the bridegroom was renewed; yea, here, "As the bridegroom
rejoiceth over the bride, so did their God rejoice over them."
[Isa. 62:5] Here they had no want of corn and wine; for in this place they met
with abundance of what they had sought for in all
their pilgrimage. [Isa. 62:8] Here they heard voices from
out of the city, loud voices, saying, "`Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold,
thy salvation cometh! Behold, his reward is with him!'
Here all the inhabitants of the country called them, `The holy people, The
redeemed of the Lord, Sought out'", etc. [Isa. 62:11,12]

Now as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts more
remote from the kingdom to which they were bound; and drawing near to the city,
they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded of pearls and precious
stones, also the street thereof was paved
with gold; so that by reason of the natural glory of the city,
and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire
fell sick; Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease.
Wherefore, here they lay by it a while, crying out, because of
their pangs, If ye find my beloved, tell him that I am sick of love.

But, being a little strengthened, and better able to bear
their sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet nearer
and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and gardens,
and their gates opened into the highway. Now, as they came up
to these places, behold the gardener stood in the way,
to whom the Pilgrims said, Whose goodly vineyards and gardens are these? He
answered, They are the King's, and are planted here
for his own delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims.
So the gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them
refresh themselves with the dainties. [Deut. 23:24]
He also showed them there the King's walks, and the arbours where
he delighted to be; and here they tarried and slept.

Now I beheld in my dream that they talked more in their sleep
at this time than ever they did in all their journey;
and being in a muse thereabout, the gardener said even to me,
Wherefore musest thou at the matter? It is the nature of the fruit
of the grapes of these vineyards to go down so sweetly
as to cause the lips of them that are asleep to speak.

So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves to go up
to the city; but, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the city
(for the city was pure gold) was so extremely glorious
that they could not, as yet, with open face behold it, but through
an instrument made for that purpose. So I saw, that as I went on,
there met them two men, in raiment that shone like gold;
lso their faces shone as the light. [Rev. 21:18, 2 Cor. 3:18]

These men asked the Pilgrims whence they came; and they told them.
They also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties
and dangers, what comforts and pleasures they had met in the way;
and they told them. Then said the men that met them, You have
but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the city.
Christian then, and his companion, asked the men to go along with them; so they
told them they would. But, said they, you must obtain it
by your own faith. So I saw in my dream that they went on together,
until they came in sight of the gate.

Now, I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate was a river,
but there was no bridge to go over: the river was very deep.
At the sight, therefore, of this river, the Pilgrims were much stunned; but the
men that went in with them said, You must go through,
or you cannot come at the gate.

<Death is not welcome to nature, though by it we pass out of this world into
The Pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way
to the gate; to which they answered, Yes; but there hath not any,
save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path since the
foundation of the world, nor shall, until the last trumpet
shall sound. [1 Cor. 15:51,52] The Pilgrims then,
especially Christian, began to despond in their minds,
and looked this way and that, but no way could be found by them
by which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men
if the waters were all of a depth. <Angels help us not comfortably
through death> They said: No; yet they could not help them
in that case; for, said they, you shall find it deeper or shallower
as you believe in the King of the place.

*In the Resurrection of the Righteous. [Rev. 20:4-6]

They then addressed themselves to the water and, entering,
Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful,
he said, I sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head,
all his waves go over me! Selah.

<Christian's conflict at the hour of death>
Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother, I feel the bottom, and it is
good. Then said Christian, Ah! my friend,
the sorrows of death hath compassed me about; I shall not see the land that
flows with milk and honey; and with that a great darkness
and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him.
Also here he in great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither
remember nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments
that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he
spake still tended to discover that he had horror of mind,
and heart fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain
entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was
much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that he
had committed, both since and before he began to be a pilgrim.
It was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions
of hobgoblins and evil spirits, for ever and anon he would
intimate so much by words. Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado
to keep his brother's head above water; yea, sometimes he would be
quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he would rise up again
half dead. Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort him, saying,
Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive us:
but Christian would answer, It is you, it is you they wait for;
you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you. And so have you,
said he to Christian. Ah! brother! said he, surely if I was right
he would now arise to help me; but for my sins he hath brought me
into the snare, and hath left me. Then said Hopeful, My brother,
you have quite forgot the text, where it is said of the wicked,
"There are no bands in their death, but their strength is firm.
They are not in trouble as other men, neither are they plagued
like other men. [Ps. 73:4,5] These troubles and distresses that you go through
in these waters are no sign that God hath forsaken you;
but are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which
heretofore you have received of his goodness, and live upon him
in your distresses.

<Christian delivered from his fears in death>
Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was as in a muse a while.
To whom also Hopeful added this word, Be of good cheer,
Jesus Christ maketh thee whole; and with that Christian brake out
with a loud voice, Oh, I see him again! and he tells me,
"When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee,
and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." [Isa. 43:2]
Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as still
as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian therefore
presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that
the rest of the river was but shallow. Thus they got over.
<The angels do wait for them, so soon as they are passed out
of this world> Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side,
they saw the two shining men again, who there waited for them;
wherefore, being come out of the river, they saluted them, saying,
We are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for those that
shall be heirs of salvation. Thus they went along towards the gate.

<They have put off mortality> Now you must note that the city stood
upon a mighty hill, but the Pilgrims went up that hill with ease,
because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms;
also, they had left their mortal garments behind them in the river,
for though they went in with them, they came out without them.
They, therefore, went up here with much agility and speed,
though the foundation upon which the city was framed was higher than
the clouds. They therefore went up through the regions of the air,
sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely
got over the river, and had such glorious companions to attend them.

Now, now, look how the holy pilgrims ride,
Clouds are their chariots, angels are their guide:
Who would not here for him all hazards run,
That thus provides for his when this world's done?

The talk they had with the Shining Ones was about the glory
of the place; who told them that the beauty and glory of it
was inexpressible. There, said they, is the Mount Zion,
the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels,
and the spirits of just men made perfect. [Heb. 12:22-24]
You are going now, said they, to the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the
tree of life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof;
and when you come there, you shall have white robes given you,
and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King,
even all the days of eternity. [Rev. 2:7, 3:4, 21:4,5]
There you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower
region upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death, for the
former things are passed away. You are now going
to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the prophets--men that God
hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now resting
upon their beds, each one walking in his righteousness. [Isa. 57:1,2, 65:17]
The men then asked, What must we do in the holy place?
To whom it was answered, You must there receive the comforts
of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow; you must reap
what you have sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears,
and sufferings for the King by the way. [Gal. 6:7] In that place
you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the
Holy One, for there you shall see him as he is. [1 John 3:2]
There also you shall serve him continually with praise, with shouting, and
thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the world,
though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of your flesh.
There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with
hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall
enjoy your friends again that are gone thither before you;
and there you shall with joy receive, even every one that follows
into the holy place after you. There also shall you be clothed
with glory and majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out
with the King of Glory. When he shall come with sound of trumpet
in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you shall come with him; and when
he shall sit upon the throne of judgment; you shall sit by him; yea, and when he
shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be angels or men,
you also shall have a voice in that judgment, because they were his and your
enemies. [1 Thes. 4:13-16, Jude 1:14, Dan. 7:9,10, 1 Cor. 6:2,3] Also, when he
shall again return to
the city, you shall go too, with sound of trumpet, and be ever with him.
Now while they were thus drawing towards the gate, behold a company
of the heavenly host came out to meet them; to whom it was said,
by the other two Shining Ones, These are the men that have
loved our Lord when they were in the world, and that have left all
for his holy name; and he hath sent us to fetch them, and we have
brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in
and look their Redeemer in the face with joy. Then the heavenly host gave a
great shout, saying, "Blessed are they which are called unto
the marriage supper of the Lamb." [Rev. 19:9] There came out also
at this time to meet them, several of the King's trumpeters,
clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious noises,
and loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound.
These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand
welcomes from the world; and this they did with shouting,
and sound of trumpet.

This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some
behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left,
(as it were to guard them through the upper regions),
continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise,
in notes on high: so that the very sight was, to them that could
behold it, as if heaven itself was come down to meet them. Thus,
therefore, they walked on together; and as they walked,
ever and anon these trumpeters, even with joyful sound,
would, by mixing their music with looks and gestures,
still signify to Christian and his brother, how welcome they were
into their company, and with what gladness they came to meet them;
and now were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came
at it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing
of their melodious notes. Here also they had the city itself in view, and they
thought they heard all the bells therein to ring,
to welcome them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they
had about their own dwelling there, with such company,
and that for ever and ever. Oh, by what tongue or pen can
their glorious joy be expressed! And thus they came up to the gate.

Now, when they were come up to the gate, there was written over
it in letters of gold, "Blessed are they that do his commandments,
that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in
through the gates into the city." [Rev. 22:14]

Then I saw in my dream that the Shining Men bid them call at the gate; the
which, when they did, some looked from above over the gate, to wit, Enoch,
Moses, and Elijah, &c., to whom it was said, These pilgrims
are come from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear
to the King of this place; and then the Pilgrims gave in unto them
each man his certificate, which they had received in the beginning;
those, therefore, were carried in to the King, who, when he had
read them, said, Where are the men? To whom it was answered,
They are standing without the gate. The King then commanded
to open the gate, "That the righteous nation," said he,
"which keepeth the truth, may enter in." [Isa. 26:2]

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate: and lo, as they
entered, they were transfigured, and they had raiment put on
that shone like gold. There was also that met them with
harps and crowns, and gave them to them--the harps to praise withal,
and the crowns in token of honour. Then I heard in my dream
that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that
it was said unto them, "ENTER YE INTO THE JOY OF YOUR LORD."
I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice,
[Rev. 5:13]

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men,
I looked in after them, and, behold, the City shone like the sun;
the streets also were paved with gold, and in them walked many men,
with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps
to sing praises withal.

There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without
intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord."
[Rev. 4:8] And after that they shut up the gates; which,
when I had seen, I wished myself among them.

<Ignorance comes up to the river>
Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head
to look back, and saw Ignorance come up to the river side;
but he soon got over, and that without half that difficulty which
the other two men met with. <Vain-hope does ferry him over>
For it happened that there was then in that place, one Vain-hope,
a ferryman, that with his boat helped him over; so he,
as the other I saw, did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate,
only he came alone; neither did any man meet him with
the least encouragement. When he was come up to the gate,
he looked up to the writing that was above, and then began to knock,
supposing that entrance should have been quickly administered to him; but he was
asked by the men that looked over the top of the gate,
Whence came you, and what would you have? He answered,
I have eat and drank in the presence of the King, and he has taught
in our streets. Then they asked him for his certificate,
that they might go in and show it to the King; so he fumbled
in his bosom for one, and found none. Then said they, Have you none? But the
man answered never a word. So they told the King,
but he would not come down to see him, but commanded
the two Shining Ones that conducted Christian and Hopeful to the City, to go out
and take Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot,
and have him away. Then they took him up, and carried him
through the air to the door that I saw in the side of the hill,
and put him in there. Then I saw that there was a way to hell,
even from the gates of heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction. So I
awoke, and behold it was a dream.


The Conclusion.

Now, Reader, I have told my dream to thee;
See if thou canst interpret it to me,
Or to thyself, or neighbour; but take heed
Of misinterpreting; for that, instead
Of doing good, will but thyself abuse:
By misinterpreting, evil ensues.

Take heed, also, that thou be not extreme,
In playing with the outside of my dream:
Nor let my figure or similitude
Put thee into a laughter or a feud.
Leave this for boys and fools; but as for thee,
Do thou the substance of my matter see.

Put by the curtains, look within my veil,
Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail,
There, if thou seekest them, such things to find,
As will be helpful to an honest mind.

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold
To throw away, but yet preserve the gold;
What if my gold be wrapped up in ore?--
None throws away the apple for the core.
But if thou shalt cast all away as vain,
I know not but 'twill make me dream again.



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