thc15
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Vol 15: The Classics
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
BY JOHN BUNYAN
THE LIVES OF JOHN DONNE
AND GEORGE HERBERT
BY IZAAK WALTON
WITH INTRODUCTIONS AND NOTES
VOLUME 15
P F COLLIER Gf SON
NEW YORK
Copyright, 1909
By P. F. Collier & Son
Designed, Printed, and Bound at
3rrje Collier Press, .Ifkto gork
CONTENTS
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
THE FIRST PART
PAGE
The Author's Apology 5
The Pilgrim's Progress, in the Similitude of a Dream 13
The Conclusion 168
THE SECOND PART
The Author's Apology 171
The Pilgrim's Progress, in the Similitude of a Dream 179
The Author's Vindication of his Pilgrim, Found at
the End of his Holy War 323
THE LIFE OF DR. DONNE 327
THE LIFE OF MR. GEORGE HERBERT 377
HC XV — I
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
John Bunyan was born at Elstow, Bedfordshire, England, in
November, 1628. His father was a maker and mender of pots
and kettles, and the son followed the same trade. Though he is
usually called a tinker, Bunyan had a settled home and place of
business. He had little schooling, and he describes his early sur-
roundings as poor and mean. When he was not yet sixteen his
mother died; in two months his father married again; and the
son enlisted as a soldier in the Civil War in November, 1644,
though whether on the Parliamentary or Royalist side is not
certain. The armies were disbanded in 1646, and about two years
later Bunyan married a wife whose piety redeemed him from his
delight in rural sport and the habit of profane swearing. He be-
came much interested in religion, but it was only after a tre-
mendous spiritual conflict, lasting three or four years, that he
found peace. His struggles are related with extraordinary vivid-
ness and intensity in his "Grace Abounding to the Chief of
Sinners." In 1655, the year in which he lost his wife, he began
to exhort, and two years later he became a regular Non-con-
formist preacher, continuing, however, to practise his trade. His
success as a preacher roused opposition among the regular clergy,
and in 1658 he was indicted at the assizes. His writing began
with a controversy against the Quakers, and shows from the first
the command of a homely but vigorous style.
With the reenactment of the laws against non-conformity at
the Restoration, Bunyan became subject to more severe persecu-
tion, and with a short intermission he was confined to prison
from 1660 till 1672. Again and again he might have been re-
leased, but he refused to promise to desist from preaching, and
there was no alternative for the justices but to keep him in con-
finement. Sometimes lax jailers permitted him to preach at
church meetings; he frequently ministered to his fellow-prisoners;
and he supported his family, now looked aper by a second wife,
by making laces. He had apparently abundant leisure, for he
wrote in prison a large number of books, the first one of im-
portance being that already mentioned, "Grace Abounding"
3
4 INTRODUCTORY NOTE
(7(566). "The Pilgrim's Progress" was also written in fail, but
probably during a later confinement of six months in 1675.
In 1672 Charles II suspended the laws against Non-conformists
and Roman Catholics, and Bunyan was released. He was called
to be minister to a Non-conformist congregation in Bedford, and
preached in the barn which served them as a church. But his
ministrations were not confined to Bedford. He made preaching
tours over a wide district, and even to London, and attracted
great crowds of listeners. Meanwhile he continued to write.
The first edition of "The Pilgrim's Progress" in 1678 was fol-
lowed by others with additions, and in 1684 by the second part.
"The Life and Death of Mr. B adman" appeared in 1680; "The
Holy War made by Shaddai upon Diabolus" in 1682. If the
works left in manuscript at his death be included, the total of
his books amounts to nearly sixty. He died in 1688, leaving a
widow and six children, and a personal estate of less than £100.
"The Pilgrim's Progress" became at once popular, and has con-
tinued to be by far the most widely read of all his works, and one
of the most universally known of English books. Though in the
form of an allegory, the narrative interest is so powerful, the
drawing of permanent types of human character is so vigorous,
and the style is so simple and direct that it takes rank as a great
work of fiction. The best sides of English Puritanism have here
their most adequate and characteristic expression, while the in-
tensity of Bunyan's religious fervor and the universality of the
spiritual problems with which he deals, raise the work to a place
among the great religious classics of the world.
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 this World my Pen and Ink
In such a mode; I only thought to make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my Neighbor; no not I;
I did it mine own self to gratifie.
Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my Scribble; nor did I intend
But to divert myself in doing thi>s
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.
5
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
For hazing now my Method by the end.
Still as I pull'd, it came ; and so I penn'd
It dozvn, 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 shezv'd them others, that I might see whether
They would condemn them, or them justifie:
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 zvas I in a straight, and did not see
Which zvas 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 gratifie,
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 til! 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 stile as this?
In such a method too, and yet not miss
Mine 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 carpet h 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
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
Her well, when hungry ; but, if she be full,
She spues out both, and makes their blessings null.
You see the ways the Fisher-man 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 grop'd for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do.
Hozv doth the Fowler seek to catch his Game
By divers means, all which one cannot name?
His Gun, 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 tliese
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 those 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 try'd.
Why, what's the matter? It is dark. What tho?
But it is feigned: What of that I tro?
Some men, by feigning words as dark as mine,
Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine.
But they want solidness. Speak man thy mind.
They drozvnd the weak; Metaphors, make us blind.
Solidity indeed becomes the Pen
Of him that writeth things Divine to men;
But mu>st I needs zvant solidness, because
By Metaphors I speak? Were not God's Laws,
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
His Gospel-Laws, in olden time held forth
By Types, Shadozcs, 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 shew 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 inclose the Gold.
The Prophets used much by Metaphors
To set forth Truth; yea, whoso considers
Christ, his Apostles too, sliall plai)ily see,
That Truths to this day in such Mantles be.
Am I afraid to say that Holy Writ,
Which for its Stile and Phrase puts down all Wit,
Is everywhere so full of all these thi)igs,
Dark Figures, Allegories? Yet there springs
From that same Book that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turns 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 liis best things there are worse lines too.
May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor One I dare adventure Ten,
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in Silver Shrines.
Come, Truth, although in Swaddling-clouts, I find,
Informs the Judgment, rectifies the Mind,
Pleases the Understanding, makes the Will
Submit; the Memory too it doth fill
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
With what doth our Imagination please;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.
Sound words I know Timothy is to use,
And old Wives' Fables he is to refuse;
But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid
The use of Parables; in which lay hid
That Gold, those Pearls, and precious stones that 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.
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 excellcntest 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 Plow,
To guide our- Mind and Pens for his Design?
And he makes base things usher jn^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
10 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
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 Price;
It shews you whence he comes, whither he goes,
What he leaves undone, also what he does;
It also shews you how he runs and runs,
Till he unto the Gate of. Glory comes.
It shews 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 Burrs,
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.
Would'st thou divert thyself from Melancholy?
Would'st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly?
Would'st thou read Riddles, and their Explanation?
Or else be drowned in thy Contemplation?
Dost thou love picking meat? Or would'st thou see
A man i' th' Clouds, and hear him speak to thee?
Would'st thou be in a Dream, and yet not sleep?
Or would'st thou in a moment laugh and weep?
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 11
Wouldest thou lose thyself, and catch no harm,
And find thyself again without a charm?
Would'st read thyself, and read thou knozv'st not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not,
By reading the same lines? O then come hither,
And lay my Book, thy Head, and Heart together.
JOHN BUN Y AN.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM.
AS I walk'd through the wilderness of this world,
l\ I lighted on a certain place where was a Den, The Jail
-A--A- 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 cloathed with Rags, standing
in a certain place, with his face from his own
house, a Book in his hand, and a great Burden
upon his back. I looked, and saw him open the
Book, and read therein; and as he read, he wept
and trembled ; and not being able longer to contain,
he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying What His outcry
shall I do?
In this plight therefore he went home, and re-
frained himself as long as he could, that his Wife
and Children should not perceive his distress, but
he could not be silent long, because that his trouble
increased: Wherefore at length he brake his mind
to his Wife and Children ; and thus he began to talk
to +hem : O my dear Wife, said he, and you the Chil-
dren of my bozvels, 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 This world
our City will be burned with fire from Heaven; in
which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee my
Wife, and you my .sweet Babes, shall miserably come
to mine, except {the which yet I see noj) some zvay
of escape can be found, zvhcreby we may be deliv- He knows
ered. At this his Relations were sore amazed ; not "° c ™ p a e y of
for that they believed that what he had said to them as yet
was true, but because they thought that some frenzy
13
14 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
distemper had got into his head ; therefore, it draw-
ing 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
Carnal began to be hardened: they also thought to drive
ph ickV u"l awa y n ' s 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 con-
dole his own misery ; he would also walk solitarily
in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes pray-
ing : 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, com-
ing to him, and asked, Wherefore dost thou cry?
He answered. Sir, I perceive by the Book in my
hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to
come to Judgment, and I find that I am not willing
to do the first, nor able to do the second.
Christian no sooner leaves the World but meets
Evangelist, who lovingly him greets
With tidings of another : and doth shew
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 that
is upon my back will sink me lower than the Grave,
and I shall fall into Tophct. And, Sir, if I be not
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS IS
fit to go to Prison, I am not fit to go to Judgment,
and from thence to Execution ; and the thoughts of
these things make me cry.
Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why Conviction
standest thou still? He answered, Because I know "^J^
not whither to go. Then he gave him a Parchment- f flying
roll, and there was written within, Fly from the
wrath to come.
The Man therefore read it, and looking upon
Evangelist very carefully, said, Whither must I fly?
Then said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over
a very wide field, Do you see yonder Wicket-gate? Christ and
The Man said, No. Then said the other, Do you see him ca * not
yonder shining Light? He said. I think I do. Then be found
said Evangelist, Keep that Light in your eye, and go ™*° d u e
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. Jheydiat
Now he had not run far from his own door, but the wrath
his Wife and Children, perceiving it, began to cry to come,
after him to return; but the Man put his fingers in ^. s a t ^ t0
his ears, and ran on, crying, Life! Life! Eternal the world
Life ! So he looked not behind him, but fled towards
the middle of the Plain.
The Neighbors also came out to see him run ; and
as he ran, some mocked, others threatened, and some
cried after him to return ; and among those that did
so, there were two that resolved to fetch him back by
force. The name of the one was Obstinate, and the O^tmat^
name of the other Pliable. Now by this time the £" Uow 1 hin f
Man was got a good distance from them ; but how-
ever they were resolved to pursue him, which they
did, and in a little time they overtook him. Then
said the Man, Neighbors, wherefore are you 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
16 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
place that burns with Fire and Brimstone: be con-
tent, good Neighbors, 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 that I am
seeking to enjoy; and if you will go along with me
and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there
where I go, is enough and to spare: Come away,
and prove my words.
Obst. What are the things you seek, since you
leave all the world to find them?
Chr. I seek an Inheritance incorruptible, unde-
nted, and that fadeth not away, and it is laid up
in Heaven, and safe there, to be bestowed at the time
appointed, on them that diligently seek it. Read
it so, if you will, in my Book.
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 Plow.
Obst. Come then, Neighbor Pliable, let us turn
again, and go home without him; there is a com-
pany of these craz'd-headed coxcombs, that,
when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser
in their own eyes than seven men that can render
a reason.
Pli. Then said Pliable, Don't revile; if what the
good Christian says is true, the things he looks
after are better than ours ; my heart inclines to go
with my Neighbor.
Obst. What! more fools still? Be ruled by me,
and go back; who knows whither such a brain-sick
fellow will lead you? Go back, go back, and be
wise.
Christian Chr. Come with me, Neighbor Pliable; there are
n"f °uii l " sucn ^'"S 8 to De na d which I spoke of, and many
for Pli- more Glories besides. If you believe not me, read
able'ssoul j^^ j n t hj s Book ; and for the truth of what is
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 17
exprest therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood
of Him that made it.
Pli. Well, Neighbor Obstinate, said Pliable, I Pliable
begin to come to a point: I intend to go along with t° nt e ^ t ^
this good man, and to cast in my lot with him : but, Christian
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 Neighbor, let us be going.
Then they went both together.
Obst. And I will go back to my place, said Ob- Obstinate
stinate; I will be no companion of such mis-led, fan- f°g S h ™£~
tastical fellows.
Now I saw in my Dream, that when Obstinate Talk
was gone back, Christian and Pliable went talk- J^tween
, ' . , , , . Christian
ing over the Plain ; and thus they began their and
discourse. Pliable
Chr. Come Neighbor Pliable, how do you do?
I am glad you are persuaded to go along with me:
Had even Obstinate himself but felt what I have
felt of the powers and terrors of what is yet un-
seen, he would not thus lightly have given us the
back.
Pli. Come, Neighbor Christian, since there are
none but us two here, tell me now further what
the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we
are going?
Chr. I can better conceive of them with my Mind, God's
than speak of them with my Tongue : but yet, since !p e ak a bie"
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 lye.
Pli. Well said; what things are they?
Chr. There is an endless Kingdom to be inhabited,
18 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
and everlasting Life to be given us, that we may
inhabit that Kingdom for ever.
Pli. Well said ; and what else ?
Chr. There are Crowns of glory to be given us,
and Garments that will make us shine like the Sun
in the firmament of Heaven.
Pli. This is excellent; 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.
Pli. And what company shall we have there?
Chr. There we shall be with Seraphims and
Cherubins, creatures that will dazzle your eyes to
look on them : There also you shall meet with thou-
sands 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. In a word, there we shall see the Elders with
their golden Crowns, there we shall see the Holy
Virgins with their golden Harps, there we shall
see men that by the World were cut in pieces, burnt
in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas, for the
love that they bare to the Lord of the place, all well,
and cloathed with Immortality as with a garment.
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 hereof?
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 upon my back.
Now I saw in my Dream, that just as they had
ended this talk, they drew near to a very miry
Slough, that was in the midst of the plain and they,
being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 19
The name of the slough was Dispond. Here there- TheSiough
fore they wallowed for a time, being grievously of Dls P° nd
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 Neighbor Christian,
where are you now?
Chr. Truly, said Christian, I do not know.
Pli. At that Pliable began to be offended, and it is not
angerly said to his fellow, Is this the happiness you u nou ,? h h |
have told me all this while of? If we have such ill
speed at our first setting out, what may we expect
'twixt this and our Journey's end? May I get out
again with my life, you shall possess the brave
Country alone for me. And with that he gave a
desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire
on that side of the Slough which was next to his
own house : so away he went, and Christian saw
him no more.
Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the christian
Slough of Dispond alone; but still he endeavoured in trouble
to struggle to that side of the Slough that was still to get fur-
further from his own house, and next to the ther from
Wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get Jjjj,™ 11
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.
Help. But why did you not look for the steps ? The Drom .
Chr. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the ises.
next way, and fell- in.
Help. Then said he, Give me thy, hand: so he Help lifts
gave him his hand, and he drew him out, and set him up
him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way.
Then I stepped to him that pluckt him out, and
said, Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way
20
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
What
makes the
Slough of
Dispond
The prom-
ises of for-
giveness
and accept-
ance to life
by faith
in Christ
riiable got
home, and
is visited
of his
neighbors
from the City of Destruction to yonder Gate, is
it that this plat is not mended, that poor travellers
might go thither with more security? And he said
unto me, This miry Slough is such a place as cannot
be mended; it is the descent whither the scum and
filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually
run, and therefore it is called the Slough of Dis-
pond; 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. His labourers also have, by
the direction of His Majesties Surveyors, been for
above these sixteen hundred years imployed about
this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been
mended: yea, and to my knowledge, said he, here
hath 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 Dispond still, and so will be
when they have done what they can.
True, there are by the direction of the Lawgiver,
certain good and substantial steps, placed even
through the very midst of this Slough ; but at such
time as this place doth much spue out its filth, as
it doth against change of weather, these steps are
hardly seen; or if they be, men through the dizzi-
ness of their heads, step besides ; and then they are
bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be
there ; but the ground is good when they are once
got in at the Gate.
Now I saw in my Dream, that by this time Pliable
was got home to his house again. So his Neighbors
came to visit him: and some of them called him
wise man for coming back, and some called him
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 21
fool for hazarding himself with Christian: others His enter-
again did mock at his cowardliness ; saying, Surely j, 31 "™/^
since you began to venture, I would not have his return
been so base to have given out for a few difficulties.
So Pliable sat sneaking among them. But at
last he got more confidence, and then they all
turned their tales, and began to deride poor
Christian behind his back. And thus much con-
cerning Pliable.
Now as Christian was walking solitary by him-
self, 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 Mr
Wiseman : he dwelt in the Town of Carnal Policy, wuemfn
a very great Town, and also hard by from whence meets with
Christian came. This man then meeting with Christian
Christian, and having some inkling of him, — for
Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruc-
tion was much noised abroad, not only in the Town
where he dwelt, but also it began to be the town- Talk be-
talk in some other places, — Master Worldly Wise- Worldly'
man therefore, having some guess of him, by be- Wiseman
holding his laborious going, by observing his sighs christian
and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into
some talk with Christian.
World. How now, good fellow, whither away
after this burdened manner?
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 yon-
der Wicket-gate before me; for there, as I am in-
formed, 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 for-
merly ; methinks I am as if I had none.
World. Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee
counsel ?
22 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Chr. If it be good, I will; for I stand in need
of good counsel.
Mr World. I would advise thee then, that thou with
Wkanu'a a11 s P eed S et th y self rid of th y Burden ; for thou
counsel to wilt never be settled in thy mind till then ; nor
Christian canst t hou en j ov 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 honorable person ; his name as I remem-
ber is Evangelist.
vr r ui World. I beshrew him for his counsel ; there is
Worldly '
Wiseman not a more dangerous and troublesome way in the
condemned wor ld than is that unto which he hath directed thee;
ist's and that thou shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his
counsel counsel. Thou hast met with something (as I
perceive) already; for I see the dirt of the Slough
of Dispond 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 tes-
timonies. And why should a man so carelessly
cast away himself, by giving heed to a stranger?
The frame Chr. Why, Sir, this Burden upon my back is
heart of a more terrible to me than are all these things which
young you have mentioned ; nay, methinks I care not what
ns ian j m eet with in the way, so be I can also meet with
deliverance from my Burden.
World. How earnest thou by thy Burden at first?
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 23
Chr. By reading this Book in my hand.
World. I thought so ; and it is happened unto Worldly
thee as to other weak men, who meddling with Wiseman
things too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy ni^tha?
distractions ; which distractions do not only unman men should
men (as thine I perceive has done thee), but they I 56 se "? us
v r -" J in reading
run them upon desperate ventures, to obtain they the Bible
know not what.
Chr. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease for
my heavy burden.
World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this Whether
way, seeing so many dangers attend it? Especially, ^ r
since (hadst thou but patience to hear me) I could Wiseman
direct thee to the obtaining of what thou desirest, prefers
without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run beL-Tre the
thyself into ; yea, and the remedy is at hand. Be- strait gate
sides, 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 shoul-
ders : yea, to my knowledge he hath done a great
deal of good this way; ay, and besides, he hath skill
to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their
wits with their burdens. To him, 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 reason-
24 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
able 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 Neigh-
bors, in credit and good fashion,
siwred^ ^ 0W was Christian somewhat at a stand, but
by Mr presently he concluded, If this be true which this
Wiseman' Gentleman hatn sai l, m y wisest course is to take
words his advice ; and with that he thus farther spoke.
Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's
house?
Monnt World. Do you see yonder high Hill ?
Chr. Yes, very well.
World. By that Hill you must go, and the first
house you come at is his.
So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr
Legality's house for help; but 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
Christian hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to
afraid that ° . , . , TT ... , , , . ,,
Mount venture further, lest the Hill should fall on his
Sinai head; wherefore there he stood still, and he wot
on his head not what to do. Also his Burden now seemed
heavier to him than while he was in his way. There
came also flashes of fire out of the Hill, that made
Christian afraid that he should be burned. Here
therefore he sweat and did quake for fear.
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 Wo.
fi V d n h eHst ^ nc ^ n0w ^ e began to be sorry that he had taken
Christian Mr Worldly Wiseman's counsel. And with that he
under saw Evangelist coming to meet him; at the sight also
Sinai, and of whom he began to blush for shame. So Evangc-
looketh ii s t drew nearer and nearer; and coming up to him,
upemhim he looked upon him with a severe and dreadful
countenance, and thus began to reason with
Christian.
Evan. What doest thou here, Christian? said
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 25
he : at which words Christian knew not what to Evangelist
answer ; wherefore at present he stood speechless Teaso " s
before him. Then said Evangelist farther, Art not with
thou the man that I found crying without the walls Chris t> an
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 Dispond, who persuaded me
that I might, in the village before me, find a man
that could 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. W T hat 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 Bur-
den ; and I told him 'twas ease that I sought. And,
said I, I am therefore going to yonder Gate, to re-
ceive 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; 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,
26 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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.
Evan. Then, said Evangelist, stand still a little,
that I may shew thee the words of God. So he stood
trembling. Then said Evangelist, See that ye re-
fuse not him that speaketh; for if they escaped not
who refused him that spake on Earth, much more
shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that
speaketh from Heaven. He said moreover, Now
the just shall live by faith : but if any man draws
back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him. 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.
Evangelist Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead,
Christian crying, Wo is me, for I am undone: At the sight of
ofhiserrer which, Evangelist caught him by the right hand,
saying, All manner of sin and blasphemies shall be
forgiven unto men; be not faithless, but believing.
Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood
up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist.
Mr Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more
Wiseman earnest heed to the things that I shall tell thee of.
described I w ill now shew thee who it was that deluded thee,
geiist^"" 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, (therefore he al-
ways goes to the Town of Morality to church) ; and
Evangelist partly because he loveth that doctrine best, for it
thedeceft saveth him from the Cross. And because he is
of Mr of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pre-
Wiseman vent m y wa y s > though right. Now there are three
things in this man's counsel that thou must utterly
abhor.
I. His turning thee out of the way.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 27
2. His labouring to render the Cross odious to
thee.
3. And his setting thy feet in that way that
leadeth unto the administration of Death.
First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of
the way; yea, and thine own consenting thereto,
because this is to reject the counsel of God for the
sake of the counsel of a Worldly Wiseman. The
Lord says, Strive to enter in at the strait gate, the
gate to which I sent thee; for strait is the gate that
leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.
From this little Wicket-gate, and from the way
thereto, hath this wicked man turned thee, to the
bringing of thee almost to destruction; hate there-
fore his turning thee out of the way, and abhor
thyself for hearkening to him.
Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to
render the Cross odious unto thee; for thou art to
prefer it before the treasures of Egypt. Besides, the
King of Glory hath told thee, that he that will save
his life shall lose it: and He that comes after him,
and hates not his father, and mother, and wife, and
children, and brethren, and sisters, yea and his own
life also, he cannot be my Disciple. I say therefore,
for a 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 de-
liver thee from thy Burden.
He to whom thou was sent for ease, being by
name Legality, is • the Son of the Bond-woman The bond-
which now is, and is in bondage with har children; woman
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
28 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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
a cheat; and for his son Civility, notwithstanding
his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite and can-
not help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all
this noise, that thou hast heard of this sottish man,
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. The words were thus pro-
nounced, As many as are the works of the Lazv are
under the curse; for it is written, Cursed is every
one that continucth not in all things which are
written in the Book of the Law to do them.
Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and
began to cry out lamentably, even cursing the
time in which he met with Mr Worldly Wiseman,
still calling 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 that 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 follows.
Christian Chr. Sir, what think you? Is there hopes? May
inquires if j now g b ac k an( j g Q up to t h e Wicket-gate ? Shall
be happy 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 Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is
comforts yer y g Te2L t f f or 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 29
receive thee, for he has good-will for men; only,
said he, take heed that thou turn not aside again,
lest thou perish from the way, when his wrath is
kindled but a little. 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 man asked
him, would he vouchsafe them an answer. He went
like one that was all the while treading on forbid-
den 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.
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-nill, who asked Who was there? and
whence he came? and what he would have?
Chr. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come
from the City of Destruction, but am going to
Mount Zion, that I may be delivered from the
wrath to come. I would therefore, Sir, since I am The gate
informed that by this Gate is the way thither, know wiU bt l
• t- .,,. . * » w ' opened to
it you are willing to let me in. broken-
Good-will. I am willing with all my heart, said hearted
he ; and with that he opened the Gate.
So when Christian was stepping in, the other
30
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Satan
envies
those that
enter the
strait gate
Christian
entered the
gate with
joy and
trembling
Talk
between
Good-will
and
Christian
A man may
have com-
pany w hen
he sets out
for heaven,
and yet go
thither
alone
gave him a pull. Then said Christian, What means
that? The other told him, A little distance from
this Gate, there is erected a strong Castle, of
which Beelzebub is the Captain ; from thence both
he and they that are with him shoot arrows at
those that come up to this Gate, if haply they
may die before they can enter in. Then said Chris-
tian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was got in,
the man of the Gate asked him who directed him
thither ?
Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock
(as I did) ; and he said that you. Sir, would tell
me what I must do.
Good-will. An open door is set before thee, and
no man can shut it.
Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my
hazards.
Good-will. But how is it that you came alone?
Chr. Because none of my Neighbors 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 Neighbors stood crying and calling after me
to return; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so
came on my way.
Good-will. But did none of them follow you, to
persuade you to go back?
Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable; but when
they saw that they could not prevail, Obstinate
went railing back, but Pliable came with me a little
way.
Good-will. But why did he not come through?
Chr. We indeed came both together, until we
came to the Slough of Dispond, into the which we
also suddenly fell. And then was my Neighbor
Pliable discouraged, and would not adventure fur-
ther. Wherefore getting out again on that side
next to his own house, he told me I should possess
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 31
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 ccelestial glory of so small esteem with him,
that he counteth it not worth running the hazards
of a few difficulties to obtain it?
Chr. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth Christian
of Pliable, and if I should also say all the truth ^f
of myself, it will appear there is no betterment before the
'twixt him and myself. 'Tis true, he went back to ™ n ^
his own house, but I also turned aside to go in
the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the
carnal arguments of one Mr Worldly Wiseman.
Good-will. O, did he light upon you ? What ! he
would have had you a sought for ease at the hands
of Mr. Legality. They are both of them a very
cheat: But did you take his counsel?
Chr. Yes, as far as I durst: I went to find out
Mr Legality, until I thought that the Mountain
that stands by his house would have fallen upon
my head; wherefore there I was forced to stop.
Good-will. That Mountain has been the death
of many, and will be the death of many more;
'tis well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.
Chr. Why truly I do not know what had be-
come of me there, had not Evangelist happily
met me again, as I was musing in the midst of
my dumps : but 'twas God's mercy that he came
to me again, for else I had never come hither.
But now I am come, such a one as I am, more
fit indeed for death by that Mountain than thus
to stand talking with my Lord ; but O, what a
favour is this to me, that yet I am admitted en-
trance here.
Good-will. We make no objections, against any, Christian
notwithstanding all that they have done before "^'^
they come hither, they in no wise are cast out;
and therefore, good Christian, come a little way
with me, and I will teach thee about the way
32
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christian
directed
yet on
his way
Christian
afraid of
losing
his way
Christian
weary of
his burden
There is
no deliv-
erance
from the
guilt and
burden of
sin, but by
the death
and blood
of Christ
Christian
comes to
the house
of the
Interpreter
thou must go. Look before thee; dost thou see
this narrow way? THAT is the way thou must
go; it was cast up by the Patriarchs, Prophets,
Christ, and his Apostles; and it is as straight as a
rule can make it: This is the way thou must go.
Chr. But said Christian, Is there no turnings
nor windings, by which a Stranger may lose the
way?
Good-will. Yes, there are many ways butt down
upon this, and they are crooked and wide : But
thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the
wrong, the right only being straight and narrow.
Then I saw in my Dream, that Christian asked
him further If he could not help him off with
his Burden that was upon his back; for as yet
he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any
means get it off without help.
He told him, As to thy Burden, be content to
bear it, until thou comest to the place of Deliver-
ance; for there it will fall from thy back itself.
Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and
to address himself to his Journey. So the other
told him, That by that he was gone some distance
from the Gate, he would come at the house of
the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock,
and he would shew him excellent things. Then
Christian took his leave of his Friend, and he again
bid him God speed.
Then he went on till he came at the house of
the Interpreter, where he knocked over and over;
at last one came to the door, and asked Who
was there?
Chr. Sir, here is a 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?
Chr. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am
hc xv — I
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 33
come from the City of Destruction, and am going He is en-
to the Mount Zion; and I was told by the Man tertain ed
that stands at the Gate at the head of this way,
that if I called here, you would shew me excellent
things, such as would be a help to me in my
Journey.
Inter. Then said the Interpreter, Come in, I Illumina-
will shew thee that which will be profitable to thee. tl0n
So he commanded his man to light the Candle, and
bid Christian follow him, so he had him into a
private room, and bid his man open a door; the
which when he had done, Christian saw the Picture christian
of a very grave Person hang up against the wall ; sees a
and this was the fashion of it. It had eyes lifted pj^ufre
up to Heaven, the best of Books in his hand,
the Law of Truth was written upon his lips, the The
World was behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded fa . shi o n
with men, and a Crown of Gold did hang over picture
his head.
Chr. Then said Christian, What means this?
Inter. The Man whose Picture this is, is one of
a thousand; he can beget children, travel in birth
with children, and nurse them himself when they
are born. And whereas thou seest him with 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
shew thee that his work is to know and unfold The
dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him mea /" n 8
stand as if he pleaded with men ; and whereas thou picture
seest the World as cast behind him, and that a
Crown hangs over his head, that is to shew thee
that slighting and despising the things that are
present, for the love that he hath to his Master's
service, he is sure in the world that comes next
to have Glory for his reward. Now, said the Inter-
preter, I have shewed thee this Picture 'first, be- Why he
cause the Man whose Picture this is, is the only showed
1 1 T 1 r i , , . . , " lm tut
man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art picture
going, hath authorized to be thy guide in all dif- first
ficult places thou mayest meet with in the way;
hc xv — 2
34 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
wherefore take good heed to what I have shewed
thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast
seen, lest in thy Journey thou meet with some
that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes
down to death.
Then he took him by the hand, and led him into
a very large Parlour that was full of dust, because
never swept ; the which after he had reviewed a little
while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep.
Now when he began to sweep, the dust began
so abundantly to fly about, that Christian had
almost therewith been choaked. Then said the In-
terpreter 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 Origi-
nal 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 saw-
est that so soon as the first began to sweep, the
dust did so fly about that the Room by him could not
be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choaked there-
with; 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.
Again, as thou sawest the Damsel sprinkle the
room with Water, upon which it was cleansed
with pleasure; this is to shew thee, that when the
Gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences
thereof to the heart, then I say, even as thou
sawest the Damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the
floor with Water, so is sin vanquished and sub-
dued, and the soul made clean, through the faith
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 35
of it, and consequently fit for the King of Glory
to inhabit.
I saw moreover in my Dream, that the Inter- He showed
prefer took him by the hand, and had him into a h . im Pa ^'
' , J ' sion and
little room, where sat two little Children, each Patience
one in his chair. The name of the eldest was Pas-
sion, and the name of the other Patience. Pas-
sion seemed to be much discontent ; but Patience Passion
was very quiet. Then Christian asked, What is anLow^
the reason of the discontent of Passion? The Inter- Patience
preter answered, The Governor of them would 1S f °f
have him stay for his best things till the begin-
ning of the next year; but he will have all now; but
Patience is willing to wait.
Then I saw that one came to Passion, and Passion
brought him a bag of treasure, and poured it down ^\ r \
at his feet, the which he took up and rejoiced there-
in ; and withal, laughed Patience to scorn. But
I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, An . d . .
. quickly
and had nothing left him but Rags. lavishes
Chr. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Ex- a11 awav
pound this matter more fully to me.
Inter. So he said, These two Lads are figures : The matter
Passion, of the men of this world ; and Patience, expoun
of the men of that which is to come; for as here
thou seest, Passion will have all now this year,
that is to say, in this world; so are the men of this
world: they must have all their good things now,
they cannot stay till next year, that is, until the
next world, for their portion of good. That prov- The ,.
erb, A Bird in the Hand is worth two in the ™°„ f y r a
Bush, is of more authority with them than are bird in the
all the Divine testimonies of the good of the world an
to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly
lavished all away, and had presently left him noth-
ing but Rags; so will it be with all such'rrfen at the
end of this world.
Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Pa- * a J ie £ ce
Hence has the best wisdom, and that upon many best
accounts, i. Because he stays for the best things, wisdom
36 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
2. And also because he will have the Glory of his,
when the other has nothing but Rags.
Things Inter. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the
that are glory of the next world will never wear out; but
first must , 111 i-r^i r t-. • i ,
give place; these are suddenly gone, therefore Passion had not
but things so much reason to laugh at Patience, because he
tint are • • •
last are had his good things first, as Patience will have
lasting to laugh at Passion, because he had his best things
last; for first must give place to last, because last
must have his time to come: but last gives place
to nothing; for there is not another to succeed.
He therefore that hath his portion first, must needs
have a time to spend it ; but he that hath his portion
last, must have it lastingly; therefore it is said of
Dives had Dives, In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good
th*n g °s°first ^ n 9 s > an d likewise Lazarus evil things; but now
he is comforted, and thou art tormented.
Chr. Then I perceive 'tis not best to covet
things that are now, but to wait for things to come.
The first Inter. You say truth: For the things which are
things seen are Temporal; but the things that are not
are but r ' , , • ,
temporal seen are Eternal. But though this be so, yet since
things present and our fleshly appetite are such near
neighbors one to another ; and, again, because things
to come and carnal sense are such strangers one
to another ; therefore it is that the first of these so
suddenly fell 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 notwith-
standing burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 37
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. 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 be-
hold ; at the sight of which Christian was greatly
delighted : He saw also upon the top thereof, certain
persons walking, who were cloathed all in gold.
Then said Christian, May we go in thither ?
Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up
toward the door of the Palace; and behold, at the
door stood a great company of men, as desirous
to go in, but durst not. There also sat a man
at a little distance from the door, at a table-side,
with a Book and his Inkhorn before him, to take
the name of him that should enter therein; He
saw also, that in the door-way stood many men
in armour to keep it, being resolved to do the men
that would enter what hurt and mischief they could.
Now was Christian somewhat in a maze. At last,
when every man started back for fear of the armed
men, Christian saw a man of a very stout coun- The vai-
tenance come up to the man that sat there to write, jant man
saying, Set down my name, Sir: the which when
he had done, he saw the man draw his Sword, and
put an Helmet upon his head, and rush toward the
door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with
deadly force; but the man, not at all discouraged,
38
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Despair
like an
iron cage
fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after
he had received and given many wounds to those
that attempted to keep him out, he cut his way
through them all, and pressed forward into the Pal-
ace, at which there was a pleasant voice heard from
those that were within, even of those that walked
upon the top of the Palace, saying,
Come in, Come in ;
Eternal Glory thou shalt win.
So he went in, and was cloathed with such garments
as they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think
verily I know the meaning of this.
Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay,
said the Interpreter, till I have shewed thee a little
more, and after that thou shalt go on thy way. So
he took him by the hand again, and led him into
a very dark room, where there sat a man in an Iron
Cage.
Now the Man, to look on, seemed very sad; he
sat with his eyes looking down to the ground, his
hands folded together; and he sighed as if he would
break his heart. Then said Christian, What means
thisf At which the Interpreter bid him talk with
the Man.
Then said Christian to the Man, What art thou?
The Man answered, / am what I was not once.
Chr. What wast thou once ?
Man. The Man said, I was once a fair and flour-
ishing Professor, both in mine own eyes, and also
in the eyes of others ; I once was, as I thought, fair
for the Ccelestial City, and had then even joy at
the thoughts that I should get thither.
Chr. Well, but what art thou now?
Man. I am now a man of Despair, and am shut
up in it, as in this Iron Cage. I cannot get out; O
now I cannot.
Chr. But how earnest 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 39
the light of the Word and the goodness of God;
I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone ; I tempted
the Devil, and he is come to me ; I have provoked
God to anger, and he has left me; I have so hard-
ened my heart, that I cannot repent.
Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But are
there no hopes for such a man as this? Ask him,
said the Interpreter.
Chr. Then said the Christian, Is there no hope,
but you must be kept in the Iron Cage of Despair?
Man. No, none at all.
Chr. Why? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.
Man. I have crucified him to myself afresh, I
have despised his Person, I have despised his Right-
eousness, I have counted his Blood an unholy
thing; I have done despite to the Spirit of Grace:
Therefore I have shut myself out of all the Promises,
and there now remains to me nothing but threat-
nings, dreadful threatnings, fearful threatnings of
certain Judgment and fiery Indignation, which shall
devour me as an Adversary.
Chr. For what did you bring yourself into this
condition?
Man. For the Lusts, Pleasures, and Profits of this
World ; in the 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.
Chr. But canst thou not now repent and turn?
Man. God hath denied me repentance: his Word
gives me no encouragement to believe ; yea, himself
hath shut me up in this Iron Cage ; nor can all the
men in the world let me out. O Eternity ! Eternity !
how shall I grapple with the misery that I must
meet with in Eternity !
Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let
this man's misery be remembred by thee, and be
an everlasting caution to thee.
Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful ; God
help me to watch and be sober, and to pray that I
40 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
may shun the cause of this man's misery. Sir, is
it not time for me to go on my way now ?
Inter. Tarry till I shall shew thee one thing
more, and then thou shalt go 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 thundred and lightned in most fearful wise,
that it put me into an agony; so I looked up in my
Dream, and saw the Clouds rack at an unusual rate,
upon which I heard a great sound of a Trumpet,
and saw also a Man sit upon a Cloud, attended with
the thousands of Heaven; they were all in flaming
fire, also the Heavens were in a burning flame. I
heard then a Voice saying, Arise ye dead, and come
to Judgment; and with that the Rocks rent, the
Graves opened, and the Dead that were therein came
forth. Some of them were exceeding glad, and
looked upward; and some sought to hide them-
selves under the Mountains. Then I saw the Man
that sat upon the Cloud open the Book, and bid
the World draw near. Yet there was, by reason
of a fierce flame which issued out and came from
before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and
them, as betwixt the Judge and the Prisoners at
the bar. I heard it also proclaimed to them that
attended on the Man that sat on the Cloud, Gather
together the Tares, the Chaff, and Stubble, and cast
them into the burning Lake. And with that, the
bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out
of the mouth of which there came in an abundant
manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous
noises. It was also said to the same persons, Gather
my Wheat into the Garner. And with that I saw
many catch'd up and carried away into the Clouds,
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 41
but I was left behind. I also sought to hide myself,
but I could not, for the Man that sat upon the
Cloud still kept his eye upon me : my sins also came
into my mind ; and my Conscience did accuse me on
every side. Upon this I awaked from my sleep.
Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of
this sight?
Man. Why, I thought that the day of Judgment
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 Con-
science 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 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 shew'd me was, 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 is called Salvation.
Up this way therefore did burdened Christian run,
but not without great difficulty, because of the load
on his back.
He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat as-
cending, and upon that place stood a Cross, and a
42
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
When God
releases us
of our
guilt and
burden
we are as
those that
little below in the bottom, a Sepulchre. So I saw
in my Dream, that just as Christian came up with
the Cross, his Burden loosed from off his shoulders,
and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and
so continued to do, till it came to the mouth
of the Sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it
no more.
Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said
with a merry heart, He hath given me rest by his
sorrow, and life by his death. Then he stood still
awhile to look and wonder ; for it was very surpris-
ing to him, that the sight of the Cross should thus
leap for joy ease him of his Burden. He looked therefore, and
looked again, even till the springs that were in his
head sent the waters down his cheeks. Now as he
stood looking and weeping, behold three Shining
Ones came to him and saluted him with Peace be to
thee; so the first said to him, Thy sins be forgiven:
the second stript him of his Rags, and clothed him
with Change of Raiment ; the third also set a mark
in his forehead, and gave him a Roll with a Seal
upon it, which he bid him look on as he ran, and
that he should give it in at the Coelestial Gate. 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.
Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went
on singing,
Thus far did I come laden with my sin;
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in
Till I came hither: What a place is this!
Must here be the beginning of my bliss ?
Must here the Burden fall from off my back ?
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack ?
Blest Cross! blest Sepulchre! blest rather be
The Man that there was put to shame for me.
I saw then in my Dream that he went on thus,
even until he came at a bottom, where he saw, a
A Chris-
tian can
sing
though
alone,
when God
doth give
him the
joy of his
heart
SimpU,
Sloth, and
Presump-
tion
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 43
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 There is
to them, if peradventure he might awake them, and n .° P er ?" a -
• , ,r ... ,. , , , , sion will
cried, You are like them that sleep on the top of do, if God
a mast, for the Dead Sea is under you, a gulf that openeth
hath no bottom. Awake therefore and come away ; eyes
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 be-
come a prey to his teeth. With that they looked upon
him, and began to reply in his sort: Simple said,
/ see no danger; Sloth said, Yet a little more sleep;
and Presumption said, Every Fat 1 must stand upon
his own bottom. And so they lay down to sleep
again and Christian went on his way.
Yet was he troubled to think that men in that Christian
danger should so little esteem the kindness of him with them
that so freely offered to help them, both by awaken-
ing of them, counselling of them, and proffering to
help them off with their Irons. And as he was
troubled thereabout he espied two men come tum-
bling 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.
Chr. Gentlemen, Whence came you, and whither
do you go ?
Form, and Hyp. We were born in the land of
Vain-glory, and are going for praise to Mount Sion.
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 othet way, the
same is a Thief and a Robber ?
Form, and Hyp. They said, That to go to the
Gate for entrance was by all their countrymen
1 /. «.. Vat or tub.
44 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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 Form, and Hyp. They told him, That as for that,
thTway, 40 he ne eded not to trouble his head thereabout; for
but not by what they did they had custom for ; and could pro-
th?nk°that ^uce, if need were, Testimony that would witness
they can it for more than a thousand years,
say some- Chr. But, said Christian, will your practice stand
thing in . ' J r
vindication a I rial at Law r
of their Form, and Hyp. They told him, That custom,
practice ^ being of so long a standing as above a thousand
years, would doubtless now be admitted as a thing
legal by an impartial Judge ; and besides, said they,
if we get into the way, what'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 beter 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 Neighbors, to hide the shame of thy
nakedness.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 45
Chr. By Laws and Ordinances you will not be Christian
saved, since you came not in by the door. And !? as f, ot his
, , . „ , . / i . Lord s coat
as for this Coat that is on my back, it was given n his
me by the Lord of the place whither I go ; and that, *>ack, and
as you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I forted"
take it as a token of his kindness to me, for I had therewith;
nothing but rags before. And besides, thus I com- fo r ' t ed 0m
fort myself as I go : Surely think I, when I come to also, with
the gate of the City, the Lord thereof will know JJaSJ^a
me for good, since I have this Coat on my back; a
Coat that he gave me freely in the day that he stript
me of my rags. I have moreover a Mark in my
forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no
notice, which one of my Lord's most intimate asso-
ciates fixed there in the day that my Burden fell
off my shoulders. I will tell you moreover, that I
had then given me a Roll sealed, to comfort me by
reading as I go in the way ; I was also bid to give it
in at the Ccelestial Gate, in token of my certain
going in after it ; all which things I doubt you want,
and want them because you came not in at the Gate.
To these things they gave him no answer ; only Christian
they looked upon each other and laughed. Then I £ as ta |£
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 comfort-
ably ; also he would be often reading in the Roll
that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which
he was refreshed.
I beheld then, that they all went on till they He comes
came to the foot of the Hill Difficulty, at the bot- ^ e J™
torn of which was a Spring. There was also in the
same place two other ways besides that which
came straight from the Gate; one turned to the left
hand and the other to the right, at the bottom of the
Hill ; but the narrow way lay right up the^ Hill, and
the name of the going up the side of the Hill is called
Difficulty. Christian now went to the Spring, and
drank thereof to refresh himself, and then began to
go up the Hill, saying,
46 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
The Hill, tho' 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, tho' difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is wo.
The The other two also came to the foot of the Hill;
danger of j^ ut w hen thev saw that the Hill was steep and high,
turning - »
out of and that there was two other ways to go ; and sup-
the way posing also that these two ways might meet again
with that up which Christian went, on the other
side of the Hill; therefore they were resolved to
go in those ways. Now the name of one of those
ways was Danger, and the name of the other
Destruction. So the one took the way which is
called Danger, which led him into a great Wood;
and the other took directly up the way to Destruc-
tion, 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 word I looked then after Christian to see him go up
of grace fa e 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 mid-way to the top of the
Hill was a pleasant Arbor, made by the Lord of the
Hill for the refreshing of weary travellers; thither
therefore Christian got, where also he sat down to
rest him. Then he pulled his Roll out of his bosom,
and read therein to his comfort; he also now began
afresh to take a review of the Coat or Garment that
was given him as he stood by the Cross. Thus
pleasing himself 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. Now as he was
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 47
sleeping, there came one to him and awaked him, He that
saying, Go to the Ant, thou sluggard; consider her sIee P sis
ways, and be wise. And with that Christian sud-
denly started up, and sped on his way, and went
apace till he came to the top of the Hill.
Now when he was got up to the top of the Hill, Christian
there came two men running against him amain ; ™ e . cts wlth
the name of the one was Timorous, and the other, and
Mistrust; to whom Christian said, Sirs, what's the Timorous
matter you run the wrong way ? Timorous an-
swered, that they were going to the City of Zion,
and had got up that difficult place; but, said he,
the 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.
Chr. Then said Christian, You make me afraid, Christian
but whither shall I fly to be safe? If I go back to shakes
mine own country, that is prepared for Fire and
Brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there. If I
can get to the Ccelestial City, I am sure to be in
safety there. I must venture : To go back is noth-
ing but death; to go forward is fear of death, and
life everlasting beyond it. I will yet go forward.
So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the Hill, and
Christian went on his way. But thinking again of
what he heard from the men, he felt in his bosom
for his Roll, that he might read therein and be com- Christian
forted; but he felt, and found it not. Then was ™ isse [.
Christian in great distress, and knew not what to w herein
do; for he wanted that which used to relieve him, he used
• i to talcc
and that which should have been his pass into the com f ort
Ccelestial City. Here therefore he began to be much
perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he He is per-
bethought himself that he had slept in the Arbor ^ x T f n ioT
that is on the side of the Hill; and falling down
upon his knees he asked God's forgiveness for that
48 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
his foolish fact 1 and then went back to look for his
Roll. But all the way he went back, who can suffi-
ciently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart?
Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and often-
times he chid himself for being so foolish to fall
asleep in that place, which was erected only for a
little refreshment for his weariness. Thus therefore
he went back, carefully looking on this side and
on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might
find his Roll, that had been his comfort so many
times in his Journey. He went thus till he came
again within sight of the Arbor where he sat and
slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more,
by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping
into his mind. Thus therefore he now went on
Christian bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, O wretched man
fodS hiS that J am > that * shoul i sl eep in the daytime ! that
sleeping 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 hap-
pened 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 Now by this time he was come to the Arbor again,
roll where wnere f° r a while he sat down and wept; but at
he lost it 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
*Dee4
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 49
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. thou
sinful sleep: how for thy sake am I like to be be-
nighted in my Journey! I must walk without the
Sun, darkness must cover the path of my feet, and
I must hear the noise of doleful creatures, because
of my sinful sleep. Now also he remembered the
story that Mistrust and Timorous told him of, how
they were frighted with the sight of the Lions. Then
said Christian to himself again, These beasts range
in the night for their prey ; and if they should meet
with me in the dark, how should I 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 High-way side.
So I saw in my Dream that he made haste and
went forward, that if possible he might get Lodging
there. Now before he had gone far, he entered into
a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong
off of the Porter's Lodge; and looking very nar-
rowly before him as he went, he espied two Lions
in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers that
Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The
Lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.)
Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go
back after them, for he thought nothing but death
was before him: But the Porter at the lodge, whose
name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made
a halt as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying,
Is thy strength so small? Fear not the Lions, for
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
they are chained, and are placed there for trial of
faith where it is, and for discovery of those that
have none. Keep in the midst of the Path, and no
hurt shall come unto thee.
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 clapt his hands, and went on till he
came and stood before the Gate where the Porter
was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir, what
house is this? and may I lodge here to-night? The
Porter answered, This house was built by the Lord
of the Hill, and he built it for the relief and secu-
rity 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 Shcm.
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 Arbor that stands
on the Hill-side; nay, I had notwithstanding that,
been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost
my evidence, and came without it to the brow of
the Hill; and then feeling for it, and finding it not,
I was forced with sorrow of heart to go back to
the place where I had slept my sleep, where I found
it, and now I am come.
Por. Well, I will call out one of the Virgins of
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 51
this place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you
in to the rest of the Family, according to the rules
of the house. So Watchful the Porter, rang a bell,
at the sound of which came out at the door of the
house, a grave and beautiful damsel named Dis-
cretion, 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, led him in to the Family ;
and many of them, meeting him at the threshold of
the house, said, Come in thou blessed of the Lord:
this house was built by the Lord of the Hill, on pur-
pose to entertain such Pilgrims in. Then he bowed
his head, and followed them into the house. So
when he was come in and set down, they gave him
something to drink, and consented together, that
until supper was ready, some of them should have
some particular discourse with Chfisiian, for the
best improvement of time ; and they appointed Piety,
and Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him;
and thus they began :
52 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Piety Piety. Come good Christian, since we have been
discourses so loving to you, to receive you into our house this
night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves
thereby, talk with you of all things that have hap-
pened 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 Chr. I was driven out of my Native Country, by
was driven a dreadful sound that was in mine ears : to wit, that
out of his unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in
country tnat pl ace where I was.
Piety. But how did it happen that you came out
of your Country this way ?
How he got Chr. It was as God would have it; for when I
way to was under the fears of destruction, I did not know
Zion 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 di-
rectly to this house.
Piety. But did you not come by the house of the
Interpreter?
A rehears- Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the re-
al of what membrance of which will stick by me as long as I
he saw m ...
the way live ; specially three things : to wit, How Christ, in
despite of Satan, maintains his work of Grace in the
heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out of
hopes of God's mercy; and also the Dream of him
that thought in his sleep the day of Judgment was
come.
Piety. Why, Did you hear him tell his dream?
Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one it was. I thought
it made my heart ake as he was telling of it ; but
yet I am glad I heard it.
Piety. Was that all that you saw at the house of
the Interpreter?
Chr. No: he took me and had me where he
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS S3
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 twelve-month, but that I knew I had further to go.
Piety. And what saw you else in the way ?
Chr. Saw ! Why, I went but a little further, and
I saw one, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding
upon the Tree; and the very sight of him made my
Burden fall off my back (for I groaned under a very
heavy Burden), but then it fell down from off me.
'Twas a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a
thing before; yea, and while I stood looking up (for
then I could not forbear looking) three Shining
Ones came to me. One of them testified that my
sins were forgiven me ; another stript me of my
Rags, and gave me this 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 Formalist and Hypocrisy come
tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to
Zion; but they were quickly lost; even as I myself
did tell them, but they would not believe. But,
above all, I found it hard work to get up this Hill,
and as hard to come by the Lions' mouths; and
truly if it had not been for the good marf, 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 re-
ceiving of me.
54 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Prudence Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few
discourses questions, and desired his answer to them.
Prud. Do you not think sometimes of the Coun-
try from whence you came?
Christian's Chr. Yes, but with much shame and detestation:
o£°hif htS Trul y> if * had been mindful of that Country from
native whence I came out, I might have had opportunity
country t o have returned ; but now I desire a better Coun-
try, that is, a Heavenly.
Prud. Do you not yet bear away with you some
of the things that then you were conversant withal ?
Christian Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will ; espe-
^ t ^ sted cially my inward and carnal cogitations, with which
cogitations all my countrymen, as well as myself, were de-
lighted; but now all those things are my grief;
Christian's and might I but chuse mine own things, I would
chuse never to think of those things more; but
when I would be doing of that which is best, that
which is worst is with me.
Prud. Do you not find sometimes, as if those
things were vanquished, which at other times are
your perplexity?
Christian's Chr. Yes, but that is seldom; but they are to me
hours" 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 van-
quished?
How Chr. Yes, when I think what I saw at the Cross,
Christian t hat w jjj £ Q j t • am j w h e n I look upon my broid-
gets power ... . . . . » « • •
against his ered Coat, that will do it; also when I look into
cormptions t h e R H 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 de-
sirous to go to Mount Z'xon?
Why Chr. Why, there I hope to see him alive that did
Christian hang dead on the Cross; and there I hope to be rid
at Mount °f an " those things that to this day are in me an
Zion annoyance to me ; there, they say, there is no death ;
and there I shall dwell with such Company as I
PILGRIMS PROGRESS 55
like best. For to tell you truth, I love him, because
I was by him eased of my Burden, and I am weary
of my inward sickness; I would fain be where I
shall die no more, and with the Company that shall
continually cry, Holy, Holy, Holy.
Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a Charity
family? Are you a married man? discourses
Chr. I have a Wife and four small Children.
Char. And why did you not bring them along
with you?
Chr. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh how will- Christian's
ingly would I have done it, but they were all of wifeand IS
them utterly averse to my going on Pilgrimage. children
Char. But you should have talked to them, and
have endeavoured to have shewn them the danger
of being behind.
Chr. So I did, and told them also what God had
shewed to me of the destruction of our City; but
I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they
believed me not.
Char. And did you pray to God that he would
bless your counsel to them ?
Chr. Yes, and that with much affection ; for you
must think that my Wife and poor Children were
very dear unto me.
Char. But did you tell them of your own sor-
row, and fear of destruction? for I suppose that
destruction was visible enough to you.
Chr. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might Christian's
also see my fears in my countenance, in my tears, and f ^[ s h ( ? f
also in my trembling under the apprehension of the might be
Judgment that did hang over our heads ; but all was ff ad in
. ° . his very
not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me. counte-
Char. But what could they say for themselves, nance
why they came not?
Chr. Why, my Wife was afraid -of losing this The cause
World, and my Children were given to the foolish ^ ^
Delights of youth : so what by one thing, and what children
by another, they left me to wander in this manner JV^M
alone.
56
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christian's
good con-
versation
before his
wife and
children
Christian
clear of
their blood
if they
perish
What
Christian
had to his
supper
Their talk
at supper-
time
Char. But did you not with your vain life, damp
all that you by words used by way of persuasion
to bring them away with you?
Chr. Indeed I cannot commend my life; for I
am conscious to myself of many failings therein:
I know also, that a man by his conversation may
soon overthrow, what by argument or persuasion
he doth labour to fasten upon others for their good.
Yet, this I can say, I was very wary of giving them
occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them
averse to going on Pilgrimage. Yea, for this very
thing they would tell me I was too precise, and
that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in
which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say,
that if what they saw in me did hinder them, it was
my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of
doing any wrong to my Neighbor.
Char. Indeed Cain hated his Brother, because
his own works were evil, and his Brother's right-
eous; and if thy Wife and Children have been
offended with thee for this, they thereby shew them-
selves to be implacable to good, and thou hast de-
livered thy soul from their blood.
Now I saw in my Dream, that thus they sat talk-
ing together until supper was ready. So when they
had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now the
Table was furnished with fat things, and with Wine
that was well refined: and all their talk at the
Table was about the LORD of the Hill; as namely,
about what HE had done, and wherefore HE did
what He did, and why HE had builded that House :
and by what they said, I perceived that he had been
a great Warriour, and had fought with and slain
him that had the power of Death, but not with-
out great danger to himself, which made me love
him the more.
For, as they said, and as I believe (said Chris-
tian) he did it with the loss of much blood; but that
which put Glory of Grace into all he did, was, that
he did it out of pure love to his Country. And
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 57
besides, there were some of them of the household
that said they had seen and spoke with him since
he did die on the Cross; and they have attested
that they had it from his own lips, that he is such
a lover of poor Pilgrims, that the like is not to be
found from the East to the West.
They moreover gave an instance of what they Christ
affirmed, and that was, He had stript himself of his m ^ kes
> , *■ princes of
glory, that he might do this for the Poor ; and that beggars
they heard him say and affirm, That he would not
dwell in the Mountain of Zion alone. They said
moreover, that he had made many Pilgrims Princes,
though by nature they were Beggars born, and their
original had been the dunghill.
Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; Christian's
and after they had committed themselves to their h f&-
Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest:
the Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber,
whose window opened towards the Sun rising: the
name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till
break of day, and then he awoke and sang,
Where am I now? Is this the love and care
Of Jesus for the men that Pilgrims are
Thus to provide ! That I should be forgiven
And dwell already the next door to Heaven !
So in the morning they all got up, and after some Christian
more discourse, they told him that he should not h , ad int0
■ • • the studv
depart till they had shewed him the Rarities of that an j w h a t'
place. And first they had him into the Study, where he sa ^
they shewed him Records of the greatest antiquity;
in which, as I remember my Dream, they shewed
him first the Pedigree of the Lord of the Hill, that
he was the Son of the Antient of Days, and came
by an Eternal Generation. Here also was more
fully recorded the Acts that he had done, and the
names of many hundreds that he had taken into
his service; and how he had placed them in such
Habitations that could neither by length of Days,
nor decays of Nature, be dissolved.
S8
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christian
had into
the
armoury
Christian
is made
to see
ancient
things
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, ob-
tained Promises, stopped the mouths of Lions,
quenched the violence of Fire, escaped the edge of
the Sword; out of weakness were made strong,
waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the
Armies of the Aliens.
Then they read again in another part of the
Records of the house, where it was shewed how
willing their Lord was to receive into his favour
any, even any, though they in time past had offered
great affronts to his Person and proceedings. Here
also were several other Histories of many other
famous things, of all which Christian had a view; as
of things both Antient and Modern: together with
Prophecies and Predictions of things that have
their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and
amazement of Enemies, and the comfort and solace
of Pilgrims.
The next day they took him and had him into the
Armory, where they shewed him all manner of
Furniture, which their Lord had provided for Pil-
grims, as Sword, Shield, Helmet, Breastplate, All-
prayer, and Shoes that would not wear out. And
there was here enough of this to harness out as
many men for the service of their Lord as there
be Stars in the Heaven for multitude.
They also shewed him some of the Engines with
which some of his Servants had done wonderful
things. They shewed him Moses' Rod ; the Hammer
and Nail with which Jael slew Siscra; the Pitchers,
Trumpets and Lamps too, with which Gideon put
to flight the Armies of Midian: Then they shewed
him the Ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew six
hundred men: They shewed him also the Jaw-bone
with which Samson did such mighty feats: They
shewed him moreover the Sling and Stone with
which David slew Goliah of Gath; and the Sword
also with which their Lord will kill the Man of
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 59
Sin, in the day that he shall rise up to the prey.
They shewed him besides many excellent things,
with which Christian was much delighted. This
done, they went to their rest again.
Then I saw in my Dream, that on the morrow he Christian
got up to go forwards, but they desired him to stay Dd^ctaWe
till the next day also ; and then, said they, we will Mountains
(if the day be clear) shew you the Delectable
Mountains, which, they said, would yet further add
to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired
Haven 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 Coun-
try, beautified with Woods, Vineyards, Fruits of all
sorts, Flowers also, with Springs and Fountains,
very delectable to behold. Then he asked the name
of the Country :
They said it was Immamiel's Land; and it is
as common, they said, 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 Ccelestial City, as the Shepherds that
live there will make appear.
Now he bethought himself of setting forward, Christian
and they were willing he should : but first, said they, ^rd° r '
let us go again into the Armory: So they did; and
when they came there, they harnessed him from
head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps Christian
he should meet with assaults in the way. He being a^med™ 31
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 his name, and he told me it was
Faithful.
Chr. O, said Christian, I know him; he is my
Townsman, my near Neighbor, he comes from the
60 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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 Chr. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord
Ch " s ] ' ian be with thee, and add to all thy blessings much in-
Porter crease, for the kindness that thou hast shewed to
greet at me>
parting
Whilst Christian is among his godly friends,
Their golden mouths make him sufficient mends
For all his griefs, and when they let him go,
He's clad with northern Steel from top to toe.
Th ^ Va, ? e .y Then he began to go forward; but Discretion,
ation Piety, Charity, and Prudence, would accompany him
down to the foot of the Hill. So they went on to-
gether, 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 Pru-
dence, 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 thet down
the Hill. So he began to go down, but very warily ;
yet he caught a slip or two.
Then I saw in my Dream that these good Com-
panions, when Christian was gone down to the
bottom of the Hill, gave him a loaf of Bread, a
bottle of Wine, and a cluster of Raisins; and then
he went on his way.
Christian g ut j n ^\s y a u e y f Humiliation, poor
has no .
armour for Christian was hard put to it ; for he had gone but
his back a \\^\ Q wa y, before he espied a foul Fiend coming
over the field to meet him ; his name is Apollyon.
Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast
in his mind whether to go back or to stand his
ground : But he considered again that he had no
Armor for his back, and therefore thought that to
turn the back to him might give him the greater
advantage with ease to pierce him with his Darts.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 61
Therefore he resolved to venture and stand his Christian's
ground ; For, thought he, had I no more in mine a ! s t h lutl0 . n
eye than the saving of my life, 'twould be the best proach of
way to stand. Apoilyon
So he went on, and Apoilyon met him. Now the
Monster was hideous to behold; he was cloathed
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, be beheld him with a dis-
dainful 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.
Apol. By this I perceive thou art one of my Sub- Discourse
iects, for all that Country is mine, and I am the ^twixt
T-. • i /- i r • tt • i 1 i Christian
Prince and God of it. How is it then that thou and
hast run away from thy King ? Were it not that Apoilyon
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;
therefore when I was come to years, I did as other
considerate persons do, look out, if perhaps I might
mend myself.
Apol. There is no Prince that will thus lightly Apoiiyon's
lose his Subjects, neither will I as yet lose thee: but attery
since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be
content to go back; what our Country will afford,
I do here promise to give thee.
Chr. But I have let myself to another, even to
the King of Princes, and how can I with fairness
go back with thee?
Apol. Thou hast done in this, according to the
Proverb, changed a bad for a worse; but it is ordi-
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Apollyon
under-
values
Christ's
service
Apollyon
pretends
to be
merciful
Apollyon
pleads the
grievous
ends of
Christians,
to dissuade
Christian
from per-
sisting in
his way
nary for those that have professed themselves his
Servants, after a while to give him the slip, and
return again to me : Do thou so too, and all shall
be well.
Chr. I have given him my faith, and sworn my
allegiance to him ; how then can I go back from this,
and not be hanged as a Traitor?
Apol. Thou 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 that the Prince under whose
Banner now I stand is able to absolve me; yea, and
to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with
thee ; and besides, O thou destroying Apollyon, to
speak truth, I like his Service, his Wages, his Ser-
vants, his Government, his Company and Country,
better than thine; and therefore leave off to per-
suade me further; I am his Servant, and I will
follow him.
Apol. Consider again when thou art in cool
blood, what thou art like to meet with in the way
that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the most
part, his Servants come to an ill end, because they
are transgressors against me and my ways: How
many of them have been put to shameful deaths ;
and besides, thou countest his service better than
mine, whereas he never came yet from the place
where he is to deliver any that served him out of
our hands ; but as for me, how many times, as all
the World very well knows, have I delivered, either
by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served
me, from him and his, though taken by them; and
so I will deliver thee.
Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them
is on purpose to try their love, whether they will
cleave to him to the end ; and as for the ill end thou
sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their
account ; for for present deliverance, they do not
much expect it, for they stay for their Glory, and
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 63
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 unfaith-
ful to him?
Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when Apollyon
thou wast almost choked in the Gulf of Dispond; ^ a - d !- ,
■ ' Christians
thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy infirmities
Burden, whereas thou shouldest have stayed till thy a s amst
Prince had taken it off ; thou didst sinfully sleep and
lose thy choice thing; thou wast also almost per-
suaded 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
honor 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 Par-
don of my Prince.
Apol. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous Apollyon
rage, saying, I am an enemy to this Prince; I hate fait/upon
his Person, his Laws, and People ; I am come out on Christian
purpose to withstand thee.
Chr. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in
the King's High-way, the way of Holiness, there-
fore 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.
64
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christian
wounded
in his
under-
standing,
faith, and
conversa-
tion
Apollyon
easteth
down to
the ground
Christian
Christian's
victory
over
Apollyon
A brief
relation of
the combat
by the
spectator
Then did Christian draw, for he saw 'twas time to
bestir him : and Apollyon as fast made at him,
throwing Darts as thick as Hail ; by the which, not-
withstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it,
Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and
foot: This made Christian give a little back; Apol-
lyon therefore followed his work amain, and
Christian again took courage, and resisted as man-
fully as he could. This sore Combat lasted for
above half a day, even till Christian was almost
quite spent; for you must know that Christian, by
reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker
and weaker.
Then Apollyon espying his opportunity, began to
gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with
him, gave him a dreadful fall ; and with that Chris-
tian's Sword flew out of his hand. Then said
Apollyon, I am sure of thee nozv: 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, there-
by 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; and with that gave
him a deadly thrust, which made him give back,
as one that had received his mortal wound : Chris-
tian, perceiving that, made at him again, saying,
Nay, in all these things we are more than Con-
querors through him that loved us. And with that
Apollyon spread forth his Dragon's wings, and sped
him away, that Christian for a season saw him no
more.
In this Combat no man can imagine, unless he had
seen and heard as I did, what yelling and hideous
roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight, he
spake like a Dragon; and on the other side, what
sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I
never saw him all the while give so much as one
pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 65
Apollyon with his two-edged Sword; then indeed
he did smile, and look upward; but 'twas the dread-
fullest sight that ever I saw.
A more unequal match can hardly be :
Christian must fight an Angel ; but you see
The Valiant Man by ha idling Sword and Shield,
Doth make him, tho' a Dragon, quit the field.
So when the Battle was over, Christian said, I Christian
will here give thanks to him that hath delivered me fhlnkffor
out of the mouth of the Lion, to him that did help deliverance
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.
Then there came to him a hand, with some of the Christian
leaves of the Tree of Life, the which Christian took, ? oes on h,s
. journey
and applied to the wounds that he had received in w ; t h his
the Battle, and was healed immediately. He also sword
sat down in that place to eat Bread, and to drink j n his
of the Bottle that was given him a little before ; han d
so being refreshed, he addressed himself to his
Journey, with his Sword drawn in his hand; for he
said, I know not but some other Enemy may be at
hand. But he met with no other affront from
Apollyon quite through this Valley.
Now at the end of this Valley was another, called The Valley
the Valley of the Shadozv of Death, and Christian shadow of
must needs go through it, because the way to the Death
Ccelestial 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
dcsarts and of pits, a land of drought, and of the
shadow of death, a land that no man (but a Chris-
tian) passcth through, and where no man dwelt.
hc xv — 3
66 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Now here Christian was worse put to it than in
his fight with Apollyon, as by the sequel you shall
see.
Thechil- I saw then in my Dream, that when Christian
J, e e n S go the was got to the borders of the Shadow of Death,
back there met him two men, Children of them that
brought up an evil report of the good land, mak-
ing 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.
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 with-
out Order.
Chr. Then said Christian, I perceive not yet, by
what you have said, but that this is my way to the
desired Haven.
Men. Be it thy way; we will not chuse it for
ours. So they parted, and Christian went on his
PILGRIMS PROGRESS 67
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. 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 pluckt him out.
The path-way 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 path-way was here so
dark, that ofttimes, when he lift up his foot to set
forward, he knew not where, or upon what he
should set it next.
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 ;
Chear up, hold out, with thee it shall go well.
About the midst of this Valley, I perceived the Christian
mouth of Hell to be, and it stood also hard by the p t ut l ,° ? .
' J stand, but
wayside. Xow thought Christian, what shall I do? for a while
And ever and anon the flame and smoke would
come out in such abundance, with sparks and hide-
ous noises (things that cared not for Christian's
Sword, as did Apollyon before) that her was forced
to put up his Sword, and betake himself to another
weapon, called All-prayer. So he cried in my hear-
ing, O Lord I beseech thee deliver my Soul. Thus
he went on a great while, yet still the flames would
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christian
made be-
lieve that
he spake
blasphe-
mies, when
it was
Satan that
suggested
them into
his mind
be reaching towards him : Also he heard doleful
voices, and rushings to and fro, so that sometimes
he thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden
down like mire in the Streets. This frightful sight
was seen, and 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 stopt, and
began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes
he had half a thought to go back; then again he
thought he might be half way through the Valley;
he remembered also how he had already vanquished
many a danger, and that the danger of going back
might be much more than for to go forward; so he
resolved to go on. Yet the Fiends seemed to come
nearer and nearer; but when they were come even
almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement
voice, / will walk in the strength of the Lord God;
so they gave back, and came no further.
One thing I would not let slip ; I took notice that
now poor Christian was so confounded, that he did
not know his own voice ; and thus I perceived it :
Just when he was come over against the mouth of
the burning Pit, one of the wicked ones got behind
him, and stept 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 neither to stop his
ears, nor to know from whence those blasphemies
came.
When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate
condition some considerable time, he thought he
heard the voice of a man, as going before him,
saying, Though I zualk through the Valley of the
Shadozv of Death, I will fear none ill, for thou art
with me.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS «
Then was he 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.
Thirdly, For that he hoped, could he overtake Christian
them, to have company by and by. So he went on, jj 1 *^* f
and called to him that was before ; but he knew not day
what to answer, for that he also thought himself
to be alone. And by and by the day broke; then
said Christian, He hath turned the Shadow of Death
into the morning.
Now morning being come, he looked back, not
out of desire to return, but to see, by the light of
the day, what hazards he had gone through in the
dark. So he saw more perfectly the Ditch that was
on the one hand, and the Quag that was on the
other; also how narrow the way was which led be-
twixt 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 discovered deep things out of darkness,
and bringeth out to light the SJtadow of Death.
Now was Christian much affected with his de- The sec-
liverance from all the dangers of his solitary way; °" th ^s rt
which dangers, though he feared them more before, valley
yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light g^ous"*'
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 danger-
ous: for from the place where he now stood, even
to the end of the Valley, the way was all along set
70 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
so full of Snares, Traps, Gins, and Nets here, and
so full of Pits, Pitfalls, deep Holes, and Shelvings
down there, that had it now been dark, as it was
when he came the first part of the way, had he
had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast
away; but as I said, just now the Sun was rising.
Then said he, His candle shineth on my head, and
by his light I go through darkness.
In this light therefore he came to the end of the
Valley. Now I saw in my Dream, that at the end
of this Valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled
bodies of men, even of Pilgrims that had gone this
way formerly ; and while I was musing what should
be the reason, I espied a little before me a Cave,
where two Giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old
time; by whose power and tyranny the men whose
bones, blood, ashes, &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, be-
cause he cannot come to 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, spe-
cially because he spake to him, though he could not
go after him, saying. Yon zvill never mend till more
of you be burned: But he held his peace, and set a
good face on't, and so went by and catcht no hurt.
Then sang Christian,
O world of wonders! (I can say no less)
That I should be preserv'd in that distress
That I have met with here ! O blessed be
That hand that from it hath delivered me!
Dangers in darkness, Devils, Hell, and Sin.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 71
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, intangled, 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 Faith-
ful 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 be-
hind me.
At this Christian was somewhat moved, and Christian
putting to all his strength, he quickly got up with p V ^ k f s
Faithful, and did also overrun him, so the last was
first. Then did Christian vain-gloriously smile, be-
cause he had gotten the start of his Brother; but
not taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly
stumbled and fell, and could not rise again, until
Faithful came up to help him.
Then I saw in my Dream they went very lovingly Christian's
on together, and had sweet discourse of all things t al ! ™ k , e3
, , , , , , .,._.,. . Faithful
that had happened to them in their Pilgrimage; and and he go
thus Christian began: lovingly
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?
Faith. Till I could stay no longer ; for there was
together
72
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Their talk
about the
country
from
whence
they came
How Pli-
able was
accounted
of, when
he got
home
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 Neighbors talk so ?
Faith. Yes, 'twas 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 be-
lieve 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 Brim-
stone from above; and therefore I have made mine
escape.
Chr. Did you hear no talk of Neighbor Pliable?
Faith. Yes Christian, I heard that he followed
you till he came at the Slough of Dispond, 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 Neighbors to him?
Faith. He hath since his going back been had
greatly in derision, and that among all sorts of peo-
ple ; 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 for-
sook?
Faith. Oh, they say, Hang him, he is a Turn-
coat, 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.
Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came
out?
Faith. I met him once in the Streets, but he
and the
sow
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 73
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 The dog
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 Vomit again, and the Sow that was washed
to her wallowing in the Mire.
Faith. They are my fears of him too ; but who
can hinder that which will be?
Chr. Well Neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let
us leave him, and talk of things that more im-
mediately concern ourselves. Tell me now, what
you have met with in the way as you came; for I
know you have met with some things, or else it may
be writ for a wonder.
Faith. I escaped the Slough that I perceive you Faithful
fell into, and got up to the Gate without that dan- ^wantim
ger ; only I met with one whose name was Wanton,
that had like to have done me a mischief.
Chr. 'Twas well you escaped her Net; Joseph
was hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as
you did; but it had like to have cost him his life.
But what did she do to you?
Faith. You cannot think (but that you know
something) what a flattering tongue she had; she
lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me
all manner of 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 ab-
horred of the Lord shall fall into her Ditch.
Faith. Nay, I- know not whether I did wholly
escape her or no. , •
Chr. Why, I tro you did not consent to her desires.
Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembred
an old writing that I had seen, which saith, Her
steps take hold of Hell. So I shut mine eyes, be-
74 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
cause I would not be bewitched with her looks : then
she railed on me, and I went my way.
Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as you
came?
He is as- Faith. When I came to the foot of the Hill
Adam d the y called Difficulty, I met with a very aged Man, who
First asked me, What I was, and whither bound? I told
him, That I was a Pilgrim, going to the Ccelestial
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 I dwell in the
Town of Deceit. I asked him then, What was his
work? and what the wages that he would give? He
told me, That his work was many delights; and his
wages, that I should be his Heir at last. I further
asked him, What House he kept, and what other
Servants he had? So he told me, That his House
was maintained with all the dainties in the world;
and that his Servants were those of his own beget-
ting. Then I asked how many Children he had?
He said that he had but three Daughters: The Lust
of the Flesh, The Lxist of the Eyes, and The Pride
of Life, and that I should marry them all if I would.
Then I asked him 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 felt myself somewhat in-
clinable 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 75
not come near the door of his House. Then he re-
viled 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 him-
self. This made me cry, wretched Man! So I
went on my way up the Hill.
Now when I had got about halfway up, I looked
behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift as
the wind; so he overtook me just about the place
where the Settle stands.
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 my-
self again I cried him mercy; but he said, I know
not how to shew mercy; and with that 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.
Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses: The tempo
He spareth none, neither knoweth he how to shew
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. 'Twas he that came
to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told
of Moses
76
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Faithful
assaulted
by Dis-
content
me, He would burn my house over my head if I
staid there.
Chr. But did you not see the house that stood
there on the top of that Hill, on the side of which
Moses met you?
Faith. Yes, and the Lions too, before I came at
it: but for the Lions, I think they were asleep, for
it was about Noon; and because I had so much of
the day before me, I passed by the Porter, and came
down the Hill.
Chr. He told me indeed that he saw you go by,
but I wish you had called at the house, for they
would have shewed you so many Rarities, that you
would scarce have forgot them to the day of your
death. But pray tell me, Did you meet nobody in
the Valley of Humility?
Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who
would willingly have persuaded me to go back again
with him; his reason was, for that the Valley was
altogether without 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?
Faith. I told him, That although all these that
Discontent he had named might claim kindred of me, and that
rightly, (for indeed they were my Relations accord-
ing 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 mis-
represented the thing; for before Honour is Humil-
ity, 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
chuse the way which he esteemed most worthy our
affections.
Faithful's
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 77
Chr. Met you with nothing else in that Valley?
Faith. Yes, I met with Shame; but of all the He is as-
men that I met with in my Pilgrimage, he I think sa . u ' ted
bears the wrong name. The other would be said shame
nay, after a little argumentation, (and somewhat
else) but this boldfaced 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 ob-
jected also, that but few of the Mighty, Rich, or
Wise, were ever of my opinion; nor any of them
neither, before they were persuaded to be Fools,
and to be of a voluntary fondness to venture the
loss of all, for nobody else knows what. He more-
over 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 had taken from any. He said also that Re-
ligion made a man grow strange to the great, be-
cause 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
first. Yea, he put me so to it, that my blood came
78 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
up in my face; even this Shame fetched it up, and
had almost beat me quite off. But at last I began
to consider, That that which is highly esteemed
among Men, is had in abomination with God. And
I thought again, this Shame tells me what men
are; but it tells me nothing what God or the Word
of God is. And I thought moreover, that at the
day of doom, we shall not be doomed to death or
life according to the hectoring spirits of the world,
but according to the Wisdom and Law of the High-
est. Therefore thought I, what God says is best,
is best, though all the men in the world are against
it. Seeing then that God prefers his Religion, see-
ing 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? 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, 'Twas but in vain to at-
tempt 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 tryals that those men do meet withal,
That are obedient to the Heavenly call,
Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,
And come, and come, and come again afresh ;
That now, or some time else, we by them may
Be taken, overcome, and cast away.
Oh, let the Pilgrims, let the Pilgrims then,
Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men.
PILGRIMS PROGRESS 79
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 at-
tempt 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 not-
withstanding 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.
Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help
against Shame, that would have us to be valiant for
Truth upon the Earth.
Chr. You say true; but did you meet nobody else
in that Valley?
Faith. No not I ; for I had Sun-shine all the rest
of the way through that, and also through the Valley
of the Shadow of Death.
Chr. 'Twas well for you; I am sure it fared far
otherwise with me; I had for a long season, as soon
almost as I entred 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 he, my Sword flew out of my hand; nay, he
told me, He was sure of me: but / cried to God, and
he heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles.
Then I entred 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 brake, and the
Sun rose, and I went through that which was behind
with far more ease and quiet.
Moreover. I saw in my Dream, thafas they went Talkative
on, Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw describe d
a man whose name is Talkative, walking at a dis-
tance besides them; (for in this place there was
80 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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 Com-
panion.
Faithful Faith. Come on then, and let us go together, and
thre enter 3 " ' et us s P en( i our ^ ime m discoursing of things that
discourse are profitable.
Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is
very acceptable, with you or with any other; and I
am glad that I have met with those that incline to so
Taikative's good a work ; for to speak the truth, there are but
ofVad ^ ew t^ 3 * care t ^ lus to s P en d their time (as they are
discourse in their travels), but chuse much rather to be speak-
ing of things to no profit ; and this hath been a trouble
to me.
Faith. That is indeed a thing to be lamented;
for what things so worthy of the use of the tongue
and mouth of men on Earth as are the things of the
God of Heaven?
Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your saying
is full of conviction ; and I will add, What thing
so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the
things of God? What things so pleasant? (that is,
if a man hath any delight in things that are wonder-
ful) for instance, if a man doth delight to talk of
the History or the Mystery of things; or if a man
doth love to talk of Miracles, Wonders, or Signs,
where shall he find things recorded so delightful,
and so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture?
Faith. That's true; but to be profited by such
things in our talk should be that which we
design.
Talk. That's it that I said; for to talk of such
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 81
things is most profitable ; for by so doing, a man Taikative's
may get knowledge of many things ; as of the vanity fine
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 am I glad to hear these
things from you.
Talk. Alas ! the want of this is the cause that so
few understand the need of faith, and the necessity
of a work of Grace in their Soul, in order to eternal
life; but ignorantly live in the works of the Law, 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.
Talk. All this I know very well ; for a man can O brave
receive nothing, except it be given him from Talkatlve
Heaven : all is of Grace, not of Works : I could
give you a hundred Scriptures for the confirmation
of this.
Faith. Well then, said Faithful, what is that one
thing that we shall at this time found our discourse
upon
Talk. What you will. I will talk of things Heav- o brave
enly, or things Earthly ; things Moral, or things TaIkative
Evangelical; things Sacred or things Prophane;
things past or things to come; things foreign or
things at home; things more Essentia^ or things
Circumstantial; provided that all be done to our
profit.
Faith. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and
82 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Faithful stepping to Christian (for he walked all this while
b^Taikl by himself ) he said t0 him - ( but softly) What a
tive brave Companion have we got ! Surely this man will
make a very excellent Pilgrim.
Christian Chr. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said,
discovery This man with whom you are so taken, will beguile
ofTaika- w ith this tongue of his, twenty of them that know
tive, telling ,. ° J
Faithful him not.
who he Faith. Do you know him then ?
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 doth
he dwell ?
Chr. He is the son of one Say-well; he dwelt
in Prating Row; and is known of all that are ac-
quainted 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 thorough ac-
quaintance 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 ob-
served in the work of the Painter, whose Pictures
shew best at a distance, but very near, more un-
pleasing.
Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest,
because you smiled.
Chr. God forbid that I should jest (though I
smiled) in this matter, or that I should accuse any
falsely: I will give you a further discovery of him:
This man is for any company, and for any talk ;
as he talketh now with you, so he will 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 83
heart, or house, or conversation; all he hath Heth
in his tongue, and his Religion is to make a noise
therewith.
Faith. Say you so ! Then am I in this man
greatly deceived.
Chr. Deceived! you may be sure of it; remem- Talkative
ber the Proverb, They say and do not: bat ^' alks,but
Kingdom of God is not in word, but in power.
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 as His house
empty of Religion as the white of an Eg? is of is empty ot
rru • a.i. - lL t, • r religion
savour. I here is there neither Prayer, nor sign of
Repentance for sin ; yea, the brute in his kind serves
God better than he. He is the very stain, reproach, He is a
and shame of Religion, to all that know him; it can st aj n . to
hardly have a good word in all that end of the re ,gl °'
Town where he dwells through him. Thus say the
common people that know him, A Saint abroad, The prov-
and a Devil at home. His poor Family finds it erb that . .
so ; he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so un-
reasonable with his Servants, that they neither
know how to do for, or speak to him. Men that
have any dealings with him, say 'tis better to deal Men shun
with a Turk than with him; for fairer dealing they t0 . d "l
1 ,i i i • t 1 L. . _ ,. . . .f . , with him
shall have at their hands. This I alkattve (if it be
possible) will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, and
over-reach 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 ap-
pearance of a tender conscience) he calls them fools
and blockheads and by no means will imploy 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 ruine
of many more.
Faith. Well, my Brother, I am bound to be-
84 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
lieve 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 pro-
fessions;) 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 dis-
tinction.
The car- Chr. They are two things indeed, and are as
religion 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 practick part : Pure
Religion and undcfilcd, before God and the Father,
is this. To z-isit the fatherless and widows in their
affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the
zcorld. This Talkative is not aware of; he thinks
that hearing and sayi)ig 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.
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 re-
gard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 85
accepted that is not of Faith; but I speak this to
shew you how insignificant the profession of Talka-
tive will be at that day.
Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by Faithful
which he describeth the beast that is clean. He is e 7T B f*i
ot the bad-
Such an one that parteth the Hoof and cheweth the ness of
Cud: not that parteth the Hoof only, or that cheweth Tal kat>ve
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 is unclean.
Chr. You have spoken, for ought I know, the Talkative
true Gospel sense of those Texts: And I will add [hingsthat
another thing; Paul calleth some men, yea and those sound with,
great Talkers too, sounding Brass and tinkling Cym- outhfe
bals; that is, as he expounds them in another place,
Things zi'ithout life, giving sound. Things without
life, that is, without the true Faith and Grace of
the Gospel ; and consequently things that shall never
be placed in the Kingdom of Heaven among those
that are the Children of life; though their sound,
by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice
of an Angel.
Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company
at first, but I am as sick of it now. What shall we
do to be rid of him?
Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and
you shall find that he will soon be sick of your com-
pany 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,
86 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
and said to Talkative, Come, what cheat? 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 Talk. I perceive then that our talk must be about
covery'of tne power of things: Well, 'tis a very good question,
a work of 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 out-cry
against sin. Secondly —
Faith. Nay hold, let us consider of one at once:
I think you should rather say, It shews itself by
inclining the Soul to abhor its sin.
Talk. Why, what difference is there between cry-
ing out against, and abhorring of sin?
To cry out Faith. Oh ! a great deal ; a man may cry out
against sin, or policy; but he cannot abhor it, but
by vertue 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 com-
mitted 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 Faith. This sign should have been first; but first
™°wo{ or la st, it is also false; for knowledge, great knowl-
grace edge may be obtained in the mysteries of the Gospel,
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 87
and yet no work of Grace in the Soul. Yea, if a
man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing;
and so consequently be no child of God. When
Christ said, Do you know all these things? and the Knowledge
Disciples had answered, Yes ; he addeth Blessed are j^wi d
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 Master's will, and doth
it not. A man may know like an Angel, and yet
be no Christian, therefore your sign of it is not true.
Indeed to know is a thing that pleaseth Talkers
and Boasters ; but to do is that which pleaseth God.
Not that the heart can be good without knowledge;
for without that the heart is naught. There is there-
fore knowledge and knowledge. Knowledge that
resteth in the bare speculation of things, and knowl-
edge 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 True
serve the Talker ; but without the other the true at "°nd* / e
Christian is not content. Give me understanding, with
and I shall keep thy Law; yea I shall observe it with endeavour9
my whole heart.
Talk. You lie at the catch again, this is not for
edification.
Faith. Well, if you please propound another sign
how this work of Grace 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.
Faith. A work of Grace in the soul discovereth One good
itself, either to him that hath it, or to standers-by. g' r g a " e °
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). This sight and sense of
88 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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 hungrings and
thirstings after him, to which hungrings, &c. the
promise is made. 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
Judgment before he can with steadiness conclude
that this is a work of Grace.
To others it is thus discovered:
i. By an experimental confession of his Faith in
Christ.
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 an Hypo-
crite or Talkative person may do, but by a practical
subjection, in Faith and Love, to the power of the
Word : And now Sir, as to this brief description
of the work of Grace, and also the discovery of it,
if you have ought 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 Faith. It is this. Do you experience the first
of grace" P art °f tms 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 89
this, say no more than you know the God above will
say Amen to; and also nothing but what your con-
science can justify you in; for, not he that commend-
eth himself is approved, but whom the Lord com-
mendeth. Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when
my Conversation and all my Neighbors tell me I lye,
is great wickedness.
Talk. Then Talkative at first began to blush, Talkative
but recovering himself, thus he replied, You come w°t h pleased
now to Experience, to Conscience, and God ; and Faithful's
to appeal to him for justification of what is spoken : i uestlon
This kind of discourse I did not expect; nor am I
disposed to give an answer to such questions, be-
cause I count not myself bound thereto, unless you
take upon you to be a Catechizer, 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 ?
Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and The rea-
because I knew not that you had ought else but F °" s h T h ] y
notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have pu t to him
heard of you that you are a man whose Religion that .
lies in talk, and that your conversation gives this
your Mouth-profession the lye. 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, Faithful's
and that more are in danger of being destroyed P lain .^ al "
thereby ; your Religion, and an Ale-house, and Talkative
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 you are a shame to all Professors.
Talk. Since you are ready to take up reports, Talkative
and to judge so rashly as you do, I cannot but flings awaj
conclude you are some peevish or melarfcholy man, F r ^ fu i
not fit to be discoursed with ; and so adieu.
Chr. Then came up Christian, and said to his A good
t».i -r • « . • 111 riddance
Brother, I told you how it would happen ; your
go PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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 dis-
course 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. 1
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 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 Now when they were got almost quite out of this
overtakes Wilderness, Faithful chanced to cast his eye back,
them again . ' ' . , , * .
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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 91
good friend Evangelist. Ay, and my good friend
too, said Faithful, for 'twas he that set me the way
to the Gate. Now was Evangelist come up unto
them, and thus saluted them :
Evan. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and
peace be to your helpers.
Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist, They are
the sight of thy countenance brings to my remem- f^ d ^ l ht
brance thy antient kindness and unwearied labor- f him
ing for my eternal good.
Faith. And a thousand times welcome, said good
Faithful: Thy company, O sweet Evangelist, how
desirable is it to us poor Pilgrims !
Evan. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared
with you my friends, since the time of our last
parting? What have you met with, and how have
you behaved yourselves?
Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things
that had happened to them in the way; and how,
and with what difficulty, they had arrived to that
place.
Evan. Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that His exhort
you have met with trials, but that you have been *? tl0n to
victors; and 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 to-
gether; that is, if you hold out: for in due time ye
shall reap, if you faint not. The Crown is before
you, and it is an incorruptible one; so run that you
may obtain it. Some there be that set out for this
Crown, and after they have gone far for it, another
comes in, and takes, it from them; hold fast there-
fore that you have, let no man take yqur Crown.
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 stedfastly concerning things that are invis-
92 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
ible. 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 Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhor-
forhis him tation > but tol d him withal, that they would have him
exhortation speak farther 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 predict- Evan. My Sons, you have heard, in the words
troubles °^ tne trutn of the Gospel, that you must through
they shall many tribulations enter into the Kingdom of
i^Vanit 11 Heaven. And again, that in every City bonds and
Fair, and afflictions abide in you ; and therefore you cannot
enco " r ' expect that you should go long on your Pilgrimage
to stead- without them, in some sort or other. You have
fastness 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 Wil-
derness, 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
ye sure that one or both of you must seal the testi-
mony which you hold, with blood ; but be you faith-
ful unto death, and the King will give you a Crown
St hSuf of life " He that sha11 die there » although his death
be there will be unnatural, and his pain perhaps great, he will
to suffer, yet have the better of his fellow; not only because
will hsvc
the better he will be arrived at the Ccelestial City soonest, but
of his because he will escape many miseries that the other
rot er 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 93
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
'tis kept is lighter than Vanity; and also because all
that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is Vanity.
As is the saying of the wise, All that cometh is
Vanity.
This Fair is no new-erected business, but a thing
of antient standing; I will shew you the original
of it.
Almost five thousand years agone, there were The an-
Pilgrims walking to the Ccelestial City, as these two {his fair
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 con-
trived 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
Merchandize sold, as Houses, Lands, Trades, Places,
Honours, Preferments, Titles, Countries, Kingdoms,
Lusts, Pleasures, and Delights of all sorts, as The mer-
Whores, Bawds, Wives, Husbands, Children, Mas- ^andise of
' ' ' ' ' this fair
ters, 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 Jugglings, Cheats, Games, Plays, Fools,
Apes, Knaves, and Rogues, and that of every kind.
Here are to be seen too, and that for nothing,
Thefts, Murders, Adulteries, false-swearers, and
that of a blood-red colour.
And as in other Fairs of less moment, there The streets
are the several Rows and Streets under their proper of th,s fair
names, where such and such Wares are vended; so
94
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christ
went
through
this fair
Christ
bought
nothing
in this fair
The Pil-
grims enter
the fair
The fair
in a hub-
bub about
them
here likewise you have the proper places, Rows,
Streets, (vis. 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 is as the chief
of all the Fair, so the ware of Rome and her Mer-
chandize is greatly promoted in this Fair; only
our English nation, with some others, have taken
a dislike thereat.
Now, as I said, the way to the Coelestial 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. The Prince of Princes himself, when here,
went through this Town to his own Country, and
that upon a Fair-day too ; yea, and as I think, it was
Beelzebub, the chief Lord of this Fair, that invited
him to buy of his Vanities : yea, would have made
him Lord of the Fair, would he but have done him
reverence as he went through the Town. Yea, be-
cause he was such a person of honour, Beelzebub
had him from Street to Street, and shewed him all
the Kingdoms of the World in a little time, that he
might, (if possible) allure that Blessed One to
cheapen and buy some of his Vanities ; but he had
no mind to the Merchandize, and therefore left the
Town, without laying out so much as one Farthing
upon these Vanities. This Fair therefore is an
antient thing, of long standing, and a very great
Fair.
Now these Pilgrims, as I said, must needs go
through this Fair. Well, so they did; but behold,
even as they entered into the Fair, all the people
in the Fair were moved, and the Town itself as it
were in a hubbub about them ; and that for several
reasons : for
First, The Pilgrims were cloathed with such
kind of Raiment as was diverse from the Raiment
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 95
of any that traded in that Fair. The people there- The first
fore of the Fair made a great gazing upon them : ^ au * e ?[ .
... _ 5 s e> o r ~ , the hubbub
some said they were Fools, some they were Bed-
lams, and some they are Outlandishmen.
Secondly, And as they wondered at their Apparel, Second
so they did likewise at their Speech ; for few could th^hubbub
understand what they said : they naturally spoke the
language of Canaan, but they that kept the Fair
were the men of this World; so that, from one end
of the Fair to the other, they seemed Barbarians
each to the other.
Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse Third
the Merchandizes was, that these Pilgrims set very caus ,_ e °[ .
.... 11 1 • ITT- 1 , 1 the hubbub
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 Van-
ity, and look upwards, signifying that their trade and
traffick was in Heaven.
One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriages Fourth
of the men, to say unto them, What will ye buy ? cause °*
But they, looking gravely upon him, answered, We
buy the Truth. At that there was an occasion taken
to despise the men the more ; some mocking, some They are
taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some mocked
calling upon others to smite them. - At last things
came to a hubbub and great stir in the Fair, inso- The fair in
much that all order was confounded. Now was a ubbub
word presently brought to the Great One of the
Fair, who quickly came down and deputed some of
his most trusty friends to take those men into
examination, about whom the Fair was almost over-
turned. So the men were brought to examination ; They are
and they that sat upon them, asked them whence exammed
they came, whither they went, and what they did
there in such an unusual Garb ? The men told them
that they were Pilgrims and Strangers in tne World, T u ey ^ e11
j .i i • , . „ w ho they
and that they were going to their own Country, are, and
which was the Heavenly Jerusalem; and that they ^ hen «
had given no occasion to the men of the Town, nor
96
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
They are
not
believed
They are
put in
the cage
yet to the Merchandizers, 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. 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. 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 chained and stand beside :
Even so it was our Lord passed here,
And on Mount Calvary died.
Their be-
haviour in
the cage
The men
of the fair
There therefore they lay for some time, and
were made the objects of any man's sport, or
malice, or revenge, the Great One of the Fair
laughing still at all that befell them. But the
men being patient, and not rendring railing for
railing, but contrariwise blessing, and giving good
words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some
men in the Fair that were more observing, and less
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
do fan out ' et Ay at them again, counting them as bad as the
among m en in the Cage, and telling them that they seemed
about theVe confederates, and should be made partakers of their
two men misfortunes. The other replied, that for ought they
could see, the men were quiet, and sober, and in-
tended nobody any harm ; and that there were many
that traded in their Fair that were more worthy to
be put into the Cage yea, and Pillory too, than were
the men that they had abused. Thus, after divers
words had passed on both sides, (the men behaving
themselves all the while very wisely and soberly
before them) they fell to some blows among them-
selves, and did harm to one another. Then were
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 97
these two poor men brought before their examiners They are
again, and there charged as being guilty of the late ma ^ e the
hubbub that had been in the Fair. So they beat f this dis-
them pitifully and hanged irons upon them, and led turbance
them in chains up and down the Fair, for an ex- They are
ample and a terror to others, lest any should speak ] ed up and
in their behalf, or join themselves unto them. But f^jn C
Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more chains, for
wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that fL^S!«
was cast upon them, with so much meekness and
patience, that it won to their side (though but few Some of
in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the t h e fair
Fair. This put the other party yet into a greater won to
rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of * em
these two men. Wherefore they threatened, that the T , heir .
Cage, nor irons should serve their turn, but that they reS oive to
should die, for the abuse they had done, and for de- k* 11 tiltm
luding the men of the Fair.
Then were they re-manded 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 also they called again to mind what they
had heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and
were the more confirmed in their way and suffer-
ings, 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 on't;
therefore each man secretly wished that he might
have that preferment: but committing themselves to
the All-wise dispose of Him that ruleth all things,
with much content they abode in the condition in
which they were, until they should be otherwise dis-
posed of.
Then a convenient time being appointed, they The 7 are
i , ,._,,., ,. again put
brought them forth to their Tryal, in order to their j nt0 t h e
condemnation. When the time was come, they were cage, and
brought before their enemies, and arraigned. The brought
Judge's name was Lord Hategood. Their Indict- to trial
ment was one and the same in substance, though
hc xv — 4
98 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
somewhat varying in form, the contents whereof
was this :
Their That they were enemies to and disturbers of their
in jctment Trade; that they had made Commotions andDivisions
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 Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only
himself f ° r set himself against that which had 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
ought 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 wit-
nesses, to wit, Envy, Superstition, and Pic kt hank.
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 Then stood f orth 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, My Lord, this
man, notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of
the vilest men in our Country. He neither re-
gardeth Prince nor People, Law nor Custom; but
doth all that he can to possess all men with certain
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 99
of his disloyal notions, which he in the general calls
Principles of Faith and Holiness. And in partic-
ular, I heard him once myself affirm That Christian-
ity and the Customs of our Tozvn 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 Evi-
dence, rather than anything shall be wanting that
will dispatch him, I will enlarge my Testimony
against him. So he was bid 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 :
Super. My Lord, I have no great acquaintance Supersti-
with this man, nor do I desire to have further knowl- * 10 "
1 c « ■ i 1 • T i i i follows
edge 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 still do 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.
Pick. My Lord, and you Gentlemen all, This fel- Pickthank'*
low 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
100 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Sins are Friends, whose names are the Lord Old Man, the
and great Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord
ones 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 Noble
men 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, call-
ing 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, say-
ing, Thou Runagate, Heretick, and Traitor, hast
thou heard what these honest Gentlemen have wit-
nessed against thee?
Faith. May I speak a few words in my own
defence?
Judge. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservedst to live no
longer, but to be slain immediately upon the place;
yet that all men may see our gentleness towards
thee, let us see what thou hast to say.
Faithful's Faith, i. I say then, in answer to what Mr.
himself Envy hath spoken, I never said ought but this, That
what Rule, or Laws, or Custom, or People, were flat
against the Word of God, are diametrically opposite
to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this, con-
vince 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 profit
to Eternal Life.
3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say,
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 101
(avoiding terms, as that I am said to rail, and
the like) that the Prince of this Town, with all the
rabblement his attendants, by this Gentleman
named, are more fit for a being in Hell, than in
this Town and Country: and so, the Lord have
mercy upon me.
Then the Judge called to the Jury (who all this The
while stood by, to hear and observe) Gentlemen of J ud ^' s
, T , . , , speech to
the Jury, you see this man about whom so great an the jury
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. There was also an Act made in the days
of Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another of his Ser-
vants, that whoever would not fall down and wor-
ship his Golden Image, should be thrown into a
Fiery Furnace. There was also an Act made in the
days of Darius, that whoso, for some time, called
upon any God but him, should be cast into the
Lions' Den. Now the substance of these Laws this
Rebel has broken, not only in thought (which is
not to be borne) but also in word and deed; which
must therefore needs be intolerable.
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 con-
fessed, he deserveth to die the death.
Then went the Jury out, whose names were, Mr The jury,
Blind-man, Mr No-good, Mr Malice, Mr Love-lust, and their
Mr Live-loose, Mr Heady, Mr High-mind, Mr names
Enmity, Mr Lyar, Mr Cruelty, Mr Hate-light, and
102
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Every
one's
private
verdict
They con-
clude to
bring him
in guilty
of death
The cruel
death of
Faithful
A chariot
and horses
wait to
take away
Faithful
Mr Implacable; who every one gave in his private
Verdict against him among themselves, and after-
wards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty
before the Judge. And first among themselves, Mr
Blind-man the Foreman, said, / see clearly that this
man is an Heretick. 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 con-
demning 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 Lyar. Hanging is too good for
him, said Mr Cruelty. Let its dispatch him out of
the way, said Mr Hate-light. Then said Mr Im-
placable, Might I have all the zvorld given me, I
could not be reconciled to him; therefore let us
forthwith bring him in guilty of death. And so they
did; therefore he was presently condemned to be
had from the place where he was, to the place from
whence he came, and there to be put to the most
cruel death that could be invented.
They therefore brought him out, to do with him
according to their Law; and first they Scourged
him, then they Buffeted him, then they Lanced his
flesh with Knives ; after that they Stoned him with
stones, then pricked him with their Swords ; and
last of all they burned him to ashes at the Stake.
Thus came Faithful to his end.
Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude
a Chariot and a couple of Horses, waiting for Faith-
ful, who (so soon as his adversaries had dispatched
him) was taken up into it, and straitway was carried
up through the Clouds, with sound of Trumpet, the
nearest way to the Ccelestial Gate.
Brave Faithful, bravely done in word and deed;
Judge, Witnesses, and Jury have, instead
Of overcoming thee, hut shewn their rage :
When they are Dead, thou'lt Live from age to age.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 103
But as for Christian, he had some respite, and Christian
was remanded back to prison ; so he there remained 1S stlH aIive
for a space: But he that over-rules all things, hav-
ing the power of their rage in his own hand, so
wrought it about, that Christian for that time es-
caped them, and went his way. And as he went he
sang, saying,
The Song
Well Faithful, thou hast faithfully protest that Chris-
Unto thy Lord; with whom thou shalt be blest, T Fakhf" I
When faithless ones, with all their vain delights, after h's U
Are crying out under their hellish plights: death
Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive;
For though they kill'd thee, thou art yet alive.
Now I saw in my Dream, that Christian went not Christian
forth alone, for there was one whose name was faas
Hopeful, (being made so by the beholding of Chris- companion
tian and Faithful in their words and behaviour, in
their sufferings at the Fair) who joined himself
unto him, and entring into a brotherly covenant, told
him that he would be his Companion. Thus one
died to make Testimony to the Truth, and another
rises out of his ashes to be a Companion with There are
Christian in his Pilgrimage. This Hopeful also told ™ oreo£
. , / .the men of
Christian, that there were many more of the men in the Fair
the Fair that would take their time and follow after. wil1 fo,low
So I saw that quickly after they were got out of They
the Fair, they overtook one that was going before overtake
them, whose name was By-ends: so they said to yen
him, What Country-man, 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
Ccelestial City, (but told them not his name.)
From Fair-speech, said Christian. Is there any
good that lives there?
By-ends. Yes, said By-ends, I hope.
Chr. Pray Sir, what may I call you ?
By-ends. I am a Stranger to you, ancfyou to me : By-ends
if you be going this way, I shall be glad of your [^J.*
company; if not, I must be content. name
Chr. This Town of Fair-speech, said Christian,
104
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
The wife
and kin-
dred of
By-ends
Where
By-ends
differs
from
others in
religion
I have heard of it, and, as I remember, they say
it's 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 par-
ticular, 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 Anything; and the Par-
son 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 water-
man, looking one way and rowing another ; and I
got most of my estate by the same occupation.
Chr. Are you a married man?
By-ends. Yes, and my Wife is a very vertuous
woman, the Daughter of a vertuous 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. 'Tis true we
somewhat differ in Religion from those of the
stricter sort, yet but in two small points: First, we
never strive against Wind and Tide: Secondly, we
are always most zealous when Religion 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 105
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 re-
proach, 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?
By-ends. Never, never ! The worst that ever I How
did to give them an occasion to give me this name, g( f t hj s S
was, that I had always the luck to jump in my name
Judgment with the present way of the times what-
ever 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 there-
fore 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.
By-ends. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot He desires
help it ; you shall find me a fair company-keeper, if l ° ^ e ^
you will still admit me your associate. with
Chr. If you will go with us, you must go against Chnstian
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.
106
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
He has
new com
panions
By dCh S - ^ 0W * Saw in my Dream that Christian and Hope-
tian parT f ltl forsook him, and kept their distance before him ;
but one of them looking back, saw three men follow-
ing Mr By-ends, and behold, as they came up with
him, he made them a very low congee, and they also
gave him a compliment. The men's names were
Mr Hold-the-world, Mr Money-love, and Mr Save-
all; men that Mr By-ends had formerly been ac-
quainted with ; for in their minority they were
School-fellows, and were taught by one Mr Gripe-
man, a School-master in Love-gain, which is a
Market-town in the County of Coveting, in the
North. This School-master taught them the Art
of Getting, either by violence, cousenage, flattery,
lying, or by putting on a 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. They are a couple of far country-men,
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 a
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's 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 head-strong man-
By-ends'
character
of the
pilgrims
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 107
ner, 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 for God at a clap,
and I am for taking all advantages to secure my
Life and Estate. They are for holding their no-
tions, 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 Sun-
shine, 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; 'tis 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 some-
times Sun-shine ; 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 Dast. 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, go*
108 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
ing all on Pilgrimage; and for our better diversion
from things that are bad, give me leave to pro-
pound 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 extraordinary zealous in some
points of Religion that he meddled not with before ;
may he not use this 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 en-
deavour to shape you an answer. And first, to
speak to your question as it concerns a Minister
himself: Suppose a Minister, a worthy man, pos-
sess'd 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 fre-
quently and zealously, and because the temper of the
people requires it, by altering of some of his prin-
ciples ; 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 greater benefice is lawful
(this cannot be contradicted since 'tis 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 deport-
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 109
ment; 3. And so more fit for the Ministerial func-
tion.
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 im-
proved in his parts and industry thereby, be counted
as one that pursues his Call, and the opportunity
put into his hand to do Good.
And now to the second part of the question, which
concerns the Tradesman you mentioned. Suppose
such an one to have but a poor imploy 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 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' 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 con-
tradict 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
stopt, 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
110 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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-zvorld propounded the ques-
tion to Christian and his fellow, and bid them to
answer it if they could.
Chr. Then said Christian, Even a babe in Re-
ligion may answer ten thousand such questions.
For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves,
as it is John 6. 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 ways for them to come
at them, but by becoming circumcised ; they
said 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,
31, 22, 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 pos-
sessed 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, 20, 21, 22.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 111
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 designed the World in becoming religious,
so surely did he also sell Religion and his Master
for the same. To answer the question therefore af-
firmatively, as I perceive you have done, and to ac-
cept of as authentick such answer, is both Heathen-
ish, 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 Chris-
tian 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?
Then Christian and Hopeful out-went them again. The ease
and went till they came to a delicate Plain called that P f '"
Ease, where they went with much content ; but that i s but little
Plain was but narrow, so they were quickly got in this lif e
over it. Now at the further side of that Plain
was a little Hill called Lucre, and in that Hill a Lucre Hill
Silver-Mine, which some of them that had formerly a danger-
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
a g ain - Demas at
Then I saw in my Dream, that a little off the road, the Hill
over against the Silver-Mine, stood Dtmas (gentle- ]£ttl\o He
manlike) to call to Passengers to come and see; who Christian
said to Christian and his fellow, Ho, turn aside and Hope-
hither, and I will shew you a thing. to him
112
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Hopeful
tempted
to go, but
Christian
holds him
back
Christian
roundeth
up Demas
Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out
of the way?
Demas. Here is a Silver-Mine, and some digging
in it for Treasure. If you will come, with a little
pains you may richly provide for yourselves.
Hope. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see.
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 Pilgrim-
age. Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is
not the place dangerous? Hath it not hindred
many in their Pilgrimage?
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?
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 con-
demned for thine own turning aside, by one of his
Majesties Judges; and why seekest thou to bring
us into the like condemnation? Besides, if we at all
turn aside, our Lord the 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.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 113
Chr. I know you, Gehazi was your Great Grand-
father, and Judas your Father, and you have trod
in their steps. It is but a devilish prank that thou
usest; thy Father was hanged for a Traitor, and thou
deservest no better reward. Assure thyself, that
when we come to the King, we will do him word
of this thy behaviour. Thus they went their way.
By this time By-ends and his Companions were By-ends
come again within sisrht, and they at the first beck g0 " over
° & ' J to Demas
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 com-
monly 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.
Now I saw, that just on the other side of this They see a
Plain, the Pilgrims came to a place where stood ^nument
an old Monument, hard by the High-way-side, at
the sight of which they were both concerned, be-
cause of the strangeness of the form thereof ; for
it seemed to them as if it had been a Woman trans-
formed into the shape of a Pillar; here therefore
they stood looking and looking upon it, but could
not for a time tell what they should make thereof.
At last Hopeful espied written above upon the head
thereof, a writing in an unusual hand ; but he be-
ing 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 to-
gether, he found the same to be this, Remember Lot's
Wife. So he read it to his fellow ; aftar 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
114 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Sodom for safety. 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 ought
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 'twixt 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. 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 stept 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 chuse 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 115
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 eye-sight, and
notwithstanding the kindnesses that he had shewed
them ; for the land of Sodom was now, like the
Garden of Eden heretofore. This therefore pro-
voked 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 con-
cluded, 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 ministreth
occasion to us to thank God, to fear before him,
and always to remember Lot's Wife.
I saw then that they went on their way to a a river
pleasant River, which David the King called the
River of God, but John, the River of the Water of
Life. Now their way lay just upon the bank of the
River; here therefore Christian and his Companion
walked with great delight; they drank also of the
water of the River, which was pleasant and enliven-
ing to their weary spirits : besides, on the banks of
this River on either side were green Trees, that bore Trees by
all manner of Fruit ; and the Leaves of the Trees the river -
were good for Medicine ; with the Fruit of these Trees and i e r a v es
they were also much delighted ; and the Leaves they of the trees
ate to prevent Surfeits, and other Diseases that are
incident to those that heat their blood by Travels.
On either side of the River was also a Meadow,
curiously beautified with Lilies ; and it was green
all the year long. In this Meadow they lay down a meadow
and slept, for here they might lie down safely. in which
Wlien they awoke, they gathered again of the Fruit down to
of the Trees, and drank again of the water of the sleep
116 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
River, and then lay down again to sleep. Thus they
did several days and nights. Then they sang,
Behold ye how these Cristal streams do glide,
(To comfort Pilgrims) by the High- way 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 eat
and drank, and departed.
By-path Now I beheld in my Dream, that they had not
Meadow 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 soul of the Pil-
grims was much discouraged because of the way.
Wherefore still as they went on, they wished for
better way. Now a little before them, there was on
the left hand of the road a Meadow, and a Stile to
One temp- go over into it, and that Meadow is called By-path-
tationdoes Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, If this
make way . . , ,
for another Meadow heth along by our way-side, let s go over
into it. Then he went to the Stile to see, and be-
hold a Path lay along by the way on the other side
of the fence. 'Tis according to my wish, said Chris-
tian, 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 Chr. That's not like, said the other; look, doth
SyieaT Jt not S° alon S b y the way-side? So Hopeful,
weak ones being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over
thewa the ^ tile * When tne y were S 0ne OVer ' Snd 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 Coelestial
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 117
Gate. Look, said Christian, did I not tell you so ? See what
by this you may see we are right. So they followed, {t is t0 °
and he went before them. But behold the night to falT 7
came on, and it grew very dark, so that they that in with
were behind lost the sight of him that went before. strangers
He therefore that went before ( Vain-confidence A pit to
by name) not seeing the way before him, fell into ca - ch , the -
j J.. , • i , vainglon-
a deep Pit, which was on purpose there made by ous in
the Prince of those grounds, to catch vain-glorious
fools withal, and was dashed in pieces with his fall.
Now Christian and his fellow heard him fa?* Reasoning
So they called to know the matter, but there wan Christian
none to answer, only they heard a groaning. Then and
said Hopeful, Where are we now ? Then was his H °P eful
fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out
of the way; and now it began to rain, and thunder,
and lighten in a very dreadful manner, and the
water rose amain.
Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh
that I had kept on my way !
Chr. Who could have thought that this Path
should have led us out of the way?
Hope. I was afraid on't at the very first, and
therefore gave you that gentle caution. I would
have spoken plainer, but that you are older than I.
Chr. Good Brother be not offended ; I am sorry Christian's
I have brought thee out of the way, and that I have repentance
put thee into such imminent danger ; pray my f his
Brother forgive me, I did not do it of an evil intent, brother
Hope. Be comforted my brother, for I forgive °^ e ^ ay
thee ; and believe too that this shall be for our good.
Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful
Brother; but we must not stand thus, let's try to go
back again.
Hope. But good Brother let me go before.
Chr. No, if you' please let me go first, that if there
be any danger, I may be first therein, 'be'cause by my
means we are both gone out of the way.
Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first;
for your mind being troubled may lead you out of
118 PILGRIMS PROGRESS
They are the way again. Then for their encouragement, they
in danger heard the voice of one savins; Let thine heart be
of drown- .... » , ,
ingasthey towards the High-way, even the way that thou went-
goback es t f turn again. But by this time the waters were
greatly risen ; by reason of which the way of going
back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that
it is easier going out of the way when we are in,
than going in when we are out.) Yet they ad-
ventured 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 Neither could they, with all the skill they had,
poinds £ et a £ ain t0 the Stile that ni g n t- Wherefore at
of Giant last, lighting under a little shelter, they sat down
Despair there till the day brake; but being weary, they
fell asleep. Now there was not far from the place
where they lay, a Castle called Doubting Castle, the
owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was in
his grounds they were now sleeping: wherefore he,
getting up in the morning early, and walking up and
down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful
He finds asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and
them in his surly voice he bid them awake, and asked them
anTcarries whence they were ? and what they did in his
them to grounds ? They told him they were Pilgrims, and
cas u tt > e ing that the y had lost their wa y- 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 Giant therefore drove them before him,
The griev- an( j p Ut them into his Castle, into a very dark Dun-
"heirTm- geon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of these two
prisonment men. Here then they lay from Wednesday morning
till Saturday night, without one bit of bread, or
drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they did ;
they were therefore here in evil case, and were far
from friends and acquaintance. Now in this place
Christian had double sorrow, because 'twas through
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 119
his unadvised haste 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.
Now Giant Despair had a Wife, and her name OnThurs-
was Diffidence. So when he was gone to bed, he day- Giant
told his Wife what he had done, to wit, that he had beats his
taken a couple of Prisoners and cast them into his prisoners
Dungeon, for trespassing on his grounds. Then he
asked her also what he had best do further to them.
So she asked him what they were, whence they came,
and whither they were bound ; and he told her.
Then she counselled him that when he arose in the
morning he should beat them without any mercy. So
when he arose, he getteth him a grievous Crab-tree
Cudgel, and goes down into the Dungeon to them,
and there first falls to rating of them, as if they
were dogs, although they gave him never a word
of distaste. Then he falls upon them, and beats
them fearfully, in such sort, that they were not able
to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor.
This done, he withdraws and leaves them, there to
condole their misery, and to mourn under their
distress : so all that day they spent the time in noth-
ing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next
night she talking with her Husband about them fur-
ther, and understanding that they were yet alive,
did advise him to counsel them to make away them-
selves. So when morning was come, he goes to On Friday,
them in a surly manner as before, and perceiving Giant .
them to be very sore with the stripes that he had counsels
given them the day before, he told them, that since ^ m t0 kin
they were never like to come out of that place, their
only way would be forthwith to make^an end of
themselves, either with Knife, Halter,, or Poison;
For why, said he, should you chuse life, seeing it is
attended with so much bitterness ? But they desired
120
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christian
crushed
Hopeful
comforts
him
The Giant him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon
sometimes 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 Sun-shine weather
fell into Fits) and lost for a time the use of his
hand; wherefore he withdrew, and left them as
before, to consider what to do. Then did the
Prisoners consult between themselves, whether 'twas
best to take his counsel or no; and thus they began
to discourse :
Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do?
The life that we now live is miserable : for my part
I know not whether is best, to live thus, or to die out
of hand. My soul chuscth strangling rather than
life, and the Grave is more easy for me than this
Dungeon. Shall we be ruled by the Giant ?
Hope. Indeed our present condition is dreadful,
and death would be far more welcome to me than
thus for ever to abide; but yet let us consider, the
Lord of the Country to which we are going hath
said, Thou shalt do no murder, no not to another
man's person ; much more then are we forbidden to
take his counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he that
kills another can but commit murder upon his body ;
but for one to kill himself is to kill body and soul
at once. And moreover, my Brother, thou talkest of
ease in the Grave ; but hast thou forgotten the Hell,
whither for certain the murderers go? For no
mtirderer hath eternal life, &c. And let us con-
sider again, that all the Law is not in the hand of
Giant Despair. Others, so far as I can understand,
have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have
escaped out of his hand. Who knows but that God
that made the world may cause that Giant Despair
may die? or that at some time or other he may for-
get to lock us in? or but he may in short time have
another of his Fits before us, and may lose the use of
his limbs? and if ever that should come to pass
again, for my part I am resolved to pluck up the
heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 121
under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try
to do it before; but however, my Brother, let's be
patient, and endure a while; the time may come
that may give ns 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 disobeyed his counsel,
it should be worse with them than if they had never
been born.
At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian
Christian fell into a Swoon ; but coming a little dejected
to himself again, they renewed their discourse about
the Giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best
to take it or no. Now Christian again seemed to
be for doing it, but Hopeful made his second reply
as followeth:
Hope. My Brother, said he, rememberest thou Hopeful
not how valiant thou hast been heretofore? Apol- comforts
i 1 11 i i " im a S ain >
lyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou by calling
didst hear, or see, or feel in the Valley of the Shadow former
things
of Death. What hardship, terror, and amazement to remem .
hast thou already gone through, and art thou now brance
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 with-
out the light. But let's exercise a little more pa-
tience, remember how thou playedst the man at
Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the Chain,
122 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
nor Cage, nor yet of bloody Death : wherefore let us
(at least to avoid the shame, that becomes not a
Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as
well as we can.
Now night being come again, and the Giant and
his Wife being in bed, she asked him concerning
the Prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel :
To which he replied, They are sturdy Rogues, they
chuse rather to bear all hardship, than to make away
themselves. Then said she, Take them into the
Castle-yard to-morrow, and shew them the Bones
and Skulls of those that thou hast already dispatch'd,
and make them believe, e'er a week comes to an end,
thou also wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast
done their fellows before them.
On Satur- s w hen the morning was come, the Giant goes
Giant le to them again, and takes them into the Castle-yard
threatened and shews them as his Wife had bidden him.
shortly he These, said he, were Pilgrims as you are, once, and
would pull they trespassed in my grounds, as you have done ;
and when I thought fit, I tore them in pieces, and
so within ten days I will do you. Go get you down
to your Den again ; and with that he beat them all
the way thither. They lay therefore all day on
Saturday in a lamentable case, as before. Now
when night was come, and when Mrs Diffidence and
her Husband the Giant were got to bed, they began
to renew their discourse of their Prisoners; and
withal the old Giant wondered, that he could neither
by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end.
And with that his Wife replied, I fear, said she, that
they live in hope that some will come to relieve them,
or that they have pick-locks about them, by the
means of which they hope to escape. And sayest
thou so, my dear? said the Giant, I will therefore
search them in the morning.
Well on Saturday about midnight they began to
pray, and continued in Prayer till almost break of
day.
Now a little before it was day, good Christian, as
them in
pieces
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 123
one half amazed, brake out in passionate speech: A key in ^
What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a stinking bosom!*" S
Dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty. I called
have a Key in my bosom called Promise, that will, PronlJse •
J J _ ' ' opens any
I am persuaded ; open any Lock m Doubting Castle, lock in
Then said Hopeful, That's good news ; good Brother Doubting
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 dam-
nable 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 creak-
ing, 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 High-way again, and so were
safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction.
Now when they were gone over the Stile, they a pillar
began to contrive with themselves what they should christian'
do at that Stile, to prevent those that should come and his
after from falling into the hands of Giant Despair. fellow
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
Co:lestial 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.
124 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are,
Whose Castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair.
The They went then till they came to the Delectable
Mountains 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 Gar-
dens and Orchards, the Vineyards and Fountains
They are of water ; where also they drank, and washed them-
inthe C selves, and did freely eat of the Vineyards. Now
mountains there were on the tops of these Mountains Shep-
herds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the
High-way side. The Pilgrims therefore went to
them, and leaning upon their staves (as is common
with weary Pilgrims, when they stand to talk with
Talk with any by the way) they asked, Whose Delectable
Shepherds 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.
Chr. Is this the way to the Ccelestial City?
Shep. You are just in your way.
Chr. How far is it thither?
Shep. Too far for any but those that shall get
thither indeed.
Chr. Is the way safe or dangerous?
Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe,
but transgressors shall fall therein.
Chr. Is there in this place any relief for Pilgrims
that are weary and faint in the way?
Shep. The Lord of these Mountains hath given
us a charge not to be forgotten to entertain
strangers; therefore the good of the place is before
you.
I saw also in my Dream, that when the Shepherds
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 125
perceived that they were way-faring men, they also The
put questions to them (to which they made answer Sh fP herds
r * v * welcome
as in other places) as, Whence came you? and, them
How got you into the way? and, By what means
have you so persevered therein? For but few of
them that begin to come hither do shew their face
on these Mountains. But when the Shepherds heard
their answers, being pleased therewith, they looked
very lovingly upon them, and said, Welcome to the
Delectable Mountains.
The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowl- The names
edge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them shepherds
by the hand, and had them to their Tents, and made
them partake of that which was ready at present.
They said moreover, We would that ye should stay
here a while, to be acquainted with us ; and yet more
to solace yourselves with the good of these Delecta-
ble Mountains. They then told them, that they were
content to stay; and so they went to their rest that
night, because it was very late.
Then I saw in my Dream, that in the morning They are
the Shepherds called up Christian and Hopeful to ^ h 3 n r
walk with them upon the Mountains ; so they went The Moun-
forth with them, and walked a while, having a ^ in of
i • i mi . i , Error
pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the
Shepherds one to another, Shall we shew these Pil-
grims some wonders? 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? They answered, Yes. Then said the Shep-
herds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at
the bottom of this Mountain are they; and they
126 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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 Then I saw that they had them to the top of
Caution 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 be-
cause 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 an-
swered. Yes. Then said the Shepherds, From that
Stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubt-
ing Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair; and
these men (pointing to them among the Tombs)
came once on Pilgrimage, as you do now, even till
they came to that same Stile ; and because the right
way was rough in that place, they chose to go out
of it into that Meadow, and there were taken by
Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting Castle; where,
after they had been awhile kept in the Dungeon,
he at last did put out their eyes, and led them among
those Tombs, where he has left them to wander to
this very day, that the saying of the Wise Man
might be fulfilled. He that zvandereth out of the way
of understanding, shall remain in the congregation
of the dead. Then Christian and Hopeful looked
upon one another, with tears gushing out, but yet
said nothing to the Shepherds.
A by-way 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 there-
fore, and saw that within it was very dark and
smoky; they also thought that they heard there a
to hell
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 127
rumbling noise as of Fire, and a cry of some tor-
mented, and that they smelt the scent of Brimstone.
Then said Christian, What means this? The Shep-
herds told them, This is a by-way to Hell, a way
that Hypocrites go in at; namely, such as sell their
Birth-right, with Esau; such as sell their Master, as
Judas; such as blaspheme the Gospel, with Alexan-
der; and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and
Sapphira his Wife. Then said Hopeful to the Shep-
herds, I perceive that these had on them, even every-
one, a shew of Pilgrimage, as we have now; had
they not?
Shep. Yes, and held it a long time too.
Hope. How far might they go on 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 had
need to cry to the Strong for strength.
Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it when
you have it too.
By this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go for- The
wards, and the Shepherds a desire they should; so p^P^ds^
they walked together towards the end of the Moun- glass
tains. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Let
us here shew to the Pilgrims the Gates of the Coeles-
tial City, if they have skill to look through our
Perspective-Glass. The Pilgrims then lovingly ac- -phe Hill
cepted the motion ; so they had them to the top of a Clear
high Hill, called Clear, and gave them their Glass
to look.
Then they assayed to look, but the remembrance The fruits
of that last thing that the Shepherds had shewed f e f a s r erviIe
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,
128
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
A twofold
caution
The coun-
try of
Conceit,
out of
which
came
Ignorance
Christian
and Igno-
rance have
some talk
The
ground
of Igno-
rance's
hope
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.
When they were about to depart, one of the Shep-
herds 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 on the In-
chanted Ground. And the fourth bid them Godspeed.
So I awoke from my Dream.
And I slept, and Dreamed again, and saw the
same two Pilgrims going down the Mountains along
the High-way 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?
Ignor. Sir, I was born in the Country that lieth
off there a little on the left hand, and I am going
to the Coelestial City.
Chr. But how do you think to get in at the Gate,
for you may find some difficulty there ?
Ignor. As other good people do, said he.
Chr. But what have you to shew at that Gate,
that may cause that the Gate should be opened to
you?
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 earnest not in at the Wicket-Gate
that is at the head of this way; thou earnest in
hither through that same crooked Lane, and there-
fore 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.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 129
Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me, He saith
I know you not ; be content to follow the Religion to ^fj* ,
T it-. i- • one that he
of your Country, and I will follow the Religion i s a fool
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.
When Christian saw that the man was wise in How to
his own conceit, he said to Hopeful whisperingly, to a fool
There is more hopes of a fool than of him. 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. What, shall we talk
further with him, or outgo 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 of him? Then
said Hopeful,
Let Ignorance a little while now muse
On what is said, and let him not refuse
Good counsel to imbrace, 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.
So they both went on, and Ignorance he came The de-
after. Now when they had passed him a little way, struction
i 1 it 1 of one
they entered into a very dark Lane, where they met Tumaway
a man whom seven Devils had bound with seven
strong cords, and were carrying of Jijm back to
the Door that they saw on the side of the Hill.
Now good Christian began to tremble, and so did
Hopeful his Companion; yet as the Devils led
hc xv — s
130 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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 Apostacy. But he did not
perfectly see his face, for he did hang his head like
a Thief that is found. But being gone past, Hopeful
looked after him, and espied on his back a paper
with this inscription, Wanton Professor and damna-
Christian i e Apostate. Then said Christian to his fellow,
companion Now I call to remembrance that which was told me
a story of of a thing that happened, to a good man hereabout.
Little-faith The name Q £ the man was Litfig.foith, but a good
man, and he dwelt in the Town of Sincere. The
thing was this; At the entering in of this passage,
Broad-way there comes down from Broad-way Gate,, a Lane
called Dead Man's Lane; so called because of the
Dead Murders that are commonly done there ; and this
f^ a n n e s 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 awaked from his sleep, and was getting
up to go on his Journey. So they came up all to
him, and with threatning language bid him stand.
Little-faith At this Little-faith looked as white as a Clout, and
Faint- * ^ a ^ neither power to fight nor fly. Then said
heart, Mis- Faint-heart, Deliver thy Purse. But he making no
Guilt and haste t0 do ** ( for he was loth t0 lose his Mone y)
Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand into
They got hj s Pocket, pull'd out thence a bag of silver. Then
silver, and he cried out, Thieves, Thieves. With that Guilt
knocked with a great Club that was in his hand, struck
him down Littig _f aith on the head> and with that b i ow fell'd
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-
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 131
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 get-
ting up made shift to scrabble on his way. This
was the story.
Hope. But did they take from him all that ever
he had?
Chr. No ; the place where his Jewels were they Little-faith
never ransacked, so those he kept still ; but as I was J, ^" *
told, the good man was much afflicted for his things
loss, for the Thieves got most of his spending Money.
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 Tourney's end; nay, if I Little-faith
* • • T . , J , ■* , L '. •", forced to
was not misinformed, he was forced to beg as he beg to his
went, to keep himself alive, for his Jewels he might journey's
not sell. But beg, and do what he could, he went en
(as we say) with many a hungry belly the most part
of the rest of the way.
Hope. But is it not a wonder that they got from
him his Certificate, by which he was to receive his
admittance at the Ccelestial Gate?
Chr. 'Tis a wonder but they got not that, though He k ?pt
., • j • i i , . ' . , ? not his
they missed it not through any good cunning of his ; best things
for he being dismayed with their coming upon him, b y hi ? ow n
had neither power nor skill to hide anything ; so (" Thnf
'twas more by good Providence than by his en- i- 14)
deavour, that they miss'd of that good thing.
Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him
that they got not this Jewel 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 their 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.
132
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
He is pitied
by both
Christian
snubbeth
his fellow
for
unadvised
speaking
A discourse
about Esau
and
Little-faith
Esau was
ruled by
his lusts
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? 'Tis 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
over-took him, or that he over-took 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 'tis 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.
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 Coelestial 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 villany of ten thousand Thieves.
Hope. Why art thou so tart my Brother? Esau
sold his Birth-right, and that for a mess of Pottage,
and that Birth-right was his greatest Jewel ; and
if he, why might not Little-faith do so too?
Chr. Esau did sell his Birth-right indeed, and
so do many besides, and by so doing exclude them-
selves 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's Birth-right 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 133
his fleshly appetite, Little -faith's did not so. Besides,
Esau could see no further than to the fulfilling of
his lusts : For I am at the point to die, said he, and
what good will this Birth-right do me? But Little-
faith, though it was his lot to have but a little faith,
was by his little faith kept from such extravagancies,
and made to see and prize his Jewels more than to
sell them, as Esau did his Birth-right. You read
not anywhere that Esau had faith, no not so much Esau never
as a little; therefore no marvel if where the flesh had faith
only bears sway (as it will in that man where no
faith is to resist) if he sells his Birth-right, 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. When their
minds are set upon their lusts, they will have them
whatever they cost. But Little-faith was of another
temper, his mind was on things Divine; his liveli-
hood was upon things that were Spiritual, and Little-faith
from above; therefore to what end should he that could not
' . live upon
is of such a temper sell his Jewels (had there been Esau's
any that would have bought them) to fill his mind P° tta ee
with empty things? 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? AcompaH-
Though faithless ones can, for carnal Lusts, pawn t°" e „ e ' th
or mortgage, or sell what they have, and themselves turtle-dove
outright to boot ; yet they that have faith, saving and the
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 trodden 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.
Hope. But Christian, these three fellows, I am Hopeful
persuaded in my heart, are but a company of Cow- swa 88 ers
134 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
ards; 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 Chr. That they are Cowards, many have said,
heart for b ut £ ew h ave found it so in the time of Trial. As
God, where , r-ir-iii it
there is but for a great heart, Little-faith had none; and I per-
littie faith ceive by thee, my Brother, hadst thou been the man
We have concerned, thou art but for a brush, and then to
more cour- yield. And verily since this is the height of thy
out, rtmn stomach, now they are at a distance from us, should
when in they appear to thee as they did to him, they might
the conflict put thee tQ second thoughts
Christian But consider again, they are but journeymen
tells his Thieves ; they serve under the King of the bottom-
own ex* J
perience in less Pit, who, if need be, will come in to their aid
this case himself, and his voice is as the roaring of a Lion.
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 cloathed with Armor 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 Chr. True, they have often fled, both they and
c ampion t jj e £ r Master, when Great-grace hath but appeared;
and no marvel, for he is the King's Champion. But
I tro you will put some difference between 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 Goliah as David
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 135
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, 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 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 ? Yet, 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.
Besides their King is at their whistle. He is Levi-
never out of hearing; and if at any time they be g^diness
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 fly; Sling-stones are turned with him into
Stubble, Darts are counted as Stubble: he laugheth
at the shaking of a Spear. What can a man do
in this case? 'Tis true, if a man could at every
turn have Job's Horse, and had skill and courage to
136 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
The excel- ride him, he might do notable things; for his Neck
that is!" 6 * s cloathed zvith Thunder, he will not be afraid as
Job's horse the Grasshopper, the glory of his Nostrils is terrible,
he paweth in the Valley, rejoiceth in his strength,
and goeth out to meet the armed men. He mocketh
at fear, and is not affrighted, neither turneth back
from the Sword, The Quiver rattlcth against him,
the glittering Spear, and the Shield. He swalloweth
the ground with fierceness and rage, neither be-
lieveth. he that it is the sound of the Trumpet. He
saith among the Trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smcllcth
the Battle afar off, the thundering of the Captains,
and the Shoutings.
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 High-way, two things become
us to do: First, 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 take the Shield of Faith, where-
with ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts
of the wicked.
It is good 'Tis good also that we desire of the King a
to have a Convoy, yea that he will go with us himself. This
convoy , _ .. .. , . , __ ,, , ,
made David rejoice when in the Valley of the
Shadozu of Death: and Moses was rather for dying
where he stood, than to go one step without his
God. O my Brother, if he will but go along with
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 137
us, what need we be afraid of ten thousands that
shall set themselves against us? But without him,
the proud helpers fall under the slain.
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 Fr.ith, shall then a victor be
Over ten thousand, else scarce over three.
So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They A way, and
went then till they came at a place where they saw a way
a way put itself into their way, and seemed withal
to lie as straight as the way which they should go:
and here they knew not which of the two to take,
for both seemed straight before them ; therefore
here they stood still to consider. And as they were
thinking about the way, behold a man black of flesh,
but covered with a very light Robe, came to them,
and asked them why they stood there ? They an- The flat-
swered they were going to the Ccelestial City, but th ^
knew not which of these ways to take. Follow me,
said the man, it is thither that I am going. So they
followed him in the way that but now came into
the road, which by degrees turned, and turned them Christian
so from the City that they desired to go to, that in f" 1]ow ) s
little time their faces were turned away from it : deluded
yet they followed him. But by-and-by, before they
were aware, he led them both within the compass
of a Net, in which they were both so intangled, ™^ are
that they knew not what to do ; and "with that the a net
white Robe fell off the black man's back: then they
saw where they were. Wherefore there they lay
138
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
They be-
wail their
condition
A Shining
One comes
to them
with a
whip in
his hand
They are
examined,
and con-
victed of
forget-
fulness
Deceivers
fine spoken
crying some time, for they could not get themselves
out.
Chr. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do
I see myself in an 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.
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, Con-
cerning the works of men, by the word of thy lips
I have kept me from the paths of the destroyer.
Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the Net. At
last they espied a Shining One coming towards
them with a Whip of small cord in his hand. When
he was come to the place where they were, he asked
them whence they came ? and what they did there ?
They told him that they were poor Pilgrims going to
Sion, but were led out of their way by a black man,
cloathed in white, who bid us, said they, follow him,
for he was going thither too. Then said he with
the Whip, It is Flatterer, a false Apostle, that hath
transformed himself into an Angel of Light. So
he rent the Net, and let the men out. Then said
he to them, Follow me, that I may set you in your
way again: so he led them back to the way which
they had left to follow the Flatterer. Then he asked
them, saying, Where did you lie the last night?
They said, With the Shepherds upon the Delectable
Mountains. He asked them then, If they had not
of 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 Shep-
herds did not bid them beware of the Flatterer?
They answered, Yes ; but we did not imagine, said
they, that this fine-spoken man had been he.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 139
Then I saw in my Dream, that he commanded They are
them to lie down; which when they did, he chastised wl "PP ed .
them sore, to teach them the good way wherein on their
they should walk ; and as he chastised them he said, wa y
As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous
therefore, and repent. This done, he bid them go
on their way, and take good heed to the other direc-
tions 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 intangling Net,
'Cause they good Counsel lightly did forget ;
'Tis true they rescu'd were, but yet you see
They're scourg'd to boot : Let this your caution be.
Now after a while, they perceived afar off one
coming softly and alone all along the High-way to
meet them. Then said Christian to his fellow,
Yonder is a man with his back toward Sion, and
he is coming to meet us.
Hope. I see him, let us take heed to ourselves The Athe-
now, lest he should prove a Flatterer also. So he If* meets
« i i them
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 the Mount Sion.
Then Atheist fell into a very great Laughter. He laughs
Chr. What is the meaning of your Laughter? atthem
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.
Chr. Why man? Do you think we shall not be They
received? . Sher
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
140
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
hearing went out to see, and have been seeking this
City this twenty years; but find no more of it than
I did the first day I set out.
Chr. We have both heard and believe that there
is such a place to be found.
Atheist. Had not I when at home believed, I
had not come thus far to seek; but finding none,
(and yet I should, had there been such a place to
be found, for I have gone to seek it further than
you) I am going back again, and will seek to refresh
myself with the things that I then cast away, for
hopes of that which I now see is not.
Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow,
brother hiS Is Jt trUe which this man hath Said ?
Hope. Take heed, he is one of the Flatterers ; re-
member what it hath cost us once already for our
hearkening to such kind of fellows. What ! no
Mount Sion? Did we not see from the Delectable
Mountains the Gate of the City? Also, are we not
now to walk by Faith. Let us go on, said Hopeful,
lest the man with the Whip overtake us again. 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. I say my Brother, cease to
hear him, and let us believe to the saving of the Soul.
Chr. My Brother, I did not put the question to
thee for that I doubted of the Truth of our belief
myself, but to prove thee, and to fetch from thee
a fruit of the honesty of thy heart. As for this
man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this
World. Let thee and I go on, knowing that we
have belief of the Truth, and no lie is of the Truth.
Hope. Now do I 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 I saw then in my Dream, that they went till they
EiTh *£/ d C come * nt0 a certa ' n Country, whose air naturally
Ground tended to make one drowsy, if he came a stranger
into it. And here Hopeful began to be very dull
The Athe-
ist takes
up his
content in
this world
Christian
Hopeful's
gracious
answer
A remem-
brance of
former
chastise-
ments is
a help
against
present
tempta-
tions
A fruit
of an
honest
heart
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 141
and heavy of sleep ; wherefore he said unto Chris- Hopeful
tian, I do now begin to grow so drowsy that I can }> e s| ns to
' , , , . ° . i-ii i be drowsy
scarcely hold up mine eyes, let us he down here and
take one nap.
Chr. By no means, said the other, lest sleeping Christian
, keeps him
we never awake more. awake
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 Inchanted Ground?
He meant by that, that we should beware of sleep-
ing; wherefore let us not sleep as do others, but
let us watch and be sober.
Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault, and had Heis
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 com-
pany been my mercy, and thou shalt have a good
reward for thy labour.
Now then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness To prevent
in this place, let us fall into good discourse. SjTSf"
Hope. With all my heart, said the other. to good
Chr. Where shall we begin ? discourse
Hope. Where God began with us. But do you Good
begin, if you please. £^
Chr. I will sing you first this song: drowsiness
When Saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither, The dream-
And hear how these two Pilgrims talk together: er s note
Yea, let them learn of them in any wise,
Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumbring eyes.
Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well,
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of Hell.
Chr. Then Christian began and said, I will ask They begin
you a question : How came you to think at first of beginning
doing as you do now? of their
Hope. Do you mean, how came I at first to look conversion
after the good of my soul?
Chr. Yes, that is my meaning.
Hope. I continued a great while in the delight
142
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Hopeful's
life before
conversion
Hopeful
at first
shuts
his eyes
against
the light
Reasons
of his re-
sisting of
the light
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 were they?
Hope. All the Treasures and Riches of the World.
Also I delighted much in Rioting, Revelling, Drink-
ing, Swearing, Lying, Uncleanness. Sabbath-break-
ing, 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. And that for
these things' sake the wrath of God cometh upon
the children of disobedience.
Chr. And did you presently fall under the power
of this conviction?
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?
Hope. The causes were, I. 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 loth 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 143
again, and then I should be as bad, nay worse, than
I was before.
Chr. Why what was it that brought your sins When he
to mind again? _ ££J3"«
Hope. Many things ; as sin, what
1. If I did but meet a good man in the Streets; or, fought
2. If I have heard any read in the Bible ; or,
3. If mine Head did begin to ake; or,
4. If I were told that some of my Neighbors 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 latterly, 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 ?
Hope. I thought I must endeavour to mend my When he
life; for else, thought I, I am sure to be damned. c° uldn °
Chr. And did you endeavour to mend? shake off
Hope. Yes, and fled from not only my sins, but £ is ?uiit
sinful Company too ; and betook me to religious courses"
duties, as Prayer, Reading, Weeping for Sin, speak- then he en-
ing Truth to my Neighbors, &c. These things did f e ^"
I, with many others, too much here to relate.
Chr. And did you think yourself well then?
Hope. Yes, for a while ; but at the last my trouble Then he
came tumbling upon me again, and that over the himself
neck of all my reformations. • - well
Chr. How came that about, since you were now
reformed?
Hope. There were several things brought it upon
144
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Reforma-
tion at
last could
not help,
and why
His being
a debtor
by the law
troubled.
him
His espy-
ing bad
things in
his best
duties
troubled
him
This made
him break
his mind
to Faithful
who told
him the
way to be
saved
me, especially such sayings as these: All our right-
eousnesses are as filthy rags. By the works of
the Law no man shall be justified. When you have
done all things, say, We are unprofitable : 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 'tis but a folly to think of
Heaven by the Law. I further thought thus: If
a man runs iool. into the Shop-keeper's debt, and
after that shall pay for all that he shall fetch; yet
his old debt stands still in the Book uncrossed, for
the which the Shop-keeper 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.
Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me, even
since my late amendments, is, that if I look nar-
rowly 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 not-
withstanding 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?
Hope. Do ! I could not tell what to do, till I
brake my mind to Faithful, for he and I were well
acquainted. And he told me, 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.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 145
Chr. And did you think he spake true?
Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and
satisfied with mine own amendments, 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 sug-
gested it to you, that there was such a man to be
found, of whom it might justly be said, That he
never committed sin?
Hope. I must confess the words at first sounded At which
strangely ; but after a little more talk and company af present
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?
Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, a more
that dwelleth on the right hand of the Most High. 5?^?"
And thus, said he, you must be justified by him, of the
even by trusting to what he hath done by himself saved
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.
Chr. And what did you do then?
Hope. I made my objections against my believing, He doubts
for that I thought he was not willing to save me. t °atfo C n ep
Chr. And what said Faithful to you then ?
Hope. He bid me go to him and see : then I said ^ s r
it was presumption : but he said, No, for I was in- instructed
vited to come. 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. 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
146 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
reveal him to me. 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. And he
He is bid bid me say to this effect: God be merciful to
to pray 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 sin-
ner indeed) Lord, take therefore this opportunity,
and magnify thy grace in the Salvation of my soul,
through thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen.
He prays Chr. And did you do as you were bidden ?
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 thought of leaving off praying?
He thought Hope. Yes, an hundred times twice told,
praying 0ff Chr. And what was the reason you did not ?
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
He durst therefore thought I with myself, If I leave off, I die,
n 2* ,eav . e and can but die at the Throne of Grace. And withal,
oft praying, . . , .
and why this came into my mind, // it tarry, wait for it, be-
cause it will surely come, it will not tarry. So I
continued praying until the Father shewed me his
Son.
Chr. And how was he revealed unto you ?
Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 147
with the eyes of mine understanding; and thus Christ is
it was : One day I was very sad, I think sadder than f e Yf. aled
at any one time in my life, and this sadness was and how
through a fresh sight of the greatness and vile-
ness of my sins : and as I was then looking for noth-
ing but Hell, and the everlasting damnation of my
Soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus
look down from Heaven upon me, and saying, Be-
lieve on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be
saved.
But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very great
sinner. And he answered My grace is sufficient for
thee. 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. 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. 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. He is
the end of the Laiv for righteousness to every one
that believes. He died for our sins, and rose again
for our justification. He loved us and washed us
from our sins in his own blood. He is Mediator be-
tween God and us. He ever liveth to make inter-
cession for us. 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 sub-
mitting 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
148 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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 particulaly what effect this had
upon your spirit.
Hope. It made me see that all the World, not-
withstanding 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 shewed
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 tro it would not have hurt him, had
he kept pace with us hitherto.
Chr. That's true, but I warrant you he thinketh
otherwise.
Young Hope. That I think he doth, but however let us
Ignorance t for h j m g the did
comes up J . . ■««••■ i
again; Then Christian said to him, Come away man, why
their talk do y0U stay SQ 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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 149
speech to Ignorance, he said, Come, how do you?
How stands it between God and your Soul now ?
Ignor. I hope well ; for I am always full of good Igno-^
motions, that come into my mind to comfort me hope? and
as I walk. the ground
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 desires, and hath
nothing.
Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for them.
Chr. That I doubt, for leaving all is an 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.
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 has good
thoughts? and is not that a good life that is accord-
ing to God's Commandments?
150 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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,
some other things.
What are Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting our-
fhoughts SelveS?
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 my-
self, the Word of God saith of persons in a natural
condition, There is none righteous, there is none
that doth good. It saith also, That every imag-
ination of the heart of man is only evil, and that
continually. And again, The imagination of man's
heart is evil from his youth. 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. It
saith they are naturally out of the good way, that
they have not known it. Now when a man thus
thinketh of his ways, I say, when he doth sensibly,
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 151
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 perform-
ances?
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 or actual infirmities; but hast
such an opinion of thyself, and of what thou doest,
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?
Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners, and The
that I shall be justified before God from the {j£ r ° f nce
curse, through his gracious acceptance of my obedi-
152 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
ence 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 lost 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 by God; but his personal obedience to the
Law, in doing and suffering for us what that re-
quired 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 condem-
nation.
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 demonstrated
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
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 153
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.
Ignor. What ! you are a man for revelations ! I ignorance
believe that what both you, and all the rest of you, withthem
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 all flesh, that he cannot
by any man be savingly known, unless God the
Father reveals him to them.
Ignor. That is your Faith, but not mine ; yet mine He speaks
I doubt not is as good as yours, though I have not reproach-
in my head so many whimsies as you. wha^ he
Chr. Give me leave to put in a word : You ought knows not
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; 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.
Be awakened then, see thine own wretchedness,
and fly to the Lord Jesus ; and by his righteous-
ness, which is the righteousness of God, (for he
himself is God) thou shalt be delivered from con-
demnation.
Ignor. You go so fast I cannot keep pace with The talk
you, do you go on before, I must stay a while behind. broke up
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
E're 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 shall slight it, thou wilt be
The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee.
154 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Then Christian addressed thus himself to his
fellow.
Chr. Well, come my good Hopeful, I per-
ceive 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 dan-
gerous ?
Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself,
for you are the elder man.
The good Chr. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they
use of fear maVj t> u t 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.
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 be-
ginning of Wisdom.
Right fear Hope. How will you describe right fear?
Chr. True or right fear is discovered by three
things :
i. By its rise; it is caused by saving convictions
for sin.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 155
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 Inchanted
Ground ?
Chr. Why, art thou weary of this discourse?
Hope. No, verily, but that I would know where
we are.
Chr. We have not now above two miles further Why
to go thereon. But let us return to our matter. SJ^^ 1
Now the Ignorant know not that such convictions stifle
as tend to put them in fear are for their good, and convictlons
therefore they seek to stifle them. In genera i
Hope. How do they seek to stifle them?
Chr. 1. They think that those fears are wrought in pat-
by the Devil, (though indeed they are wrought of ticular
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
these fears tend to take away from them their piti-
ful old self-holiness, and therefore they resist them
with all their might.
Hope. I know something of this myself; for be-
fore I knew myself it was so with me.
Chr. Well, we will leave at this time our Neigh-
bor Ignorance by himself, and fall upon another
profitable question.
Hope. With all my heart, but you shall still begin.
Chr. Well then, did you not know about ten years
156
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Talk about
one
Temporary
Where he
dwelt
He was
towardly
once
Reasons
why
towardly
ones
go back
ago, one Temporary in your parts, who was a for-
ward man in Religion then?
Hope. Know him! yes, he dwelt in Graceless, a
town about two miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt
next door to one Turn-back.
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 be-
ing above three miles from him) he would oft-
times 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, as we do now; but all of a
sudden he grew acquainted with one Saveself, and
then he became a stranger to me.
Hope. Now since we are talking about him, let
us a little enquire into the reason of the sudden
backsliding of him and such others.
Chr. It may be very profitable, but do you begin.
Hope. Well then, there are in my judgment four
reasons for it.
I. Though the consciences of such men are awak-
ened, 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.
This I say, being hot for Heaven by vertue only of
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 157
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 Hap-
piness die, and they return to their course again.
2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that
do over-master them; I speak now of the fears that
they have of men, For the fear of men bringeth a
snare. 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 be-
take themselves to second thoughts ; namely, that
'tis 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 unneces-
sary 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 ; there-
fore 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 chuse 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
158 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
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 shewed you the reasons of
their going back, do you show me the manner
thereof.
Chr. So I will willingly.
How the i. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may,
goefblck * rom the remembrance of God, Death and Judg-
ment to come.
2. Then they cast off by degrees private Duties, as
Closet-prayer, Curbing their Lusts, Watching, Sor-
row 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 Re-
ligion (for the sake of some infirmity they have
spied 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 dis-
courses 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 shew them-
selves 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.
Angels Now I saw in my Dream, that by this time the
Pilgrims were got over the Inchanted Ground, and
entering into the Country of Beulah, whose air was
very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly
through it, they solaced themselves tnere for a sea-
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 159
son. Yea, here they heard continually the singing
of Birds, and saw every day the Flowers appear in
the earth, and heard the voice of the Turtle in the
land. In this Country the Sun shineth night and
day; wherefore this was beyond the Valley of the
Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant
Despair, neither could they from this place so much
as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within
sight of the City they were going to, also here met
them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this
land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because it
was upon the borders of Heaven. In this land also
the contract between the Bride and the Bridegroom
was renewed ; yea here, as the Bridegroom rejoiceth
over the Bride, so did their God rejoice over them.
Here they had no want of Corn and Wine; for in
this place they met with abundance of what they
had sought for in all their Pilgrimage. Here they
heard voices from out of the City, loud voices, say-
ing, Say ye to the daughter of Zion Behold thy
salvation cometh, behold his reward is with him.
Here all the inhabitants of the Country called them,
The holy People, The redeemed of the Lord, Sought
out, &c.
Now as they walked in this land, they had more
rejoicing than in parts more remote from the King-
dom 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 reflections of the Sun-beams upon it, Chris-
tian 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,
// you see my Beloved, tell him that I am sick of
love. ■ '
But being a little strengthened, and better able
to bear their sickness, they walked on their way, and
came yet nearer and nearer, where were Orchards,
160 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Vineyards, and Gardens, and their gates opened
into the High-way. 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 delights,
and also for the solace of Pilgrims. So the Gar-
dener had them into the Vineyards, and bid them
refresh themselves with Dainties. He also shewed
them there the King's walks, and the Arbors where
he delighted to be ; and here they tarried and slept.
Xow 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 Vinyards 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 they went on, there met them two
men, in Raiment that shone like Gold, also their
faces shone as the light.
These men asked the Pilgrims whence they came?
and they told them. They also asked them where
they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what
comforts and pleasures they had met in the way?
and they told them. Then said the men that met
them, You have but two difficulties more to meet
with, and then you are in the City.
Christian then and his Companion asked the men
to go along with them, so they told them they would.
But, said they, you must obtain it by your own
Faith. So I saw in my Dream that they went on
together till they came in sight of the Gate.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 161
Now I further saw that betwixt them and the Death
Gate was a River, but there was no Bridge to go
over, the River was very deep: at the sight there-
fore of this River the Pilgrims were much stunned ;
but the men that went with them said, You must
go through, or you cannot come at the Gate.
The Pilgrims then began to enquire if there was Death is
no other way to the Gate ; to which they answered, "°^o
Yes, but there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch nature,
and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path, since j t h ™ g £ a b J
the foundation of the World, nor shall, until the out of this
last Trumpet shall sound. The Pilgrims then, es- ™ or [^ in
pecially Christian, began to dispond in his mind,
and looked this way and that, but no way could be
found by them by which they might escape the Angels
River. Then they asked the men if the Waters ^ t p c "^.
were all of a depth ? They said, No ; yet they could fortabiy
not help them in that case, for said they, you shall ^°^ gh
find it deeper or shallower, as you believe in the
King of the place.
They then addressed themselves to the Water;
and entring, Christian began to sink, and crying
out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, I sink in
deep Waters; the Billows go over my head, all his
Waves go over me, Selah.
Then said the other, Be of good cheer my Brother, Christian's
I feel the bottom, and it is good. Then said Chris- ^J o c J r at
tian, Ah my friend, the sorrows of death have com- of death
passed me about, I shall not see the land that flows
with milk and honey. And with that a great dark-
ness 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 trouble-
hcxv — 6
162
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christian
delivered
from his
fears in
death
some thoughts of the sins that he had committed,
both since and before he began to be a Pilgrim.
'Twas also observed that he was troubled with
apparitions of Hobgoblins and evil Spirits, for ever
and anon he would intimate so much by words.
Hopeful therefore here had much 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, 'Tis you, 'tis you they
wait for, you have been hopeful ever since I knew
you. And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah
Brother, said he, surely if I was right, he would
now arise to help me; but for my sins he hath
brought me into the snare, and hath left me. Then
said Hopeful, My Brother, you have quite forgot
the Text, where it is said of the wicked, There is
no band in their death, but their strength is firm,
they are not troubled as other men, neither are they
plagued like other men. These troubles and dis-
tresses that you go through in these Waters are no
sign that God hath forsaken you, but are sent to
try you, whether you will call to mind that which
heretofore you have received of his goodness, and
live upon him in your distresses.
Then I saw in my Dream, that Christian was as
in a muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added
this word, Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh
thee whole; and with that Christian brake out with
a loud voice, Oh I see him again, and he tells me,
When thou passest through the Waters, I will be
with thee; and through the Rivers, they shall not
overflow thee. Then they both took courage, and
the Enemy was after that as still as a stone, 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. Now upon the bank of the River on the
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 163
other side, they saw the two shining men again, The angels
who there waited for them; wherefore being come do wait
* . ° tor them,
out of the River, they saluted them saying, We are so soon as
ministring Spirits, sent forth to minister for those they are
that shall be heirs of salvation. Thus they went outofthis
along towards the Gate. w > rl d
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?
Now you must note that the City stood upon a They have
mighty Hill, but the Pilgrims went up that Hill with putof *
i tiii 1 , t mortality
ease because they had these two men to lead them
up by the arms ; also they had left their mortal Gar-
ments 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, be-
cause they safely got over the River, and had such
glorious Companions to attend them.
The talk that they had with the Shining Ones
was about the glory of the place, who told them
that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible.
There, said they, is the Mount Sion, the heavenly
Jerusalem, the innumerable company of Angels, and
the Spirits of just men made perfect. You are
going now, said they, to the Paradise of God, where-
in you shall see the Tree of Life, and eat of the
never-fading fruits thereof ; and when you come
there, you shall have white Robes given you, and
your walk and talk shall be every day with the
King, even all the days of Eternity. There you
shall not see again such things as you *saw when
you were in the lower Region upon the earth, to
wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death, for the
former things are passed away. You are now going
164 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the Proph-
ets, men that God hath taken away from the
evil to come, and that are now resting upon their
beds, each one walking in his righteousness. The
men then asked, What must we do in the holy place ?
To whom it was answered, You must there receive
the comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all
your sorrow; you must reap what you have sown,
even the fruit of all your Prayers and Tears, and
sufferings for the King by the way. In that place
you must wear Crowns of Gold, and enjoy the
perpetual sight and vision of the Holy one, for
there you shall see him as he is. There also you
shall serve him continually with praise, with shout-
ing, and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve
in the World, though with much difficulty, because
of the infirmity of your flesh. There your eyes
shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with
hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There
you shall enjoy your friends again, that are gone
thither before you: and there you shall with joy
receive even every one that follows into the holy
place after you. There also shall you be cloathed
with Glory and Majesty, and put into an equipage
fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When he
shall come with sound of Trumpet in the Clouds,
as upon the wings of the Wind, you shall come
with him; and when he shall sit upon the Throne
of Judgment, you shall sit by him; yea, and when
he shall pass sentence upon all the workers of in-
iquity, let them be Angels or Men, you also shall
have a voice in that Judgment, because they were
his and your Enemies. Also when he shall again
return to the City, you shall go too, with sound of
Trumpet, and be ever with him.
Now while they were thus drawing towards the
Gate, behold a company of the Heavenly Host came
out to meet them ; to whom it was said by the other
two Shining Ones. These are the men that have
loved our Lord when they were in the World, and
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 165
that have left all for his Holy Name, and he hath
sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them
thus far on their desired Journey, that they may
go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy.
Then the Heavenly Host gave a great shout, saying,
Blessed are they that are called to the Marriage
Supper of the Lamb. There came out also at this
time to meet them, several of the King's Trumpeters,
cloathed in white and shining Raiment, who with
melodious noises and loud, made even the Heavens
to echo with their sound. These Trumpeters saluted
Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes
from the World, and this they did with shouting and
sound of Trumpet.
This done, they compassed them round on every
side; some went before, some behind, and some on
the right hand, some on the left, (as 'twere 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 mix-
ing their musick with looks and gestures, still signify
to Christian and his Brother, how welcome they
were into their company, and with what gladness
they came to meet them; and now were these two
men as 'twere in Heaven before they came at it,
being swallowed up with the sight of Angels, and
with hearing of their melodious notes. Here also
they had the City itself in view, and they thought
they heard all the Bells therein ring to welcome
them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful
thoughts that they had about their own dwelling
there, with such company, and that for ever and
ever. Oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious
joy be expressed ! And thus they came up to the
Gate.
Now when they were come up to the Gate, there
166 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
was written over it in Letters of Gold, Blessed are
they that do his Commandments, that they may have
right to the Tree of Life, and may enter in through
the Gates into the City.
Then I saw in my Dream, that the Shining Men
bid them call at the Gate ; the which when they did,
some from above looked over the Gate, to wit,
Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, &c., to whom it was said,
These Pilgrims are come from the City of Destruc-
tion 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 right-
eous nation, saith he, that keepeth Truth may enter in.
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, saying, Blessing, Honour, Glory,
and Power, be to him that sitteth upon the Throne,
and to the Lamb for ever and ever.
Now just as the Gates were opened to let in the
men, I looked in after them, and behold, the City
shone like the Sun: the Streets also were paved
with Gold, and in them walked many men, with
Crowns on their heads, Palms in their hands, and
golden Harps to sing praises withal.
There were also of them that had wings, and
they answered one another without intermission,
saying, Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord. And after
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 167
that they shut up the Gates. Which when I had
seen, I wished myself among them.
Now while I was gazing upon all these things, ignorance
I turned my head to look back, and saw Ignorance comes u p
J , t, . • , , , to the
come up to the River-side ; but he soon got over, r iver
and that without half that difficulty which the other
two men met with. For it happened that there was
then in that place one Vain-hope a Ferry-man, that
with his Boat helped him over ; so he, as the other Vain-hope
I saw, did ascend the Hill to come up to the Gate, does ferr y
only he came alone ; neither did any man meet him im ove
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 Certifi-
cate, that they might go in and shew it to the King.
So he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found
none. Then said they, Have you none? But the
man answered never a word. So they told the King,
but he would not come down to see him, but com-
manded the two Shining Ones that conducted Chris-
tian 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, / have told my Dream to thee;
See if thou carist interpret it to me,
Or to thyself, or Neighbor; but take heed
Of mis-interpreting; for that, instead
Of doing good, will but thyself abuse:
By mis-interpreting, evil insues.
Take heed also, that thou be not extreme,
In playing voith the out-side 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 Vail;
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 away all as vain,
I know not but 'twill make me Dream agaia
168
THE
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
FROM THIS WORLD
TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME
THE SECOND PART
DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM
Wherein is set forth
the manner of the setting out of Christian's
Wife and Children, their Dangerous Journey, and
Safe Arrival at the Desired Country
By JOHN BUNYAN
/ have used Similitudes. Hos. 12. 10.
THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF SENDING
FORTH HIS
SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM
Go now my little Book, to every place
Where my first Pilgrim has but shewn his Face:
Call at their door; If any say, Who's there?
Then answer thou, Christiana is here.
If they bid thee Come in, then enter thou,
With all thy Boys; and then, as thou know'st how,
Tell who they are, also from whence they came;
Perhaps they'll know them by their looks, or name.
But if they should not, ask them yet again
If formerly they did not entertain
One Christian a Pilgrim? 7/ they say
They did, and was delighted in his Way;
Then let them know that those related were
Unto him, yea, his Wife and Children are.
Tell them that they have left their House and Home,
Are turned Pilgrims, seek a World to come;
That they have met with Hardships in the way:
That they do meet with Troubles night and day;
That they have trod on Serpents, fought with Devils,
Have also overcame a many evils.
Yea, tell them also of the next, who have
Of love to Pilgrimage been stout and brave
Defenders of that Way, and how they still
Refuse this World, to do their Father's will.
Go tell them also of those dainty things,
That Pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings.
Let them acquainted be too, how they are
171
172 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
Beloved of their King, wider his care;
What goodly Mansions for them he provides,
Tho' they meet with rough Winds and swelling TideSt
Hozv brave a Calm they will enjoy at last,
Who to their Lord, and by his ways hold fast.
Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace
Thee, as they did my Firstling, and will grace
Thee, and thy fellows, with such cheer and fare,
As shew will they of Pilgrims lovers are.
i Objection
But how if they will not believe of me
That I am truly thine, 'cause some there be
That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name,
Seek by disguise to seem the very same,
And by that means have wrought themselves into
The hands and houses of I know not who?
Answer
'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit
My Pilgrim, to their own my Title set;
Yea others half my Name and Title too
Have stitched to their Book, to make them do;
But yet they by their Features do declare
Themselves not mine to be, whose ere they are.
If such thou meetst with, then thine only way
Before them all is to say out thy say,
In thine own native language, which no man
Now uscth, nor with ease dissemble can.
If after all they still of you shall doubt,
Thinking that you like Gipsies go about
In naughty wise the Country to defile,
Or that you seek good people to beguile
With things unwarrantable ; send for me,
And I will testifie you Pilgrims be;
Yea, I will testifie that only you
My Pilgrims are; and that alone will do.
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 173
2 Objection
But yet perhaps I may inquire for him,
Of those that wish him damned life and limb.
What shall I do, when I at such a door
For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more?
Answer
Fright not thyself my Book, for such Bugbears
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears:
My Pilgrim's Book has travcll'd sea and land,
Yet could I never come to understand
That it was slighted, or turn'd out of door
By any Kingdom, were they rich or poor.
In France and Flanders, where men kill each other,
My Pilgrim is esteem'd a Friend, a Brother.
In Holland too 'tis said, as I am told,
My Pilgrim is with some worth more than Gold.
Highlanders and Wild Irish can agree
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be.
'Tis in New England under such advance,
Receives there so much loving countenance,
As to be trimm'd, new cloth'd, and deck't with Gems,
That it may shew its features and its limbs,
Yet more, so comely doth my Pilgrim walk,
That of him thousands daily sing and talk.
If you draw nearer home, it will appear
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear;
City and Country will him entertain
With Welcome Pilgrim; yea, they can't refrain,
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by,
Or shews his head in any Company,
Brave Galants do my Pilgrim hug and love,
Esteem it much, yea, value it above
Things of a greater bulk: yea, with delight,
Say my Lark's leg is better than a Kite.
Young Ladies, and young Gentle-women too,
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim shew;
Their Cabinets, their Bosoms, and their Hearts
My Pilgrim has, 'cause he to them imparts
174 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains,
As yield them profit double to their pains
Of reading. Yea, I think I may be bold
To say some prise him far above their Gold.
The very Children that do walk the street,
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet,
Salute him will, will wish him well, and say,
He is the only Stripling of the Day.
They that have never seen him, yet admire
What they have heard of him, arid much desire
To have his company, and hear him tell
Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well.
Yea, some who did not love him at the first,
But call'd him Fool and Noddy, say they must
Now they have seen and heard him, him commend;
And to those whom they love they do him send.
Wherefore my Second Part, thou need'st not be
Afraid to shew thy Head; none can hurt thee,
That wish but well to him that went before,
'Cause thou com'st after with a second store
Of things as good, as rich, as profitable,
For Young, for Old, for Stagg'ring, and for Stable.
3 Objection
But some there be that say he laughs too loud ;
And some do say his Head is in a Cloud.
Some say his Words and Stories are so dark,
They know not how by them to find his mark.
Answer
One may (I think) say, Both his laughs and cries
May well be gucss'd at by his watery eyes.
Some things are of that nature as to make
One's Fancie chuckle, while his Heart doth ake,
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep,
He did at the same time both kiss and weep.
JVhereas some say, A Cloud is in his Head,
That doth but sheiv hozv Wisdom's covered
With its own mantles, and to stir the mind
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 175
To a search after what it fain would find:
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure,
Do but the Godly mind the more allure;
To study what those sayings should contain
That speak to us in such a Cloudy strain.
I also know a dark Similitude
Will on the Fancie more itself intrude,
And will stick faster in the Heart and Head,
Than things from Similies not borrowed.
Wherefore my Book, let no discouragement
Hinder thy travels. Behold, thou art sent
To Friends, not foes: to Friends that will give place
To thee, thy Pilgrims and thy words embrace.
Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceaVd,\
Thou my brave Second Pilgrim hast reveal 'd;
What Christian left lock't up, and went his way,
Sweet Christiana opens with her Key.
4 Objection
But some love not the method of your first,
Romance they count it, throw't away as dust
If I should meet with such, what should I say?
Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay?
Answer
My Christiana, if with such thou meet,
By all means in all loving wise them greet;
Render them not reviling for revile ;
But if they frown, I prithee on them smile ;
Perhaps 'tis Nature, or some ill report,
Has made them thus despise, or thus retort.
Some love no Cheese, some love no Fish, and some
Love not their Friends, nor their own House or Home;
Some start at Pig, slight Chicken, love not Fowl,
More than they love a Cuckow or an Owl;
Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice,
And seek those who to find thee will rejoice;
By no means strive, but in all humble wise
Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise.
176 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
Go then my little Book, and shew to all
That entertain, and bid thee welcome shall,
What thou shalt keep close, shut up from the rest,
And wish what thou shalt shew them may be blest
To them for good, may make them chuse to be
Pilgrims better by far than thee or me.
Go then, I say, tell all men who thou art,
Say, I am Christiana, and my part
Is now, with my four Sons, to tell you what
It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot:
Go also tell them who and what they be,
That now do go on Pilgrimage with thee;
Say, Here's my Neighbor Mercy, she is one
That has long time with me a Pilgrim gone.
Come see her in her Virgin Face, and learn
'Twixt Idle ones and Pilgrims to discern.
Yea, let young Damsels learn of her to prize
The World which is to come, in any wise.
When little tripping Maidens follow God,
And leave old doting Sinners to his Rod;
'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried
Hosanah, to whom old ones did deride.
Next tell them of old Honest, who you found
With his white hairs treading the Pilgrim's ground.
Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was,
How after his good Lord he bare his Cross;
Perhaps with some grey Head this may prevail
With Christ to fall in Love, and Sin bewail.
Tell them also how Master Fearing went
On Pilgrimage, and how the time he spent
In Solitariness, with Fears and Cries,
And how at last he won the joyful Prize.
He was a good man, though much down in Spirit,
He is a good man, and doth Life inherit.
Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also,
Who not before, but still behind would go;
Shew them also how he had like been slain,
And how one Great-heart did his life regain.
This man was true of Heart, tho' weak in Grace,
One might true Godliness read in his Face.
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 177
Then tell them of Master Ready-to-halt,
A man with Crutches, but much without fault;
Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he
Did love, and in opinions much agree.
And let all know, tho' weakness was their chance,
Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance.
Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth,
That Man of courage, though a very Youth.
Tell every one his Spirit was so stout,
No man could ever make him face about,
And how Great-heart and he could not forbear,
But put-down Doubting Castle, slay Despair.
Overlook not Master Despondancie,
Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, tho' they lie
Under such Mantles as may make them look
(With some) as if their God had them forsook.
They softly went, but sure, and at the end
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their Friend.
When thou hast told the world of all these things,
Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings,
Which if but touched, will such Musick make,
They'll make a Cripple dance, a Giant quake.
These Riddles that lie couch't within thy breast,
Freely propound, expound ; and for the rest
Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain
For those whose nimble Fancies shall them gain.
Now may this little Book a blessing be
To those who love this little Book and me,
And may its Buyer have no cause to say,
His Money h but lost or thrown away ;
Yea, may this Second Pilgrim yield that fruit,
As may with each good Pilgrim's Fancie suit;
And may it persuade some that go astray,
To turn their Feet and Heart to the right way:
Is the Hearty Prayer
of the Author
JOHN BUN Y AN.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM,
THE SECOND PART
COURTEOUS Companions, some time since,
to tell you my Dream that I had of Christian
the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous Journey
toward the Coelestial Country, was pleasant to me,
and profitable to you. I told you then also what I
saw concerning his Wife and Children, and how
unwilling they were to go with him on Pilgrimage,
insomuch that he was forced to go on his Progress
without them; for he durst not run the danger of
that destruction which he feared would come by
staying with them in the City of Destruction.
Wherefore as I then shewed you, he left them
and departed.
Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity
of Business, that I have been much hindred and
kept back from my wonted Travels into those parts
whence he went, and so could not till now obtain
an opportunity to make further enquiry after whom
he left behind, that I might give you an account
of them. But having had some concerns that way
of late, I went down again thitherward. Now hav-
ing taken up my Lodgings in a Wood about a mile
off the place, as I slept I dreamed again.
And as I was in my Dream, behold an aged
Gentleman came by where I lay ; and "because he
was to go some part of the way that I was travelling,
methought I got up and went with him. So as we
walked, and as Travellers usually do, I was as if we
179
180 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
fell into discourse, and our talk happened to be about
Christian and his Travels ; for thus I began with the
old man.
Sir, said I, what Town is that there below, that
lieth on the left hand of our way?
Then said Mr Sagacity, (for that was his name)
It is the City of Destruction, a populous place, but
possessed with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort
of People.
I thought that was the City, quoth I, I went once
myself through that Town, and therefore know that
this report you give of it is true.
Sag. Too true, I wish I could speak truth in
speaking better of them that dwell therein.
Well, Sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a
well-meaning man; and so one that takes pleasure
to hear and tell of that which is good: pray did
you never hear what happened to a man some time
ago in this Town (whose name was Christian) that
went of Pilgrimage up towards the higher Regions?
Christians Sag. Hear of him! Ay, and I also heard of the
are well Molestations, Troubles, Wars, Captivities, Cries,
when gone-, Groans, Frights, and Fears that he met with and
though had in his Journey. Besides, I must tell you, all
whikth°ey S our Country rings of him; there are but few houses
are here that have heard of him and his doings but have
sought after and got the Records of his Pilgrimage ;
yea, I think I may say that his hazardous Jour-
ney has got a many well-wishers to his ways ; for
though when he was here, he was Fool in every
man's mouth, yet now he is gone, he is highly com-
mended of all. For 'tis said he lives bravely where
he is; yea, many of them that are resolved never
to run his hazards, yet have their mouths water at
his gains.
They may, quoth I, well think, if they think any-
thing that is true, that he liveth well where he is;
for he now lives at and in the Fountain of Life,
and has what he has without labour and sorrow,
for there is no grief mixed therewith.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 181
Sag. Talk ! the people talk strangely about him. Christian's
Some say that he now walks in White, that he has K .\ ng ,
will take
a Chain of Gold about his neck, that he has a Crown Christian's
of Gold, beset with Pearls, upon his head. Others P art
say that the Shining Ones that sometimes shewed
themselves to him in his Journey, are become his
Companions, and that he is as familiar with them
in the place where he is, as here one Neighbor is
with another. Besides, 'tis confidently affirmed
concerning him, that the King of the place where
he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich
and pleasant dwelling at Court ; and that he every
day eateth and drinketh, and walketh, and talketh
with him; and receiveth of the smiles and favours
of him that is Judge of all there. Moreover, it is
expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that
Country, will shortly come into these parts, and will
know the reason, if they can give any, why his
Neighbors set so little by him, and had him so much
in derision when they perceived that he would be
a Pilgrim. For they say, that now he is so in the
affections of his Prince, and that his Sovereign is
so much concerned with the indignities that were
cast upon Christian when he became a Pilgrim, that
he will look upon all as if done unto himself; and
no marvel, for 'twas for the love that he had to his
Prince that he ventured as he did.
I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on't; I am glad
for the poor man's sake, for that he now has rest
from his labour, and for that he now reapeth the
benefit of his Tears with Joy; and for that he has
got beyond the Gun-shot of his Enemies, and is out
of the reach of them that hate him. I also am
glad for that a rumour of these things is noised
abroad in this Country; who can tell but that it may
work some good effect on some that are left behind?
But pray Sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you
hear anything of his Wife and Children? Poor
hearts, I wonder in my mind what they do !
Sag. Who! Christiana and her sons? They are
182
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Good
tidings of
Christian's
wife and
children
First Part,
p. 162
Mark this,
you that
are churls
to your
godly
relations
like to do as well as did Christian himself; for
though they all play'd the fool at the first, and would
by no means be persuaded by either the tears or
entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have
wrought wonderfully with them ; so they have packt
up, and are also gone after him.
Better and better, quoth I. But what ! Wife and
Children and all ?
Sag. It is true ; I can give you an account of the
matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and
was throughly acquainted with the whole affair.
Then, said I, a man it seems may report it for a
Truth ?
Sag. You need not fear to affirm it, I mean that
they are all gone on Pilgrimage, both the good
Woman and her four Boys. And being we are, as
I perceive, going some considerable way together, I
will give you an account of the whole of the matter.
This Christiana (for that was her name from the
day that she with her Children betook themselves
to a Pilgrim's life) after her Husband was gone
over the River, and she could hear of him no more,
her thoughts began to work in her mind. First,
for that she had lost her Husband, and for that the
loving bond of that relation was utterly broken
betwixt them. For you know, said he to me, Nature
can do no less but entertain the living with many
a heavy cogitation in the remembrance of the loss
of loving Relations. This therefore of her Husband
did cost her many a tear. But this was not all, for
Christiana did also begin to consider with herself,
whether her unbecoming behaviour towards her
Husband was not one cause that she saw him no
more, and that in such sort he was taken away from
her. And upon this came into her mind by swarms,
all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages
to her dear Friend; which also clogged her Con-
science, and did load her with guilt. She was more-
over much broken with calling to remembrance the
restless groans, brinish tears, and self-bemoanings
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 183
of her Husband, and how she did harden her heart
against all his entreaties and loving persuasions
(of her and her Sons) to go with him; yea, there
was not anything that Christian either said to her,
or did before her all the while that his Burden did
hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a
flash of lightning, and rent the caul of her Heart
in sunder. Specially that bitter outcry of his, What First Part
shall I do to be saved? did ring in her ears most p - I4
dolefully.
Then said she to her Children, Sons, we are all
undone. I have sinned away your Father, and he is
gone : he would have had us with him ; but I would
not go myself, I also have hindred you of Life.
With that the Boys fell all into tears, and cried
out to go after their Father. Oh! said Christiana,
that it had been but our lot to go with him, then had
it fared well with us, beyond what 'tis like to do
now ; for tho' I formerly foolishly imagin'd con-
cerning the troubles of your Father, that they pro-
ceeded of a foolish Fancy that he had, or for that
he was overrun with melancholy Humours ; yet now
'twill not out of my mind but that they sprang
from another cause, to wit, for that the Light of
Light was given him, by the help of which, as I
perceive, he has escaped the snares of Death. Then
they all wept again, and cried out, O Wo worth
the day.
The next night Christiana had a Dream; and be- Chris-
hold she saw as if a broad Parchment was opened ^Tam
before her, in which were recorded the sum of her
ways; and the times, as she thought, look'd very
black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her
sleep, Lord have Mercy upon me a Sinner; and the
little Children heard her.
After this she thought she saw two very ill- Mark this,
favoured ones standing by her Bedside', and saying, ijjj^ji 16
What shall we do with this Woman? for she cries sence
out for Mercy waking and sleeping; if she be suf- of hel1
fered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her as
184
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Help
against
discour-
agement
Convic-
tions sec-
onded with
fresh
tidings
of God's
readiness
to pardon
we have lost her Husband. Wherefore we must by
one way or other, seek to take her off from the
thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else all the
World cannot help it but she will become a Pilgrim.
Now she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling
was upon her, but after a while she fell to sleeping
again. And then she thought she saw Christian her
Husband in a place of Bliss among many Immortals,
with an Harp in his Hand, standing and playing
upon it before one that sat on a Throne with a
Rainbow about his Head. She saw also as if he
bowed his Head with his Face to the pav'd-work
that was under the Prince's feet, saying, / heartily
thank my Lord and King for bringing of me into
this Place. Then shouted a company of them that
stood round about, and harped with their Harps;
but no man living could tell what they said, but
Christian and his Companions.
Next morning when she was up, had prayed to
God, and talked with her Children a while, one
knocked hard at the door, to whom she spake out,
saying, // thou comest in God's name, come in.
So he said Amen, and opened the Door, and saluted
her with Peace be to this house. The which when
he had done, he said, Christiana, knowest thou
wherefore I am come? Then she blushed and
trembled, also her Heart began to wax warm with
desires to know whence he came, and what was his
errand to her. So he said unto her, My name is
Secret, I dwell with those that are high. It is talked
of where I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to go
thither; also there is a report that thou art aware
of the evil thou hast formerly done to thy Husband,
in hardening of thy Heart against his way, and in
keeping of these thy Babes in their Ignorance. Chris-
tiana, the Merciful One has sent me to tell thee that
he is a God ready to forgive, and that he taketh
delight to multiply to pardon offences. He would
also have thee know that he inviteth thee to come
into his presence, to his Table, and that he will
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 185
feed thee with the Fat of his house, and with the
Heritage of Jacob thy Father.
There is Christian thy Husband that was, with
Legions more his Companions, ever beholding that
Face that doth minister Life to beholders; and they
will all be glad when they shall hear the sound of
thy feet step over thy Father's threshold.
Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, Christiana
and bowing her head to the ground, this Visitor overcome
proceeded and said, Christiana, here is also a Letter
for thee, which I have brought from thy Husband's
King. So she took it and opened it, but it smelt
after the manner of the best Perfume, also it was
written in letters of Gold. The contents of the
Letter was, That the King would have her do as
did Christian her Husband; for that was the way to
come to his City, and to dwell in his Presence with
Joy for ever. At this the good Woman was quite
overcome; so she cried out to her Visitor, Sir, will
you carry me and my Children with you,, that we
also may go and ivorship this King?
Then said the Visitor, Christiana, the bitter is Further
before the sweet: thou must through troubles, as t" s n r " c "
did he that went before thee, enter this Coelestial Christiana
City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Chris-
tian thy Husband: Go to the Wicket-gate yonder,
over the Plain, for that stands in the head of the
way up which thou must go, and I wish thee all
good speed. Also I advise that thou put this Letter
in thy bosom ; that thou read therein to thyself and
to thy Children, until you have got it by rote of
heart, for it is one of the Songs that thou must
sing while thou art in this House of thy Pilgrimage ;
also this thou must deliver in at the further Gate.
Now I saw in my Dream, that this old Gentleman, Christiana
as he told me this' story, did himself seem to be Powell
, J ' , j for her
greatly affected therewith. He moreover, proceeded j 0U rney
and said, So Christiana called her Sons together,
and began thus to address herself unto them : My
Sons, I have as you may perceive, been of late under
186
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Chris-
tiana's
new-
language
stuns
her old
neighbors
First Part,
P- 47
much exercise in my Soul about the Death of your
Father; not forthat I doubt at all of his Happiness,
for I am satisfied now that he is well. I have also
been much affected with the thoughts of mine own
state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature
miserable. My carriages also to your Father in
his distress, is a great load to my Conscience ; for
I hardened both my own heart and yours against
him, and refused to go with him on Pilgrimage.
The thoughts of these things would now kill me
outright, but that for a Dream which I had last
night, and but for the encouragement that this
stranger has given me this morning. Come my
Children, let us pack up and be gone to the Gate
that leads to the Ccelestial Country, that we may
see your Father, and be with him and his Com-
panions in peace, according to the Laws of that
Land.
Then did her Children burst out into tears for
joy that the heart of their Mother was so inclined.
So their Ilsitor bid them farewell, and they began
to prepare to set out for their Journey.
But while they were thus about to be gone, two
of the women that were Christiancfs Neighbors,
came up to her house and knocked at her door. To
whom she said as before. // you come in God's
come in. At this the women were stunned,
for this kind of language they used not to hear, or
to perceive to drop from the lips of Christiana. Yet
they came in : but behold they found the good woman
a preparing to be gone from her house.
So they began and said, Neighbor, pray v.-hat is
your meaning by this?
Christiana answered and said to the eldest of
them, whose name was Mrs. Timorous, I am pre-
paring for a Journey. (This Timorous was daughter
to him that met Christian upon the Hill Din
and would a had him gone back for fear of the
Lions.)
Tim. For what Journey I pray you?
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 187
Chris. Even to go after my good Husband.
And with that she fell a weeping.
Tim. I hope not so, good Neighbor, pray for Timorous
your poor Children's sakes, do not so unwomanly come «
J , r , c J to visit
cast away yourself. Christiana,
Chris. Nay, my Children shall go with me, not with
one of them 'is willing to stay behind. tfher' "*
Tim. I wonder in my very heart, what or who neighbors
has brought you into this mind.
Chris. Oh, Neighbor, knew you but as much as
I do, I doubt not but that you would go with me.
Tim. Prithee what new knowledge hast thou got,
that so worketh off thy mind from thy Friends,
and that tempteth thee to go nobody knows where?
Chris. Then Christiana replied, I have been Death
sorely afflicted since my Husband's departure from
me, but specially since he went over the River.
But that which troubleth me most, is my churlish
carriages to him when he was under his distress.
Besides, I am now as he was then; nothing will
serve me but going on Pilgrimage. I was a dream-
ing last night that I saw him. O that my Soul
was with him. He dwelleth in the presence of
the King of the Country, he sits and eats with him
at his table, he is become a Companion of Immortals,
and has a House now given him to dwell in, to
which the best Palaces on Earth if compared, seem
to me to be but as a Dunghill. The Prince of the
place has also sent for me, with promise of enter-
tainment if I shall come to him ; his messenger was
here even now, and has brought me a Letter, which
invites me to come. And with that she pluck'd out
her Letter, and read it, and said to them, What now
will you say to this?
Tim. Oh the madness that has possessed thee and First Part .
thy Husband, to run yourselves upon §uch difficul- pp '
ties ! You have heard, I am sure, what your Hus-
band did meet with, even in a manner at the first
step that he took on his way, as our Neighbor
Obstinate can yet testify, for he went along with
somn
the flesh
188 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
him; yea and Pliable too, until they like wise men,
were afraid to go any further. We also heard over
and above, how he met with the Lions, Apollyon,
the Shadow of Death, and many other things. Nor
The rea- is the danger that he met with at Vanity Fair to be
esh° f° r g°tten by thee; for if he, tho' a Man, was so
hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor
Woman, do? Consider also that these four sweet
Babes are thy Children, thy Flesh and thy Bones.
Wherefore though thou shouldest be so rash as to
cast away thyself, yet for the sake of the Fruit of
thy Body keep thou at home.
Aperti- But Christiana said unto her, tempt me not, my
tcffleshiy' 7 Neighbor. I have now a price put into mine hand
reasonings to get gain, and I should be a Fool of the greatest
size if I should have no heart to strike in with the
opportunity. And for that you tell me of all these
Troubles that I am like to meet with in the way,
they are so far off from being to me a discourage-
ment, that they shew I am in the right. The bitter
must come before the sweet, and that also will make
the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore since you came
not to my house in God's name, as I said, I pray
you to be gone, and not to disquiet me farther.
Mercy's Then Timorous also revil'd her, and said to her
bowels fellow, Come Neighbor Mercy, let us leave her in
yearn over ...
Christiana her own hands, since she scorns our Counsel and
Company. But Mercy was at a stand, and could
not so readily comply with her Neighbor, and that
for a twofold reason. First, her bowels yearned
over Christiana: so she said within herself, If my
Neighbor will needs be gone, I will go a little way
with her and help her. Secondly, her bowels yearned
over her own Soul, (for what Christiana had said
had taken some hold upon her mind.) Wherefore
she said within herself again, I will yet have more
talk with this Christiana, and if I find Truth and
Life in what she shall say, myself with my heart
shall also go with her. Wherefore Mercy began
thus to reply to her Neighbor Timorous.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 189
Mercy. Neighbor, I did indeed come with you Timorous
to see Christiana this morning; and since she is, £ orsakes
as you see, a taking of her last farewell of her Mercy
Country, I think to walk this Sun-shine morning c]ea ves
a little way with her to help her on the way. But
she told her not of her second reason, but kept that
to herself.
Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a fooling Timorous
too, but take heed in time, and be wise : while we are acquaints
out of danger, we are out ; but when we are in, w hat the
we are in. So Mrs Timorous returned to her s° 0( ?
house, and Cliristiana betook herself to her Journey, intends
But when Timorous was got home to her to do
house, she sends for some of her Neighbors, to wit,
Mrs Bat's-eyes, Mrs Inconsiderate, Mrs Light-
mind, and Mrs Know-nothing. So when they came
to her house, she falls to telling of the story of
Christiana and of her intented Journey. And thus
she began her tale.
Tim. Neighbors, having had little to do this morn-
ing, I went to give Christiana a visit; and when
I came at the door, I knocked, as you know 'tis
our custom. And she answered, 7/ you come in
God's name, come in. So in I went, thinking all
was well. But when I came in, I found her prepar-
ing herself to depart the Town, she and also her
Children. So I asked her what was her meaning
by that? And she told me in short, that she was
now of a mind to go on Pilgrimage, as did her
Husband. She told me also a Dream that she had,
and how the King of the Country where her Hus-
band was had sent her an inviting Letter to come
thither.
Then said Mrs Know-nothing, And what do you Mrs
i • . i 'ii -> Know-
think She Will go ? nothing
Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever come on't; and
methinks I know it by this, for that which was my
great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to
wit, the Troubles she was like to meet with in the
way) is one great argument with her to put her
190 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
forward on her Journey. For she told me in so
many words, The bitter goes before the sweet. Yea,
and for as much as it so doth, it makes the sweet
the sweeter.
Mrs Bat's- Mrs Bat's-eyes. Oh this blind and foolish wom-
eyes an, said she, will she not take warning by her
Husband's afflictions? For my part I see if he was
here again, he would rest him content in a whole
skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing.
Mrs in- Mrs Inconsiderate also replied, saying, Away
considerate with such F ant astical Fools from the Town! A
good riddance for my part I say of her. Should
she stay where she dwells, and retain this her mind,
who could live quietly by her? for she will either be
dumpish or unneighborly, or talk of such matters
as no wise body can abide ; wherefore for my part
I shall never be sorry for her departure ; let her go,
and let better come in her room: 'twas never a
good World since these whimsical Fools dwelt in it.
M . rs . Then Mrs Light-mind added as followeth : Come
Madame" P ut tms kind of talk away. I was yesterday at
Wanton, Madam Wanton's, where we were as merry as the
f h V, h , at maids. For who do you think should be there, but
had like J '
to have I and Mrs Love-the-Uesh, and three or four more,
been too w ^ y[ T L ec } ier y > Mrs Filth, and some others. So
Faithful there we had musick and dancing, and what else was
in time meet to fill up the pleasure. And I dare say my
pas Lady herself is an admirably well-bred Gentle-wom-
0*73* 3rt ' an > ano - M f Lechery is as pretty a fellow.
By this time Christiana was got on her way, and
Discourse Mercy went along with her. So as they went, her
betwixt Children being there also, Christiana began to dis-
and good course. And Mercy, said Christiana, I take this as
Christiana an unexpected favour, that thou shouldst set foot
out of doors with me, to accompany me a little in
my way.
Mercy Mercy. Then said young Mercy (for she was
tcTgo"" Dut y° un g) If I thought it would be to purpose to go
with you, I would never go near the Town any
more.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 191
Chris. Well Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy Christiana
lot with me : I well know what will be the end of our ™ oul t
• tt nave her
Pilgrimage; my Husband is where he would not neighbour
but be for all the Gold in the Spanish Mines. Nor with her
shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but upon
my Invitation. The King who hath sent for me and
my Children is one that delighteth in Mercy. Be-
sides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt
go along with me as my servant; yet we will have
all things in common betwixt thee and me, only go
along with me.
Mercy. But how shall I be ascertained that I also Mercy
shall be entertained ? Had I this hope but from one doubt f of
r acceptance
that can tell, I would make no stick at all, but would
go, being helped by him that can help, tho' the way
was never so tedious.
Chris. Well loving Mercy, I will tell thee what Christiana
thou shalt do. Go with me to the Wicket-gate, and \ thegate,
there I will further enquire for thee; and if there which is
thou shalt not meet with encouragement, I will be p^^h 11
content that thou shalt return to thy place. I also there to
will pay thee for thy kindness which thou shewest > n( i l " re
to me and my Children, in thy accompanying us in
our way as thou doest.
Mercy. Then I will go thither, and will take what Merc y
OT3.VS
shall follow, and the Lord grant that my lot may
there fall even as the King of Heaven shall have
his heart upon me.
Christiana then was glad at her heart, not only Christiana
that she had a Companion, but also for that she had Mercy's
prevailed with this poor Maid to fall in love with company
her own Salvation. So they went on together, and
Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Where-
fore weepeth my Sister so?
Mercy. Alas ! said she, who can but lament, that Mercy
shall but rightly consider what a statue and con- f or her
dition my poor Relations are in that yet remain in carnal
our sinful Town : and that which makes my grief re a Ions
the more heavy is, because they have no Instructor,
nor any to tell them what is to come.
192
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Chris-
tian's
prayers
were
answered
for his
relations
after he
was dead
Chris. Bowels becometh Pilgrims; and thou dost
for thy Friends as my good Christian did for me
when he left me; he mourned for that I would not
heed nor regard him, but his Lord and ours did
gather up his Tears, and put them into his Bottle;
and now both I and thou and these my sweet Babes,
are reaping the fruit and benefit of them. I hope,
Mercy, these Tears of thine will not be lost; for the
truth hath said, That they that sow in Tears shall
reap in Joy, in singing. And he that goeth forth
and weepcth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless
come again with rejoicing, bringing his Sheaves
with him.
Then said Mercy,
Let the Most Blessed be my guide,
If 't be his blessed will,
Unto his Gate, unto his Fold,
Up to his Holy Hill.
And let him never suffer me
To swerve or turn aside
From his free grace and holy ways,
Whate'er shall me betide.
And let him gather them of mine,
That I have left behind ;
Lord make them pray they may be thine,
With all their heart and mind.
First Part, Now my old Friend proceeded and said: But
p - I9 when Christiana came up to the Slough of Dispond,
she began to be at a stand; for said she, This is
the place in which my dear Husband had like to have
Their own been smothered with mud. She perceived also, that
notwithstanding the command of the King to make
this place for Pilgrims good, yet it was rather worse
than formerly. So I asked if that was true. Yes,
said the Old Gentleman, too true, for that many
there be that pretend to be the King's Labourers,
and that say they are for mending the King's High-
way, that bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and
so mar instead of mending. Here Christiana there-
fore with her Boys, did make a stand; but said
carnal
conclu-
sions, in-
stead of
the Word
of life
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 193
Mercy, Come let us venture, only let us be wary. Mercy
Then they looked well to the steps, and made a thebol dest
shift to get staggeringly over. Slough of
Yet Christiana had like to a been in, and that Dispond
not once nor twice. Now they had no sooner got
over, but they thought they heard words that said
unto them, Blessed is she that bclieveth, for there
shall be a performance of the things that have been
told her from the Lord.
Then they went on again; and said Mercy to
Christiana, Had I as good ground to hope for a lov-
ing reception at the Wicket-gate as you, I think
•no Slough of Dispond would discourage me.
Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I
know mine ; and good friend, we shall all have
enough evil before we come at our Journey's end.
For can it be imagined, that the people that design
to attain such excellent Glories as we do, and that
are so envied that Happiness as we are; but that we
shall meet with what Fears and Scares, with what
Troubles and Afflictions, they can possibly assault
us with that hate us?
And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my Prayer
Dream by myself. Wherefore me-thought I saw sho ? Idl ? e
Christiana and Mercy and the Boys go all of them considera-
up to the Gate ; to which when they were come, t } on and
they betook themselves to a short debate about how we n'as
they must manage their calling at the Gate, and what in faith
should be said to him that did open to them. So it an hope
was concluded, since Christiana was the eldest, that
she should knock for entrance, and that she should
speak to him that did open for the rest. So Chris- First Part,
tiana began to knock, and as her poor Husband did, p - 29
she knocked and knocked again. But instead of any
that answered, they all thought that they heard The dog,
as if a Dog came barking upon them ; a Dog, and ^ e devi1,
a great one too, and this made the Women and to prayer
Children afraid : nor durst they for a while to knock
any more, for fear the Mastiff should fly upon them.
Now therefore they were greatly tumbled up and
hc xv — 7
194
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christiana
and her
compan-
ions per-
plexed
about
prayer
How
Christiana
is enter-
tained at
the gate
down in their minds, and knew not what to do.
Knock they durst not, for fear of the Dog; go back
they durst not, for fear that the Keeper of that
Gate should espy them as they so went, and should
be offended with them. At last they thought of
knocking again, and knocked more vehemently than
they did at the first. Then said the Keeper of the
Gate, Who is there? So the Dog left off to bark,
and he opened unto them.
Then Christiana made low obeisance and said,
Let not our Lord be offended with his Hand-
maidens, for that we have knocked at this princely
Gate. Then said the Keeper, Whence come ye, and
what is that you would have ?
Christiana answered, We are come from whence
Christian did come, and upon the same Errand as
he: to wit, to be if it shall please you, graciously ad-
mitted by this Gate into the way that leads to the
Ccelestial City. And I answer, my Lord, in the next
place, that I am Christiana, once the Wife of Chris-
tian that now is gotten above.
With that the Keeper of the Gate did marvel,
saying, What is she become now a Pilgrim, that
but a while ago abhorred that life? Then she bowed
her head, and said, Yes, and so are these my sweet
Babes also.
Then he took her by the hand, and let her in,
and said also, Suffer the little Children to come
unto me; and with that he shut up the Gate. This
done, he called to a Trumpeter that was above
over the Gate, to entertain Christiana with shouting
and sound of Trumpet for joy. So he obeyed
and sounded, and filled the air with his melodious
notes.
Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without,
trembling and crying for fear that she was rejected.
But when Christiana had gotten admittance for her-
self and her Boys, then she began to make inter-
cession for Mercy.
Chris. And she said, My Lord, I have a Com-
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 195
panion of mine that stands yet without, that is come Chris-
hither upon the same account as myself; one that u * na ' s
is much dejected in her mind, for that she comes, for her
as she thinks, without sending for, whereas I was frien d
. Alercv
sent to by my Husband's King to come.
Now Mercy began to be very impatient, for each The delays
minute was as long to her as an hour, wherefore she P 131 * 6 ^ e
• :, , hungering
prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for soul the
her, by knocking at the Gate herself. And she ferventer
knocked then so loud, that she made Christiana to
start. Then said the Keeper of the Gate, Who is
there ? and said Christiana, It is my Friend.
So he opened the Gate, and looked out ; but Mercy Mercy
was fallen down without in a swoon, for she fainted, faints
and was afraid that no Gate would be opened to her.
Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel,
I bid thee arise.
Oh Sir, said she, I am faint ; there is scarce life
left in me. But he answered, That one once said,
When my soul fainted within me; I rememkred the
Lord, and my prayer came in unto thee, into thy
Holy Temple. Fear not, but stand upon thy feet,
and tell me wherefore thou art come.
Mercy. I am come for that unto which I was The cause
never invited as my Friend Christiana was. Hers £fj~f£,
was from the King, and mine was but from her:
wherefore I fear I presume.
Did she desire thee to come with her to this
Place?
Mercy. Yes; and as my Lord sees I am come.
And if there is any grace or forgiveness of sins to
spare, I beseech that I thy poor Handmaid may
be partaker thereof.
Then he took her again by the hand, and led her Mark this
gently in, and said, I pray for all them that believe
on me, by what means soever they come unto me.
Then said he to those that stood by,- Fetch some-
thing, and give it to Mercy to smell on, thereby
to stay her fainting. So they fetch'd her a bundle
of Myrrh, and a while after she was revived.
196
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christ
crucified
seen
afar oS
Talk be-
tween the
Christians
First Part,
p. 29
And now was Christiana and her Boys and Mercy,
received of the Lord, at the head of the way, and
spoke kindly unto by him.
Then said they yet further unto him, We are sorry
for our sins, and beg of our Lord his Pardon, and
further information what we must do.
I grant Pardon, said he, by word and deed; by
word, in the promise of forgiveness ; by deed, in
the way I obtained it. Take the first from my lips
with a kiss, and the other as it shall be revealed.
Now I saw in my Dream that he spake many good
words unto them, whereby they were greatly glad-
ded. He also had them up to the top of the Gate,
and shewed them by what deed they were saved;
and told them withal that that sight they would
have again as they went along in the way, to their
comfort.
So he left them a while in a Summer Parlor below,
where they entred into talk by themselves ; and thus
Christiana began: O Lord! how glad am I that we
are got in hither.
Mercy. So you well may; but I of all have cause
to leap for joy.
Chris. I thought one time, as I stood at the Gate
(because I had knocked and none did answer) that
all our labour had been lost, specially when that
ugly Cur made such a heavy barking against us.
Mercy. But my worst fears was after I saw that
you was taken into his favour and that I was left
behind. Now thought I 'tis fulfilled which is writ-
ten, Two women shall be grinding together, the
one shall be taken and the other left. I had much
ado to forbear crying out, Undone, undone.
And afraid I was to knock any more; but when
I looked up to what was written over the Gate, I
took courage. I also thought that I must either
knock again, or die; so I knocked, but I cannot tell
how, for my spirit now struggled betwixt life and
death.
Chris. Can you not tell how you knocked? I am
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 197
sure your knocks were so earnest, that the very Christiana
sound of them made me start; I thought I never fj^^ntoa
heard such knocking in all my life; I thought you prays
would a come in by violent hands, or a took the ^"nshe
Kingdom by storm.
Mercy. Alas, to be in my case, who that so was
could but a done so? You saw that the Door was
shut upon me, and that there was a most cruel
Dog thereabout. Who, I say, that was so faint-
hearted as I, that would not have knocked with all
their might? But pray what said my Lord to my
rudeness? was he not angry with me?
Chris. When he heard your lumbering noise, he Christ
gave a wonderful innocent smile; I believe what you Phased
did pleased him well enough, for he shewed no and rest-
sign to the contrary. But I marvel in my heart why ,ess praises
he keeps such a Dog ; had I known that afore, I If the soul
fear I should not have had heart enough to a ven- knowaii'it
tured myself in this manner. But now we are in, should meet
with in its
journey to
Mercy. I will ask if you please next time heheaven.it
we are in, and I am glad with all my heart.
journey to
comes down, why he keeps such a filthy Cur in his would
, T , , ... . . . hardly evet
yard; I hope he will not take it amiss. set out
Ay do, said the Children, and persuade him to The chil-
hang him, for we are afraid he will bite us when dr / n -f re t
° ' afraid of
we go hence. the dog
So at last he came down to them again, and
Mercy fell to the ground on her face before him and
worshipped, and said, Let my Lord accept of the
sacrifice of Praise which I now offer unto him with
the calves of my lips.
So he said unto her, Peace be to thee, stand up. Mercy ex-
But she continued upon her face and said, Righteous ^^ u t ates
art thou Lord when I plead with thee, yet let me the dog
talk with thee of thy Judgments. Wherefore dost
thou keep so cruel a Dog in thy yard, at the sight
of which such Women and Children as. we are ready
to fly from thy Gate for fear ?
He answered and said, That Dog has another Devil
owner ; he also is kept close in another man's ground
198
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
First Part,
p. 30
A check
to the car-
nal fear
of the
pilgrims
Christians,
when wise
enough,
acquiesce
in the
wisdom of
their Lord
First Part,
P- 3*
only my Pilgrims hear his barking; he belongs
to the Castle which you see there at a distance, but
can come up to the walls of this place. He has
frighted many an honest Pilgrim from worse to
better, by the great voice of his roaring. Indeed
he that owneth him doth not keep him of any good
will to me or mine, but with intent to keep the
Pilgrims from coming to me, and that they may be
afraid to knock at this Gate for entrance. Some-
times also he has broken out, and has worried some
that I love; but I take all at present patiently. I
also give my Pilgrims timely help, so they are not
delivered up to his power, to do to them what his
doggish nature would prompt him to. But what ! my
purchased one, I tro, hadst thou known never so
much beforehand, thou wouldest not have been
afraid of a Dog.
The Beggars that go from Door to Door, will,
rather than they will lose a supposed Alms, run the
hazard of the bawling barking and biting too of a
Dog ; and shall a Dog, a Dog in another man's yard,
a Dog whose barking I turn to the profit of Pilgrims,
keep any from coming to me ? I deliver them from
the Lions, their Darling from the power of the
Dog.
Mercy. Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance;
I spake what I understood not; I acknowledge that
thou doest all things well.
Chris. Then Christiana began to talk of their
Journey, and to enquire after the way. So he fed
them, and washed their feet, and set them in the
way of his steps, according as he had dealt with
her Husband before. So I saw in my Dream that
they walk'd on their way, and had the weather
very comfortable to them.
Then Christiana began to sing, saying,
Bless'd be the Day that I began
A Pilgrim for to be ;
And blessed also be that man
That thereto moved me.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 199
Tis true, 'twas long ere I began
To seek to live for ever :
But now I run fast as I can ;
'Tis better late than never.
Our Tears to Joy, our Fears to Faith,
Are turned, as we see,
Thus our beginning (as one saith,)
Shews what our end will be.
Now there was, on the other side of the Wall that The devil's
fenced in the way up which Christiana and her garden
Companions were to go, a Garden, and that Garden
belonged to him whose was that barking Dog of
whom mention was made before. And some of the
Fruit-Trees that grew in that Garden shot their
branches over the Wall ; and being mellow, they
that found them did gather them up, and oft eat of
them to their hurt. So Christiana's Boys, as Boys Thechil.
are apt to do, being pleas'd with the trees, and with J 6 ^"*
the Fruit that did hang thereon, did plash 1 them, and enemy's
began to eat. Their mother did also chide them fruit
for so doing, but still the Boys went on.
Well, said she, my Sons, you transgress, for that Two ill-
Fruit is none of ours; but she did not know that ng° u
they did belong to the Enemy ; Til warrant you if
she had, she would a been ready to die for fear.
But that passed, and they went on their way.
Now by that they were gone about two bow-shots
from the place that let them into the way, they
espied two very ill-favoured ones coming down
apace to meet them. With that Christiana and
Mercy her Friend covered themselves with their
Vails, and so kept on their Journey; the Children
also went on before, so that at last they met to-
gether. Then they that came down to meet them, They
came just up to the Women as if they would em- Christiana
brace them; but Christiana said, Stand back, or go
peaceably by as you should. Yet these iwo, as men The
that are deaf, regarded not Christiana's words, but ^'f/g^
began to lay hands upon them. At that Christiana with them
1 Bend them down with sticks.
200
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
She cries
out
It is good
to cry out
when
we are
assaulted
The
Reliever
comes
waxing very wroth, spurned at them with her feet.
Mercy also as well as she could, did what she could
to shift them. Christiana again said to them, Stand
back, and be gone, for we have no money to lose,
being Pilgrims as ye see, and such too as live upon
the Charity of our Friends.
Ill-fa v. Then said one of the two of the men, We
make no assault upon you for your Money, but are
come out to tell you, that if you will grant one small
request which we shall ask, we will make Women of
you for ever.
Chris. Now Christiana imagining what they
should mean, made answer again, We will neither
hear, nor regard, nor yield to what you shall ask.
We are in haste, cannot stay, our business is a
business of Life and Death. So again she and her
Companions made a fresh assay to go past them,
but they letted them in their way.
Ill-fav. And they said, We intend no hurt to
your lives, 'tis another thing we would have.
Chris. Ah, quoth Christiana, you would have us
Body and Soul, for I know 'tis for that you are
come; but we will die rather upon the spot, than
suffer ourselves to be brought into such snares as
shall hazard our well-being hereafter. And with
that they both shrieked out, and cried, Murder,
murder: and so put themselves under those Laws
that are provided for the Protection of Women.
But the men still made their approach upon them,
with design to prevail against them: they therefore
cried out again.
Now they being, as I said, not far from the Gate
in at which they came, their voice was heard from
where they was, thither. Wherefore some of the
House came out, and knowing that it was Christiana's
tongue they made haste to her relief. But by that
they was got within sight of them, the Women was
in a very great scuffle, the children also stood crying
by. Then did he that came in for their relief call out
to the Ruffians, saying, What is that thing that you
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 201
do? Would you make my Lord's people to trans-
gress? He also attempted to take them, but they
did make their escape over the Wall into the Garden The ill
of the man to whom the great Dog belonged; so the onesfl y t0
Dog became their Protector. This Reliever then for re?ief
came up to the Women, and asked them how they
did. So they answered, We thank thy Prince, pretty
well, only we have been somewhat affrighted; we
thank thee also for that thou earnest in to our help,
for otherwise we had been overcome.
Reliever. So after a few more words, this Re- The
licver said as followeth ; I marvelled much when ^j^t-"^
you were entertained at the Gate above, being ye women
know that ye were but weak Women, that you pe-
titioned not the Lord there for a Conductor; then
might you have avoided these troubles and dangers,
for he would have granted you one.
Chris. Alas ! said Christiana, we were so taken Mark this
with our present blessing, that dangers to come were
forgotten by us ; besides, who could have thought
that so near the King's Palace there should have
lurked such naughty ones? Indeed it had been
well for us, had we asked our Lord for one;
but since our Lord knew 'twould be for our profit,
I wonder he sent not one along with us !
Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things We lose
not asked for, lest by so doing they become of little io J w . a . nt
\ , ,...,,., of asking
esteem; but when the want of a thing is felt, it then for
comes under, in the eyes of him that feels it, that
estimate that properly is its due, and so consequently
will be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you
a Conductor, you would not neither so have bewailed
)hat oversight of yours in not asking for one as now
you have occasion to do. So all things work for
good, and tend to .make you more wary.
Chris. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and
confess our folly, and ask one?
Rel. Your confession of your folly I will present
him with. To go back again you need not; for in
all places where you shall come, you will find no
202
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
The mis-
take of
Mercy
Chris-
tiana's
guilt
Chris-
tiana's
dream
repeated
Mercy
makes
good use
of their
neglect of
duty
want at all, for in every of my Lord's Lodgings
which he has prepared for the reception of his
Pilgrims, there is sufficient to furnish them against
all attempts whatsoever. But as I said, he will be
enquired of by them to do it for them: and 'tis
a poor thing that is not worth asking for. When he
had thus said, he went back to his place, and the
Pilgrims went on their way.
Mercy. Then said Mercy, What a sudden blank
is here ! I made account we had now been past all
danger, and that we should never see sorrow more.
Chris. Thy innocency, My Sister, said Christiana
to Mercy, may excuse thee much ; but as for me, my
fault is so much the greater, for that I saw this
danger before I came out of the Doors, and yet did
not provide for it where provision might a been had.
I am therefore much to be blamed.
Mercy. Then said Mercy, How knew you this be-
fore you came from home? Pray open to me this
riddle.
Chris. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out
of doors, one night as I lay in my bed, I had a
Dream about this; for methought I saw two men
as like these as ever the world they could look,
stand at my bed's feet, plotting how they might
prevent my Salvation. I will tell you their very
words. They said ('twas when I was in my
Troubles {What shall we do with this Woman? for
she cries out waking and sleeping, for forgiveness:
if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall
lose her as we have lost her Husband. This you
know might a made me take heed, and have pro-
vided when provision might a been had.
Mercy. Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we
have an occasion ministred unto us *o behold our own
imperfections, so our Lord has taken occasion there-
by to make manifest the riches of his Grace. For
he, as we see, has followed us with unasked kind-
ness, and has delivered us from their hands that
were stronger than we, of his mere good pleasure.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 203
Thus now when they had talked away a little Talk in
more time, they drew nigh to an House which stood the In , ter "
orctcr s
in the way, which House was built for the relief house
of Pilgrims ; as you will find more fully related in about
the First Part of these Records of the Pilgrim's Sana's
Progress. So they drew on towards the House going on
(the House of the Interpreter) ; and when they came p 11 ^ 1 ™ 3 ^
to the door, they heard a great talk in the House.
They then gave ear, and heard, as they thought,
Christiana mentioned by name. For you must know
that there went along, even before her, a talk of
her and her Children's going on Pilgrimage. And
this thing was the more pleasing to them, because
they had heard that she was Christian's Wife, that
Woman who was some time ago so unwilling to hear She knocks
of going on Pilgrimage. Thus therefore they stood at the door
still and heard the good people within commending
her, who they little thought stood at the door. At The door
last Christiana knocked as she had done at the Gate t0 t h em by
before. Now when she had knocked, there came to innocent
the door a young Damsel, and opened the door and
looked, and behold two Women was there.
Damsel. Then said the Damsel to them, With
whom would you speak in this place ?
Chris. Christiana answered, We understand that
this is a privileged place for those that are become
Pilgrims, and we now at this door are such; where-
fore we pray that we may be partakers of that for
which we at this time are come ; for the day,
as thou seest, is very far spent, and we are loth
to-night to go any further.
Damsel. Pray what may I call your name, that
I may tell it to my Lord within ?
Chris. My name is Christiana ; I was the Wife of
that Pilgrim that some years ago did travel this way,
and these be his four Children. This Maiden also is
my Companion, and is going on Pilgrimage too.
Innocent. Then ran Innocent in (for that was
her name) and said to those within, Can you think
who is at the door? There is Christiana and her
204 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
joy in Children and her Companion, all waiting for enter-
the house tainment here. Then they leaped for joy, and went
interpreter and told their Master. So he came to the door, and
that looking upon her, he said, Art thou that Christiana
is turned whom Christian the Good-man left behind him, when
pilgrim he betook himself to a Pilgrim's life?
Chris. I am that Woman that was so hard-hearted
as to slight my Husband's Troubles, and that left
him to go on in his Journey alone, and these are
his four Children; but now I also am come, for
I am convinced that no way is right but this.
Inter. Then is fulfilled that which is written of
the man that said to his Son, Go work to-day in
my Vine-yard ; and he said to his Father, I will not ;
but afterwards repented and went.
Chris. Then said Christiana, So be it, Amen.
God make it a true saying upon me, and grant that
I may be found at the last of him in peace without
spot and blameless.
Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door?
Come in, thou Daughter of Abraham. We was
talking of thee but now, for tidings have come to us
before how thou art become a Pilgrim. Come Chil-
dren, come in ; come Maiden, come in. So he had
them all into the House.
Old saints So when they were within, they were bidden sit
glad to see down and rest them ; the which when they had done,
the young .
ones walk those that attended upon the Pilgrims in the House,
in God's came into the Room to see them. And one smiled,
and another smiled, and they all smiled for joy that
Christiana was become a Pilgrim. They also looked
upon the Boys: they stroked them over the faces
with the hand, in token of their kind reception of
them. They also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and
bid them all welcome into their Master's House.
The Sig- After a while, because Supper was not ready, the
nificant Interpreter took them into his significant Rooms, and
shewed them what Christian, Christiana's Husband,
had seen some time before. Here therefore they
saw the Man in the Cage, the Man and his Dream,
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 205
the Man that cut his way through his Enemies, and fwa Part,
the Picture of the biggest of them all, together pp - 32 ' 41
with the rest of those things that were then so
profitable to Christian.
This done, and after these things had been some- The man
what digested by Christiana and her company, the Wlth . the .
Interpreter takes them apart again, and has them expounded
first into a Room where was a Man that could look
no way but downwards, with a Muck-rake in his
hand. There stood also one over his head with a
Coelestial Crown in his hand, and proffered him that
Crown for his Muck-rake; but the man did neither
look up, nor regard, but raked to himself the straws,
the small sticks and dust of the floor.
Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I
know something of the meaning of this; for this is a
figure of a Man of this World, is it not, good Sir?
Inter. Thou hast said the right said he, and his
Muck-rake doth shew his carnal mind. And where-
as thou seest him rather give heed to rake up
straws and sticks and the dust of the floor, than
to what he says that calls to him from above with
the Coelestial Crown in his hand, it is to shew that
Heaven is but as a fable to some, and that things
here are counted the only things substantial. Now
whereas it was also shewed thee that the man could
look no way but downwards, it is to let thee know
that earthly things when they are with power upon
men's minds, quite carry their hearts away from
God.
Chris. Then said Christiana, O deliver me from chris-
this Muck-rake. Uana ' s
• ii- prayer
Inter. That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain against
by till 'tis almost rusty. Give me not Riches, is th £ muck -
scarcely the prayer of one of ten thousand. Straws
and sticks and dust with most are the great things
now looked after.
With that Mercy and Christiana wept, and said,
It is alas ! too true.
When the Interpreter had shewed them this, he
206 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
had them into the very best Room in the House (a
very brave Room it was) so he bid them look round
about, and see if they could find anything profitable
there. Then they looked round and round, for there
was nothing there to be seen but a very great Spider
on the wall, and that they overlook'd.
Mer. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing; but
Christiana held her peace.
Of the Inter. But said the Interpreter, Look again; she
spi ei therefore look'd again and said, Here is not any-
thing but an ugly Spider, who hangs by her hands
upon the wall. Then said he, Is there but one
Spider in all this spacious Room? Then the water
stood in Christiana's eyes, for she was a woman
quick of apprehension; and she said, Yes, Lord,
Talk about there is here more than one. Yea, and Spiders
the spider w hose Venom is far more destructive than that
which is in her. The Interpreter then looked pleas-
antly upon her, and said, Thou hast said the truth.
This made Mercy blush, and the Boys to cover
their faces, for they all began now to understand the
Riddle.
The inter- Then said the Interpreter again, The Spider tak-
pre ion ^ hold with her hands as you see, and is in King's
Palaces. And wherefore is this recorded, but to
shew you, that how full of the Venom of sin soever
you be, yet you may by the hand of faith lay hold
of and dwell in the best Room that belongs to the
King's House above?
Chris. I thought, said Christiana, of some
thing of this, but I could not imagine it all. I
thought that we were like Spiders, and that we
looked like ugly creatures, in what fine Room soever
we were ; but that by this Spider, this venomous and
ill-favoured creature, we were to learn how to act
Faith, came not into my mind. And yet she has
taken hold with her hands, as I see, and dwells in
the best Room in the House. God has made noth-
ing in vain.
Then they seemed all to be glad, but the water
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 207
stood in their eyes; yet they looked one upon an-
other, and also bowed before the Interpreter.
He had them then into another Room where was Of the
a Hen and Chickens, and bid them observe a while, chickens
So one of the Chickens went to the trough to
drink, and every time she drank she lift up her head
and her eyes towards Heaven. See, said he, what
this little Chick doth, and learn of her to acknowl-
edge whence your mercies come, by receiving them
with looking up. Yet again, said he, observe and
look ; so they gave heed and perceived that the Hen
did walk in a four-fold method towards her
Chickens. I. She had a common call, and that she
hath all day long. 2. She had a special call, and
that she had but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding
note. And 4. She had an out-cry.
Now said he, compare this Hen to your King, and
these Chickens to his obedient ones. For answer-
able to her, himself has his methods which he
walketh in towards his People ; by his common call
he gives nothing; by his special call he always has
something to give ; he has also a brooding voice for
them that are under his wing; and he has an out-
cry to give the alarm when he seeth the Enemy
come. I chose, my Darlings, to lead you into the
Room where such things are, because you are Wom-
en, and they are easy for you.
Chris. And Sir, said Christiana, pray let us see
some more. So he had them into the Slaughter- Of the
house, where was a Butcher a killing of a Sheep; a nd°the
and behold the Sheep was quiet, and took her sheep
death patiently. Then said the Interpreter, You
must learn of this Sheep to suffer, and to put
up wrongs without murmurings and complaints.
Behold how quietly she taketh her death, and
without objecting she suffereth her skin to be
pulled over her ears. Your King do'th call you
his Sheep.
After this he led them into his Garden, where Of the
was great variety of Flowers, and he said, Do you g arden
208 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
see all these? So Christiana said, Yes. Then said
he again, Behold the Flowers are diverse in stature,
in quality and colour and smell and vertue, and some
are better than some; also where the Gardener has
set them there they stand, and quarrel not with one
another.
Of the Again, he had them into his Field, which he
had sowed with Wheat and Corn ; but when they
beheld, the tops of all was cut off, only the straw
remained. He said again, This ground was dunged
and plowed and sowed, but what shall we do with
the Crop? Then said Christiana, Burn some, and
make muck of the rest. Then said the Interpreter
again, Fruit you see is that thing you look for,
and for want of that you condemn it to the fire, and
to be trodden under foot of men ; beware that in this
you condemn not yourselves.
Of the Then as they were coming in from abroad, they
thespider es P ied a little Robin with a great Spider in his
mouth. So the Interpreter said, Look here. So
they looked, and Mercy wondered; but Christiana
said, What a disparagement is it to such a little
pretty bird as the Robin-red-breast is, he being also
a bird above many that loveth to maintain a kind
of sociableness with man ; I had thought they had
lived upon crums of bread, or upon other such harm-
less matter. I like him worse than I did.
The Interpreter then replied, This Robin is an
emblem very apt to set forth some Professors by ; for
to sight they are as this Robin, pretty of note colour
and carriage. They seem also to have a very great
love for Professors that are sincere ; and above all
other to desire to associate with, and to be in their
company, as if they could live upon the good man's
crums. They pretend also that therefore it is
that they frequent the house of the godly, and the
appointments of the Lord: but when they are by
themselves, as the Robin, they can catch and gobble
up Spiders, they can change their diet, drink
Iniquity, and swallow down Sin like water.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 209
So when they were come again into the house, Pray, and
because Supper as yet was not ready, Christiana you ^ in
again desired that the Interpreter would either shew that which
or tell of some other things that are profitable. yethes
™, , r i • i m. *• unrevealed
Then the Interpreter began and said, The fatter
the Sow is, the more she desires the Mire; the fat-
ter the Ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the
slaughter; and the more healthy the lusty man is,
the more prone he is unto evil.
There is a desire in Woman to go neat and fine
and it is a comely thing to be adorned with that
that in God's sight is of great price.
'Tis easier watching a night or two, than to sit
up a whole year together; so 'tis easier for one to
begin to profess well, than to hold out as he should
to the end.
Every Ship-master when in a Storm, will willingly
cast that overboard that is of the smallest value in
the vessel; but who will throw the best out first?
None but he that fearcth not God.
One Leak will sink a ship, and one sin will
destroy a Sinner.
He that forgets his Friend is ungrateful unto him,
but he that forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to
himself.
He that lives in Sin, and looks for Happiness
hereafter, is like him that soweth Cockle, and thinks
to fill his Barn with Wheat or Barley.
If a man would live well, let him fetch his last
day to him, and make it always his Company-keeper.
Whispering and change of thoughts proves that
Sin is in the World.
If the World which God sets light by, is counted
a thing of that worth with men, what is Heaven
which God commendeth?
If the Life that is attended with so many Troubles,
is so loth to be let go by us, what is the' Life above?
Everybody will cry up the Goodness of Men; but
who is there that is, as he should, affected with the
goodness of God?
210
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Of the
tree that
is rotten
at heart
They are
at supper
We seldom sit down to meat, but we eat and
leave; so there is in Jesus Christ more Merit and
Righteousness than the whole World has need of.
When the Interpreter had done, he takes them
out into his Garden again, and had them to a Tree
whose inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it
grew and had Leaves. Then said Mercy, What
means this? This Tree, said he, whose outside is
fair, and whose inside is rotten, it is to which
many may be compared that are in the Garden of
God; who with their mouths speak high in behalf
of God, but indeed will do nothing for him; whose
Leaves are fair, but their heart good for nothing
but to be tinder for the Devil's tinder-box.
Now Supper was ready, the Table spread, and
all things set on the board; so they sate down and
did eat when one had given thanks. And the
Interpreter did usually entertain those that lodged
with him with Musick at Meals, so the Minstrels
played. There was also one that did sing, and a
very fine voice he had. His Song was this:
The Lord is only my support,
And he that doth me feed ;
How can I then want anything
Whereof I stand in need?
A repeti-
tion of
Chris-
tiana's
Talk at When the Song and Musick was ended, the
Interpreter asked Christiana, What it was that at
first did move her to betake herself to a Pilgrim's
life?
Christiana answered, First, the loss of my Hus-
band came into my mind, at which I was heartily
grieved; but all that was but natural affection. Then
experience a ft er that came the Troubles and Pilgrimage of
my Husband's into my mind, and also how like
a churl I had carried it to him as to that. So guilt
took hold of my mind, and would have drawn me
into the Pond; but that opportunely I had a Dream
of the well-being of my Husband, and a Letter
sent me by the King of that Country where my
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 2H
Husband dwells, to come to him. The Dream
and the Letter together so wrought upon my mind,
that they forced me to this way.
Inter. But met you with no opposition afore you
set out of doors?
Chris. Yes, a Neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timor-
ous (she was akin to him that would have per-
suaded my Husband to go back for fear of the
Lions). She all to-befooled 1 me for as she called
it my intended desperate adventure; she also urged
what she could to dishearten me to it, the hardship
and Troubles that my Husband met with in the way :
but all this I got over pretty well. But a Dream
that I had of two ill-looked ones, that I thought
did plot how to make me miscarry in my Journey,
that hath troubled me much ; yea, it still runs in
my mind, and makes me afraid of every one that I
meet, lest they should meet me to do me a mischief,
and to turn me out of the way. Yea, I may tell
my Lord, tho' I would not have everybody know
it, that between this and the Gate by which we got
into the way, we were both so sorely assaulted, that
we were made to cry out Murder, and the two that
made this assault upon us were like the two that I
saw in my Dream.
Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning is A question
good, thy latter end shall greatly increase. So ^*°
he addressed himself to Mercy, and said unto
her, And what moved thee to come hither sweet
heart?
Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while
continued silent.
Inter. Then said he, Be not afraid, only believe,
and speak thy mind.
Mercy. So she began and said, Truly Sir, my Mercy's
want of Experience is that that makes me covet to answer
be in silence, and that also that fills me with fears
of coming short at last. I cannot tell of Visions
and Dreams as my friend Christiana can, nor know
1 The force of the " to " is intensive.
212 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
I what it is to mourn for my refusing of the counsel
of those that were good Relations.
Inter. What was it then, dear heart, that
hath prevailed with thee to do as thou hast
done?
Mercy. Why, when our friend here was packing
up to be gone from our Town, I and another went
accidently to see her. So we knocked at the door
and went in. When we were within and seeing
what she was doing, we asked what was her mean-
ing. She said she was sent for to go to her Hus-
band ; and then she up and told us how she had seen
him in a Dream, dwelling in a curious place among
Immortals, wearing a Crown, playing upon a Harp,
eating and drinking at his Prince's Table, and sing-
ing Praises to him for bringing him hither, &c.
Now methought while she was telling these things
unto us, my heart burned within me; and I said
in my heart, If this be true, I will leave my Father
and my Mother and the Land of my Nativity, and
will, if I may, go along with Christiana.
So I asked her further of the truth of these things,
and if she would let me go with her ; for I saw
now that there was no dwelling, but with the danger
of ruine, any longer in our Town. But yet I came
away with a heavy heart, not for that I was un-
willing to come away, but for that so many of my
Relations were left behind. And I am come
with all the desire of my heart, and will go, if
I may, with Christiana, unto her Husband and
his King.
Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast
given credit to the truth. Thou art a Ruth, who
did for the love she bore to Naomi and to the Lord
her God, leave Father and Mother and the Land
of her Nativity, to come out, and go with a people
that she knew not heretofore. The Lord recom-
pense thy work, and a full reward be given thee
of the Lord God of Israel, under whose Wings thou
art come to trust.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 213
Now Supper was ended, and Preparation was They
made for Bed; the Women were laid singly alone, addresi |
themselves
and the Boys by themselves. Now when Mercy for bed
was in Bed, she could not sleep for joy, for that
now her doubts of missing at last were removed Mercy's
further from her than ever they were before. So *°°£ t > s
she lay blessing and praising God who had had rest
such favour for her.
In the morning they arose with the Sun, and The bath
prepared themselves for their departure; but the ca a t "on "
Interpreter would have them tarry awhile, for said
he, you must orderly go from hence. Then said he
to the Damsel that at first opened unto them, Take
them and have them into the Garden to the Bath,
and there wash them, and make them clean from
the soil which they gathered by travelling. Then
Innocent the Damsel took them, and had them into
the Garden, and brought them to the Bath; so she
told them that there they must wash and be clean,
for so her Master would have the Women to do
that called at his house, as they were going on
Pilgrimage. They then went in and washed, yea They wash
they and the Boys and all ; and they came out of m rt
that Bath, not only sweet and clean, but also much
enlivened and strengthened in their joints. So when
they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when
they went out to the washing.
When they were returned out of the Garden from They are
the Bath, the Interpreter took them and looked sealed
upon them and said unto them, Fair as the Moon.
Then he called for the Seal wherewith they used
to be sealed that were washed in his Bath. So the
Seal was brought, and he set his Mark upon them,
that they might be known in the places whither
they were yet to go. Now the Seal was the con-
tents and sum of the Passover which the Children
of Israel did eat when they came out from the land
of Egypt, and the Mark was set between their eyes.
This Seal greatly added to their beauty, for it was
an ornament to their faces. It also added to their
clothed
214 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
gravity, and made their countenances more like
them of Angels.,
They are Then said the Interpreter again to the Damsel
that waited upon these Women, Go into the Vestry
and fetch out Garments for these people; so she
went and fetched out white Raiment, and laid it
down before him; so he commanded them to put
it on. It zvas fine linen, white and clean. When the
Women were thus adorned, they seemed to be a
terror one to the other, for that they could not see
that glory each one on herself which they could
see in each other. Now therefore they began to
True esteem each other better than themselves. For you
humility are f a i rer than I am, said one; and you are more
comely than I am, said another. The Children also
stood amazed to see into what fashion they were
brought.
The Interpreter then called for a Man-servant
of his, one Great-heart, and bid him take sword
and helmet and shield; and take these my Daughters,
said he, and conduct them to the house called Beau-
tiful, at which place they will rest next. So he took
his Weapons and went before them, and the In-
terpreter said, God speed. Those also that belonged
to the Family sent them away with many a good
wish. So they went on their way and sung,
This place has been our second stage,
Here we have heard and seen
Those good things that from age to age,
To others hid have been.
The Dunghill-raker, the Spider, Hen,
The Chicken too to me
Hath taught a lesson ; let me then
Conformed to it be.
The Butcher, Garden, and the Field,
The Robin and his bait,
Also the Rotten Tree doth yield
Me argument of weight,
To move me for to watch and pray,
To strive to be sincere,
To take my Cross up day by day,
And serve the Lord with fear.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 215
Now I saw in my Dream that they went on, and
Great-heart went before them; so they went and
came to the place where Christian's Burden fell
off his back and tumbled into a Sepulchre. Here
then they made a pause, and here also they blessed
God. Now said Christiana, it comes to my mind
what was said to us at the Gate, to wit, that we
should have pardon by word and deed: by word,
that is, by the promise; by deed, to wit, in the way
it was obtained. What the promise is, of that I
know something; but what it is to have pardon
by deed, or in the way that it was obtained, Mr
Great-heart, I suppose you know ; wherefore if you
please let us hear your discourse thereof.
Great-heart. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon a comment
obtained by some one for another that hath need u P° n what
thereof, not by the person pardoned, but in the ^he*"
way, saith another, in which I have obtained it. gate, or a
So then to speak to the question more large, the ^ S o° , 1 ! rse
pardon that you and Mercy and these Boys have being jus-
attained, was obtained by another, to wit, by him p^ st by
that let you in at the Gate; and he hath obtain'd
it in this double way, he has performed Righteous-
ness to cover you, and spilt Blood to wash you in.
Chris. But if he parts with his Righteousness to
us, what will he have for himself?
Great-heart. He has more Righteousness than
you have need of, or than he needeth himself.
Chris. Pray make that appear.
Great-heart. With all my heart; but first I
must premise that he of whom we are now about
to speak is one that has not his fellow. He has two
Natures in one Person, plain to be distinguished,
impossible to be divided. Unto each of these Na-
tures a Righteousness belongeth, and each Right-
eousness is essential to that Nature ; so-- that one
may as easily cause the Nature to be extinct, as
to separate its Justice or Righteousness from it.
Of these Righteousnesses therefore we are not made
partakers, so as that they, or any of them, should
216 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
be put upon us that we might be made just, and live
thereby. Besides these there is a Righteousness
which this Person has, as these two Natures are
joined in one. And this is not the Righteousness
of the Godhead, as distinguished from the Manhood;
nor the Righteousness of the Manhood, as distin-
guished from the Godhead; but a Righteousness
which standeth in the union of both Natures, and
may properly be called, the Righteousness that is
essential to his being prepared of God to the capacity
of the Mediatory Office which he was to be in-
trusted with. If he parts with his first Righteous-
ness, he parts with his Godhead; if he parts with
his second Righteousness, he parts with the purity
of his Manhood; if he parts with this third, he parts
with that perfection that capacitates him to the
Office of Mediation. He has therefore another
Righteousness, which standeth in performance, or
obedience to a revealed will ; and that is that he
puts upon Sinners, and that by which their sins
are covered. Wherefore he saith, as by one man's
disobedience many were made Sinners, so by the
obedience of one shall many be made Righteous.
Chris. But are the other Righteousnesses of no
use to us?
Great-heart. Yes, for though they are essential
to his Natures and Office, and so cannot be com-
municated unto another, yet it is by vertue of them
that the Righteousness that justifies is for that
purpose efficacious. The Righteousness of his God-
head gives virtue to his Obedience; the Righteous-
ness of his Manhood giveth capability to his obedi-
ence to justify; and the Righteousness that standeth
in the union of these two Natures to his Office,
giveth authoritv to that Righteousness to do the
work for which it is ordained.
So then here is a Righteousness that Christ as
God has no need of, for he is God without it ; here
'is a Righteousness that Christ as Man has no need
of to make him so, for he is perfect Man without
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 217
it; again, here is a Righteousness that Christ as
God-man has no need of, for he is perfectly so with-
out it. Here then is a Righteousness that Christ,
as God, as Man, as God-man, has no need of, with
reference to himself, and therefore he can spare it;
a justifying Righteousness that he for himself
wanteth not, and therefore he giveth it away; hence
'tis called the gift of Righteousness. This Right-
eousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has made him-
self under the Law, must be given away: for the
Law doth not only bind him that is under it to
do justly, but to use Charity. Wherefore he must,
he ought by the Law, if he hath two Coats, to give
one to him that hath none. Now our Lord indeed
hath two Coats, one for himself, and one to spare;
wherefore he freely bestows one upon those that
have none. And thus Christiana, and Mercy, and
the rest of you that are here, doth your pardon
come by deed, or by the work of another man.
Your Lord Christ is he that has worked, and has
given away what he wrought for to the next poor
beggar he meets.
But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must
something be paid to God as a price, as well as
something prepared to cover us withal. Sin has
delivered us up to the just curse of a righteous Law;
now from this curse we must be justified by way
of redemption, a price being paid for the harms
we have done; and this is by the Blood of your
Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead,
and died your death for your transgressions. Thus
has he ransomed you from your transgressions by
Blood, and covered your polluted and deformed
souls with Righteousness. For the sake of which
God passeth by you, and will not hurt you when
he comes to judge the World.
Chris. This is brave. Now I see .that there Christiana
was something to be learned by our being pardoned affected
by word and deed. Good Mercy, let us labour to ™ tl l"* e _
keep this in mind, and my Children, do you remem- demption
218 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
ber it also. But Sir, was not this it that made my
good Christian's Burden fall from off his shoulder,
and that made him give three leaps for joy?
How the Great-heart. Yes, 'twas the belief of this that
thaTbound cut ^ ose stl *i n gs that could not be cut by other
Christian's means, and 'twas to give him a proof of the vertue
burden f t ^ s t h at ^ e s su ff erec [ to carry his Burden
to him ' J
were cut to the Cross.
Chris. I thought so, for tho' my heart was light-
ful and joyous before, yet it is ten times more light-
some and joyous now. And I am persuaded by
what I have felt, tho' I have felt but little as yet,
that if the most burdened man in the world was
here, and did see and believe as I now do, 'twould
make his heart the more merry and blithe.
How af- Great-heart. There is not only comfort, ' and
fection to th e ease f a Burden brought to us, by the sight
begot in an d consideration of these, but an indeared affection
the soul begot in us by it; for who can, if he doth but once
think that pardon comes, not only by promise but
thus, but be affected by the way and means of his
redemption, and so with the man that hath wrought
it for him?
First Part, Chris. True, methinks it makes my heart bleed
P-4i- to think that he should bleed for me. Oh! thou
loving One. Oh ! thou blessed One. Thou deservest
to have me, thou hast bought me : thou deservest
Cause of to have me all ; thou hast paid for me ten thousand
admiration times more than I am worth. No marvel that this
made the water stand in my Husband's eyes, and
that it made him trudge so nimbly on; I am per-
suaded he wished me with him ; but vile wretch
that I was, I let him come all alone. O Mercy,
that thy Father and Mother were here ; yea, and
Mrs Timorous also ; nay, I wish now with all my
heart, that here was Madam Wanton too. Surely,
surely, their hearts would be affected; nor could
the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the
other, prevail with them to go home again, and to
refuse to become good Pilgrims.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 219
Great- heart. You speak now in the warmth of To be af-
your affections: will it, think you, be always thus f^tedwith
with you ? Besides, this is not communicated to with what
every one, nor to every one that did see your Jesus he has .
bleed. There was that stood by, and that saw the thing ,Sa
Blood run from his heart to the ground, and yet special
were so far off this, that instead of lamenting, they
laughed at him ; and instead of becoming his Disci-
ples, did harden their hearts against him. So that
all that you have, my Daughters, you have by a
peculiar impression made by a divine contemplating
upon what I have spoken to you. Remember that
'twas told you, that the Hen by her common call
gives no meat to the Chickens. This you have there-
fore by a special Grace.
Now I saw still in my Dream, that they went Simple,
on until they were come to the place that Simple an d Sloth,
and Sloth and Presumption lay and slept in, when sumption
Christian went by on Pilgrimage. And behold they ha " ge ^'
were hanged up in irons, a little way off on the
other side.
Mercy. Then said Mercy to him that was their
Guide and Conductor, What are those three men?
and for what are they hanged there?
Great-heart. These three men were men of
very bad qualities, they had no mind to be Pilgrims
themselves, and whosoever they could they hindered.
They were for sloth and folly themselves, and who-
ever they could persuade with, they made so too,
and withal taught them to presume that they should
do well at last. They were asleep when Christian
went by, and now you go by they are hanged.
Behold here how the slothful are a sign,
Hung up 'cause holy ways they did decline.
See here too how the child doth play the man,
And weak grow strong when Great-heart leads the van.
Mercy. But could they persuade any to be of
their opinion?
Great-heart. Yes, they turned several out of the
220 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Their way. There was Slow-pace that they persuaded
crimes t0 £ as they. They also prevailed with one Short-
wind, with one No-heart, with one Linger-after-lust,
Who they and with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman
prevailed h er name was Dull, to turn out of the way and
"um out become as they. Besides they brought up an ill
of the way report of your Lord, persuading others that he was
a Task-master. They also brought up an evil report
of the good Land, saying 'twas not half so good
as some pretend it was. They also began to vilify
his Servants, and to count the very best of them
meddlesome troublesome busy-bodies. Further, they
would call the Bread of God Husks, the Comforts
of his Children Fancies, the Travel and Labour of
Pilgrims things to no purpose.
Chris. Nay, said Christiana, if they were such,
they shall never be bewailed by me. They have
but what they deserve, and I think it is well that
they hang so near the High-way that others may
see and take warning. But had it not been well
if their crimes had been ingraven in some plate of
iron or brass, and left here, even where they did
their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men?
Great-heart. So it is, as you well may perceive
if you will go a little to the Wall.
Mercy. No, no, let them hang, and their names
rot, and their crimes live for ever against them.
I think it a high favour that they were hanged
afore we came hither, who knows else what they
might a done to such poor women as we are ? Then
she turned it into a Song, saying,
Now then you three, hang there and be a sign
To all that shall against the truth combine.
And let him that comes after fear this end,
If unto Pilgrims he is not a Friend.
And thou, my soul, of all such men beware,
That unto holiness opposers are.
First Part, Thus they went on, till they came at the foot of
P -46 the Hill Difficulty, where again their good Friend
Mr Great-heart, took an occasion to tell them of
PILGRIMS PROGRESS 221
what happened there when Christian himself went
by. So he had them first to the Spring. Lo, saith it is
he, this is the Spring that Christian drank of before getting*
he went up this Hill, and then 'twas clear and good, of good
but now 'tis dirty with the feet of some that are doctrine in
J erroneous
not desirous that Pilgrims here should quench their times
thirst. Thereat Mercy said, And why so envious,
tro? But said the Guide, It will do, if taken up,
and put into a vessel that is sweet and good ; for
then the dirt will sink to the bottom, and the water
will come out by itself more clear. Thus therefore
Christiana and her Companions were compelled to
do. They took it up, and put it into an earthen pot,
and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the
bottom, and then they drank thereof-
Next he shewed them the two by-ways that were By-paths,
at the foot of the Hill, where Formality and Hypoc- * hough
J J ' barred up,
risy lost themselves. And said he, these are dan- w i!i not
gerous Paths. Two were here cast away when keep all
Christian came by ; and although, as you see, these ; n t }j em
ways are since stopped up with chains posts and a
ditch, yet there are that will chuse to adventure
here, rather than take the pains to go up this Hill.
Chris. The way of transgressors is hard. 'Tis
a wonder that they can get into those ways without
danger of breaking their necks.
Great-heart. They will venture; yea, if at any
time any of the King's servants doth happen to
see them, and doth call unto them, and tell them
that they are in the wrong ways, and do bid them
beware the danger, then they will railingly return
them answer and say, As for the word that thou
hast spoken unto us in the name of the King, we
will not hearken unto thee; but we will certainly
do whatsoever thing goeth out of our own mouths,
&c. Nay if you look, a little farther, you shall see
that these ways are made cautionary enough, not
only by these posts and ditch and chain, but also by
being hedged up ; yet they will chuse to go there.
Chris. They are idle, they love not to take pains,
222
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
The reason
why some
do choose
to go in
by-ways
The hill
puts the
pilgrims
to it
They sit
in the
arbor
First Part,
pp. 47, 48
The little
boy's an-
swer to
the guide,
and also
to Mercy
Which is
hardest,
up hill or
down hill?
up-hill way is unpleasant to them. So it is fulfilled
unto them as it is written, The way of the slothful
man is a Hedge of Thorns. Yea, they will rather
chuse to walk upon a Snare, than to go up this Hill,
and the rest of this way to the City.
Then they set forward, and began to go up the
Hill, and up the Hill they went; but before they
got to the top, Christiana began to pant, and said,
I dare say this is a breathing Hill. No marvel if
they that love their ease more than their souls,
chuse to themselves a smoother way. Then said
Mercy, I must sit down ; also the least of the Chil-
dren began to cry. Come, come, said Great-heart,
sit not down here, for a little above is the Prince's
Arbor. Then took he the little Boy by the hand,
and led him up thereto.
When they were come to the Arbor, they were
very willing to sit down, for they were all in a
pelting heat. Then said Mercy, How sweet is rest
to them that labour. And how good is the Prince
of Pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them.
Of this Arbor I have heard much, but I never saw
it before. But here let us beware of sleeping; for
as I have heard, for that it cost poor Christian dear.
Then said Mr Great-heart to the little ones, Come
my pretty Boys, how do you do? What think you
now of going on Pilgrimage? Sir, said the least,
I was almost beat out of heart, but I thank you for
lending me a hand at my need. And I remember
now what my Mother has told me, namely, That
the way to Heaven is as up a Ladder, and the way
to Hell is as down a Hill. But I had rather go up
the Ladder to Life, than down the Hill to Death.
Then said Mercy, But the Proverb is, To go dozen
the Hill is easy. But James said (for that was his
name) The day is coming when in my opinion
going down Hill will be the hardest of all. 'Tis
a good Boy, said his Master, thou hast given her
a right answer. Then Mercy smiled, but the little
Boy did blush.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 223
Chris. Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit, They
a little to sweeten your mouths, while you sit here refresh
themselves
to rest your legs ? For I have here a piece of Pom-
granate, which Mr Interpreter put in my hand, just
when I came out of his doors. He gave me also
a piece of an Hony-comb, and a little Bottle of
Spirits. I thought he gave you something, said
Mercy, because he called you a to-side. Yes, so he
did, said the other; but Mercy, it shall still be, as
I said it should, when at first we came from home,
thou shalt be a sharer in all the good that I have,
because thou so willingly didst become my Com-
panion. Then she gave to them, and they did eat,
both Mercy and the Boys. And said Christiana to
Mr Great-heart, Sir, will you do as we ? But he
answered, You are going on Pilgrimage, and pres-
ently I shall return : much good may what you have
do to you, at home I eat the same every day. Now
when they had eaten and drank, and had chatted
a little longer, their Guide said to them, The day
wears away, if you think good, let us prepare to be
going. So they got up to go, and the little Boys
went before. But Christiana forgat to take her Christiana
Bottle of Spirits with her, so she sent her little [ org ^ ts
Boy back to fetch it. Then said Mercy, I think this f spirits
is a losing place. Here Christian lost his Roll,
and here Christiana left her Bottle behind her. Sir,
what is the cause of this? So their Guide made
answer and said, The cause is sleep or f or getf ulness:
some sleep when they should keep awake, and some
forget when they should remember; and this is the
very cause, why often at the resting-places, some
Pilgrims in some things come off losers. Pilgrims Mark this
should watch, and remember what they have already
received under their greatest enjoyment; but for
want of doing so, oft-times their Rejoicing ends in First Part>
Tears, and their Sun-shine in a Cloud :- witness the pp. 47. 48
story of Christian at this place.
When they were come to the place where Mistrust
and Timorous met Christian to persuade him to go
224 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
back for fear of the Lions, they perceived as it
were a Stage, and before it towards the Road a
broad plate with a Copy of Verses written thereon,
and underneath, the reason of raising up of that
Stage in that place rendered. The Verses were
these :
Let him that sees this Stage take heed
Unto his Heart and Tongue ;
Lest if he do not, here he speed
As some have long agone.
The words underneath the Verses were, This
Stage zuas built to punish such upon, who through
timorousness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go
further on Pilgrimage. Also on this Stage both
Mistrust and Timorous were burned through the
Tongue with an hot Iron, for endeavouring to hinder
Christian in his Journey.
Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying
of the Beloved, What shall be given unto thee? or
what shall be done unto thee, thou false Tongue?
Sharp Arrows of the mighty, with coals of Juniper.
First Part, So they went on, till they came within sight of
p - 49 the Lions. Now Mr Great-heart was a strong man,
An emblem so he was not afraid of a Lion; but yet when they
that goon were come up to the place where the Lions were,
bravely the Boys that went before were glad to cringe be-
hnTdan- 6 hind > for the y were afraid of the Lions ; so they
ger, but stept back, and went behind. At this their Guide
shrink smiled, and said, How now, my Boys, do you love
troubles to go before when no danger doth approach, and
come ] ove t come behind so soon as the Lions appear?
Of Grim Now as they went up, Mr Great-heart drew his
and^/his Sword, with intent to make a way for the Pilgrims
backing in spite of the Lions. Then there appeared one,
that it seems, had taken upon him to back the Lions;
and he said to the Pilgrims' Guide, What is the
cause of your coming hither? Now the name of
that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, because of his
slaying of Pilgrims, and he was of the race of the
Giants.
the lions
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 225
Great-heart. Then said the Pilgrims' Guide,
These Women and Children are going on Pilgrim-
age, and this is the way they must go, and go it
they shall in spite of thee and the Lions.
Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they
go therein. I am come forth to withstand them,
and to that end will back the Lions.
Now to say truth, by reason of the fierceness
of the Lions, and of the grim carriage of him
that did back them, this way had of late lain much
un-occupied, and was almost all grown over with
Grass.
Chris. Then said Christiana, Tho' the High-ways
have been un-occupied heretofore, and tho' the
Travellers have been made in time past to walk
through by-paths, it must not be so now I am risen,
now I am risen a Mother in Israel.
Grim. Then he swore by the Lions, but it should,
and therefore bid them turn aside, for they should
not have passage there.
Great-heart. But their Guide made first his
approach unto Grim, and laid so heavily at him
with his Sword, that he forced him to a retreat.
Grim. Then said he (that attempted to back the
Lions) Will you slay me upon mine own ground?
Great-heart. Tis the King's High-way that we a fight
are in, and in his way it is that thou hast placed betwixt
thy Lions ; but these Women and these Children, Great-
tho' weak, shall hold on their way in spite of thy heart
Lions. And with that he gave him again a down-
right blow, and brought him upon his knees. With
this blow he also broke his Helmet, and with the
next he cut off an arm. Then did the Giant roar
so hideously, that his voice frighted the Women, and
yet they were glad to see him lie sprawling upon
the ground. Now the Lions were chained, and so The
of themselves could do nothing. Wherefore when victory
old Grim that intended to back them was dead, Mr
Great-heart said to the Pilgrims, Come now and
follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you from
hc xv — 8
226 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
They pass the Lions. They therefore went on, but the Women
bythehons trembled as they passed by them; the Boys also
looked as if they would die, but they all got by
without further hurt.
They come Now then they were within sight of the Porter's
to the por- L 0( jg e> anc j t h e y soon came U p unt o it ; but they
made the more haste after this to go thither, because
'tis dangerous travelling there in the Night. So
when they were come to the Gate, the Guide
knocked, and the Porter cried, Who is there ? But
as soon as the Guide had said, It is I, he knew his
voice, and came down (for the Guide had oft before
that come thither as a Conductor of Pilgrims).
When he was come down, he opened the Gate, and
seeing the Guide standing just before it (for he
saw not the Women, for they were behind him) he
said unto him, How now, Mr Great-heart, what is
your business here so late to-night? I have brought,
said he, some Pilgrims hither, where by my Lord's
commandment they must lodge. I had been here
some time ago, had I not been opposed by the
Giant that did use to back the Lions; but I after
a long and tedious combat with him, have cut
him off, and have brought the Pilgrims hither in
safety.
Great- Porter. Will you not go in, and stay till morning?
heart Great- heart. No, I will return to my Lord to-
attempts to . - ■*
go back night.
The pil- Chris. Oh Sir, I know not how to be willing
grimsim- you should leave us in our Pilgrimage, you have
piore his b een SQ f a ith£ul and so loving to us, vou have fought
company 1 •
still so stoutly for us, you have been so hearty in coun-
selling of us, that I shall never forget your favour
towards us.
Mercy. Then said Mercy, O that we might have
thy company to our Journey's end. How can such
poor Women as we hold out in a way so full of
troubles as this way is, without a Friend and De-
fender?
James. Then said James, the youngest of the
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 227
Boys, Pray Sir, be persuaded to go with us, and
help us, because we are so weak, and the way so
dangerous as it is.
Great-heart. I am at my Lord's commandment. Help lost
If he shall allot me to be your Guide quite through, f ° rwa . nt
I will willingly wait upon you. But here you failed for
at first; for when he bid me come thus far with
you, then you should have begged me of him to
have gone quite through with you, and he would
have granted your request. However at present I
must withdraw, and so, good Christiana, Mercy, and
my brave Children, Adieu.
Then the Porter, Mr Watchful, asked Christiana First Part,
of her Country, and of her Kindred. And she said, p- s°
I came from the City of Destruction, I am a Widow
woman, and my Husband is dead, his name was Christiana
Christian the Pilgrim. How, said the Porter, was m f J'f her -
& . ' ' self known
he your Husband? Yes, said she, and these are his to the
Children; and this, pointing to Mercy, is one of myP | te . r;lie
Towns-women. Then the Porter rang his bell, as a damsel
at such times he is wont, and there came to the
door one of the Damsels, whose name was Humble-
mind. And to her the Porter said, Go tell it within
that Christiana the Wife of Christian, and her Chil-
dren, are come hither on Pilgrimage. She went Joy at
in therefore and told it. But O what a noise for *j e t £° ise
gladness was there within, when the Damsel did pilgrims
but drop that word out of her mouth. coming
So they came with haste to the Porter, for Chris- Christians'
tiana stood still at the door. Then some of the most J° V j, 19 , ,
• 1 ^ . „, . . . kindled at
grave said unto her, Come in Christiana, come in the sight
thou Wife of that good man, come in thou blessed of °" e
woman, come in with all that are with thee. So
she went in, and they followed her that were her
Children and her Companions. Now when they
were gone in, they were had into a very large room,
where they were bidden to sit down; so they sat
down, and the Chief of the house was called to see
and welcome the Guests. Then they came in, and
understanding who they were, did salute each other
228
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
First Part,
P- 57
Christ's
bosom
is for all
pilgrims
Music
Mercy did
laugh in
her sleep
with a kiss, and said, Welcome ye Vessels of the
Grace of God, welcome to us your Friends.
Now because it was somewhat late, and because
the Pilgrims were weary with their Journey, and
also made faint with the sight of the Fight and of
the terrible Lions, therefore they desired as soon as
might be, to prepare to go to rest. Nay, said those
of the Family, refresh yourselves first with a morsel
of Meat. For they had prepared for them a Lamb,
with the accustomed Sauce belonging thereto; for
the Porter had heard before of their coming, and
had told it to them within. So when they had
supped, and ended their Prayer with a Psalm, they
desired they might go to rest. But let us, said
Christiana, if we may be so bold as to chuse, be in
that Chamber that was my Husband's when he was
here. So they had them up thither, and they lay
all in a room. When they were at rest, Christiana
and Mercy entred into discourse about things that
were convenient.
Chris. Little did I think once, that when my
Husband went on Pilgrimage, I should ever a fol-
lowed.
Mercy. And you as little thought of lying in his
Bed and in his Chamber to rest, as you do now.
Chris. And much less did I ever think of seeing
his face with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord
the King with him, and yet now I believe I shall.
Mercy. Hark, don't you hear a noise ?
Chris. Yes, 'tis as I believe, a noise of Musick
for joy that we are here.
Mercy. Wonderful ! Musick in the House, Mu-
sick in the Heart, and Musick also in Heaven, for
joy that we are here.
Thus they talked awhile, and then betook them-
selves to sleep. So in the morning, when they were
awake, Christiana said to Mercy:
Chris. What was the matter that you did laugh
in your sleep to-night. I suppose you was in a
Dream.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 229
Mercy. So I was, and a sweet Dream it was,
but are you sure I laughed?
Chris. Yes, you laughed heartily; but prithee
Mercy, tell me thy dream.
Mercy. I was a dreamed that I sat all alone in Mercy's
a solitary place, and was bemoaning of the hardness dream
of my Heart.
Now I had not sat there long, but methought
many were gathered about me, to see me, and to
hear what it was that I said. So they hearkened,
and I went on bemoaning the hardness of my Heart.
At this some of them laughed at me, some called
me Fool, and some began to thrust me about. With What her
that, methought I looked up, and saw one coming
with Wings towards me. So he came directly to
me, and said, Mercy, what aileth thee? Now when
he had heard me make my complaint, he said, Peace
be to thee. He also wiped mine eyes with his
Handkerchief, and clad me in Silver and Gold : he
put a Chain about my Neck, and Ear-rings in mine
Ears, and a beautiful Crown upon my Head. Then
he took me by the Hand, and said Mercy, come
after me. So he went up, and I followed, till we
came at a Golden Gate. Then he knocked; and
when they within had opened, the man went in, and
I followed him up to a Throne, upon which one
sat, and he said to me, Welcome Daughter. The
place looked bright and twinkling like the Stars, or
rather like the Sun, and I thought that I saw your
Husband there. So I awoke from my Dream. But
did I laugh?
Chris. Laugh: ay, and well you might, to see
yourself so well. For you must give me leave to
tell you, that I believe it was a good Dream, and
that as you have begun to find the first part true,
so you shall find the second at last. God speaks
once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth it' not. In a
Dream, in a Vision of the night, when deep sleep
falleth upon men, in slumbring upon the bed. We
need not, when a-bed, lie awake to talk with God.
230
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Mercy
glad of her
dream
They stay
here some
time
Prudence
desires to
catechise
Chris-
tiana's
children
James
catechised
He can visit us while we sleep, and cause us then
to hear his voice. Our heart oft-times wakes when
we sleep; and God can speak to that, either by
words, by Proverbs, by Signs and Similitudes, as
well as if one was awake.
Mercy. Well, I am glad of my Dream, for I hope
ere long to see it fulfilled, to the making of me
laugh again.
Chris. I think it is now high time to rise, and to
know what we must do.
Mercy. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while,
let us willingly accept of the proffer. I am the
willinger to stay a while here, to grow better ac-
quainted with these Maids. Methinks Prudence
Piety and Charity have very comely and sober
countenances.
Chris. We shall see what they will do. So when
they were up and ready, they came down. And
they asked one another of their rest, and if it was
comfortable or not.
Mercy. Very good, said Mercy; it was one
of the best night's Lodging that ever I had in
my life.
Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be
persuaded to stay here a while, you shall have what
the house will afford.
Char. Ay, and that with a very good will, said
Charity. So they consented, and stayed there about
a month or above, and became very profitable one
to another. And because Prudence would see how
Christiana had brought up her Children, she asked
leave of her to catechise them. So she gave her
free consent. Then she began at the youngest,
whose name was James.
Prudence. And she said. Come James, canst thou
tell who made thee?
James. God the Father, God the Son, and God
the Holy Ghost.
Prud. Good Boy. And canst thou tell me who
saves thee?
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 231
James. God the Father, God the Son, and God
the Holy Ghost.
Prud. Good Boy still. But how doth God the
Father save thee?
James. By his Grace.
Prud. How doth God the Son save thee?
James. By his Righteousness, Death, and Blood,
and Life.
Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save
thee?
James. By his Illumination, by his Renovation,
and by his Preservation.
Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to
be commended for thus bringing up your Children.
I suppose I need not ask the rest these questions,
since the youngest of them can answer them so
well. I will therefore now apply myself to the
youngest next.
Prud. Then she said, Come Joseph (for his name Joseph
was Joseph) will you let me catechise you? catechised
Joseph. With all my heart.
Prud. What is Man?
Joseph. A Reasonable Creature, so made by God,
as my Brother said.
Prud. What is supposed by this word saved?
Joseph. That Man by Sin has brought himself
into a state of Captivity and Misery.
Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by
the Trinity?
Joseph. That Sin is so great and mighty a Tyrant,
that none can pull us out of its clutches but God;
and that God is so good and loving to man, as to
pull him indeed out of this miserable state.
Prud. What is God's design in saving of poor
Men?
Joseph. The glorifying of his Name, of his Grace
and Justice, &c. and the everlasting Happiness of
his Creature.
Prud. Who are they that must be saved.
Joseph. Those that accept of his Salvation.
232
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Samuel
catechised
Matthew
catechised
Prud. Good Boy, Joseph, thy Mother has taught
thee well, and thou hast hearkened to what she hath
said unto thee.
Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the
eldest but one.
Prud. Come Samuel, are you willing that I should
catechise you also?
Samuel. Yes, forsooth, if you please.
Prud. What is Heaven?
Sam. A place and state most blessed, because
God dwelleth there.
Prud. What is Hell ?
Sam. A place and state most woful, because it is
the dwelling place of Sin, the Devil, and Death.
Prud. Why wouldst thou go to Heaven?
Sam. That I may see God, and serve him without
weariness; that I may see Christ, and love him
everlastingly; that I may have that fulness of the
Holy Spirit in me that I can by no means here
enjoy.
Prud. A very good Boy also, and one that has
learned well.
Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose
name was Matthezu; and she said to him, Come
Matthew, shall I also catechise you?
Matthew. With a very good will.
Prud. I ask then, if there was ever anything that
had a being antecedent to or before God,
Matt. No, for God is eternal, nor is there any-
thing excepting himself that had a being until the
beginning of the first day. For in six days the
Lord made Heaven and Earth, the Sea and all that
in them is.
Prud. What do you think of the Bible?
Matt. It is the Holy Word of God.
Prud. Is there nothing written therein but what
you understand?
Matt. Yes a great deal.
Prud. What do you do when you meet with such
places therein that you do not understand?
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 233
Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also
that he will please to let me know all therein that
he knows will be for my good.
Prud. How believe you as touching the Resur-
rection of the Dead?
Matt. I believe they shall rise, the same that
was buried, the same in nature, tho' not in cor-
ruption. And I believe this upon a double account.
First, because God has promised it. Secondly, be-
cause he is able to perform it.
Then said Prudence to the Boys, You must still Prudence's
hearken to your Mother, for she can learn you c °^ n ^ n
more. You must also diligently give ear to what catechising
good talk you shall hear from others, for for your of the boys
sakes do they speak good things. Observe also and
that with carefulness, what the Heavens and the
Earth do teach you; but especially be much in the
meditation of that Book that was the cause of your
Father's becoming a Pilgrim. I for my part, my
Children, will teach you what I can while you are
here, and shall be glad if you will ask me Questions
that tend to godly edifying.
Now by that these Pilgrims had been at this place Mercy
a week, Mercy had a visitor that pretended some sweetheart
good will unto her, and his name was Mr Brisk.
A man of some breeding, and that pretended to
Religion, but a man that stuck very close to the
World. So he came once or twice or more to
Mercy, and offered love unto her. Now Mercy
was of fair countenance, and therefore the more
alluring.
Her mind also was, to be always busying of her- Mercy's
self in doing, for when she had nothing to do for temper
herself, she would be making of Hose and Gar-
ments for others, and would bestow them upon them
that had need. And Mr Brisk not knowing where
or how she disposed of what she made, seemed to be
greatly taken for that he found her never idle. I
will warrant her a good housewife, quoth he to
himself.
234
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Mercy
inquires of
the maids
concerning
Mr Brisk
Talk
betwixt
Mercy and
Mr Brisk
He for-
sakes her,
and why
Mercy
in the
practice
of mercy
rejected;
while
Mercy in
the name
of mercy
is liked
said Mercy, I will look no more
purpose never to have a clog to my
Mercy then revealed the business to the Maidens
that were of the house, and enquired of them con-
cerning him, for they did know him better than she.
So they told her that he was a very busy young man,
and one that pretended to Religion, but was as
they feared, a stranger to the Power of that which
was good.
Nay then,
on him, for I
soul.
Prudence then replied, That there needed no great
matter of discouragement to be given to him, her
continuing so as she had began to do for the
poor, would quickly cool his courage.
So the next time he comes, he finds her at her
old work, a making of things for the poor. Then
said he, What, always at it? Yes, said she, either
for myself or for others. And what canst thou
earn a day? quoth he. I do these things, said she,
that I may be rich in Good Works, laying up in
store a good Foundation against the time to come,
that I may lay hold on Eternal Life. Why prithee
what dost thou with them? said he. Cloath the
naked, said she. With that his countenance fell.
So he forbore to come at her again. And when he
was asked the reason why, he said that Mercy was
a pretty lass, but troubled with ill conditions.
When he had left her, Prudence said, Did I not
tell thee, that Mr Brisk would soon forsake thee?
yea, he will raise up an ill report of thee; for not-
withstanding his pretence to Religion, and his seem-
ing love to Mercy, yet Mercy and he are of tempers
so different, that I believe they will never come
together.
Mercy. I might a had Husbands afore now, tho'
I spake not of it to any; but they were such as did
not like my Conditions, though never did any of
them find fault with my Person. So they and I
could not agree.
Prud. Mercy in our days is little set by any
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 235
further than as to its Name; the Practice, which
is set forth by thy Conditions, there are but few
that can abide.
Mercy. Well, said Mercy, if nobody will have me, Mercy's
I will die a Maid, or my Conditions shall be to me resolution
as a Husband. For I cannot change my nature, and
to have - one that lies cross to me in this, that I
purpose never to admit of as long as I live. I had
a Sister named Bountiful, that was married to one How
of these churls; but he and she could never agree; Mercy's
but because my Sister was resolved to do as she had served
began, that is, to shew kindness to the poor, there- bv her
fore her Husband first cried her down at the Cross, 1
and then turned her out of his doors.
Prud. And yet he was a Professor, I warrant
you.
Mercy. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such
as he the world is now full : but I am for none of
them at all.
Now Matthew the eldest Son of Christiana fell Matthew
sick, and his sickness was sore upon him, for he was s
much pained in his Bowels, so that he was with it
at times, pulled as 'twere both ends together. There
dwelt also not far from thence, one Mr Skill, an
antient and well-approved Physician. So Christiana
desired it, and they sent for him, and he came.
When he was entred the room, and had a little ob-
served the Boy, he concluded that he was sick of
the Gripes. Then he said to his Mother, What diet Gripes of
has Matthew of late fed upon? Diet, said Chris- conscien *
tiana, nothing but that which is wholesome. The
Physician answered, This Boy has been tampering The
with something that lies in his maw undigested, and ^f^f,^' 8
that will not away without means. And I tell
you he must be purged, or else he will die.
Sam. Then said Samuel, Mother, Mother, what
was that which my Brother did gather up and eat,
so soon as we were come from the Gate that is at
1 Gave notice that he would not be responsible for debts contracted
by his wife.
236
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Samuel
puts his
mother
in mind
of the
fruit his
brother
did eat
Potion
prepared
The Latin
I borrow
The boy
loath to
take the
physick
the head of this way, You know that there was an
Orchard on the left hand, on the other side of the
wall, some of the trees hung over the wall, and my
Brother did plash and did eat.
Chris. True my Child, said Christiana, he did
take thereof and did eat, naughty Boy as he was. I
did chide him, and yet he would eat thereof.
Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was
not wholesome food, and that food, to wit, that
Fruit, is even the most hurtful of all. It is the
Fruit of Beelzebub's Orchard. I do marvel that
none did warn you of it; many have died thereof.
Chris. Then Christiana began to cry, and she
said, O naughty Boy, and O careless Mother, what
shall I do for my Son?
Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected; the
Boy may do well again, but he must purge and vomit.
Chris. Pray Sir, try the utmost of your skill with
him whatever it costs.
Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So
he made him a Purge, but it was too weak. 'Twas
said it was made of the Blood of a Goat, the Ashes
of a Heifer, and with some of the Juice of Hyssop,
&c. When Mr Skill had seen that that Purge was
too weak, he made him one to the purpose, 'twas
made Ex Came & Sanguine Christi. (You know
Physicians give strange Medicines to their Patients.)
And it was made up into Pills, with a Promise or
two, and a proportionable quantity of Salt. Now
he was to take them three at a time fasting, in half
a quarter of a pint of the Tears of Repentance.
When this Potion was prepared and brought to the
Boy he was loth to take it, tho' torn with the
Gripes as if he should be pulled in pieces. Come,
come, said the Physician, you must take it. It goes
against my stomach, said the Boy. I must have
you take it, said his Mother. I shall vomit it up
again, said the Boy. Pray Sir, said Christiana to
Mr Skill, how does it taste? It has no ill taste,
said the Doctor, and with that she touched one of
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 237
the Pills with the tip of her tongue. Oh Matthew, The
said she, this Potion is sweeter than Hony. If mothe f
thou lovest thy Mother, if thou lovest thy Brothers, andper-
if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy Life, take suades him
it. So with much ado, after a short prayer for
the blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it
wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge,
it caused him to sleep and rest quietly, it put him
into a fine heat and breathing sweat, and did quite
rid him of his Gripes.
So in little time he got up and walked about with A word of
a staff, and would go from room to room, and talk P ^ 1 "f the
with Prudence Piety and Charity of his Distemper, his faith
and how he was healed.
So when the Boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr
Skill, saying Sir, what will content you for your
pains and care to and of my Child? And he
said, You must pay the Master of the College of
Physicians, according to rules made in that case
and provided.
Chris. But Sir, said she, what is this Pill good
for else?
Skill. It is a universal Pill, it is good against all This pill an
the diseases that Pilgrims are incident to, and when ""'versai
it is well prepared, it will keep good time out of
mind.
Chris. Pray Sir, make me up twelve boxes of
them, for if I can get these, I will never take other
Physick.
Skill. These Pills are good to prevent diseases, in a glass
as well as to cure when one is sick. Yea, I dare of the .
i i • 1 • c •«« i tears or
say it, and stand to it, that if a man will but use repentance
this Physick as he should, it will make him live
for ever. But good Christiana, thou must give
these Pills no other way but as I have prescribed,
for if you do, they will do no good. So he gave
unto Christiana Physick for herself and iter Boys
and for Mercy, and bid Matthew take heed how he
eat any more green Plums, and kissed them and
went his way.
238
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Of the
effects of
physick
Of fire and
of the sun
It was told you before that Prudence bid the
Boys, that if at any time they would, they should
ask her some Questions that might be profitable, and
she would say something to them.
Of physick Matt. Then Matthew who had been sick, asked
her, Why for the most part Physick should be bitter
to our palates?
Prud. To shew how unwelcome the Word of
God and the effects thereof are to a Carnal Heart.
Matt. Why does Physick, if it does good, purge,
and cause that we vomit?
Prud. To shew that the Word, when it works ef-
fectually, cleanseth the Heart and Mind. For look,
what the one doth to the Body the other doth to
the Soul.
Matt. What should we learn by seeing the Flame
of our Fire go upwards? and by seeing the Beams
and sweet Influences of the Sun strike downwards?
Prud. By the going up of the Fire we are taught
to ascend to Heaven by fervent and hot desires ; and
by the Sun his sending his Heat Beams and sweet
Influences downwards, we are taught that the Sav-
iour of the world, tho' high, reaches down with his
Grace and Love to us below.
Matt. Where have the Clouds their water?
Prud. Out of the Sea.
Matt. What may we learn from that?
Prud. That Ministers should fetch their Doctrine
from God.
Matt. Why do they empty themselves upon the
Earth ?
Prud. To shew that Ministers should give out
what they know of God to the World.
Matt. Why is the Rainbow caused by the Sun?
Prud. To shew that the covenant of God's Grace
is confirmed to us in Christ.
Matt. Why do the Springs come from the Sea
to us through the Earth ?
Prud. To shew that the Grace of God comes to us
through the Body of Christ.
Of the
clouds
Of the
rainbow
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 239
Matt. Why do some of the Springs rise out of Of the
the tops of high Hills? s P rin s s
Prud. To shew that the Spirit of Grace shall
spring up in some that are Great and Mighty, as
well as in many that are Poor and Low.
Matt. Why doth the Fire fasten upon the Candle- Of the
wick ? candle
Prud. To shew that unless Grace doth kindle
upon the Heart, there will be no true Light of
Life in us.
Matt. Why is the Wick and Tallow and all,
spent to maintain the light of the Candle?
Prud. To shew that Body and Soul and all,
should be at the service of, and spend themselves
to maintain in good condition, that Grace of God
that is in us.
Matt. Why doth the Pelican pierce her own Of the
Breast with her Bill? pelican
Prud. To nourish her young ones with her Blood,
and thereby to shew that Christ the blessed so loved
his young, his people, as to save them from Death
by his Blood.
Matt. What may one learn by hearing the Cock Of the
to crow?
Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin, and Peter's
repentance. The Cock's crowing shews also that
Day is coming on; let then the crowing of the
Cock put thee in mind of that last and terrible
Day of Judgment.
Now about this time their month was out, where- The weak
fore they signified to those of the house that 'twas » ia y some-
convenient for them to up and be going. Then the strong
said Joseph to his Mother, It is convenient that you t0 prayers
forget not to send to the house of Mr Interpreter,
to pray him to grant that Mr Great-heart should
be sent unto us, that he may be our Conductor the
rest of our way. Good Boy, said she, I- had almost
forgot. So she drew up a Petition, and prayed Mr
Watchful the Porter to send it by some fit man to
her good Friend Mr Interpreter; who when it was
240
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
They pro-
vide to be
gone on
their way
Eve's apple
A sight of
sin is
amazing
Jacob's
ladder
A sight of
Christ is
taking
Golden
anchor
Of Abra-
ham offer-
ing up
Isaac
come, and he had seen the contents of the Petition,
said to the Messenger, Go tell them that I will send
him.
When the Family where Christiana was, saw that
they had a purpose to go forward, they called the
whole house together, to give thanks to their King
for sending of them such profitable Guests as these.
Which done, they said to Christiana, And shall we
not shew thee something, according as our custom is
to do to Pilgrims, on which thou mayest meditate
when thou art upon the way? So they took Chris-
tiana her Children and Mercy, into the closet, and
shewed them one of the Apples that Eve did eat
of, and that she also did give to her Husband, and
that for the eating of which they both were turned
out of Paradise, and asked her what she thought that
was? Then Christiana said, 'Tis Food or Poison,
I know not which. So they opened the matter to
her, and she held up her hands and wondered.
Then they had her to a place, and shewed her
Jacob's Ladder. Now at that time there were some
Angels ascending upon it. So Christiana looked
and looked, to see the Angels go up, and so did the
rest of the Company. Then they were going in to
another place to shew them something else, but
James said to his Mother, Pray bid them stay here
a little longer, for this is a curious sight. So they
turned again, and stood feeding their eyes with
this so pleasant a prospect. After this they had them
into a place where did hang up a Golden Anchor, so
they bid Christiana take it down, For ; said they, you
shall have it with you, for 'tis of absolute necessity
that you should, that you may lay hold of that within
the vail, and stand steadfast, in case you should
meet with turbulent weather. So they were glad
thereof. Then they took them, and had them to the
Mount upon which Abraham our Father had of-
fered up Isaac his Son, and shewed them the Altar,
the Wood, the Fire, and the Knife, for they remain
to be seen to this very day. When they had seen
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 241
it, they held up their hands and blest themselves,
and said, Oh what a man for love to his Master,
and for denial to himself was Abraham. After they
had shewed them all these things, Prudence took
them into the Dining-room, where stood a pair of
excellent Virginals, so she played upon them, and Pru-
turned what she had shewed them into this excellent finals
song, saying,
Eve's Apple we have shew'd you,
Of that be you aware;
You have seen Jacob's Ladder too,
Upon which Angels are.
An Anchor you received have,
But let not these suffice,
Until with Abr'am you have gave
Your hest a Sacrifice.
Now about this time, one knocked at the door; ^ Ir Great "
so the Porter opened, and behold Mr Great-heart aga in
was there; but when he was come in, what joy was
there? For it came now fresh again into their
minds, how but a while ago he had slain old Grim
Bloody-man the Giant, and delivered them from
the Lions.
Then said Mr Great-heart to Christiana and to He brings
Mercy, My Lord has sent each of you a Bottle of i tam \aa
Wine, and also some parched Corn, together with Lord
a couple of Pomgranates. He has also sent the Boys Wlt ,m
some Figs and Raisins to refresh you on your way.
Then they addressed themselves to their Journey,
and Prudence and Piety went along with them.
When they came at the gate, Christiana asked the
Porter if any of late went by? He said, No, only
one some time since, who also told me that of late
there had been a great robbery committed on the Robbery
King's Highway, as you go ; but he saith the thieves
are taken, and will shortly be tried for their lives.
Then Christiana and Mercy were afraid, but Mat-
thew said, Mother fear nothing, as long as Mr
Great-heart is to go with us and to be pur Conductor.
Then said Christiana to the Porter, Sir, I am
242 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Christiana much obliged to you for all the kindnesses that you
takes her have shewed me since I came hither, and also for
the Porter that you have been so loving and kind to my
Children. I know not how to gratify your kind-
ness. Wherefore pray as a token of my respects to
The ^ you, accept of this small mite. So she put a gold
blessing Angel in his hand, and he made her a low obeisance,
and said, Let thy Garments be always white, and let
thy Head want no Ointment. Let Mercy live and
not die, and let not her works be few. And to
the Boys he said, Do you fly youthful lusts, and fol-
low after Godliness with them that are grave and
wise, so shall you put gladness into your Mother's
heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober-minded.
So they thanked the Porter and departed.
Now I saw in my Dream that they went forward
until they were come to the brow of the Hill, where
Piety bethinking herself, cried out, Alas ! I have for-
got what I intended to bestow upon Christiana and
her Companions, I will go back and fetch it. So she
ran and fetched it. While she was gone, Christiana
thought she heard in a Grove a little way off on the
right hand, a most curious, melodious note, with
words much like these,
Through all my Life thy Favour is
So frankly shew'd to me,
That in thy House for evermore
My dwelling-place shall be.
And listening still she thought she heard another
answer it, saying,
For why? The Lord our God is good,
His Mercy is for ever sure ;
His Truth at all times firmly stood,
And shall from age to age endure.
So Christiana asked Prudence what 'twas that
made those curious notes? They are, said she, our
Country Birds; they sing these notes but seldom,
except it be at the Spring, when the Flowers appear,
and the Sun shines warm, and then you may hear
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 243
them all day long. I often, said she, go out to hear
them, we also oft-times keep them tame in our house.
They are very fine company for us when we are
melancholy, also they make the Woods and Groves
and Solitary places, places desirous to be in.
By this time Piety was come again; so she said Piety
to Christiana, Look here, I have brought thee a seething
scheme of all those things that thou hast seen at on them
our house, upon which thou mayest look when thou at P artin s
findest thyself forgetful, and call those things again
to remembrance for thy edification and comfort.
Xow they began to go down the Hill into the First Part,
Valley of Humiliation. It was a steep Hill, and p " 6o
the way was slippery; but they were very careful,
so they got down pretty well. When they were
down in the Valley, Piety said to Christiana,. This is
the place where Christian your Husband met with
that foul Fiend Apollyon, and where they had that
Fight that they had; I know you cannot but have
heard thereof. But be of good courage ; as long
you have here Mr Great-heart to be your Guide
and Conductor, we hope you will fare the better.
So when these two had committed the Pilgrims unto
the conduct of their Guide, he went forward and
they went after.
Great-heart. Then said Mr Great-heart, we need M* Great-
not to be so afraid of this Valley, for here is noth- t he YaHey
ing to hurt us unless we procure it to ourselves, of Hu-
Tis true, Christian did here meet with Apollyon, miliation
with whom he also had a sore Combat ; but that fray First Part,
was the fruit of those slips that he got in his going p ' 6l
down the Hill; for they that get slips there, must
look for combats here. And hence it is that this
Valley has got so hard a name; for the common
people when they hear that some frightful thing
has befallen such a one in such a place, are of an
opinion that that place is haunted with some foul
Fiend or evil Spirit ; when alas it is for the fruit
of their doing, that such things do befall them there.
This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful
244 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Therea- a place as any the Crow flies over; and I am per-
son why suaded if we could hit upon it, we might find some-
wa"so where hereabouts, something that might give us an
beset here account why Christian was so hardly beset in this
place.
A pillar Then James said to his Mother, Lo, yonder stands
™ Ith ™. a Pillar, and it looks as if something was written
inscription ' . . °
on it thereon, let us go and see what it is. So they went,
and found there written, Let Christian's slips be-
fore he came hither, and the Battles that he met with
in this place, be a warning to those that come after.
Lo, said their Guide, did not I tell you that there
was something hereabouts that would give intima-
tion of the reason why Christian was so hard beset
in this place? Then turning himself to Christiana,
he said. No disparagement to Christian more than
to many others whose hap and lot his was; for 'tis
easier going up than doimi this Hill, and that can
be said but of few Hills in all these parts of the
world. But we will leave the good man, he is
at rest, he also had a brave Victory over his Enemy,
let him grant that dwelleth above, that we fare no
worse when we come to be tried than he.
This But we will come again to this Valley of Humili-
vaiky a ation. It is the best and most fruitful piece of
place ground in all those parts. It is fat ground, and as
you see, consisteth much in meadows ; and if a man
was to come here in the Summer-time, as we do
now, if he knew not anything before thereof, and
if he also delighted himself in the sight of his eyes,
he might see that that would be delightful to him.
Behold how green this Valley is, also how beautified
with Lillies. I have also known many labouring
men that have got good estates in this Valley of
Men thrive Humiliation (for God resisteth the Proud, but gives
in the \ ai- more Grace to the Humble) for indeed it is a
ley of Hu- . /
miliation very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth by handfuls.
Some also have wished that the next way to their
Father's house were here, that they might be
troubled no more with either Hills or Mountains,
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 245
to go over; but the way is the way, and there's an
end.
Now as they were going along and talking, they
espied a Boy feeding his Father's Sheep. The Boy
was in very mean cloaths, but of a very fresh and
well-favoured countenance, and as he sate by him-
self, he sung. Hark, said Mr Great-heart, to what
the Shepherd's Boy saith. So they hearkened, and
he said,
He that is down needs fear no fall,
He that is low no pride ; p hi j ; v
He that is humble, ever shall I2) , 3
Have God to be his Guide.
I am content with what I have,
Little be it, or much :
And Lord, contentment still I crave,
Because thou savest such.
Fulness to such a burden is
That go on Pilgrimage ; Heb. xiiL 5
Here little, and hereafter Bliss,
Is best from age to age.
Then said their Guide, Do you hear him? I
will dare to say, that this Boy lives a merrier life,
and wears more of that Herb called Heart' s-ease
in his bosom, than he that is clad in Silk and Velvet ;
but we will proceed in our discourse.
In this Valley our Lord formerly had his Country-
house ; he loved much to be here ; he loved also
to walk these Meadows, for he found the air was Christ,
pleasant. Besides here a man shall be free from ^J? 1 ^
* • 1 r , , ■ r 1 • it ah the flesh,
the noise, and from the hurryings of this life. All had his
states are full of Noise and Confusion, only the country-
Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary j n t h e val-
place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindred ley of Hu-
in his Contemplation, as in other places he is apt to miliatl0n
be. This is a Valley that nobody walks in, but
those that love a Pilgrim's life. And tho' Chris-
tian had the hard hap to meet here with Apollyon,
and to enter with him a brisk encounter, yet I must
tell you, that in former times men have met with
Angels here, have found Pearls here, and have in
this place found the words of Life.
246
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Forgetful
Green
Humility
a sweet
grace
Did I say our Lord had here in former days
his Country-house, and that he loved here to walk?
I will add, in this place, and to the people that live
and trace these Grounds, he has left a yearly rev-
enue to be faithfully payed them at certain seasons,
for their maintenance by the way, and for their
further encouragement to go on in their Pilgrimage.
Samuel. Now as they went on, Samuel said to
Mr. Great-heart, Sir, I perceive that in this Valley
my Father and Ap oily on had their Battle, but where-
about was the Fight, for I perceive this Valley is
large?
Great-heart. Your Father had that Battle with
Apollyon at a place yonder before us, in a narrow
passage just beyond Forgetful Green. And indeed
that place is the most dangerous place in all these
parts. For if at any time the Pilgrims meet with
any brunt, it is when they forget what favours they
have received, and how unworthy they are of them.
This is the place also where others have been hard
put to it; but more of the place when we are come
to it; for I persuade myself that to this day there
remains either some sign of the Battle, or some
Monument to testify that such a Battle there was
fought.
Mercy. Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in
this Valley as I have been anywhere else in all our
Journey, the place methinks suits with my spirit.
I love to be in such places where there is no rattling
with Coaches, nor rumbling with Wheels. Me-
thinks here one may without much molestation, be
thinking what he is, whence he came, what he has
done, and to what the King has called him. Here
one may think, and break at heart, and melt in one's
spirit, until one's eyes become like the Fishpools of
Heshbon. They that go rightly through this Valley
of Baca make it a Well, the Rain that God sends
down from Heaven upon them that are here also
filleth the Pools. This Valley is that from whence
also the King will give to their vineyards, and they
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 247
that go through it shall sing, as Christian did for
all he met with Apollyon.
Great-heart. "Tis true, said their Guide, I have An expert,
gone through this Valley many a time, and never was ment ° ll
better than when here.
I have also been a Conduct to several Pilgrims,
and they have confessed the same, To this man will
I look, saith the King, even to him that is Poor, and
of a Contrite Spirit, and that trembles at my Word.
Now they were come to the place where the afore The place
mentioned Battle was fought. Then said the Guide christian
to Christiana her Children and Mercy, This is the and the
place, on this ground Christian stood, and up there !j e £ ddld
came Apollyon against him. And look, did not I tell
you? Here is some of your Husband's Blood upon Some signs
these stones to this day: behold also how here and P f /.I 16
J ' battle
there are yet to be seen upon the place some of the remain
shivers of Apollyon' s broken Darts. See also how
they did beat the ground with their feet as they
fought, to make good their places against each other,
how also with their by-blows they did split the very
stones in pieces. Verily Christian did here play
the man, and shewed himself as stout, as could, had
he been there, even Hercules himself. When Apol-
lyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next
Valley, that is called the Valley of the Shadow of
Death, unto which we shall come anon.
Lo yonder also stands a Monument, on which is Amonu-
engraven this Battle, and Christian's Victory, to j^"^^
his fame throughout all ages. So because it stood
just on the way-side before them, they stept to it
and read the writing, which word for word was
this.
Hard by here was a Battle fought, A monu-
Most strange, and yet most true ; ment of
Christian and Apollyon sought Christian s
Each other to subdue. victory
The Man so bravely play'd the Man,
He made the Fiend to fly ;
Of which a Monument I stand, ,
The same to testify.
248
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
First Part,
p. 6s
Groanings
beard
The
ground
shakes
James sick
with fear
The fiend
appears
The
Pilgrims
are afraid
When they had passed by this place, they came
upon the borders of the Shadozv of Death; and
this Valley was longer than the other ; a place also
most strangely haunted with evil things, as many
are able to testify. But these Women and Children
went the better through it because they had day-
light, and because Mr Great-heart was their Con-
ductor.
When they were entred upon this Valley, they
thought that they heard a groaning as of dead men.
a very great groaning. They thought also they did
hear words of Lamentation spoken, as of some
in extreme Torment. These things made the Boys
to quake, the Women also looked pale and wan ;
but their Guide bid them be of good comfort.
So they went on a little further, and they thought
that they felt the ground begin to shake under
them, as if some hollow place was there ; they heard
also a kind of hissing as of Serpents, but nothing
as yet appeared. Then said the Boys, Are we not
yet at the end of this doleful place? But the Guide
also bid them be of good courage, and look well to
their feet, lest haply, said he. you be taken in some
Snare.
Xow James began to be sick, but I think the
cause thereof was fear; so his Mother gave him
some of that glass of Spirits that she had given her
at the Interpreter's house, and three of the Pills that
Mr Skill had prepared, and the Boy began to revive.
Thus they went on till they came to about the mid-
dle of the Valley, and then Christiana said. Methinks
I see something yonder upon the road before us, a
thing of such a shape such as I have not seen.
Then said Joseph. Mother, what is it? An ugly
thing. Child, an ugly thing, said she. But Mother,
what is it like? said he. 'Tis like I cannot tell what.
said she. And now it was but a little way off.
Then said she. It is nigh.
Well. well, said Mr Great-heart. Let them that are
most afraid keep close to me. So the Fiend came
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 249
on, and the Conductor met it; but when it was just Great-
come to him, it vanished to all their sights. Then heart
remembred they what had been said some time them
ago, Resist the Devil, and he will fly from you.
They went therefore on, as being a little re-
freshed ; but they had not gone far, before Mercy
looking behind her, saw, as she thought, something
most like a Lion, and it came a great padding pace A lion
after; and it had a hollow Voice of Roaring, and
at every Roar that it gave it made all the Valley
echo, and their hearts to ake, save the heart of him
that was their Guide. So it came up, and Mr Great-
heart went behind, and put the Pilgrims all before
him. The Lion also came on apace, and Mr Great-
heart addressed himself to give him Battle. But
when he saw that it was determined that resistance
should be made, he also drew back and came no
further.
Then they went on again, and their Conductor a pit and
did go before them, till they came at a place where darkness
was cast up a Pit the whole breadth of the way, and
before they could be prepared to go over that, a
great Mist and a Darkness fell upon them, so that
they could not see. Then said the Pilgrims, Alas !
now what shall we do? But their Guide made an-
swer, Fear not, stand still and see what an end will
be put to this also. So they stayed there because
their path was marr'd. They then also thought that
they did hear more apparently the noise and rushing
of the Enemies, the fire also and the smoke of the
Pit was much easier to be discerned. Then said
Christiana to Mercy, Now I see what my poor Hus- Christiana
band went through. I have heard much of this place, now knows
i T « r -n i what her
but I never was here afore now. Poor man, he husband
went here all alone in the night ; he had night al- felt
most quite through the way ; also these Fiends were
busy about him as if they would have torn him in
pieces. Many have spoke of it, but none can tell
what the Valley of the Shadow of. Death should
mean, until they come in it themselves. The heart
250 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
knows its own Bitterness, and a stranger intermed-
dleth not zvith its Joy. To be here is a fearful thing.
Great- Great-heart. This is like doing business in great
heart's Waters, or like going down into the deep ; this is
like being in the heart of the Sea, and like going
down to the bottoms of the Mountains ; now it seems
as if the Earth with its bars were about us for
ever. But let them that walk in Darkness and
have no Light, trust in the name of the Lord, and
stay upon their God. For my part, as I have told
you already, I have gone often through this Valley,
and have been much harder put to it than now I
am, and yet you see I am alive. I would not boast,
for that I am not mine own saviour, but I trust we
shall have a good Deliverance. Come let us pray for
Light to him that can lighten our Darkness, and
that can rebuke not only these, but all the Satans
in Hell.
They pray So they cried and prayed, and God sent Light and
Deliverance, for there was now no let in their way,
no not there where but now they were stopt with
a Pit. Yet they were not got through the Valley;
so they went on still, and behold great stinks and
loathsome smells, to the great annoyance of them.
Then said Mercy to Christiana, There is not such
pleasant being here as at the Gate, or at the Inter-
preter's, or at the house where we lay last.
One of Oh but, said one of the Boys, . it is not so bad
repiy° yS ' to £° tnrou &h nere as it ' 1S to abide here always,
and for ought I know, one reason why we must go
this way to the house prepared for us, is, that our
home might be made the sweeter to us.
Well said Samuel, quoth the Guide, thou hast now
spoke like a man. Why, if ever I get out here
again, said the Boy, I think I shall prize light and
good way better than ever I did in all my life.
Then said the Guide, We shall be out by and by.
Heedless is So on they went, and Joseph said, Cannot we
Take'-held see to the end of this Valley as yet? Then said
preserved the Guide, Look to your feet, for you shall presently
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 251
be among the Snares. So they looked to their
feet and went on, but they were troubled much
with the Snares. Now when they were come among
the Snares, they espied a man cast into the Ditch on
the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. Then
said the Guide. That is one Heedless, that was a going
this way, he has lain there a great while. There
was one Take-heed with him when he was taken
and slain, but he escaped their hands. You cannot
imagine how many are killed hereabouts, and yet
men are so foolishly venturous, as to set out lightly
on Pilgrimage, and to come without a Guide. Poor
Christian, it was a wonder that he here escaped ; First Part,
but he was beloved of his God, also he had a good p - 70
heart of his own, or else he could never a done it.
Now they drew towards the end of the way, and
just there where Christian had seen the Cave when
he went by, out thence came forth Maul a Giant. Maul, a
This Maul did use to spoil young Pilgrims with giar
Sophistry; and he called Great-heart by his name,
and said unto him, How many times have you been
forbidden to do these things? Then said Mr Great-
heart, What things? What things? quoth the Giant,
you know what things, but I will put an end to
your trade. But pray, said Mr Great-heart, before
we fall to it, let us understand wherefore we must He quar-
fight. Now the Women and Children stood trem- re'swith
bling, and knew not what to do. Quoth the Giant, heart
You rob the Country, and rob it with the worst
of thefts. These are but generals, said Mr Great-
heart, come to particulars, man.
Then said the Giant, Thou practisest the craft God's
of a Kidnapper, thou gatherest up Women and ^ted"
Children, and carriest them into a strange Country, as kid-
to the weakening of my master's Kingdom. But "appers
now Great-heart replied, I am a servant of the
God of Heaven, my business is to persuade sinners
to repentance, I am commanded to do my endeavour
to turn Men Women and Children, from darkness
to light, and from the power of Satan to God; and
252 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
The giant if this be indeed the a: and ::' thy quarrel, let us
-"- ■;-' : . . :; :: :.r ; . : :; :..- tl :a - at
-_ - Then the Giant came up. and lb G
most fight ^cent to a irew his
5 :ri. but the I-aaat Itai i 11-' 5: v.uthcu: aatre
v fell : .1:: the fast blr.v the H-iaa:
stroke Mr Grt'j ;-/':: '.vn up :a :ae c: his knees ;
that - fren cried out so
: 1 _.- _-' - . r aa la huts :1: la: _ .. . : - :m
::: full last-.- n.aaaaer. aui auve the I-iaat :. aaaa ::i
5-- :i
***pj*™?»s his arm; thus fought for the space of an hour
:; :l:a: Iteiaht :: laeat. :laa; cue breath :aute :ut ::"
the • - the heal lodi ; at : f _ :
_ a. ~r a.
: r sal lawn to rest them, but Mr G
earl betook him to pra an and
Children did nothing but sigh anf the time
that the Battle did last
1 taken t r
they both fell to it again, and Mb £
a full blow fetched the at down in the ar:
Id and let a^r uoth he. Sc Mi
G r a let h get i So te t 1
went again. ssed bat -the of all
to brea g - Mr C fs skull with fa -
Mr G anf runs to him in the
full heat of
fifth rib; with that the Giant began to faint, and
could hold up his Club no longer. Then Mr G
keari seoon ted. Iris
alders. Then the Women
Children rejoiced, and Mr G
Gc I had wroua
When this y among them erected
^2^ a Pillar,
(fispoeed of and wrote underneath in
He : :-•
That Pilgrin:?
r. ■■ ; •
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 253
But did them all abuse ;
Until that I Great-heart arose,
The Pilgrim's Guide to be ;
Until that I did him oppose
That was their Enemy.
Now I saw that they went to the Ascent that First Part,
was a little way off cast up to be a Prospect for p " 7I
Pilgrims, (that was the place from whence Christian
had the first sight of Faithful his Brother) where-
fore here they sat down and rested, they also here
did eat and drink and make merry, for that they
had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous an
Enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana
asked the Guide if he had caught no hurt in the
Battle. Then said Mr Great-heart, No, save a
little on my flesh ; yet that also shall be so far from
being to my determent, that it is at present a proof
of my love to my Master and you, and shall be a
means by Grace to increase my reward at last.
Chris. But was you not afraid, good Sir, when Discourse
you see him come out with his club?
Great-heart. It is my duty, said he, to distrust
mine own ability, that I may have reliance on him
that is stronger than all.
Chris. But what did you think when he fetched
you down to the ground at the first blow?
Great-heart. Why I thought, quoth he, that so
my Master himself was served, and yet he it was
that conquered at the last.
Matt. When you all have thought what you Matthew
please, I think God has been wonderful good unto h " e .
us, both in bringing us out of this Valley, and in goodness
delivering us out of the hand of this Enemy; for
my part I see no reason why we should distrust
our God any more, since he has now, and in such
a place as this, given us such testimony of his love
as this.
Then they got up and went forward. Now a OidHon-
little before them stood an Oak and under it when est aslee P
under
they came to it, they found an old Pilgrim fast an oak
254
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
One saint
sometimes
takes
another
for his
enemy
Talk
between
Great-
heart
and he
Whence
Mr Hon-
est came
asleep; they knew that he was a Pilgrim by his
Cloaths and his Staff and his Girdle.
So the Guide Mr Great-heart awaked him, and
the old Gentleman as he lift up his eyes, cried out,
What's the matter? who are you? and what is your
business here?
Great-heart. Come man be not so hot, here is
none but Friends : yet the old man gets up and
stands upon his guard, and will know of them what
they were. Then said the Guide, My name is
Great-heart, I am the Guide of these Pilgrims which
are going to the Coelestial Country.
Honest. Then said Mr Honest, I cry you mercy,
I fear'd that you had been of the company of those
that some time ago did rob Little-faith of his money ;
but now I look better about me, I perceive you are
honester people.
Great-heart. Why what would or could you a
done to a helped yourself, if we indeed had been
of that company?
Hon. Done ! why I would a fought as long as
breath had been in me; and had I so done, I am
sure you could never have given me the worst on't ;
for a Christian can never be overcome, unless he
shall yield of himself.
Great-heart. Well said, Father Honest, quoth
the Guide, for by this I know thou art a cock of
the right kind, for thou hast said the truth.
Hon. And by this also I know that thou knowest
what true Pilgrimage is, for all others do think
that we are the soonest overcome of any.
Great-heart. Well now we are so happily met,
pray let me crave your name, and the name of the
place you came from.
Hon. My name I cannot, but I came from the
Town of Stupidity, it lieth about four degrees be-
yond the City of Destruction.
Great-heart. Oh ! are you that Countryman
then? I deem I have half a guess of you. your
name is Old Honesty, is it not, So the old Gentle-
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 255
man blushed, and said, Not Honesty in the abstract,
but Honest is my name, and I wish that my nature
shall agree to what I am called.
Hon. But Sir, said the old Gentleman, how could
you guess that I am such a man, since I came from
such a place?
Great-heart. I had heard of you before, by my Stupefied
Master, for he knows all things that are done on the °"" e a ^ an
Earth; but I have often wondered that any should those
come from your place, for your Town is worse than mere] y
is the City of Destruction itself.
Hon. Yes, we lie more off from the Sun, and so
are more cold and senseless; but was a man in a
Mountain of Ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness
will arise upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a
thaw; and thus it hath been with me.
Great-heart. I believe, it, Father Honest, I be-
lieve it, for I know the thing is true.
Then the old Gentleman saluted all the Pilgrims
with a holy kiss of charity, and asked them of their
names, and how they had fared since they set out
on their Pilgrimage.
Chris. Then said Christiana, My name I suppose OidHon-
you have heard of, good Christian was my Husband, Christiana
and these four were his Children. But can you talk
think how the old Gentleman was taken, when she
told them who she was ! He skipped, he smiled,
and blessed them with a thousand good wishes,
saying,
Hon. I have heard much of your Husband, and He also
of his travels and Wars which he underwent in his |L boys-
days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of
your Husband rings over all these parts of the
world: his Faith, his Courage, his Enduring, and
his Sincerity under all, has made his name famous.
Then he turned him to the Boys, and asked them
of their names, which they told him. And then
said he unto them, Matthew, be thou like Matthezv Old Mr
the Publican, not in vice but in vertue. Samuel, blessing
said he, be thou like Samuel the Prophet, a man of on them
256 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
faith and prayer. Joseph, said he, be thou like
Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that
flies from temptation. And James be thou like
James the Just and like James the Brother of our
Lord.
He bless- Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had
eth Mercy j e f t j^r Town and her Kindred to come along with
Christiana and with her Sons. At that the old
honest man said, Mercy is thy name? by Mercy
shalt thott be sustained, and carried through all
those difficulties that shall assault thee in thy way,
till thou shalt come thither where thou shalt look
the Fountain of Mercy in the face with comfort.
All this while the Guide Mr Great-heart was very
much pleased, and smiled upon his Companion.
Talk of Now as they walked along together, the Guide
one Mr as k e d the old Gentleman if he did not know one
rearing . .
Mr Fearing, that came on Pilgrimage out of his
parts ?
Hon. Yes, very well, said he. He was a man
that had the root of the matter in him, but he was
one of the most troublesome Pilgrims that ever I
met with in all my days.
Great-heart. I perceive you knew him, for you
have given a very right character of him.
Hon. Knew him ! I was a great Companion of
his; I was with him most an end; when he first
began to think of what would come upon us here-
after, I was with him.
Great-heart. I was his Guide from my Master's
house to the gates of the Coelestial City.
Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome
one.
Great-heart. I did so, but I could very well bear
it, for men of my calling are oftentimes intrusted
with the conduct of such as he was.
Hon. Well then, pray let us hear a little of him,
and how he managed himself under your conduct.
Great-heart. Why, he was always afraid that
he should come short of whither he had a desire
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 257
to go. Everything frightned him that he heard Mr Fear-
anybody speak of, that had but the least appearance '" g ' s trou *
of opposition in it. I hear that he lay roaring at pilgrimage
the Slough of Dispond for above a month together,
nor durst he, for all he saw several go over before Hisbe-
him, venture, tho' they, many of them, offered to ^siou^
lend him their hand. He would not go back again of Dispond
neither. The Coelestial City, he said, he should
die if he came not to it, and yet was dejected at
every difficulty, and stumbled at every Straw that
anybody cast in his way. Well, after he had lain
at the Slough of Dispond a great while, as I have
told you ; one Sun-shine morning, I do not know
how. he ventured, and so got over. But when he
was over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I
think, a Slough of Dispond in his mind, a Slough
that he carried everywhere with him, or else he
could never have been as he was. So he came up
to the Gate, you know what I mean, that stands at
the head of this way, and there also he stood a good
while before he would adventure to knock. When
the Gate was opened he would give back, and give
place to others, and say that he was not worthy;
for for all he gat before some to the Gate, yet many
of them went in before him. There the poor man
would stand shaking and shrinking, I dare say it
would have pitied one's heart to have seen him, nor
would he go back again. At last he took the Ham-
mer that hanged on the Gate in his hand, and gave
a small Rap or two ; then one opened to him, but
he shrank back as before. He that opened stept
out after him, and said, Thou trembling one, what
wantest thou? With that he fell down to the
ground. He that spoke to him wondered to see him His be-
so faint. So he said to him, Peace be to thee, up, t ^ l °^^
for I have set open the door to thee, come in, for
thou art blest. With that he gat up, and went in
trembling, and when he was in, he was ashamed to
shew his face. Well, after he had been entertained
there a while, as you know how the manner is, he
hc xv — 9
258
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
His be-
haviour at
the Inter-
preter's
door
How he
was en-
tertained
there
He is a
little en-
couraged
at the In-
terpreter's
bouse
was bid go on his way, and also told the way he
should take. So he came till he came to our house.
But as he behaved himself at the Gate, so he did
at my Master the Interpreter's door. He lay there-
about in the cold a good while, before he would ad-
venture to call, yet he would not go back, and the
nights were long and cold then. Nay he had a
Note of Necessity in his bosom to my Master, to
receive him and grant him the comfort of his house,
and also to allow him a stout and valiant Conduct
because he was himself so chickin-hearted a man;
and yet for all that he was afraid to call at the door.
So he lay up and down thereabouts till, poor man,
he was almost starved. Yea so great was his De-
jection, that tho' he saw several others for knocking
got in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last, I
think I looked out of the window, and perceiving
a man to be up and down about the door, I went
out to him, and asked what he was; but, poor man,
the water stood in his eyes; so I perceived what he
wanted. I went therefore in and told it in the
house, and we shewed the thing to our Lord. So
he sent me out again, to entreat him to come in;
but I dare say I had hard work to do it. At last
he came in, and I will say that for my Lord, he
carried it wonderful lovingly to him. There were
but few good bits at the Table but some of it was
laid upon his trencher. Then he presented the Note,
and my Lord looked thereon, and said his desire
should be granted. So when he had been there a
good while, he seemed to get some heart, and to
be a little more comfortable; for my Master, you
must know, is one of very tender bowels, specially
to them that are afraid; wherefore he carried it so
towards him as might tend most to his encourage-
ment. Well, when he had had a sight of the things
of the place, and was ready to take his Journey
to go to the City, my Lord, as he did to Christian
before, gave him a Bottle of Spirits, and some com-
fortable things to eat. Thus we set forward, and
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 259
I went before him; but the man was but of few
words, only he would sigh aloud.
When we were come to where the three fellows He was
were hanged, he said that he doubted that that li^ltd
would be his end also. Only he seemed glad when when he
he saw the Cross and the Sepulchre. There I con- s ^^. e
fess he desired to stay a little to look, and he seemed cheery
for a while after to be a little cheery. When we when he
, -r-r-11 T-.-/T i i i • . saw the
came to the Hill Difficulty, he made no stick at cross
that, nor did he much fear the Lions; for you must
know that his trouble was not about such things as
those, his fear was about his acceptance at last.
I got him in at the House Beautiful, I think, Dumpish
before he was willing. Also when he was in, I House
brought him acquainted with the Damsels that were Beautiful
of the place, but he was ashamed to make himself
much for company. He desired much to be alone,
yet he always loved good talk, and often would get
behind the Screen to hear it. He also loved much
to see antient things, and to be pondering them in
his mind. He told me afterwards that he loved
to be in those two houses from which he came
last, to wit, at the Gate, and that of the Interpreter's,
but that he durst not be so bold to ask.
When we went also from the House Beautiful, He went
down the Hill into the Valley of Humiliation, he d a Jj s to '
went down as well as ever I saw man in my life ; very pleas-
for he cared not how mean he was, so he might y^ 1 " the
be happy at last. Yea, I think there was a kind of of Hu-
sympathy betwixt that Valley and him, for I never mili a tion
saw him better in all his Pilgrimage than when he
was in that Valley.
Here he would lie down, embrace the ground
and kiss the very Flowers that grew in this Valley.
He would now be up every morning by break of
day, tracing and walking to and fro in this Valley. Muchper-
But when he was come to the entrance of the piexedin
Valley of the Shadow of Death, I thought I should t h f e th ^ alley
have lost my man; not for that he had .any inclina- Shadow
tion to go back, that he always abhorred, but he of Death
260
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
His be-
haviour
at Vanity
Fair
His
boldness
at last
was ready to die for fear. O, the Hobgoblins will
have me, the Hobgoblins will have me, cried he, and
I could not beat him out on't. He made such a
noise and such an outcry here, that, had they but
heard him, 'twas enough to encourage them to come
and fall upon us.
But this I took very great notice of, that this
Valley was as quiet while he went through it, as
ever I knew it before or since. I suppose these
Enemies here had now a special check from our
Lord, and a command not to meddle until Mr
Fearing was past over it.
It would be too tedious to tell you of all. We
will therefore only mention a passage or two more.
When he was come at Vanity Fair, I thought he
would have fought with all the men in the Fair.
I feared there we should both have been knock'd o'
the head, so hot was he against their fooleries.
Upon the Inchanted Ground he was also very wake-
ful. But when he was come at the River where
was no Bridge, there again he was in a heavy case.
Now, now, he said, he should be drowned for ever,
and so never see that face with comfort that he
had come so many miles to behold.
And here also I took notice of what was very
remarkable, the Water of that River was lower
at this time than ever I saw it in all my life. So
he went over at last, not much above wet-shod.
When he was going up to the Gate, Mr Great-heart
began to take his leave of him, and to wish him
a good reception above. So he said, / shall. I shall.
Then parted we asunder, and I saw him no
more.
Hox. Then it seems he was well at last.
Great-heart. Yes, yes; I never had doubt about
him; he was a man of a choice spirit, only he was
always kept very low, and that made his life so
burdensome to himself, and so troublesome to others.
He was above many tender of sin. He was so
afraid of doing injuries to others, that he often
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 261
would deny himself of that which was lawful, be-
cause he would not offend.
Hon. But what should be the reason that such a
good man should be all his days so much in the dark?
Great-heart. There are two sorts of reasons Reasons
for it. One is, the wise God will have it so, some ™ en " ^°° s0
must pipe and some must weep. Now Mr Fearing in the dark
was one that played upon this Base; he and his
fellows sound the sackbut, whose notes are more
doleful than the notes of other Musick are; though
indeed some say the Base is the Ground of Musick.
And for my part I care not at all for that profession
that begins not in heaviness of mind. The first
string that the Musician usually touches is the Base,
when he intends to put all in tune. God also plays
upon this string first, when he sets the soul in tune
for himself. Only here was the imperfection of Mr
Fearing, he could play upon no other Musick but
this, till towards his latter end.
I make bold to talk thus metaphorically, for the
ripening of the Wits of young Readers; and be-
cause in the Book of the Revelations, the saved
are compared to a company of Musicians that play
upon their Trumpets and Harps, and sing their
Songs before the Throne.
Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may
see by what relation you have given of him. Diffi-
culties, Lions or Vanity Fair, he feared not at all.
'Twas only Sin Death and Hell that was to him
a terror, because he had some doubts about his
interest in that Ccelestial Country.
Great-heart. You say right. Those were the a close
things that were his troublers, and they, as you a ou :m
have well observed, arose from the weakness of
his mind there-about, not from weakness of spirit
as to the practical part of a Pilgrim's life. I dare
believe that, as the Proverb is, he could have bit a
Fire-brand, had it stood in his way; but the things
with which he was oppressed, no man ever; yet could
shake off with ease.
262
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Chris-
tiana's
sentence
Mercy's
sentence
Matthew':
sentence
James's
sentence
Chris. Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr
Fearing has done me good. I thought nobody had
been like me, but I see there was some semblance
'twixt this good man and I, only we differed in
two things. His troubles were so great, they brake
out, but mine I kept within. His also lay so hard
upon him, they made him that he could not knock
at the houses provided for Entertainment, but my
trouble was always such as made me knock the
louder.
Mercy. If I might also speak my heart, I must
say that something of him has also dwelt in me ;
for I have ever been more afraid of the Lake and
the loss of a place in Paradise, than I have been
of the loss of other things. Oh, thought I, may I
have the happiness to have a habitation there, 'tis
enough, though I part with all the world to win it.
Matt. Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing
that made me think that I was far from having
that within me that accompanies Salvation, but if
it was so with such a good man as he, why may it
not also go well with me?
James. No fears, no Grace, said James. Tho'
there is not always Grace where there is the fear
of Hell, yet to be sure there is no Grace where
there is no fear of God.
Great-heart. Well said. James, thou hast hit
the mark, for the fear of God is the beginning of
Wisdom, and to be sure they that want the begin-
ning have neither middle nor end. But we will
here conclude our discourse of Mr Fearing, after
we have sent after him this farewell.
Their Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear
farewell Thy God, and wast afraid
about him Of doing anything while here
That would have thee betray'd.
And didst thou fear the Lake and Pit?
Would others do so too.
For as for them that want thy wit,
They do themselves undo.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 263
Now I saw that they still went on in their talk ; of Mr
for after Mr Great-heart had made an end with beif - wlH
Mr Fearing, Mr Honest began to tell them of
another, but his name was Mr Self-will. He pre-
tended himself to be a Pilgrim, said Mr Honest,
but I persuade myself he never came in at the Gate
that stands at the head of the way.
Great-heart. Had you ever any talk with him
about it?
Hon. Yes, more than once or twice, but he would Old Hon-
always be like himself, self-willed. He neither cared talked
for man, nor argument, nor yet example; what his with him
mind prompted him to do, that he would do, and
nothing else could he be got to.
Great-heart. Pray what principles did he hold?
for I suppose you can tell.
Hon. He held that a man might follow the Vices Self-will's
as well as the Vertues of the Pilgrims, and that if ol>imons
he did both he should be certainly saved.
Great-heart. How? if he had said 'tis possible
for the best to be guilty of the Vices, as well as
to partake of the Vertues of Pilgrims, he could not
much have been blamed. For indeed we are ex-
empted from no Vice absolutely, but on condition
that we watch and strive. But this I perceive is
not the thing; but if I understand you right, your
meaning is, that he was of that opinion, that it was
allowable so to be?
Hon. Ay, ay, so I mean, and so he believed and
practised.
Great-heart. But what Ground had he for his
so saying?
Hon. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his
Warrant.
Great-heart. Prithee, Mr Honest, present us
with a few particulars.
Hon. So I will. He said to have to do with
other men's Wives had been practised by David,
God's beloved, and therefore he could .do it. He
said to have more Women than one, was a thing
264 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
that Solomon practised, and therefore he could do
it. He said that Sarah and the godly Midwives of
Egypt lied, and so did save Rahab, and therefore
he could do it. He said that the Disciples went at
the bidding of their Master, and took away the
owner's Ass, and therefore he could do so too. He
said that Jacob got the Inheritance of his Father
in a way of Guile and Dissimulation, and therefore
he could do so too.
Great-heart. High base indeed, and you are
sure he was of this opinion?
Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scrip-
ture for it, bring Argument for it, &c.
Great-heart. An opinion that is not fit to be with
any allowance in the world.
Hon. You must understand me rightly. He did
not say that any man might do this, but that those
that had the Vertues of those that did such things,
might also do the same.
Great-heart. But what more false than such a
conclusion? for this is as much as to say, that be-
cause good men heretofore have sinned of infirmity,
therefore he had allowance to do it of a presump-
tuous mind. Or if because a Child by the Blast of
the Wind, or for that it stumbled at a Stone, fell
down and defiled itself in mire, therefore he might
wilfully lie down and wallow like a Boar therein.
Who could a thought that any one could so far
a been blinded by the power of Lust? But what is
written must be true, They stumble at the word
being disobedient, whereunto also they were ap-
pointed.
His supposing that such may have the godly man's
Vertues, who addict themselves to their Vices, is
also a delusion as strong as the other. 'Tis just
as if the Dog should say, I have or may have the
qualities of the Child, because I lick up its stinking
Excrements. To eat up the Sin of God's People, is
no sign of one that is possessed with their Vertues.
Nor can I believe that one that is of this opinion
PILGRIMS PROGRESS 265
can at present have Faith or Love in him. But I
know you have made strong objections against him,
prithee what can he say for himself?
Hon. Why, he says, To do this by way of opinion,
seems abundance more honest than to do it, and
yet hold contrary to it in opinion.
Great-heart. A very wicked answer, for tho'
to let loose the Bridle to Lusts while our opinions
are against such things, is bad ; yet to sin and plead
a toleration so to do, is worse. The one stumbles
Beholders accidentally, the other pleads them into
the Snare.
Hon. There are many of this man's mind, that
have not this man's mouth, and that makes going
on Pilgrimage of so little esteem as it is.
Great-heart. You have said the truth, and it
is to be lamented. But he that feareth the King
of Paradise shall come out of them all.
Chris. There are strange opinions in the world,
I know one that said, 'Twas time enough to repent
when they come to die.
Great-heart. Such are not over wise. That
man would a been loth, might he have had a
Week to run twenty mile in for his life, to
have deferred that Journey to the last hour of
that Week.
Hon. You say right, and yet the generality of
them that count themselves Pilgrims do indeed do
thus. I am, as you see, an old man, and have been
a traveller in this road many a day, and I have taken
notice of many things.
I have seen some that have set out as if they
would drive all the world afore them, who yet have
in few days died as they in the Wilderness, and so
never gat sight of the Promised Land.
I have seen some that have promised nothing at
first setting out to be Pilgrims, and that one would
a thought could not have lived a day, that have
yet proved very good Pilgrims. - *
I have seen some who have spoke very well of
266
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Fresh news
of trouble
First Part,
p. 130
Great-
heart's
resolution
Christiana
wisheth
for an inn
Gaius
They enter
into his
house
Gaius
entertains
them,
and how
that again have after a little time run as fast just
back again.
I have seen some who have spoke very well of
a Pilgrim's life at first, that after a while have
spoken as much against it.
I have heard some when they first set out for
Paradise, say positively there is such a place, who
when they have been almost there, have come back
again and said there is none.
I have heard some vaunt what they would do in
case they should be opposed, that have even at a
false alarm fled Faith, the Pilgrim's way, and all.
Now as they were thus in their way, there came
one running to meet them, and said, Gentlemen
and you of the weaker sort, if you love Life shift
for yourselves, for the Robbers are before you.
Great-heart. Then said Mr Great-heart, They
be the three that set upon Little-faith heretofore.
Well, said he, we are ready for them. So they
went on their way. Now they looked at every
turning, when they should a met with the Villains;
but whether they heard of Mr Great-heart, or
whether they had some other game, they came not
up to the Pilgrims.
Christiana then wished for an Inn for herself
and her Children, because they were weary. Then
said Mr Honest, There is one a little before us,
where a very honorable Disciple, one Gains, dwells.
So they all concluded to turn in thither, and the
rather because the old Gentleman gave him so good
a report. So when they came to the door, they
went in, not knocking, for Folks use not to knock
at the door of an Inn. Then they called for the
Master of the house, and he came to them. So
they asked if they might lie there that night?
Gaius. Yes Gentlemen, if you be true men, for
my house is for none but Pilgrims. Then was
Christiana, Mercy and the Boys the more glad,
for that the Innkeeper was a lover of Pilgrims.
So they called for Rooms, and he shewed them
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 267
one for Christiana and her Children and Mercy,
and another for Mr Great-heart and the old Gentle-
man.
Great-heart. Then said Mr Great-heart, Good
Gains, what hast thou for Supper? for these Pil-
grims have come far to-day, and are weary.
Gaius. It is late, said Gains, so we cannot con-
veniently go out to seek food, but such as we have
you shall be welcome to, if that will content.
Great-heart. We will be content with what thou
hast in the house, forasmuch as I have proved thee,
thou art never destitute of that which is convenient.
Then he went down and spake to the Cook, whose Gaius's
name was Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready cook
Supper for so many Pilgrims. This done, he comes
up again, saying, Come my good Friends, you are
welcome to me, and I am glad that I have a house
to entertain you ; and while Supper is making ready,
if you please, let us entertain one another with
some good discourse. So they all said, Content.
Gaius. Then said Gains, Whose Wife is this aged Talk
Matron ? and whose Daughter is this young Damsel ? ^ et . ween
Great-heart. The Woman is the Wife of one his guests
Christian a Pilgrim of former times, and these are
his four Children. The Maid is one of her Ac- Mark this
quaintance, one that she hath persuaded to come
with her on Pilgrimage. The Boys take all after
their Father, and covet to tread in his steps ; yea,
if they do but see any place where the old Pilgrim
hath lain, or any print of his foot, it ministreth joy
to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread in
the same.
Gaius. Then said Gains, Is this Christian's Wife? of Chris-
and are these Christian's Children? I knew your ^"^ t
Husband's Father, yea, also his Father's Father.
Many have been good of this stock, their Ancestors
dwelt first at Antioch. Christian's Progenitors (I
suppose you have heard your Husband talk of them)
were very worthy men. They have ab&ve any that
I know, shewed themselves men of great Vertue
268 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
and Courage for the Lord of Pilgrims, his ways,
and them that loved him. I have heard of many
of your Husband's Relations that have stood all
trials for the sake of the Truth. Stephen that was
one of the first of the Family from whence your
Husband sprang, was knocked o' the head with
Stones. James, another of this Generation, was slain
with the edge of the Sword. To say nothing of
Paul and Peter, men antiently of the Family from
whence your Husband came, there was Ignatius
who was cast to the Lions, Romanus whose flesh
was cut by pieces from his bones, and Polycarp that
played the man in the Fire. There was he that was
hanged up in a Basket in the Sun for the Wasps
to eat, and he whom they put into a Sack and cast
him into the Sea to be drowned. 'Twould be im-
possible utterly to count up all of that Family that
have suffered Injuries and Death for the love of
a Pilgrim's life. Nor can I but be glad to see that
thy Husband has left behind him four such Boys
as these. I hope they will bear up their Father's
name, and tread in their Father's steps, and come
to their Father's end.
Great-heart. Indeed Sir, they are likely Lads,
they seem to chuse heartily their Father's ways.
Advice to Gaius. That is it that I said, wherefore Chris-
Christiana .,„.,.,., .,, , , , ,
about tian s Family is like still to spread abroad upon the
her boys f ace f t he ground, and yet to be numerous upon
the face of the earth. Wherefore let Christiana
look out some Damsels for her Sons, to whom they
may be betrothed, &c. that the name of their
Father and the house of his Progenitors may never
be forgotten in the world.
Hon. 'Tis pity this Family should fall and be
extinct.
Gaius. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may;
but let Christiana take my advice, and that's the way
to uphold it.
And Christiana, said this Innkeeper, I am glad
to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here,
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 269
a lovely couple. And may I advise, take Mercy Mercy and
into a nearer Relation to thee. If she will, let her Matthew
be given to Matthew thy eldest Son, 'tis the way to
preserve you a Posterity in the earth. So this
match was concluded, and in process of time they
were married. But more of that hereafter.
Gains also proceeded and said, I will now speak Why
on the behalf of Women, to take away their Re- ™ ™^ n
proach. For as Death and the Curse came into so much
the world by a Woman, so also did Life and Health : d " " ed
..,._, , - T , r _ T children
God sent forth his Son, made of a Woman. Yea, to
shew how much those that came after did abhor the
act of their Mother, this sex in the Old Testament
coveted Children, if happily this or that Woman
might be the Mother of the Saviour of the World.
I will say again, that when the Saviour was come,
Women rejoiced in him before either Man or
Angel. I read not, that ever any Man did give
unto Christ so much as one Groat, but the Women
followed him and ministered to him of their Sub-
stance. 'Twas a Woman that washed his Feet
with Tears, and a Woman that anointed his Body
to the Burial. They were Women that wept when
he was going to the Cross, and Women that fol-
lowed him from the Cross, and that sat by his Sep-
ulchre when he was buried. They were Women
that was first with him at his Resurrection-morn,
and Women that brought tiding first to his Dis-
ciples that he was risen from the Dead. Women
therefore are highly favoured, and shew by these
things that they are sharers with us in the Grace
of Life.
Now the Cook sent up to signify that Supper was Supper
almost ready, and sent one to lay the Cloath, the rea y
Trenchers, and to set the Salt and Bread in order.
Then said Matthew, The sight of this Cloath and
of this forerunner of the Supper, begetteth in me
a greater Appetite' to my food than I had before.
Gaius. So let all ministring doctrines to thee in
this life, beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the
270
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
What to be
gathered
from lay-
ing of the
board
with the
cloth and
trenchers
A dish
of milk
Of hony
and butter
A dish
of apples
Supper of the great King in his Kingdom; for
all Preaching Books and Ordinances here, are but
as the laying of the Trenchers and as setting of
Salt upon the Board, when compared with the
Feast that our Lord will make for us when we come
to his House.
So Supper came up, and first a Heave-shoulder
and a Wave-breast was set on the Table before them,
to shew that they must begin their meal with
Prayer and Praise to God. The Heave-shoulder
David lifted his Heart up to God with, and with
the Wave-breast, where his Heart lay, with that
he used to lean upon his Harp when he played.
These two Dishes were very fresh and good, and
they all eat heartily well thereof.
The next they brought up was a Bottle of Wine,
red as Blood. So Gains said to them, Drink freely,
this is the Juice of the true Vine that makes glad
the heart of God and Man. So they drank and
were merry.
The next was a dish of Milk well crumbed. But
Gains said, Let the Boys have that, that they may
grow thereby.
Then they brought up in course a dish of Butter
and Hony. Then said Gains, Eat freely of this,
for this is good to cheer up and strengthen your
Judgments and Understandings. This was our
Lord's dish when he was a Child, Butter and Hony
shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the Evil
and chuse the Good.
Then they brought them up a dish of Apples, and
they were very good tasted Fruit. Then said Mat-
thew, May we eat Apples, since they were such,
by and with which the Serpent beguiled our first
Mother?
Then said Gains,
Apples were they with which we were beguiPd,
Yet sin, not Apples, hath our souls defil'd.
Apples forbid, if eat, corrupts the Blood ;
To eat such when commanded, does us good.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 271
Drink of his Flagons, then, thou Church, his Dove,
And eat his Apples, who are sick of Love.
Then said Matthew, I made the scruple because
I a while since was sick with eating of Fruit.
Gaius. Forbidden Fruit will make you sick, but
not what our Lord has tolerated.
While they were thus talking, they were presented a dish
with another dish, and 'twas a dish of Nuts. Then of nuts
said some at the Table, Nuts spoil tender Teeth,
specially the Teeth of Children; which when Gaius
heard, he said,
Hard Texts are Nuts (I will not call them cheaters)
Whose Shells do keep their Kernels from the Eaters.
Ope then the Shells, and you shall have the Meat,
They here are brought for you to crack and eat.
Then were they very merry, and sat at the Table
a long time, talking of many things. Then said
the old Gentleman, My good Landlord, while we
are cracking your Nuts, if you please, do you open
this Riddle:
A riddle
A man there was, tho' some did count him mad, j"J q°J
The more he cast away the more he had. Honest
Then they all gave good heed, wondring what
good Gaius would say; so he sat still a while, and
then thus replied:
He that bestows his Goods upon the Poor, Gaius
Shall have as much again, and ten times more. opens it
Then said Joseph, I dare say Sir, I did not think Joseph
you could a found it out. wonders
Oh, said Gaius, I have been trained up in this
way a great while, nothing teaches like experience.
I have learned of my Lord to be kind, and have
found by experience that I have gained thereby.
There is that scattereth, yet increaseth, and there
is that withholdeth more than is meet, hut it tendeth
to Poverty. There is that maketh himself Rich, yet
272 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
hath nothing, there is that maketh himself Poor,
yet hath great Riches.
Then Samuel whispered to Christiana his Mother,
and said. Mother, this is a very good man's house,
let us stay here a good while, and let my Brother
Matthew be married here to Mercy before we go
any further.
The which Gains the Host overhearing said,
With a very good will, my Child.
Matthew So they stayed there more than a month, and
and Mercy Mercy was given to Matthew to Wife.
married While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was,
would be making Coats and Garments to the Poor,
by which she brought up a very good report upon
the Pilgrims.
The boys But to return again to our Story. After Supper
go to bed, t j le L a( j s desired a Bed, for that they were weary
sit up with travelling. Then Gains called to shew them
their chamber, but said Mercy, I will have them to
Bed. So she had them to Bed, and they slept well.
But the rest sat up all night, for Gains and they
were such suitable Company that they could not
tell how to part. Then after much talk of their
Lord, themselves, and their Journey, old Mr Honest,
he that put forth the Riddle to Gains, began to
Old Hon- nod. Then said Great-heart, What Sir, you begin to
est nods ^ drowsy, come, rub up, now here's a Riddle for
you. Then said Mr Honest, Let's hear it.
Then said Mr Great-heart:
A riddle He that will kill, must first be overcome ;
Who live abroad would, first must die at home.
Hah, said Mr. Honest, it is a hard one, hard to
expound, and harder to practise. But come Land-
lord, said he, I will if you please, leave my part to
you, do you expound it, and I will hear what you
say.
No said Gains, 'twas put to you, and 'tis ex-
pected that you should answer it.
Then said the old Gentleman,
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 273
He first by Grace must conquer'd be, The riddle
That Sin would mortify ; opened
And who, that lives, would convince me,
Unto himself must die.
It is right, said Gains, good Doctrine and Ex-
perience teaches this. For First, until Grace dis-
plays itself, and overcomes the soul with its Glory,
it is altogether without heart to oppose Sin. Be-
sides, if Sin is Satan's Cords by which the soul
lies bound, how should it make resistance before it
is loosed from that infirmity?
Secondly, Nor will any that knows either Reason
or Grace, believe that such a man can be a living
Monument of Grace that is a Slave to his own
Corruptions.
And now it comes in my mind, I will tell you a A question
Story worth the hearing. There were two men w ? r ththe
that went on Pilgrimage, the one began when he
was young, the other when he was old. The
young man had strong Corruptions to grapple
with, the old man's were decayed with the decays
of nature. The young man trod his steps as even
as did the old one, and was every way as light as
he. Who now, or which of them, had their Graces
shining clearest, since both seemed to be alike?
Hon. The young man's, doubtless. For that Acom-
which heads it against the greatest opposition, panso1
gives best demonstration that it is strongest. Spe-
cially when it also holdeth pace with that that meets
not with half so much, as to be sure old age
does not.
Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed A mistake
themselves with this mistake, namely, taking the
decays of Nature for a gracious Conquest over
Corruptions, and so have been apt to beguile them-
selves. Indeed old men that are gracious are best
able to give advice to them that are young, because
they have seen most of the emptiness of things.
But yet, for an old and a young to set out both
together, the young one has the advantage of the
274
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Another
question
Giant
Slay-good
assaulted
and slain
He is
found
with one
Feeble-
mind in
his hands
fairest discovery of a work of Grace within him, tho'
the old man's Corruptions are naturally the weakest.
Thus they sat talking till break of day. Now when
the Family was up. Christiana bid her Son James
that he should read a Chapter, so he read the 53d
of Isaiah. When he had done, Mr Honest asked,
why it was said that the Saviour is said to come out
of a dry ground, and also that he had no form nor
comeliness in him?
Great-heart. Then said Mr Great-heart, To the
First I answer, Because the Church of the Jews,
of which Christ came, had then lost almost all the
Sap and Spirit of Religion. To the Second I
say, the words are spoken in the person of the
Unbelievers, who because they want that Eye that
can see into our Prince's Heart, therefore they
judge of him by the meanness of his Outside. Just
like those that know not that Precious Stones are
covered over with a homely Crust, who when they
have found one, because they know not what they
have found, cast it again away as men do a common
Stone.
Well, said Gains, now you are here, and since,
as I know, Mr Great-heart is good at his Weapons,
if you please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we
will walk into the Fields to see if we can do any
good. About a mile from hence there is one Slay-
good, a Giant that doth much annoy the King's
High-way in these parts; and I know whereabout
his Haunt is. He is Master of a number of Thieves.
T would be well if we could clear these parts of him.
So they consented and went, Mr Great-heart
with his Sword, Helmet and Shield, and the rest
with Spears and Staves.
When they came to the place where he was, they
found him with one Fccblc-mind in his hands,
whom his Servants had brought unto him, having
taken him in the way. Now the Giant was rifling
of him, with a purpose after that to pick his Bones,
for he was of the nature of Flesh-eaters.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 275
Well, so soon as he saw Mr Great-heart and
his Friends at the Mouth of his cave with their
Weapons, he demanded what they wanted ?
Great- heart. We want thee, for we are come
to revenge the quarrel of the many that thou hast
slain of the Pilgrims, when thou hast dragged them
out of the King's High-way, wherefore come out
of thy Cave. So he armed himself and came out,
and to a Battle they went, and fought for above an
hour and then stood still to take wind.
Slay. Then said the Giant, Why are you here
on my ground?
Great-heart. To revenge the Blood of Pilgrims, One
as I also told thee before. So they went to it again, ^^ res-
and the Giant made Mr Great-heart give back; but cuedfroir
he came up again, and in the greatness of his mind the e iant
he let fly with such stoutness at the Giant's head
and sides, that he made him let his Weapon fall out
of his hand. So he smote him and slew him,
and cut off his Head, and brought it away to the
Inn. He also took Feeble-mind the Pilgrim, and
brought him with him to his Lodgings. When they
were come home, they shewed his head to the
Family, and then set it up, as they had done others
before, for a terror to those that should attempt to
do as he hereafter.
Then they asked Mr Feeble-mind how he fell
into his hands ?
Feeble-mind. Then said the poor man, I am a How
sicklv man as you see, and, because Death did Fe . eh } e '
■> > ' mind
usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I came to be
should never be well at home ; so I betook myself to a P l] z Tim
a Pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither from the
Town of Uncertain, where I and my Father were
born. I am a man of no strength at all of body, nor
yet of mind ; but would if I could, tho' I can but crawl,
spend my life in the Pilgrim's way. When I came
at the Gate that is at the head of the way, the
Lord of that place did entertain me freely, neither
objected he against my weekly looks, nor against
276 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
my feeble mind; but gave me such things that were
necessary for my Journey, and bid me hope to the
end. When I came to the house of the Interpreter,
I received much kindness there, and because the
Hill Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was
carried up that by one of his servants. Indeed I
have found much relief from Pilgrims, tho' none
was willing to go so softly as I am forced to do ;
yet still as they came on, they bid me be of good
cheer, and said that it was the will of their Lord
that comfort should be given to the feeble-minded,
and so went on their own pace. When I was come
up to Assault Lane, then this Giant met with me,
and bid me prepare for an Encounter ; but alas,
feeble one that I was, I had more need of a Cordial.
Mark this So he came up and took me. I conceited he should
not kill me. Also when he had got me into his
Den, since I went not with him willingly, I believed
I should come out alive again ; for I have heard that
not only any Pilgrim that is taken captive by violent
hands, if he keeps heart-whole towards his Master,
is by the Laws of Providence to die by the hand
of the Enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed
to be sure I am ; but I am, as you see, escaped with
Life, for the which I thank my King as Author,
and you as the Means. Other brunts I also look for,
Mark this but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when I
can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when
I cannot go. As to the main, I thank him that
loves me, I am fixed. My way is before me, my
Mind is beyond the River that has no Bridge, tho'
I am, as you see, but of a feeble Mind.
Hon. Then said old Mr Honest, Have you not
some time ago been acquainted with one Mr Fear-
ing a Pilgrim?
Mr Fear- Feeble. Acquainted with him, Yes. He came
Fe g eWe- r from the Town of Stupidity, which lieth four de-
mind's grees to the northward of the City of Destruction,
uncle and as many off of where T was born ; yet we were
well acquainted, for indeed he was mine Uncle, my
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 277
Father's Brother. He and I have been much of a
temper. He was a little shorter than I, but yet we
were much of a complexion.
Hon. I perceive you know him, and I am apt to Feebie-
believe also that you were related one to another; ™ ind
for you have his whitely Look, a Cast like his with f Mr
your eye, and your Speech is much alike. Fearing's
Feeble. Most have said so that have known us
both, and besides, what I have read in him, I have
for the most part found in myself.
Gaius. Come Sir, said good Gains, be of good Gaius com-
cheer, you are welcome to me and to my house,
and what thou hast a mind to, call for freely ; and
what thou would'st have my servants to do for
thee, they will do it with a ready mind.
Then said Mr Feeble-mind, This is unexpected Notice to
Favour, and as the Sun shining out of a very dark p e r **k™ n °*
Cloud. Did Giant Slay-good intend me this favour
when he stopped me, and resolved to let me go no
further? Did he intend that after he had rifled my
Pockets, I should go to Gaius mine Host ? Yet so it is.
Now just as Mr Feeble-mind and Gains was thus
in talk, there comes one running and called at the Tidings
door, and told. That about a mile and a half off bright
there was one Mr Not-right a Pilgrim struck dead was slain
upon the place where he was with a Thunderbolt. ^ ha
Feeble. Alas, said Mr Feeble-mind, is he slain? bolt,
He overtook me some days before I came so far as i. nd ^ Ir
hither, and would be my Company-keeper. He also m ; nc j' s *
was with me when Slay-good the Giant took me, but comments
he was nimble of his heels and escaped. But it uponi
seems he escaped to die, and I was took to live.
What one would think doth seek to slay outright,
Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight.
That very Providence whose face is Death,
Doth ofttimes to the lowly Life bequeath.
I taken was, he did escape and flee,
Hands cross'd gives Death to him, and Life to me.
Now about this time Matthew and Mercy were
married. Also Gains gave his Daughter Phebe to
278
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
The
pilgrims
prepare
to go
forward
How they
greet one
another at
parting
Gaius, his
last kind-
ness to
Feeble-
mind
Feeble-
mind for
going
behind
James. Matthew's Brother, to Wife; after which
time they yet stayed above ten days at Gaius's
house, spending their time and the seasons like
as Pilgrims use to do.
When they were to depart, Gaius made them a
Feast, and they did eat and drink and were merry.
Now the hour was come that they must be gone,
wherefore Mr Great-heart called for a Reckoning.
But Gaius told him that at his house it was not the
custom for Pilgrims to pay for their Entertainment.
He boarded them by the year, but looked for his
pay from the good Samaritan, who had promised
him at his return, whatsoever charge he was at with
them faithfully to repay him. Then said Mr Great-
heart to him,
Great-heart. Beloved, thou dost faithfully what-
soever thou dost to the Brethren and to Strangers,
which have borne witness of thy Charity before the
Church; whom if thou (yet) bring forward on
their Journey after a Godly sort, thou shalt do well.
Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and of
his Children, and particularly of Mr Feeble-mind.
He also gave him something to drink by the way.
Now Mr Feeble-mind, when they were going out
of the door, made as if he intended to linger. The
which when Mr Great-heart espied, he said, Come
Mr Feeble-mind, pray do you go along with us, I
will be your Conductor, and you shall fare as the
rest.
Feeble. Alas, I want a suitable Companion, you
are all lusty and strong, but I, as you see, am
weak. I chuse therefore rather to come behind,
lest by reason of my many Infirmities I should be
both a Burden to myself and to you. I am, as I
said, a man of a weak and feeble mind, and shall
be offended and made weak at that which others can
bear. I shall like no Laughing, I shall like no
gay Attire, I shall like no unprofitable Questions.
Nay I am so weak a man, as to be offended with
that which others have a liberty to do. I do not
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 279
yet know all the Truth. I am a very ignorant Chris- His excuse
tian man. Sometimes if I hear some rejoice in forit
the Lord, it troubles me because I cannot do so
too. It is with me as it is with a weak man among
the strong, or as with a sick man among the healthy,
or as a Lamp despised, {He tliat is ready to slip
zvith his feet, is as a Lamp despised in the thought
of him that is at ease.) So that I know not what
to do.
Great-heart. But Brother, said Mr Great-heart, Great-
I have it in Commission to comfort the feeble- hearts .
■ ».i . i -.r t commission
minded, and to support the weak. You must needs
go along with us ; we will wait for you, we will lend
you our help, we will deny ourselves of some things
both opinionative and practical for your sake, we A Chris-
will not enter into doubtful disputations before you, tian spirit
we will be made all things to you rather than you
shall be left behind.
Now all this while they were at Gaius's door; Promises
and behold as they were thus in the heat of their
discourse Mr Ready-to-halt came by with his
Crutches in his hand, and he also was going on
Pilgrimage.
Feeble. Then said Mr Feeble-mind to him, Man, Feeble-
how earnest thou hither? I was but just now com- ™- n &&*&
J to see
plaining that I had not a suitable Companion, but Ready-
thou art according- to my wish. Welcome, welcome, t0 - ha 't
conie by
good Mr Ready-to-halt, I hope thee and I may be
some help.
Ready-to-halt. I shall be glad of thy Company,
said the other; and good Mr Feeble-mind, rather
than we will part, since we are thus happily met,
I will lend thee one of my Crutches.
Feeble. Nay, said he, tho' I thank thee for thy
good will, I am not inclined to halt before I am
lame. Howbeit, I think when occasion is, it may
help me against a Dog.
Ready. If either myself or my Crutches can do
thee a pleasure, we are both at thy command, good
Mr Feeble-mind.
280 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Thus therefore they went on, Mr Great-heart
and Mr Honest went before, Christiana and her
Children went next, and Mr Feeble-mind and Mr
Ready-to-halt came behind with his Crutches. Then
said Mr Honest,
New talk Hon. Pray Sir, now we are upon the Road, tell
us some profitable things of some that have gone
on Pilgrimage before us.
First Part, Great-heart. With a good will. I suppose you
pp. 59-69 have heard how Christian of old did meet with
Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation, and also
what hard work he had to go through the Valley
of the Shadow of Death. Also I think you cannot
but have heard how Faithful was put to it with
Madam Wanton, with Adam the First, with one
Discontent, and Shame, four as deceitful Villains
as a man can meet with upon the road.
Hon. Yes, I have heard of all this; but indeed
good Faithful was hardest put to it with Shame, he
was an unwearied one.
Great-heart. Ay, for as the Pilgrim well said,
he of all men had the wrong name.
First Part, Hon. But pray Sir, where was it that Christian
p-79 and Faithful met Talkative ? That same was also
a notable one.
Great-heart. He was a confident Fool, yet many
follow his ways.
Hon. He had like to a beguiled Faithful.
First Part Great-heart. Ay, but Christian put him into a
p " 8a way quickly to find him out. Thus they went on till
they came at the place where Evangelist met with
Christian and Faithful, and prophesied to them of
what should befall them at Vanity Fair.
Great-heart. Then said their Guide, Hereabouts
did Christian and Faithful meet with Evangelist,
who prophesied to them of what Troubles they
should meet with at Vanity Fair.
Hon. Say you so? I dare say it was a hard
Chapter that then he did read unto them.
Great-heart. 'Twas so; but he gave them en-
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 281
couragement withal. But what do we talk of them? First Part,
they were a couple of lion-like men, they had set p - 91
their faces like flint. Don't you remember how un-
daunted they were when they stood before the
Judge ?
Hon. Well, Faithful bravely suffered.
Great-heart. So he did, and as brave things
came on't, for Hopeful and some others, as the
Story relates it, were converted by his Death.
Hon. Well, but pray go on, for you are well ac-
quainted with things.
Great-heart. Above all that Christian met with First Part,
after he had passed through Vanity Fair, one By- p« io 3
ends was the arch one.
Hon. By-ends, What was he?
Great-heart. A very arch Fellow, a downright
Hypocrite. One that would be religious which way
ever the World went, but so cunning that he would
be sure neither to lose nor suffer for it. He had
his mode of Religion for every fresh occasion, and
his Wife was as good at it as he. He would turn
and change from opinion to opinion, yea, and plead
for so doing too. But so far as I could learn, he
came to an ill end with his by-ends, nor did I ever
hear that any of his Children were ever of any
esteem with any that truly feared God.
Now by this time they were come within sight They are
of the Town of Vanity where Vanity Fair is kept. co ™e
e% « 1 11 1 m within
So when they saw that they were so near the 1 own, s ; ght f
they consulted with one another how they should Vanity
pass through the Town, and some said one thing
and some another. At last Mr Great-heart said,
I have, as you may understand, often been a Con-
ductor of Pilgrims through this Town, now I am They
acquainted with one Mr Mnason, a Cyprusian by ei ^ te ^ I int0
Nation, an old Disciple, at whose house we may Mnason's
lodge. If you think good, said he, we will turn to lodge
in there.
Content, said old Honest, Content, said Chris-
tiana, Content said Mr Feeble-mind, and so they
282
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
They are
glad of
enter-
tainment
They
desire to
see some
of the
good peo-
ple of
the town
said all. Now you must think it was eventide
by that they got to the outside of the Town, but
Mr Great-heart knew the way to the old man's
house. So thither they came; and he called at the
door, and the old man within knew his tongue so
soon as ever he heard it ; so he opened, and they
all came in. Then said Mnason their Host, How
far have ye come to-day? so they said, From the
house of Gains our Friend. I promise you, said he,
you have gone a good stitch, you may well be a
weary, sit down. So they sat down.
Great-heart. Then said their Guide, Come, what
cheer Sirs? I dare say you are welcome to my
Friend.
Mnason. I also, said Mr Mnason, do bid you
welcome, and whatever you want, do but say, and
we will do what we can to get it for you.
Hon. Our great want a while since was Harbour
and good Company, and now I hope we have both.
Mnason. For Harbour, you see what it is, but
for good Company, that will appear in the trial.
Great-heart. Well, said Mr Great-heart, will
you have the Pilgrims up into their Lodging?
Mnason. I will, said Mr Mnason. So he had
them to their respective places ; and also shewed
them a very fair Dining-room, where they might
be and sup together, until time was come to go
to Rest.
Now when they were set in their places, and were
a little cheery after their Journey, Mr Honest asked
his Landlord if there were any store of good people
in the Town?
Mnason. We have a few, for indeed they are but
a few when compared with them on the other side.
Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them?
for the sight of good men to them that are going
on Pilgrimage, is like to the appearing of the Moon
and the Stars to them that are sailing upon the
Seas.
Then Mr Mnason stamped with his foot, and
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 283
his daughter Grace came up ; so he said unto her, Some
Grace, go you tell my Friends, Mr Contrite, Mr sentfor
Holy-man, Mr Love-saint, Mr Dare-not-lye, and
Mr Penitent, that I have a Friend or two at my
house that have a mind this evening to see them.
So Grace went to call them, and they came and
after Salutation made, they sat down together at
the Table.
Then said Mr Mnason their Landlord, My Neigh-
bors, I have, as you see, a Company of Strangers
come to my house, they are Pilgrims, they come
from afar, and are going to Mount Sion. But who,
quoth he, do you think this is, pointing with his
finger to Christiana, it is Christiana the Wife of
Christian that famous Pilgrim, who with Faithful
his Brother were so shamefully handled in our
Town. At that they stood amazed, saying, We
little thought to see Christiana, when Grace came
to call us, wherefore this is a very comfortable
surprise. Then they asked her of her welfare, and
if these young men were her Husband's Sons?
And when she had told them they were, they said,
The King whom you love and serve, make you as
your Father, and bring you where he is in Peace.
Hon. Then Mr Honest (when they were all sat Some talk
down) asked Mr Contrite and the rest in what ~ tw ^ xt
' Mr rion-
posture their Town was at present? est and
Contrite. You may be sure we are full of hurry Con t»te
in Fair-time. 'Tis hard keeping our hearts and
spirits in any good order, when we are in a cum-
bered condition. He that lives in such a place as The fruit
this is, and that has to do with such as we have, ? f watch_
tulness
has need of an Item, to caution him to take heed
every moment of the day.
Hon. But how are your Neighbors for quietness ?
Contrite. They are much more moderate now _
than formerly. You know how Christian and Faith- tion not
ful were used at our Town ; but of late, I say, s ° hot at
they have been far more moderate. I think the Fair as
blood of Faithful lieth with load upon them till formerly
284 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
now, for since they burned him they have been
ashamed to burn any more. In those days we
were afraid to walk the Streets, but now we can
shew our heads. Then the name of a Professor
was odious, now, specially in some parts of our
Town (for you know our Town is large) Religion
is counted honourable.
Then said Mr Contrite to them. Pray how fareth
it with you in your Pilgrimage? How stands the
Country affected towards you?
Hon. It happens to us as it happeneth to Way-
faring men ; sometimes our way is clean, sometimes
foul, sometimes up hill, sometimes down hill. We
are seldom at a certainty, the Wind is not always
on our backs, nor is every one a Friend that we
meet with in the way. We have met with some
notable Rubs already, and what are yet behind we
know not, but for the most part we find it true that
has been talked of of old, A good man must suffer
Trouble.
Contrite. You talk of Rubs, what Rubs have
you met withal?
Hon. Nay, ask Mr Great-heart our Guide, for
he can give the best account of that.
Great-heart. We have been beset three or four
times already. First Christiana and her Children
were beset with two Ruffians, that they feared would
a took away their lives. We was beset with Giant
Bloody-man, Giant Maul and Giant Slay-good. In-
deed we did rather beset the last, than were beset
of him. And thus it was: After we had been some
time at the house of Gains, mine Host and of the
whole Church, we were minded upon a time to take
our Weapons with us, and so go see if we could
light upon any of those that were Enemies to
Pilgrims, (for we heard that there was a notable one
thereabouts.) Now Gains knew his Haunt better
than I, because he dwelt thereabout, so we looked
and looked till at last we discerned the Mouth of
his Cave, then we were glad and plucked up our
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 285
Spirits. So we approached up to his Den, and lo
when we came there, he had dragged by mere
force into his Net this poor Man Mr Feeble-mind,
and was about to bring him to his end. But when
he saw us, supposing as we thought he had had
another Prey, he left the poor man in his Hole, and
came out. So we fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid
about him ; but in conclusion he was brought down
to the ground, and his Head cut off, and set up by
the Way-side for a terror to such as should after
practise such Ungodliness. That I tell you the
truth, here is the man himself to affirm it, who was
as a Lamb taken out of the Mouth of the Lion.
Feeble-mind. Then said Mr Feeble-mind, I found
this true to my Cost and Comfort, to my Cost when
he threatened to pick my Bones every moment,
and to my Comfort when I saw Mr Great-heart
and his Friends with their Weapons approach so
near for my Deliverance.
Holy-man. Then said Mr Holy-man, There are Mr Holy-
two things that they have need to be possessed with ™^ s h
that go on Pilgrimage, courage, and an unspotted
life. If they have not courage, they can never
hold on their way, and if their Lives be loose, they
will make the very name of a Pilgrim stink.
Love-saint. Then said Mr Love-saint, I hope Mr Love-
this caution is not needful amongst you. But truly l*™* c h
there are many that go upon the road, that rather
declare themselves Strangers to Pilgrimage than
Strangers and Pilgrims in the Earth.
Dare-not-lye. Then said Mr Dare-not-lye, 'Tis Mr Dare-
true, they neither have the Pilgrim's Weed, nor "p eec y h b
the Pilgrim's Courage ; they go not uprightly, but
all awry with their, feet ; one Shoe goes inward,
another outward, and their Hosen out behind ; there
a Rag, and there a Rent, to the Disparagement of
their Lord.
Penitent. These things, said Mr Penitent, they Mr , Peni-
tent s
ought to be troubled for, nor are the Pilgrims spee ch
like to have that Grace put upon them and their
286
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
A monster
His shape,
his nature
Pilgrim's Progress as they desire, until the way is
cleared of such Spots and Blemishes.
Thus they sat talking and spending the time,
until Supper was set upon the Table; unto which
they went and refreshed their weary bodies ; so
they went to Rest. Now they stayed in this Fair
a great while at the house of this Mr Mnason,
who in process of time gave his daughter Grace
unto Samuel Christiana's Son to Wife, and his
Daughter Martha to Joseph.
The time as I said, that they lay here was long,
(for it was not now as in former times.) Where-
fore the Pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the
good people of the Town, and did them what serv-
ice they could. Mercy, as she was wont, laboured
much for the Poor, wherefore their Bellies and
Backs blessed her, and she was there an Ornament
to her Profession. And to say the truth for Grace
Phebe and Martha, they were all of a very good
Nature, and did much good in their place. They
were also all of them very Fruitful, so that Chris-
tian's name, as was said before, was like to live in
the World.
While they lay here, there came a Monster out
of the Woods, and slew many of the people of the
Town. It would also carry away their Children,
and teach them to suck its Whelps. Now no man
in the Town durst so much as face this Monster,
but all men fled when they heard of the Noise of
his coming.
The Monster was like unto no one Beast upon
the earth ; its Body was like the Dragon, and it had
seven Heads and ten Horns. It made great havock
of Children, and yet it was governed by a Woman.
This Monster propounded Conditions to men, and
such men as loved their Lives more than their
Souls, accepted of those Conditions. So they came
under.
Now this Mr Great-heart, together with these
that came to visit the Pilgrims at Mr Mnason's
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 287
house, entered into a Covenant to go and engage
this Beast, if perhaps they might deliver the people
of this Town from the Paws and Mouth of this
so devouring a Serpent.
Then did Mr Great-heart, Mr Contrite, Mr How he is
Holy-man, Mr Dare-not-lye, and Mr Penitent, with engage
their Weapons go forth to meet him. Now the
Monster at first was very rampant, and looked upon
these Enemies with great Disdain, but they so be-
laboured him, being sturdy men at Arms, that they
made him make a Retreat. So they came home to
Mr Mnason's house again.
The Monster, you must know, had his certain
Seasons to come out in, and to make his Attempts
upon the Children of the people of the Town ; also
these Seasons did these valiant Worthies watch
him in, and did still continually assault him; inso-
much that in process of time he became not only
wounded but lame, also he has not made that havock
of the Towns-men's Children as formerly he has
done. And it is verily believed by some, that this
Beast will die of his Wounds.
This therefore made Mr Great-heart and his
Fellows of great Fame in this Town, so that many
of the people that wanted their taste of things, yet
had a reverend Esteem and Respect for them. Upon
this account therefore it was that these Pilgrims
got not much hurt here. True there were some of
the baser sort, that could see no more than a Mole,
nor understand more than a Beast, these had no
reverence for these men, nor took they notice of
their Valour or Adventures.
Well the time grew on that the Pilgrims must go
on their way, wherefore they prepared for their
Journey. They sent for their Friends, Jhey con-
ferred with them, they had some time set apart
therein to commit each other to the Protection of
their Prince. There was again that brought them
of such things as they had, that was fit for the
Weak and the Strong, for the Women and the
288 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Men, and so laded them with such things as was
necessary.
Then they set forwards on their way, and their
Friends accompanying them so far as was con-
venient, they again committed each other to the
Protection of their King, and parted.
They therefore that were of the Pilgrims' Com-
pany went on, and Mr Great-heart went before
them. Now the Women and Children being weakly,
they were forced to go as they could bear, by this
means Mr Ready-to-halt and Mr Feeble-mind
had more to sympathize with their Condition.
When they were gone from the Towns-men, and
when their Friends had bid them farewell they
quickly came to the place where Faithful was put
to Death. There therefore they made a stand, and
thanked Him that had enabled him to bear his Cross
so well, and the rather because they now found that
they had a benefit by such a manly Suffering as his
was.
They went on therefore after this a good way
further, talking of Christian and Faithful, and how
Hopeful joined himself to Christian after that
Faithful was dead.
First Part, Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre,
P- '« where the Silver-mine was, which took Dcmas off
from his Pilgrimage, and into which, as some think,
By-ends fell and perished; wherefore they con-
sidered that. But when they were come to the old
Monument that stood over against the Hill Lucre,
to wit, to the Pillar of Salt that stood also within
view of Sodom and its stinking Lake, they marvelled,
as did Christian before, that men of that Knowledge
and ripeness of Wit as they was, should be so
blinded as to turn aside here. Only they considered
again that Nature is not affected with the Harms
that others have met with, especially if that thing
upon which they look has an attracting vertue upon
the foolish eye.
I saw now that they went on till they came at
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 289
the River that was on this side of the Delectable First Part,
Mountains. To the River where the fine Trees p ' S9
grow on both sides, and whose Leaves, if taken
inwardly, are good against Surfeits, where the Mead-
ows are green all the year long, and where they
might lie down safely.
By this River side in the Meadow there were
Cotes and Folds for Sheep, an House built for the
nourishing and bringing up of those Lambs, the
Babes of those Women that go on Pilgrimage.
Also there was here one that was intrusted with
them who could have Compassion, and that could
gather these Lambs with his Arm and carry them
in his Bosom, and that could gently lead those that
were with young. Now to the care of this Man,
Christiana admonished her four Daughters to com-
mit their little ones, that by these Waters they might
be housed, harboured, suckered, and nourished,
and that none of them might be lacking in time
to come. This Man, if any of them go astray or be
lost, he will bring them again : he will also bind up
that which was broken, and will strengthen them
that are sick. Here they will never want Meat
and Drink and Cloathing, here they will be kept
from Thieves and Robbers, for this Man will die
before one of those committed to his trust shall
be lost. Besides, here they shall be sure to have
good Nurture and Admonition, and shall be taught
to walk in right paths, and that you know is a
Favour of no small account. Also here, as you see,
are delicate Waters, pleasant Meadows, dainty Flow-
ers, variety of Trees, and such as bear whole-
some Fruit, Fruit not like that that Matthew eat
of, that fell over the Wall out of Beelzebub's Garden,
but Fruit that procureth Health where' there is
none, and that continueth and increaseth it where
it is.
So they were content to commit their little ones
to him; and that which was also an encouragement
to them so to do, was, for that all this was to
hc xv — 10
290 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
be at the Charge of the King, and so was as an
Hospital for young Children and Orphans.
First Part, Now they went on ; and when they were come to
p * J By-path Meadow, to the Stile over which Chris-
tian went with his Fellow Hopeful, when they were
They taken by Giant Despair and put into Doubting
to By-patrf Castle, they sat down and consulted what was best
stile, have to be done ; to wit, now they were so strong, and
ha™e"a t0 had S ot such a man as Mr Great-heart for their
pluck with Conductor, whether they had not best make an
DeTair attempt upon the Giant, demolish his Castle, and
if there were any Pilgrims in it, to set them at
liberty before they went any further. So one said
one thing, and another said the contrary. One
questioned if it was lawful to go upon unconsecrated
ground, another said they might provided their end
was good, but Mr Great-heart said, Though that
Assertion offered last cannot be universally true, yet
I have a Commandment to resist Sin, to overcome
Evil, to fight the good Fight of Faith, and I pray,
with whom should I fight this good Fight, if not
with Giant Despair? I will therefore attempt the
taking away of his Life, and the demolishing of
Doubting Castle. Then said he, who will go with
me? Then said old Honest, I will. And so will we
too, said Christiana's four Sons, Matthew Sam-
uel James and Joseph, for they were young men
and strong. So they left the Women in the Road,
and with them Mr Feeble-mind and Mr Ready-to-
halt with his Crutches to be their Guard, until they
came back; for in that place, tho' Giant Despair
dwelt so near, they keeping in the Road, a little
Child might lead them.
So Mr Great-heart, old Honest and the four
young men went to go up to Doubting Castle to look
for Giant Despair. When they came at the Castle-
gate, they knocked for entrance with an unusual
Noise. At that the old Giant comes to the Gate,
and Diffidence his Wife follows. Then said he,
Who and what is he that is so hardy as after this
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 291
manner to molest the Giant Despair? Mr Great-
heart replied, It is I, Great-heart, one of the King
of the Coelestial Country's Conductors of Pilgrims
to their place, and I demand of thee that thou open
thy Gates for my Entrance. Prepare thyself also
to fight, for I am come to take away thy Head, and
to demolish Doubting Castle.
Now Giant Despair, because he was a Giant, Despair
thought no man could overcome him ; and again, has
overcome
thought he, since heretofore I have made a Conquest angels
of Angels, shall Great-heart make me afraid? So
he harnessed himself and went out. He had a Cap
of Steel upon his Head, a Breast-plate of Fire
girded to him, and he came out in Iron Shoes, with
a great Club in his Hand. Then these six men
made up to him, and beset him behind and before.
Also when Diffidence the Giantess came up to help
him, old Mr Honest cut her down at one Blow.
Then they fought for their Lives, and Giant Despair Despair
was brought down to the Ground, but was very loth is 1 °? th
to die. He struggled hard, and had, as they say,
as many Lives as a Cat, but Great-heart was his
Death, for he left him not till he had severed his
Head from his Shoulders.
Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, Doubting
and that you know might with ease be done since 9 astl ?.
Giant Despair was dead. They were seven days
in destroying of that; and in it of Pilgrims they
found one Mr Dispondency, almost starved to Death,
and one Much-afraid his Daughter ; these two they
saved alive. But it would a made you a wondered
to have seen the dead Bodies that lay here and
there in the Castle-yard, and how full of dead men's
Bones the Dungeon was.
When Mr Great-heart and his Companions had They have
performed this exploit, they took Mr' Dispondency ™ a u n s ! 1 c ng nd
and his Daughter Much-afraid into their protection, for joy
for they were honest people tho' they were Prisoners
in Doubting Castle to that Tyrant Giant Despair.
They therefore I say, took with them the Head of
292 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
the Giant (for his Body they had buried under a
heap of Stones) and down to the Road and to their
Companions they came, and shewed them what they
had done. Now when Feeble-mind and Ready-
to-halt saw that it was the Head of Giant Despair
indeed, they were very jocund and merry. Now
Christiana, if need was, could play upon the Vial,
and her Daughter Mercy upon the Lute; so since
they were so merry disposed, she played them a
Lesson, and Ready-to-halt would dance. So he
took Dispondency's Daughter named Much-afraid
by the hand; and to dancing they went in the Road.
True he could not dance without one Cratch in his
hand, but I promise you he footed it well. Also the
Girl was to be commended, for she answered the
Musick handsomely.
As for Mr Dispondency, the Musick was not
much to him, he was for feeding rather than danc-
ing, for that he was almost starved. So Christiana
gave him some of her Bottle of Spirits for present
relief, and then prepared him something to eat ; and
in little time the old Gentleman came to himself,
and began to be finely revived.
Now I saw in my Dream, when all these things
were finished, Mr Great-heart took the Head of
Giant Despair, and set it upon a Pole by the High-
way side, right over against the Pillar that Christian
erected for a Caution to Pilgrims that came after,
to take heed of entering into his grounds.
Though Doubting Castle be demolished,
And the Giant Despair hath lost his Head,
Sin can rebuild the Castle, make't remain,
And make Despair the Giant live again.
Then he writ under it upon a Marble-stone these
verses following:
a „,„„„ This is the Head of him, whose Name only
ment of In former times did Pilgrims terrify,
deliverance His Castle's down, and Diffidence his Wife
Brave Master Great-heart has bereft of Life.
Dispondency, his Daughter Much-afraid,
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 293
Great-heart for them also the Man has play'd.
Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his eye
Up hither, may his scruples satisfy :
This Head also, when doubting Cripples dance,
Doth shew from Fears they have Deliverance.
When these men had thus bravely shewed them-
selves against Doubting Castle, and had slain Giant
Despair, they went forward, and went on till they
came to the Delectable Mountains, where Christian
and Hopeful refreshed themselves with the varieties
of the place. They also acquainted themselves with
the Shepherds there, who welcomed them, as they
had done Christian before, unto the Delectable
Mountains.
Now the Shepherds seeing so great a Train fol-
low Mr Great-heart, (for with him they were well
acquainted) they said unto him, Good Sir, you have
got a goodly Company here, pray where did you find
all these?
Then M- Great-heart replied,
First here is Christiana and her Train, The
Her Sons, and her Sons' Wives, who like the Wain, Guide's
Keep by the Pole, and do by Compass steer speech
From Sin to Grace, else they had not been here ; cu^t
Next here's old Honest come on Pilgrimage, ep s
Ready-to-halt too, who I dare engage
True-hearted is, and so is Feeble-mind,
Who willing was not to be left behind;
Dispondency, good man, is coming after,
And so also is Much-afraid his Daughter.
May we have entertainment here, or must
We further go ? Let's know whereon to trust.
Then said the Shepherds, This is a comfortable Their
Company. You are . welcome to us, for we have enter-
comfort for the feeble as for the strqjng. Our ainmen
Prince has an eye to what is done to the least of
these, therefore Infirmity must not be a block to
our Entertainment. So they had them to the Palace
door, and then said unto them, Come in Mr Feeble-
mind, Come in Mr Ready-to-halt, Come in Mr
294
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Adescrip- Dispondency, and Mr Much-afraid his Daughter,
tionof These, Mr Great-heart, said the Shepherds to the
shepherds Guide, we call in by name, for that they are most
subject to draw back, but as for you and the rest
that are strong, we leave you to your wonted Lib-
erty. Then said Mr Great-heart, This day I see
that Grace doth shine in your Faces, and that you
are my Lord's Shepherds indeed; for that you have
not pushed these diseased neither with Side nor
Shoulder, but have rather strewed their way into
the Palace with Flowers, as you should.
So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr Great-
heart and the rest did follow. When they were
also set down, the Shepherds said to those of the
weakest sort, What is it that you would have ? for,
said they, all things must be managed here to the
supporting of the weak, as well as the warning of
the unruly.
So they made them a Feast of things easy of
Digestion, and that were pleasant to the Palate, and
nourishing; the which when they had received, they
went to the Rest, each one respectively unto his
proper place. When Morning was come, because
the Mountains were high, and the day clear, and
because it was the custom of the Shepherds to shew
to the Pilgrims before their departure, some Rari-
ties; therefore after they were ready, and had
refreshed themselves, the Shepherds took them out
into the Fields, and shewed them first what they
had shewed to Christian before.
Then they had them to some new places. The
first was to Mount Marvel, where they looked, and
beheld a man at a distance, that tumbled the Hills
about with Words. Then they asked the Shepherds
what that should mean? So they told them, that
that man was the Son of one Greatgrace, of whom
you read in the First Part of the Records of the
Pilgrim's Progress. And he is set there to teach
Pilgrims how to believe down or to tumble out of
their ways what Difficulties they shall meet with,
Mount
Marvel
First Part,
p. 130
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 295
by Faith. Then said Mr Great-heart, I know him,
he is a man above many.
Then they had them to another place called Mount Mount
Innocent, and there they saw a man cloathed all in Innocent
White, and two men Prejudice and Ill-will con-
tinually casting Dirt upon him. Now behold the
Dirt whatsoever they cast at him would in a little
time fall off again, and his Garment would look as
clear as if no Dirt had been cast thereat.
Then said the Pilgrims, What means this? The
Shepherds answered, This man is named Godly-
man, and this Garment is to shew the Innocency
of his life. Now those that throw Dirt at him, are
such as hate his well-doing, but as you see the Dirt
will not stick upon his Cloaths, so it shall be with
him that liveth truly innocently in the World. Who-
ever they be that would make such men dirty, they
labour all in vain ; for God, by that a little time
is spent, will cause that their Innocence shall break
forth as the Light, and their Righteousness as the
Noon-day.
Then they took them, and had them to Mount Mount
Charity, where they shewed them a man that had Charit y
a bundle of cloth lying before him, out of which he
cut Coats and Garments for the Poor that stood
about him; yet his Bundle or Roll of Cloth was
never the less.
Then said they. What should this be? This is,
said the Shepherds, to shew you, that he that has
a heart to give of his Labour to the Poor, shall
never want where-withal. He that watereth shall
be watered himself. And the Cake that the Widow
gave to the Prophet did not cause that she had
ever the less in her Barrel.
They had them also to a place where they saw The work
one Fool and one Want-wit washing 'of an Ethi- ° f °. ne
1 • 1- 1- -Tool,
opian with intention to make him white, but the and one
more they washed him the blacker he was. They Want-wit
then asked the Shepherds what that should mean.
So they told them, saying, Thus shall it be with the
296 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
vile person. All means used to get such an one
a good name shall in conclusion tend but to make
him more abominable. Thus it was with the
Pharisees, and so shall it be with all Hypocrites.
Mercy has Then said Mercy the Wife of Matthew to Chris-
see"the ° tiana her Mother, Mother, I would, if it might
hole in be, see the Hole in the Hill, or that commonly called
the hill the By _ way tQ Hell So her Mother brake her
mind to the Shepherds. Then they went to the
Door. It was in the side of a Hill, and they opened
it, and Bid Mercy hearken awhile. So she heark-
FirstPart, ened, and heard one saying, Cursed be my Father
p. 126 j or folding f ni y f ee t b ac k from the way of Peace
and Life; and another said, O that I had been torn
in pieces before I had, to save my Life, lost my
Sold; and another said, // / were to live again, how
would I deny myself, rather than come to this place.
Then there was as if the very Earth had groaned
and quaked under the feet of this young Woman for
fear. So she looked white, and came trembling
away, saying, Blessed be he and she that is de-
livered from this place.
Mercy Now when the Shepherds had shewed them all
longeth, these things, then they had them back to the Palace,
what and entertained them with what the house would
afford. But Mercy being a young and breeding
Woman, longed for something that she saw there,
but was ashamed to ask. Her Mother-in-law then
asked her what she ailed, for she looked as one not
well. Then said Mercy, There is a looking-glass
hangs up in the Dining-room, off of which I can
not take my mind, if therefore I have it not, I think
I shall miscarry. Then said her Mother, I will
mention thy wants to the Shepherds, and they will
not deny it thee. But she said, I am ashamed that
these men should know that I longed. Nay my
Daughter, said she, it is no Shame, but a Vertue,
to long for such a thing as that, So Mercy said,
Then Mother, if you please, ask the Shepherds if
they are willing to sell it.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 297
Now the Glass was one of a thousand. It would it was
present a man, one way, with his own Feature ex- ^ Word
actly, and, turn it but another way, and it would
shew one the very Face and Similitude of the
Prince of Pilgrims himself. Yea I have talked
with them that can tell, and they have said that
they have seen the very Crown of Thorns upon his
Head, by looking in that Glass, they have therein
also seen the Holes in his Hands, in his Feet, and
his Side. Yea such an excellency is there in that
Glass, that it will shew him to one where they have
a mind to see him, whether living or dead, whether
in Earth or Heaven, whether in a state of Humil-
iation or in his Exaltation, whether coming to
Suffer or coming to Reign.
Christiana therefore went to the Shepherds apart First Part,
(now the names of the Shepherds are Knowledge, p * I25
Experience, Watchful, and Sincere) and said unto
them, There is one of my Daughters, a breeding
Woman, that I think doth long for something she
hath seen in this house, and she thinks she shall
miscarry if she should by you be denied.
Experience. Call her, call her, she shall as- She doth
suredly have what we can help her to. So they "otiose
called her, and said to her. Mercy, what is that longing
thing thou wouldest have? Then she blushed, and
said, The great Glass that hangs up in the Dining-
room. So Sincere ran and fetched it, and with a
joyful consent it was given her. Then she bowed
her head, and gave thanks, and said, By this I know
that I have obtained favour in your eyes.
They also gave to the other young Women such
things as they desired, and to their Husbands great
Commendations for that they joined with Mr Great-
heart to the slaying of Giant Despair and the de-
molishing of Doubting Castle. ' *
About Christiana's Neck the Shepherds put a How the
Bracelet, and so they did about the Necks of her Shepherds
. — » « ,, _^ . ... adorn the
four Daughters, also they put Ear-rings in their pilgrims
Ears, and Jewels on their Fore-heads.
298 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
First Part, When they were minded to go hence, they let
p- I27 them go in peace, but gave not to them those certain
Cautions which before were given to Christian and
his Companion. The reason was for that these
had Great-heart to be their Guide, who was one that
was well acquainted with things, and so could
give them their Cautions more seasonably, to wit,
even then when the Danger was nigh the approach-
ing.
First Part, What Cautions Christian and his Companions had
p " I27 received of the Shepherds, they had also lost by that
the time was come that they had need to put them
in practice. Wherefore here was the advantage that
this Company had over the other.
From hence they went on singing, and they said,
Behold, how fitly are the stages set
For their Relief that Pilgrims are become ;
And how they us receive without one let,
That make the other life our mark and home I
What Novelties they have to us they give,
That we, tho' Pilgrims, joyful lives may live;
They do upon us too such things bestow,
That shew we Pilgrims are where'er we go.
First Part, When they were gone from the Shepherds, they
p ' l29 quickly came to the place where Christian met with
one Turn-away, that dwelt in the town of Apostacy.
Wherefore of him Mr Great-heart their Guide did
now put them in mind, saying, This is the place
How one where Christian met with one Turn-away , who car-
manag a e Y y Tie ^ with ^ im the character of his Rebellion at his
his back. And this I have to say concerning this man,
apostacy h e w0U i(j hearken to no counsel, but once a falling,
persuasion could not stop him.
When he came to the place where the Cross
and the Sepulchre was, he did meet with one that did
bid him look there ; but he gnashed with his teeth,
and stamped, and said he was resolved to go back
to his own Town. Before he came to the Gate, he
met with Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on
him to turn him into the way again. But this
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 299
Turn-away resisted him, and having done much
despite unto him, he got away over the Wall, and
so escaped his hand.
Then they went on; and just at the place where One
Little-faith formerly was robbed, there stood a man J^'^nt-
with his Sword drawn, and his Face all bloody, beset with
Then said Mr Great-heart, What art thou ? The thieves
man made answer, saying, I am one whose name is
Valiant-for-truth. I am a Pilgrim, and am going
to the Ccelestial City. Now as I was in my way,
there were three men did beset me and propounded
unto me these three things: i. Whether I would be-
come one of them? 2. Or go back from whence
I came? 3. Or die upon the place? To the first
I answered, I had been a true man a long season,
and therefore it could not be expected that I now
should cast in my Lot with Thieves. Then they
demanded what I would say to the second. So I
told them that the place from whence I came, had
I not found Incommodity there, I had not forsaken
it at all; but finding it altogether unsuitable to me,
and very unprofitable for me, I forsook it for this
way. Then they asked me what I said to the third.
And I told them, My life cost more dear far than
that I should lightly give it away. Besides, you
have nothing to do thus to put things to my Choice,
wherefore at your Peril be it if you meddle. Then
these three, to wit Wild-head, Inconsiderate and
Pragmatick, drew upon me, and I also drew upon
them.
So we fell to it, one against three, for the space How he
of above three hours. Thev have left upon me, behav fd
„ , / , , . ,_ , , himself,
as you see, some of the marks of their Valour, and a nd put
have also carried away with them some of mine, them to
They are but just now gone. I suppose they might,
as the saying is, hear your Horse dash, and so they
betook them to flight.
Great-heart. But here was great odds, three Great-heart
wonders
against one. athis
Valiant. 'Tis true, but little or more are nothing valour
300 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
to him that has the Truth on his side. Tho' an
Host encamp against me, said one, my heart shall
not fear; tho' War should rise against me, in this
-will I be confident, &c. Besides, saith he, I have
read in some Records, that one man has fought an
Army; and how many did Samson slay with the
Jaw-bone of an Ass?
Great-heart. Then said the Guide, Why did you
not cry out, that some might a come in for your
succour ?
Valiant. So I did, to my King, who I knew
could hear, and afford invisible help, and that was
sufficient for me.
Great-heart. Then said Great-heart to Mr Val-
iant-for-truth, Thou hast worthily behaved thyself.
Let me see thy Sword. So he shewed it him.
When he had taken it in his hand, and looked there-
on a while, he said, Ha, it is a right Jerusalem
Blade.
Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these
Blades, with a Hand to wield it and Skill to use
it, and he may venture upon an Angel with it. He
need not fear its holding, if he can but tell how to
lay on. Its edges will never blunt. It will cut
flesh and bones and soul and spirit and all.
Great-heart. But you fought a great while,
I wonder you was not weary.
The Word Valiant. I fought till my Sword did cleave to
Bbod 31111 m y Hand; and when they were joined together,
as if a Sword grew out of my Arm, and when the
Blood ran through my Fingers, then I fought with
most courage.
Great-heart. Thou hast done well. Thou hast
resisted unto Blood, striving against Sin. Thou
shalt abide by us. come in and go out with us, for
we are thy Companions.
Then they took him and washed his Wounds, and
gave him of what they had to refresh him, and so
they went on together. Now as they went on,
because Mr. Great-heart was delighted in him (for
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 301
he loved one greatly that he found to be a man
of his hands) and because there were with his Com-
pany them that was feeble and weak, therefore he
questioned with him about many things, as first,
what Country-man he was?
Valiant. I am of Dark-land, for there I was
born, and there my Father and Mother are still.
Great-heart. Dark-land, said the Guide, doth
not that lie upon the same Coast with the City of
Destruction?
Valiant. Yes it doth. Now that which caused How Mr
me to come on Pilgrimage was this; we had one ^'eto
Mr Tell-true came into our parts, and he told it go on
about what Christian had done, that went from the P ll s nma s e
City of Destruction, namely, how he had forsaken
his Wife and Children, and had betaken himself to
a Pilgrim's life. It was also confidently reported
how he had killed a Serpent that did come out to
resist him in his Journey, and how he got through
to whither he intended. It was also told what Wel-
come he had at all his Lord's Lodgings, especially
when he came to the Gates of the Ccelestial City,
for there, said the man, he was received with sound
of Trumpet by a company of Shining Ones. He
told it also, hew all the Bells in the City did ring
for joy at his reception, and what Golden Garments
he was cloathed with, with many other things that
now I shall forbear to relate. In a word, that man
so told the story of Christian and his Travels, that
my heart fell into a burning haste to be gone after
him, nor could Father or Mother stay me: so I got
from them, and am come thus far on my way.
Great-heart. You came in at the Gate, did you
not?
Valiant. Yes, yes, for the same man also told He begins
us that all would be nothing, if we did not begin ng
to enter this way at the Gate.
Great-heart. Look you, said the Guide to Chris- Christian's
tiana, the Pilgrimage of your Husband, and what he f *™o Ug
has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and near.
302 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife?
Great-heart. Yes, that it is, and these are also
her four Sons.
Valiant. What, and going on Pilgrimage too?
Great-heart. Yes verily they are following
after.
He is much Valiant. It glads me at heart. Good man, how
rejoiced joyful will he be when he shall see them that would
to SCG
Christian's not g° with him, yet to enter after him in at the
^k Gates into the City.
Great-heart. Without doubt it will be a comfort
to him; for next to the joy of seeing himself there,
it will be a joy to meet there his Wife and his
Children.
Valiant. But now you are upon that, pray let me
hear your opinion about it. Some make a question,
Whether we shall know one another when we are
there ?
Great-heart. Do they think they shall know
themselves then, or that they shall rejoice to see
themselves in that Bliss? and if they think they
shall know and do these, why not know others, and
rejoice in their Welfare also?
Again, since Relations are our second self, though
that state will be dissolved there, yet why may it not
be rationally concluded that we shall be more glad
to see them there than to see they are wanting ?
Valiant. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are
as to this. Have you any more things to ask me
about my beginning to come on Pilgrimage?
Great-heart. Yes. Was your Father and Mother
willing that you should become a Pilgrim?
Valiant. Oh no. They used all means imagin-
able to persuade me to stay at home.
Great-heart. What could they against it?
The great Valiant. They said it was an idle life, and if
Sock" that * m y self were not ' nc l m ed to Sloth and Laziness,
by his I would never countenance a Pilgrim's condition.
fnen( j s Great-heart. And what did they say else?
in his way Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a dan-
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 305
gerous way; yea, the most dangerous way in the
World, said they, is that which the Pilgrims go.
Great-heart. Did they shew wherein this way
is so dangerous ?
Valiant. Yes, and that in many particulars.
Great-heart. Name some of them.
Valiant. They told me of the Slough of Dis- The first
pond, where Christian was well nigh smothered, stumbimg-
They told me that there were Archers standing
ready in Beelzebub-castle to shoot them that should
knock at the Wicket-gate for entrance. They told
me also of the Wood and dark Mountains, of the
Hill Difficulty, of the Lions, and also of the three
Giants, Bloody-man, Maul and Slay-good. They said
moreover that there was a foul Fiend haunted the
Valley of Humiliation, and that Christian was by
him almost bereft of Life. Besides, say they, you
must go over the Valley of the Shadow of Death,
where the Hobgoblins are, where the Light is
Darkness, where the way is full of Snares, Pits,
Traps, and Gins. They told me also of Giant De-
spair, of Doubting Castle and of the ruin that the
Pilgrims met with there. Further, they said I must
go over the Inchanted Ground, which was dan-
gerous. And that after all this, I should find a
River, over which I should find no Bridge, and that
that River did lie betwixt me and the Coelestial
Country.
Great-heart. And was this all?
Valiant. No. They also told me that this way The
was full of Deceivers, and of persons that laid second
await there, to turn good men out of the Path.
Great-heart. But how did they make that out?
Valiant. They told me that Mr Worldly Wise-
man did there lie in wait to deceive. They also
said that there was Formality and Hypocrisy con-
tinually on the road. They said also that By-ends,
Talkative or Demas would go near to gather me up,
that the Flatterer would catch me in his Net, or that
with green-headed Ignorance I would presume to go
304 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
on to the Gate, from whence he always was sent
back to the Hole that was in the side of the Hill,
and made to go the By-way to Hell.
Great-heart. I promise you this was enough to
discourage, but did they make an end here?
The third Valiant. No, stay. They told me also of many
that had tried that way of old, and that had gone
a great way therein, to see if they could find some-
thing of the Glory there that so many had so much
talked of from time to time; and how they came
back again, and befooled themselves for setting a
foot out of doors in that Path, to the satisfaction of
all the Country. And they named several that did
so, as Obstinate and Pliable., Mistrust and Timorous,
Turnazvay and old Atheist, with several more, who,
they said, had some of them gone far to see if they
could find, but not one of them found so much ad-
vantage by going as amounted to the weight of a
Feather.
Great-heart. Said they anything more to dis-
courage you?
The fourth Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr Fear-
ing who was a Pilgrim, and how he found this way
so solitary that he never had comfortable hour
therein. Also that Mr Dispondency had like to
have been starved therein ; yea, and also, which
I had almost forgot, that Christian himself, about
whom there has been such a noise, after all his
ventures for a Coelestial Crown, was certainly
drowned in the black River, and never went foot
further, however it was smothered up.
Great-heart. And did none of these things dis-
courage you?
Valiant. No, they seemed but as so many noth-
ings to me.
Great-heart. How came that about ?
How he Valiant. Why I still believed what Mr Tell-true
got over ] iaf i sa '\d, and that carried me beyond them all.
stumbling- Great-heart. Then this was your Victory, even
blocks your Faith.
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 305
Valiant. It was so; I believed, and therefore
came out, got into the Way, fought all that set
themselves against me, and by believing am come
to this place.
Who would True valour see,
Let him come hither ;
One here will constant be,
Come Wind, come Weather.
There's no Discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avow'd intent
To be a Pilgrim.
Who so beset him round
With dismal Stories,
Do but themselves confound,
His Strength the more is;
No Lion can him fright,
He'll with a Giant fight,
But he will have a right
To be a Pilgrim.
Hobgoblin nor foul Fiend
Can daunt his spirit;
He knows he at the end
Shall Life inherit.
Then Fancies fly away,
He'll fear not what men say,
He'll labour night and day
To be a Pilgrim.
By this time they were got to the Inchanted First Part,
Ground, where the air naturally tended to make one p " I4 °
drozvsy, and that place was all grown over with
Briars and Thorns, excepting here and there where
was an Inchanted Arbor, upon which if a man sits,
or in which if a man sleeps, 'tis a question, say
some, whether ever he shall rise or wake again in
this world. Over this Forest therefore they went,
both one with another, and Mr Great-heart went
before for that he was the Guide, and Mr Valiant-
for-truth he came behind, being there a Guard for
fear lest peradventure some Fiend or Dragon or
Giant or Thief should fall upon their Rear, and
so do mischief. They went on here each man with
his Sword drawn in his hand, for they knew it was
306
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
An arbor
on the
Inchanted
Ground
a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one an-
other as well as they could; Feeble-mind, Mr
Great-heart commanded should come up after him,
and Mr Dispondency was under the eye of Mr
Valiant.
Now they had not gone far, but a great Mist and
a Darkness fell upon them all, so that they could
scarce for a great while see the one the other.
Wherefore they were forced for some time to feel
for one another by Words, for they walked not by
Sight.
But any one must think that here was but sorry
going for the best of them all, but how much worse
for the Women and Children, who both of feet
and heart were but tender. Yet so it was, that
through the encouraging words of him that led in
the front, and of him that brought them up behind,
they made a pretty good shift to wag along.
The way also was here very wearisome through
Dirt and Slabbiness. Nor was there on all this
ground so much as one Inn or Victualling-house,
therein to refresh the feebler sort. Here therefore
was grunting and puffing and sighing. While one
tumbleth over a Bush, another sticks fast in the
Dirt; and the Children, some of them, lost their
Shoes in the Mire. While one cries out, I am down ;
and another, Ho, where are you? and a third, The
Bushes have got such fast hold on me, I think I
cannot get away from them.
Then they come at an Arbor, warm, and promis-
ing much refreshing to the Pilgrims; for it was
finely wrought above head, beautified with Greens,
furnished with Benches and Settles. It also had in
it a soft Couch whereon the weary might lean. This
you must think, all things considered, was tempting,
for the Pilgrims already began to be foiled with
the badness of the way, but there was not one of
them that made so much as a motion to stop there.
Yea, for ought I could perceive, they continually
gave so good heed to the advice of their Guide, and
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 307
he did so faithfully tell them of Dangers, and of the
nature of Dangers, when they were at them, that
usually when they were nearest to them they did
most pluck up their Spirits, and hearten one another
to deny the Flesh. This Arbor was called the The name
Slothful's Friend, on purpose to allure, if it might °^ T e
be, some of the Pilgrims there to take up their
Rest when weary.
I saw then in my Dream, that they went on in this The way
their solitary ground, till they came to a place at dl ffi cu , lt:
... J . . . . J ,,_ . , , to find
which a man is apt to lose his way. Now tho when
it was light, their Guide could well enough tell how
to miss those ways that led wrong, yet in the dark
he was put to a stand; but he had in his Pocket a
Map of all ways leading to or from the Ccelestial The guide
City; wherefore he struck a Light (for he never has a map
goes also without his Tinder-box) and takes a view leading to*
of his Book or Map, which bids him be careful in or from
that place to turn to the right-hand way. And * ecity
had he not here been careful to look in his Map,
they had all in probability been smothered in the
Mud, for just a little before them, and that at the
end of the cleanest way too, was a Pit, none knows
how deep, full of nothing but Mud, there made
on purpose to destroy the Pilgrims in.
Then thought I with myself, who that goeth on God's
Pilgrimage but would have one of these Maps about Book
him, that he may look when he is at a stand, which
is the way he must take?
They went on then in this Inchanted Ground till An arbor
they came to where there was another Arbor, and ^\^°
it was built by the High-way side. And in that therein
Arbor there lay two men whose names were Heed-
less and Too-bold. These two went thus far on Pil-
grimage, but here being wearied with their Journey,
they sat down to rest themselves, and so fell asleep.
When the Pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and
shook their heads, for they knew that the sleepers
were in a pitiful case. Then they consulted what
to do, whether to go on and leave them in their
308
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
The pil-
grims try
to wake
them
Their en-
deavor is
fruitless
sleep, or to step to them and try to awake them.
So they concluded to go to them and awake them,
that is, if they could ; but with this caution, namely,
to take heed that themselves did not sit down nor
imbrace the offered benefit of that Arbor.
So they went in and spake to the men, and called
each by his name, (for the Guide it seems did know
them) but there was no voice nor answer. Then
the Guide did shake them, and do what he could to
disturb them. Then said one of them, / will pay
you when I take my Mony. At which the Guide
shook his Head. / will fight so long as I can hold
my Sword in my hand, said the other. At that one
of the Children laughed.
Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of
this? The Guide said, They talk in their Sleep.
If you strike them, beat them, or whatever else you
do to them, they will answer you after this fashion ;
or as one of them said in old time, when the Waves
of the Sea did beat upon him, and he slept as one
upon the Mast of a Ship, When I awake I will seek
it again. You know when men talk in their Sleeps
they say anything, but their words are not gov-
erned either by Faith or Reason. There is an
incoherency in their words now, as there was before
betwixt their going on Pilgrimage and sitting down
here. This then is the mischief on't, when heedless
ones go on Pilgrimage 'tis twenty to one but they
are served thus. For this Inchanted Ground is one
of the last Refuges that the Enemy to Pilgrims has ;
wherefore it is, as you see, placed almost at the
end of the Way, and so it standeth against us with
the more advantage. For when, thinks the Enemy,
will these Fools be so desirous to sit down, as
when they are weary? and when so like to be
weary, as when almost at their Journey's end?
therefore it is I say, that the Inchanted Ground is
placed so nigh to the Land Beulah, and so near the
end of their Race. Wherefore let Pilgrims look to
themselves, lest it happen to them as it has done
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 309
to these, that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none
can wake them.
Then the Pilgrims desired with trembling to go The light
forward; only they prayed their Guide to strike a S* th :
Light, that they might go the rest of their way
by the help of the Light of a Lanthorn. So he
struck a Light, and they went by the help of that
through the rest of this way, tho' the Darkness was
very great.
But the Children began to be sorely weary, and The
they cried out unto him that loveth Pilgrims to make chlld , ren
their way more comfortable. So by that they had weariness
gone a little further, a Wind arose that drove away
the Fog, so the Air became more clear.
Yet they were not off (by much) of the Inchanted
Ground, only now they could see one another better,
and the way wherein they should walk.
Now when they were almost at the end of this Stand-fast
ground, they perceived that a little before them " pon h ^ s
*- J r knees in
was a solemn Noise, as of one that was much con- the En-
cerned. So they went on and looked before them ; chante d
and behold they saw, as they thought, a man upon
his Knees, with Hands and Eyes lift up, and speak-
ing, as they thought, earnestly to one that was above.
They drew nigh, but could not tell what he said;
so they went softly till he had done. When he had
done, he got up and began to run towards the Coeles-
tial City. Then Mr Great-heart called after him,
saying, Soho Friend, let us have your Company, if
you go, as I suppose you do, to the Coelestial City.
So the man stopped, and they came up to him. But
so soon as Mr Honest saw him, he said, I know this
man. Then said Mr Valiant-for-truth, Prithee,
who is it? 'Tis one, said he, who comes from The
whereabouts I dwelt, his name is Stand-fast, he is story -of
certainly a right good Pilgrim. ■ '
So they came up one to another; and presently Taikbe-
Stand-fast said to old Honest, Ho Father Honest, t ^^ im
are you there? Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as Honest
you are there. Right glad am I, said Mr Stand-
310
They
found
him at
prayer
What it
was that
fetched
him upon
his knees
Madam
Bubble, or
this vain
world
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
fast, that I have found you on this Road. And as
glad am I, said the other, that I espied you upon
your Knees. Then Mr Stand-fast blushed, and said,
But why, did you see me? Yes, that I did, quoth
the other, and with my heart was glad at the sight.
Why, what did you think? said Stand-fast. Think,
said old Honest, what should I think? I thought
we had an honest man upon the Road, and therefore
should, have his Company by and by. If you
thought not amiss [said Stand-fast} how happy am
I, but if I be not as I should, I alone must bear it.
That is true, said the other, but your fear doth
further confirm me that things are right betwixt the
Prince of Pilgrims and your Soul, for he saith,
Blessed is the man that feareth always.
Valiant. Well but Brother, I pray thee tell us
what was it that was the cause of thy being upon
thy Knees even now? Was it for that some special
mercy laid obligations upon thee, or how?
Stand-fast. Why we are, as you see, upon the
Inchanted Ground, and as I was coming along, I
was musing with myself of what a dangerous Road
the Road in this place was, and how many that had
come even thus far on Pilgrimage had here been
stopt and been destroyed. I thought also of the
manner of the Death with which this place destroy-
eth men. Those that die here, die of no violent
Distemper. The Death which such die is not griev-
ous to them, for he that goeth away in a sleep
begins that Journey with Desire and Pleasure; yea,
such acquiesce in the will of that Disease.
Hon. Then Mr Honest interrupting of him said,
Did you see the two men asleep in the Arbor?
Stand-fast. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold
there, and for ought I know, there they will lie
till they rot. But let me go on in my Tale. As
I was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very
pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself unto
me, and offered me three things, to wit, her Body
her Purse and her Bed. Now the truth is, I was
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 311
both a-weary and sleepy, I am also as poor as a
Howlet, and that perhaps the Witch knew. Well
I repulsed her once and twice, but she put by my
repulses, and smiled. Then I began to be angry,
but she mattered that nothing at all. Then she
made offers again, and said, If I would be ruled
by her, she would make me great and happy, for
said she, I am the Mistress of the World, and men
are made happy by me. Then I asked her name,
and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This set
me further from her, but she still followed me with
Inticements. Then I betook me, as you see, to
my Knees, and with hands lift up and cries, I pray'd
to him that had said he would help. So just as you
came up, the Gentlewoman went her way. Then
I continued to give thanks for this my great De-
liverance, for I verily believe she intended no good,
but rather sought to make stop of me in my
Journey.
Hon. Without doubt her Designs were bad. But
stay, now you talk of her, methinks I either have
seen her, or have read some story of her.
Stand-fast. Perhaps you have done both.
Hon. Madam Bubble, is she not a tall comely
Dame, something of a swarthy Complexion?
Stand-fast. Right, you hit it, she is just such
an one.
Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and
give you a Smile at the end of a Sentence?
Stand-fast. You fall right upon it again, for
these are her very Actions.
Hon. Doth she not wear a great Purse by her
side, and is not her Hand often in it fingering her
Mony, as if that was her heart's delight?
Stand-fast. 'Tis just so; had she stood by all
this while, you could not more amply have set her
forth before me, nor have better described her
Features.
Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good
Limner, and he that wrote of her said true.
312 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
The World Great-heart. This woman is a Witch, and it is
by vertue of her Sorceries that this ground is in-
chanted. Whoever doth lay their Head down in
her Lap, had as good lay it down upon that Block
over which the Ax doth hang; and whoever lay
their Eyes upon her Beauty, are counted the Enemies
of God. This is she that maintaineth in their
splendor all those that are the Enemies of Pilgrims.
Yea, this is she that hath bought off many a man
from a Pilgrim's Life. She is a great Gossiper,
she is always, both she and her Daughters, at one
Pilgrim's heels or another, now commending and
then preferring the excellencies of this Life. She
is a bold and impudent Slut, she will talk with
any man. She always laugheth poor Pilgrims to
scorn, but highly commends the rich. If there be
one cunning to get Mony in a place, she will speak
well of him from house to house. She loveth Ban-
queting and Feasting mainly well, she is always
at one full Table or another. She has given it out
in some places that she is a Goddess, and therefore
some do worship her. She has her times and open
places of Cheating, and she will say and avow it
that none can shew a good comparable to hers.
She promiseth to dwell with Children's Children,
if they will but love and make much of her. She
will cast out of her Purse Gold like Dust, in some
places, and to some persons. She loves to be sought
after, spoken well of, and to lie in the Bosoms of
Men. She is never weary of commending her
Commodities, and she loves them most that think
best of her. She will promise to some Crowns
and Kingdoms if they will but take her advice, yet
many has she brought to the Halter, and ten thou-
sand times more to Hell.
Stand-fast. Oh, said Stand-fast, what a mercy
is it that I did resist her, for whither might she
a drawn me?
Great-heart. Whither, nay, none but God knows
whither. But in general to be sure, she would a
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 313
drawn thee into many foolish and hurtful Lusts,
which drown men in Destruction and Perdition.
'Twas she that, set Absalom against his Father,
and Jeroboam against his Master. 'Twas she that
persuaded Judas to sell his Lord, and that prevailed
with Demas to forsake the godly Pilgrim's Life.
None can tell of the Mischief that she doth. She
makes variance betwixt Rulers and Subjects, betwixt
Parents and Children, 'twixt Neighbor and Neigh-
bor, 'twixt a Man and his Wife, 'twixt a Man and
Himself, 'twixt the Flesh and the Heart.
Wherefore good Master Stand-fast, be as your
name is, and when you have done all, stand.
At this Discourse there was among the Pilgrims
a mixture of Joy and Trembling, but at length they
brake out, and sang,
What danger is the Pilgrim in,
How many are his Foes,
How many ways there are to sin,
No living mortal knows.
Some of the Ditch shy are, yet can
Lie tumbling on the Mire ;
Some tho' they shun the Frying-pan,
Do leap into the Fire.
After this I beheld until they were come unto First Part,
the Land of Beulah, where the Sun shineth Night p- 158
and Day. Here, because they was weary, they
betook themselves a while to rest. And because
this Country was common for Pilgrims, and because
the Orchards and Vineyards that were here belonged
to the King of the Coelestial Country, therefore
they were licensed to make bold with any of his
things. But a little while soon refreshed them here ;
for the Bells did so ring, and the Trumpets con-
tinually sound so melodiously, that they *could not
sleep; and yet they received as much refreshing as
if they had slept their sleep never so soundly. Here
also all the noise of them that walked the Streets,
was, More Pilgrims are come to Town. And
314
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Death
bitter to
the flesh,
but sweet
to the soul
Death has
its ebbings
and Sow-
ings like
the tide
A mes-
senger of
death
sent to
Christiana
another would answer, saying, And so many went
over the Water, and were let in at the Golden Gates
to-day. They would cry again, There is now a
Legion of Shining Ones just come to Town, by
which we know that there are more Pilgrims upon
the road, for here they come to wait for them, and
to comfort them after all their Sorrow. Then the
Pilgrims got up and walked to and fro ; but how
were their Ears now filled with Heavenly Noises,
and their eyes delighted with Coelestial Visions !
In this Land they heard nothing, saw nothing,
felt nothing, smelt nothing, tasted nothing, that
was offensive to their Stomach or Mind; only
when they tasted of the Water of the River over
which they were to go, they thought that tasted a
little bitterish to the Palate, but it proved sweeter
when 'twas down.
In this place there was a Record kept of the
names of them that had been Pilgrims of old, and
a History of all the famous Acts that they had done.
It was here also much discoursed how the River
to some had had its ffoivings, and what ebbings it
has had while others have gone over. It has been
in a manner dry for some, while it has overflowed
its banks for others.
In this place the Children of the Town would go
into the King's Gardens and gather Nosegays for
the Pilgrims, and bring them to them with much
affection. Here also grew Camphire with Spike-
nard and Saffron Calamus and Cinnamon, with all
its Trees of Frankincense Myrrh and Aloes, with
all chief Spices. With these the Pilgrim's Cham-
bers were perfumed while they stayed here, and with
these were their Bodies anointed, to prepare them
to go over the River when the time appointed was
come.
Now while they lay here and waited for the good
hour, there was a noise in the Town that there was
a Post come from the Coelestial City, with matter
of great importance to one Christiana the Wife
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 315
of Christian the Pilgrim. So enquiry was made for
her, and the house was found out where she was.
So the Post presented her with a Letter, the con-
tents whereof was, Hail, good Woman, I bring thee His
Tidings that the Master calleth for thee, and ex- messa s £
pecteth that thou shoiddest stand in his presence in
Cloaths of Immortality, within this ten days.
When he had read this Letter to her, he gave her How wel-
therewith a sure token that he was a true Messenger, come is
and was come to bid her make haste to be gone, themthat
The token was an Arrow with a point sharpened havenoth-
with Love, let easily into her heart, which by de- bin to die
grees wrought so effectually with her, that at the
time appointed she must be gone.
• When Christiana saw that her time was come. Her speech
and that she was the first of this Company that to her
was to go over, she called for Mr Great-heart her g 1
Guide, and told him how matters were. So he told
her he was heartily glad of the News, and could
have been glad had the Post come for him. Then
she bid that he should give advice how all things
should be prepared for her Journey. So he told
her, saying, Thus and thus it must be, and we that
survive will accompany you to the River-side.
Then she called for her Children, and gave them Toher
her Blessing, and told them that she yet read with children
comfort the Mark that was set in their Foreheads,
and was glad to see them with her there, and that
they had kept their Garments so white. Lastly, she
bequeathed to the Poor that little she had, and com-
manded her Sons and her Daughters to be ready
against the Messenger should come for them.
When she had spoken these words to her Guide To Mr
and to her Children, she called for Mr Valiant- for- Vahant
truth, and said unto him, Sir, you have in all places
shewed yourself true-hearted, be faithful unto Death,
and my King will give you a Crown of Life. I
would also entreat you to have an eye to my Chil-
dren, and if at any time you see them faint, speak
comfortably to them. For my Daughters, my Sons'
316
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
To Mr
Stand-fast
To old
Honest
To Mr
Ready-
to-halt
To Dis-
pondency
and his
daughter
To Feeble-
mind
Her last
day, and
manner of
departure
Wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of
the Promise upon them will be their end. But she
gave Mr Stand-fast a Ring.
Then she called for old Mr Honest, and said of
him, Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no
Guile. Then said he, I wish you a fair day when
you set out for Mount Sion, and shall be glad to
see that you go over the River dry-shod. But she
answered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone,
for however the Weather is in my Journey, I shall
have time enough when I come there to sit down
and rest me and dry me.
Then came in that good man Mr Ready-to-halt
to see her. So she said to him, Thy Travel hither
has been with difficulty, but that will make thy
Rest the sweeter. But watch and be ready, for at an
hour when you think not, the Messenger may come.
After him came in Mr Dispondency and his
Daughter Much-afraid, to whom she said, You
ought with thankfulness for ever to remember
your Deliverance from the hands of Giant De-
spair and out of Doubting Castle. The effect
of that Mercy is, that you are brought with
safety hither. Be ye watchful and cast away Fear,
be sober and hope to the end.
Then she said to Mr Feeble-mind, Thou wast de-
livered from the mouth of Giant Slay-good, that
thou mightest live in the Light of the Living for
ever, and see thy King with comfort. Only I advise
thee to repent thee of thine aptness to fear and
doubt of his goodness before he sends for thee,
lest thou shouldest when he comes, be forced to
stand before him for that fault with blushing.
Now the day drew on that Christiana must be
gone. So the Road was full of People to see her
take her Journey. But behold all the Banks beyond
the River were full of Horses and Chariots, which
were come down from above to accompany her to
the City Gate. So she came forth and entered the
River, with a beckon of Farewell to those that fol-
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 317
lowed her to the River-side. The last word she was
heard to say here was, / come Lord, to be with thee
and bless thee.
So her Children and Friends returned to their
place, for that those that waited for Christiana had
carried her out of their sight. So she went and
called, and entered in at the Gate with all the
Ceremonies of Joy that her Husband Christian had
done before her.
At her departure her Children wept, but Mr
Great-heart and Mr Valiant played upon the well-
tuned Cymbal and Harp for Joy. So all departed
to their respective places.
In process of time there came a Post to the Town Ready-
again, and his business was with Mr Ready-to-halt. t0 " halt
o , .... , . , , . summoned
bo he enquired him out, and said to him, I am
come to thee in the name of him whom thou hast
loved and followed, tho' upon Crutches ; and my
Message is to tell thee that he expects thee at his
Table to sup with him in his Kingdom the next
day after Easter, wherefore prepare thyself for
this Journey.
Then he also gave him a Token that he was a true
Messenger, saying, / have broken thy golden bowl,
and loosed thy silver cord.
After this Mr Ready-to-halt called for his fellow Promises
Pilgrims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, and
God shall surely visit you also. So he desired Mr His will
Valiant to make his Will. And because he had
nothing to bequeath to them that should survive him
but his Crutches and his good Wishes, therefore
thus he said, These Crutches I bequeath to my
Son that shall tread in my steps, with a hundred
warm wishes that he may prove better than I have
done.
Then he thanked Mr Great-heart for his Conduct His last
and Kindness, and so addressed himself to his Jour- wor s
ney. When he came at the Brink of the River he
said, Now I shall have no more need of these
318 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Crutches, since yonder are Chariots and Horses
for me to ride on. The last words he was heard
to say was, Welcome Life. So he went his way.
Feeble- After this Mr Feeble-mind had Tidings brought
mind , him that the Post sounded his Horn at his Chamber-
summoned .
door. Then he came in and told him, saying, I am
come to tell thee that thy Master has need of thee,
and that in very little time thou must behold his
Face in Brightness. And take this as a Token of
the Truth of my Message, Those that look out at
the Windows shall be darkened.
He makes Then Mr Feeble-mind called for his Friends, and
no will £01^ t h em w hat Errand had been brought unto him,
and what Token he had received of the Truth of
the Message. Then he said, Since I have nothing
to bequeath to any, to what purpose should I make
a Will? As for my feeble mind, that I will leave
behind me, for that I have no need of that in the
place whither I go. Nor is it worth bestowing upon
the poorest Pilgrim ; wherefore when I am gone,
I desire that you, Mr Valiant, would bury it in a
Dunghill. This done, and the day being come in
which he was to depart, he entered the River as the
His last rest. His last words were, Hold out Faith and
words Patience. So he went over to the other side.
Mr When days had many of them passed away, Mr
Dispond- Dispondency was sent for. For a Post was come,
and brought this Message to him, Trembling man,
these are to summon thee to be ready with thy
King by the next Lord's day, to shout for Joy for
thy Deliverance from all thy Doubtings.
His And said the Messenger, That my Message is
daughter true ta k e t ^- is f or a p r0 of ; so he gave him The
Grasshopper to be a Burden unto him. Now Mr
Dispondency's Daughter whose name was Much-
afraid said when she heard what was done, that
she would go with her Father. Then Mr Dispond-
ency said to his Friends, Myself and my Daughter,
you know what we have been, and how trouble-
ency s
summons
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 319
somely we have behaved ourselves in every Com-
pany. My Will and my Daughter's is, that our His will
Disponds and slavish Fears be by no man ever
received from the day of our Departure for ever,
for I know that after my Death they will offer
themselves to others. For to be plain with you,
they are Ghosts, the which we entertained when we
first began to be Pilgrims, and could never shake
them off after; and they will walk about and seek
entertainment of the Pilgrims, but for our sakes
shut ye the doors upon them.
When the time was come for them to depart, they His last
went to the Brink of the River. The last words words
of Mr Dispondency were, Farewell Night, welcome
Day. His Daughter went through the River sing-
ing, but none could understand what she said.
Then it came to pass a while after, that there was Mr
a Post in the town that enquired for Mr Honest. Honest
_, , , . , , , ,,i. i summoned
So he came to his house where he was, and delivered
to his hand these lines, Thou art commanded to be
ready against this day seven-night to present thy-
self before thy Lord at his Father's house. And
for a Token that my Message is true, All thy
Daughters of Mustek shall be brought low. Then
Mr Honest called for his Friends, and said unto
them, I die, but shall make no Will. As for my He makes
Honesty, it shall go with me; let him that comes nowi11
after be told of this. When the day that he was
to be gone was come, he addressed himself to go
over the River. Now the River at that time over-
flowed the Banks in some places, but Mr Honest Good-
in his lifetime had spoken to one Good-conscience conscience
to meet him there, the which he also did, and lent Honest r
him his hand, and so helped him over. The last oyer the
words of Mr Honest were, Grace reigns. So he nver
left the World.
After this it was noised abroad that Mr Valiant- Mr Valiant
for-truth was taken with a Summons by the same summone i
320
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
His will
His last
words
Post as the other, and had this for a Token that
the Summons was true, That his Pitcher was broken
at the Fountain. When he understood it, he called
for his Friends, and told them of it. Then said he,
I am going to my Fathers, and tho' with great diffi-
culty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me
of all the Trouble I have been at to arrive where I
am. My Sword I give to him that shall succeed
me in my Pilgrimage, and my Courage and Skill to
him that can get it. My Marks and Scars I carry
with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought
his Battles who now will be my Rewarder. When
the day that he must go hence was come, many
accompanied him to the River-side, into which as
he went he said, Death, where is thy Sting? And
as he went down deeper he said, Grave, where is
thy Victory? So he passed over, and all the Trum-
pets sounded for him on the other side.
Mr Stand- Then there came forth a Summons for Mr Stand-
summoned f ast > (This Mr Stand-fast was he that the rest of
the Pilgrims found upon his Knees in the Inchanted
Ground) for the Post brought it him open in his
hands. The contents whereof, were, that he must
prepare for a Change of Life, for his Master was
not willing that he should be so far from him any
longer. At this Mr Stand-fast was put into a muse.
Nay, said the Messenger, you need not doubt of the
truth of my Message, for here is a Token of the
Truth thereof, Thy Wheel is broken at the Cistern.
Then he called to him Mr Great-heart who was their
Guide, and said, unto him, Sir, altho' it was not
my hap to be much in your good Company in the
days of my Pilgrimage, yet since the time I knew
His speech you, you have been profitable to me. When I came
to him from home, I left behind me a Wife and five small
Children, let me entreat you at your return, (for I
know that you will go and return to your Master's
house, in hopes that you may yet be a Conductor to
more of the holy Pilgrims) that you send to my
He calls
for Mr
Great-
heart
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 321
Family, and let them be acquainted with all that His errand
hath and shall happen unto me. Tell them more- *° h !. s
over of my happy Arrival to this place, and of the
present late blessed condition that I am in. Tell
them also of Christian and Christiana his Wife, and
how she and her Children came after her Husband.
Tell them also of what a happy end she made, and
whither she is gone. I have little or nothing to
send to my Family, except it be Prayers and Tears
for them; of which it will suffice if thou acquaint
them, if peradventure they may prevail.
When Mr Stand-fast had thus set things in
order, and the time being come for him to haste him
away, he also went down to the River. Now there
was a great Calm at that time in the River; where-
fore Mr Stand-fast, when he was about half-way in,
he stood awhile, and talked to his Companions that
had waited upon him thither. And he said,
This River has been a Terror to many, yea, the His last
thoughts of it also have often frighted me. But words
now methinks I stand easy, my Foot is fixed upon
that upon which the Feet of the Priests that bare
the Ark of the Covenant stood, while Israel went
over this Jordan. The Waters indeed are to the
Palate bitter and to the Stomach cold, yet the
thoughts of what I am going to and of the Conduct
that waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a
glowing Coal at my Heart.
I see myself now at the end of my Journey, my
toilsome days are ended. I am going now to see
that Head that was crowned with Thorns, and that
Face that was spit upon for me.
I have formerly lived by Hear-say and Faith, but
now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be
with him in whose Company I delight myself.
I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of, and
wherever I have seen the print of his Shoe in the
Earth, there I have coveted to set my Foot too.
His Name has been to me as a Civit-box, yea,
sweeter than all Perfumes. His Voice to me has
hcxv — II
322 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
been most sweet, and his Countenance I have more
desired than they that have most desired the Light
of the Sun. His Word I did use to gather for
my Food, and for Antidotes against my Faintings.
He has held me, and I have kept me from mine
iniquities, yea, my Steps hath he strengthened in
his Way.
Now while he was thus in Discourse, his Coun-
tenance changed, his strong man bowed under him,
and after he had said. Take me, for I come unto
thee, he ceased to be seen of them.
But glorious it was to see how the open Region
was filled with Horses and Chariots, with Trum-
peters and Pipers, with Singers and Players on
stringed Instruments, to welcome the Pilgrims as
they went up, and followed one another in at the
beautiful Gate of the City.
As for Christian's Children, the four Boys that
Christiana brought with her, with their Wives and
Children, I did not stay where I was till they were
gone over. Also since I came away, I heard one
say that they were yet alive, and so would be for
the Increase of the Church in that place where they
were for a time.
Shall it be my Lot to go that way again, I may
give those that desire it an account of what I here
am silent about; mean-time I bid my Reader Adieu.
THE AUTHOR'S VINDICATION
OF HIS PILGRIM
FOUND AT THE END OF HIS "HOLY WAR"
Some say the Pilgrim's Progress is not mine,
Insinuating as if I would shine
In name and fame by the worth of another,
Like some made rich by robbing of their Brother.
Or that so fond I am of being Sire,
I'll father Bastards; or if need require,
I'll tell a lye in print to get applause.
I scorn it: John such dirt-heap never was,
Since God converted him. Let this suffice
To show why I my Pilgrim patronize.
It came from mine own heart, so to my head,
And thence into my fingers trickled;
Then to my pen, from whence immediately
On paper I did dribble it daintily.
Manner and matter too was all mine own,
Nor was it unto any mortal known,
Till I had done it. Nor did any then
By books, by wits, by tongues, or hand, or pen,
Add five words to it, or write half a line
Thereof: the whole and every whit is mine.
Also, for this thine eye is now upon,
The matter in this manner came from none
But the same heart and head, fingers and pen,
As did the other. Witness all good men;
For none in all the world, without a lye,
Can say that this is mine, excepting I.
I write not this of any ostentation,
Nor 'cause I seek of men their commendation;
323
324 THE AUTHOR'S VINDICATION
X do it to keep them from such surmise,
As tempt them will my name to scandalise.
Witness my name, if anagram'd to thee,
The letters tnake, Nu hony in a B.
JOHN BUNYAN.
THE LIFE OF DR. DONNE
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
Izaak Walton was born on August 9, 1593, in Staffordshire,
England. He came to London zvhere he served his apprentice-
ship as an ironmonger, and later seems to have been in business
on his own account. He was a loyal member of the Church of
England, and was on terms of friendship with a number of dis-
tinguished divines, notably Dr. John Donne, who, when he was
vicar of Saint Duns tan's, was a near neighbor of Walton's. In
politics he sympathised warmly with the Royalist party, and it
has been supposed that it was the triumph of the Parliament in
the Civil War that led him in 1644 to retire from business, and,
for a time, from London. Most of his old age was spent with
his friend, George Morley, Bishop of Winchester, and with his
daughter Anne, the wife of William Hawkins, a prebendary
of Winchester. In the house of the latter he died in December,
1683, and was buried in Winchester Cathedral. He was twice
married.
Walton's chief literary work, "The Compleat Angler, or the
Contemplative Man's Recreation," was published when he was
sixty, and he induced his friend, Charles Cotton, to supplement
it with a treatise on fly-fishing, which was incorporated with
Walton's fifth edition in 1676. Whatever may be the value of
this work as a practical guide, it remains the literary classic of
the gentle art of angling, and is remarkable for its success in con-
veying in delightful prose the charm of English meadotvs and
streams.
"The Life of Dr. Donne" zvas written by Walton in 1640 as an
introduction to a collection of Donne's sermons; and thirty years
later was issued in a volume with lives of Sir Henry Wotton,
Richard Hooker, and George Herbert. In 1678 he completed
his biographical labors with a life of Robert Sanderson. These
lives are in their way models of short biography. The charming
personality of Walton himself, and the clarity and delicacy of a
style of high artistic simplicity, set off a narrative in which facts
are not allowed to obscure the outlines of a character drawn
with loving admiration. Fezv bulky official lives succeed in
giving the reader so vivid a picture of personality as these
sketches from the hand of Izaak Walton.
THE LIFE OF DR. DONNE
MASTER JOHN DONNE was born in London, in the
year 1573, °^ good and virtuous parents; and, though
his own learning and other multiplied merits may
justly appear sufficient to dignify both himself and his pos-
terity, yet the reader may be pleased to know that his father
was masculinely and lineally descended from a very ancient
family in Wales, where many of his name now live, that
deserve, and have great reputation in that country.
By his mother he was descended of the family of the fa-
mous and learned Sir Thomas More, sometime Lord Chan-
cellor of England: as also, from that worthy and laborious
judge Rastall, who left posterity the vast statutes of the law
of this nation most exactly abridged.
He had his first breeding in his father's house, where a
private tutor had the care of him, until the tenth year of his
age ; and, in his eleventh year, was sent to the University of
Oxford; having at that time a good command both of the
French and Latin tongue. This, and some other of his re-
markable abilities, made one then give this censure of him:
That this age had brought forth another Picus Mirandola;
of whom story says that he was rather born than made wise
by study.
There he remained for some years in Hart Hall, having
for the advancement of his studies, tutors of several sciences
to attend and instruct him, till time made him capable, and
his learning expressed in public exercises declared him
worthy, to receive his first degree in the schools, which he
forbore by advice from his friends, who, 'being for their re-
ligion of the Romish persuasion, were conscionably averse
to some parts of the oath that is always tendered at those
times, and not to be refused by those that expect the titulary
honour of their studies.
327
328 IZAAK WALTON
About the fourteenth year of his age he was transplanted
from Oxford to Cambridge, where, that he might receive
nourishment from both soils, he stayed till his seventeenth
year; all which time he was a most laborious student, often
changing his studies, but endeavouring to take no degree, for
the reasons formerly mentioned.
About the seventeenth year of his age he was removed to
London, and then admitted into Lincoln's Inn, with an intent
to study the law; where he gave great testimonies of his
wit, his learning, and of his improvement in that profession;
which never served him for other use than an ornament and
self-satisfaction.
His father died before his admission into this society, and,
being a merchant, left him his portion in money. (It was
£3000.) His mother, and those to whose care he was com-
mitted, were watchful cO improve his knowledge, and to that
end appointed him tutors, both in the mathematics and in all
the other liberal sciences, to attend him. But with these arts
they were advised to instil into him particular principles of
the Romish Church, of which those tutors professed, though
secretly, themselves to be members.
They had almost obliged him to their faith ; having for
their advantage, besides many opportunities, the example of
his dear and pious parents, which was a most powerful per-
suasion, and did work much upon him, as he professeth in
his Preface to his Pseudo-Martyr, a book of which the reader
shall have some account in what follows.
He was now entered into the eighteenth year of his age,
and at that time had betrothed himself to no religion that
might give him any other denomination than a Christian.
And reason and piety had both persuaded him that there
could be no such sin as schism, if an adherence to some
visible church were not necessary.
About the nineteenth year of his age, he, being then unre-
solved what religion to adhere to, and considering how much
it concerned his soul to choose the most orthodox, did there-
fore, — though his youth and health promised him a long life,
■ — to rectify all scruples that might concern that, presently
laid aside all study of the law, and of all other sciences that
might give him a denomination; and began seriously to sur-
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 3?9
vey and consider the body of divinity, as it was then con-
troverted betwixt the reformed and the Roman Church. And
as God's blessed Spirit did then awaken him to the search,
and in that industry did never forsake him, — they be his own
words, 1 — so he calls the same Holy Spirit to witness this pro-
testation ; that in that disquisition and search he proceeded
with humility and diffidence in himself, and by that which he
took to be the safest way, namely, frequent prayers, and an
indifferent affection to both parties; and indeed, truth had
too much light about her to be hid from so sharp an in-
quirer ; and he had too much ingenuity not to acknowledge
he had found her.
Being to undertake this search, he believed the Cardinal
Bellarmine to be the best defender of the Roman cause, and
therefore betook himself to the examination of his reasons.
The cause was weighty, and wilful delays had been inex-
cusable both towards God and his own conscience: he there-
fore proceeded in this search with all moderate haste, and
about the twentieth year of his age did show the then Dean
of Gloucester — whose name my memory hath now lost — all
the Cardinal's works marked with many weighty observa-
tions under his own hand ; which works were bequeathed by
him, at his death, as a legacy to a most dear friend.
About a year following he resolved to travel ; and the Earl
of Essex going first to Cales, and after the island voyages,
the first anno 1596, the second 1597, he took the advantage
of those opportunities, waited upon his lordship, and was an
eye-witness of those happy and unhappy employments.
But he returned not back into England till he had stayed
some years, first in Italy, and then in Spain, where he made
many useful observations of those countries, their laws and
manner of government, and returned perfect in their lan-
guages.
The time that he ■ spent in Spain was, at his first going
into Italy, designed for travelling to the. Holy Land, and for
viewing Jerusalem and the sepulchre of our Saviour. But
at his being in the farthest parts of Italy, the disappointment
of company, or of a safe convoy, or the uncertainty of re-
turns of money into those remote parts, denied him that
1 In his Preface to Pseudo-Martyr.
330 IZAAK WALTON
happiness, which he did often occasionally mention with a
deploration.
Not long after his return into England, that exemplary
pattern of gravity and wisdom, the Lord Ellesmere, then
Keeper of the Great Seal, the Lord Chancellor of England,
taking notice of his learning, languages, and other abilities,
and much affecting his person and behaviour, took him to
be his chief secretary; supposing and intending it to be an
introduction to some more weighty employment in the State ;
for which, his Lordship did often protest, he thought him
very fit.
Nor did his Lordship in this time of Master Donne's at-
tendance upon him, account him to be so much his servant,
as to forget he was his friend; and, to testify it, did always
use him with much courtesy, appointing him a place at his
own table, to which he esteemed his company and discourse
to be a great ornament.
He continued that employment for the space of five years,
being daily useful, and not mercenary to his friend. During
which time, he — I dare not say unhappily — fell into such a
liking, as — with her approbation — increased into a love, with
a young gentlewoman that lived in that family, who was
niece to the Lady Ellesmere, and daughter to Sir George
More, then Chancellor of the Garter and Lieutenant of the
Tower.
Sir George had some intimation of it. and, knowing pre-
vention to be a great part of wisdom, did therefore remove
her with much haste from that to his own house at Lothesley,
in the County of Surrey; but too late, by reason of some
faithful promises which were so interchangeably passed, as
never to be violated by either party.
These promises were only known to themselves ; and the
friends of both parties used much diligence, and many argu-
ments, to kill or cool their affections to each other : but in
vain ; for love is a flattering mischief, that hath denied aged
and wise men a foresight of those evils that too often prove
to be the children of that blind father; a passion, that car-
ries us to commit errors with as much ease as whirlwinds
move feathers, and begets in us an unwearied industry to the
attainment of what we desire. And such an industry did,
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 331
notwithstanding much watchfulness against it, bring them
secretly together, — I forbear to tell the manner how, — and at
last to a marriage too, without the allowance of those
friends, whose approbation always was, and ever will be
necessary, to make even a virtuous love become lawful.
And, that the knowledge of their marriage might not fall,
like an unexpected tempest, on those that were unwilling to
have it so; and that pre-apprehensions might make it the
less enormous when it was known, it was purposely whis-
pered into the ears of many that it was so, yet by none that
could affirm it. But, to put a period to the jealousies of Sir
George, — doubt often begetting more restless thoughts than
the certain knowledge of what we fear, — the news was, in
favour to Mr. Donne, and with his allowance, made known
to Sir George by his honourable friend and neighbour,
Henry, Earl of Northumberland: but it was to Sir George
so immeasurably unwelcome, and so transported him, that,
as though his passion of anger and inconsideration might
exceed theirs of love and error, he presently engaged his
sister, the Lady Ellesmere, to join with him to procure her
lord to discharge Mr. Donne of the place he held under his
Lordship. This request was followed with violence ; and
though Sir George was remembered that errors might be
over-punished, and desired therefore to forbear till second
considerations might clear some scruples, yet he became
restless until his suit was granted, and the punishment exe-
cuted. And though the Lord Chancellor did not, at Mr.
Donne's dismission, give him such a commendation as the
great Emperor Charles the Fifth did of his Secretary Eraso,
when he parted with him to his son and successor, Philip
the Second, saying, " That in his Eraso, he gave to him a
greater gift than all his estate, and all the kingdoms which
he then resigned to him :" yet the Lord Chancellor said, " He
parted with a friend, and such a secretary as was fitter to
serve a king than a subject." , ,
Immediately after his dismission from his service he sent
a sad letter to his wife, to acquaint her with it; and after
the subscription of his name, writ,
John Donne, Anne Donne, Un-done;
332 IZAAK WALTON
And God knows it proved too true; for this bitter physic of
Mr. Donne's dismission was not enough to purge out all Sir
George's choler; for he was not satisfied till Mr. Donne and
his sometime com-pupil in Cambridge, that married him,
namely, Samuel Brooke, who was after Doctor in Divinity
and Master of Trinity College, and his brother, Mr. Chris-
topher Brooke, sometime Mr. Donne's chamber-fellow in
Lincoln's Inn, who gave Mr. Donne his wife, and wit-
nessed the marriage, were all committed to three several
prisons.
Mr. Donne was first enlarged, who neither gave rest to his
body or brain, nor to any friend in whom he might hope to
have an interest, until he had procured an enlargement for
his two imprisoned friends.
He was now at liberty, but his days were still cloudy: and
being past these troubles, others did still multiply upon him ;
for his wife was — to her extreme sorrow — detained from
him; and though with Jacob he endured not a hard service
for her, yet he lost a good one, and was forced to make
good his title, and to get possession of her by a long and
restless suit in law ; which proved troublesome and sadly
chargeable to him, whose youth, and travel, and needless
bounty had brought his estate into a narrow compass.
It is observed, and most truly, that silence and submission
are charming qualities, and work most upon passionate men ;
and it proved so with Sir George; for these, and a general
report of Mr. Donne's merits, together with his winning
behaviour, which, when it would entice, had a strange kind
of elegant irresistible art; — these and time had so dispas-
sionated Sir George, that as the world approved his daugh-
ter's choice, so he also could not but see a more than
ordinary merit in his new son; and this at last melted him
into so much remorse, — for love and anger are so like agues,
as to have hot and cold fits ; and love in parents, though it
may be quenched, yet is easily re-kindled, and expires not
till death denies mankind a natural heat, — that he laboured
his son's restoration to his place ; using to that end both his
own and his sister's power to her lord; but with no success,
for his answer was, " That though he was unfeignedly sorry
for what he had done, yet it was inconsistent with his place
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 333
and credit to discharge and re-admit servants at the request
of passionate petitioners."
Sir George's endeavour for Mr. Donne's re-admission was
by all means to be kept secret: for men do more naturally
reluct for errors than submit to put on those blemishes that
attend their visible acknowledgment. — But, however, it was
not long before Sir George appeared to be so far reconciled
as to wish their happiness, and not to deny them his paternal
blessing, but yet refused to contribute any means that might
conduce to their livelihood.
Mr. Donne's estate was the greater part spent in many and
chargeable travels, books, and dear-bought experience ; he
out of all employment that might yield a support for himself
and wife, who had been curiously and plentifully educated;
both their natures generous, and accustomed to confer, and
not to receive, courtesies : these and other considerations, but
chiefly that his wife was to bear a part in his sufferings,
surrounded him with many sad thoughts, and some apparent
apprehensions of want.
But his sorrows were lessened and his wants prevented by
the seasonable courtesy of their noble kinsman, Sir Francis
Wolly, of Pirford, in Surrey, who entreated them to a co-
habitation with him, where they remained with much free-
dom to themselves, and equal content to him, for some years ;
and as their charge increased — she had yearly a child — so
did his love and bounty.
It hath been observed by wise and considering men that
wealth hath seldom been the portion, and never the mark to
discover good people ; but that Almighty God, who disposeth
all things wisely, hath of his abundant goodness denied it —
He only knows why — to many whose minds He hath en-
riched with the greater blessings of knowledge and virtue,
as the fairer testimonies of his love to mankind: and this
was the present condition of this man of so excellent erudi-
tion and endowments ; whose necessary •'and daily expenses
were hardly reconcilable with his uncertain and narrow
estate. Which I mention, for that at this time there was a
most generous offer made him for the moderating of his
worldly cares; the declaration of which shall be the next
employment of my pen.
334 IZAAK WALTON
God hath been so good to his church as to afford it in
every age some such men to serve at his altar as have been
piously ambitious of doing good to mankind; a disposition
that is so like to God himself that it owes itself only to Him,
who takes a pleasure to behold it in his creatures. These
times 1 He did bless with many such ; some of which still live
to be patterns of apostolical charity, and of more than human
patience. I have said this because I have occasion to men-
tion one of them in my following discourse, namely, Dr.
Morton, the most laborious and learned Bishop of Durham;
one that God hath blessed with perfect intellectuals and a
cheerful heart at the age of ninety-four years — and is yet
living; — one that in his days of plenty had so large a heart
as to use his large revenue to the encouragement of learning
and virtue, and is now — be it spoken with sorrow — reduced
to a narrow estate, which he embraces without repining ; and
still shows the beauty of his mind by so liberal a hand, as if
this were an age in which to-morrow were to care for itself.
I have taken a pleasure in giving the reader a short but true
character of this good man, my friend, from whom I re-
ceived this following relation. — He sent to Mr. Donne, and
entreated to borrow an hour of his time for a conference the
next day. After their meeting there was not many minutes
passed before he spake to Mr. Donne to this purpose : " Mr.
Donne, the occasion of sending for you is to propose to you
what I have often revolved in my own thought since I last
saw you: which, nevertheless, I will not declare but upon
this condition, that you shall not return me a present answer,
but forbear three days, and bestow some part of that time in
fasting and prayer ; and after a serious consideration of what
I shall propose, then return to me with your answer. Deny
me not, Mr. Donne ; for it is the effect of a true love, which
I would gladly pay as a debt due for yours to me."
This request being granted, the Doctor expressed himself
thus : —
" Mr. Donne, I know your education and abilities ; I know
your expectation of a State employment; and I know your
fitness for it; and I know, too, the many delays and con-
tingencies that attend Court promises: and let me tell you
1 1648.
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 335
that my love, begot by our long friendship and your merits,
hath prompted me to such an inquisition after your present
temporal estate as makes me no stranger to your necessities,
which I know to be such as your generous spirit could not
bear if it were not supported with a pious patience. You
know I have formerly persuaded you to waive your Court
hopes, and enter into holy orders; which I now again per-
suade you to embrace, with this reason added to my former
request : The King hath yesterday made me Dean of Glou-
cester, and I am also possessed of a benefice, the profits of
which are equal to those of my deanery; I will think my
deanery enough for my maintenance, — who am, and resolved
to die, a single man, — and will quit my benefice, and estate
you in it, which the patron is willing I shall do, if God shall
incline your heart to embrace this motion. Remember, Mr.
Donne, no man's education or parts make him too good for
this employment, which is to be an ambassador for the God
of glory; that God who by a vile death opened the gates of
life to mankind. Make me no present answer; but remem-
ber your promise, and return to me the third day with your
resolution."
At the hearing of this, Mr. Donne's faint breath and per-
plexed countenance give a visible testimony of an inward
conflict; but he performed his promise, and departed without
returning an answer till the third day, and then his answer
was to this effect: —
" My most worthy and most dear friend, since I saw you
I have been faithful to my promise, and have also meditated
much of your great kindness, which hath been such as would
exceed even my gratitude; but that it cannot do; and more
I cannot return you; and I do that with an heart full of
humility and thanks, though I may not accept of your offer :
but, sir, my refusal is not for that I think myself too good
for that calling, for which kings, if they think so, are not
good enough ; nor for that my education and learning, though
not eminent, may not, being assisted with God's grace and
humility, render me in some measure fit for it: but I dare
make so dear a friend as you are my confessor. Some ir-
regularities of my life have been so visible to some men, that
though I have, I thank God, made my peace with Him by
336 IZAAK WALTON
penitential resolutions against them, and by the assistance
of his grace banished them my affections; yet this, which
God knows to be so, is not so visible to man as to free me
from their censures, and it may be that sacred calling from
a dishonour. And besides, whereas it is determined by the
best of casuists that God's glory should be the first end, and
a maintenance the second motive to embrace that calling,
and though each man may propose to himself both together,
yet the first may not be put last without a violation of
conscience, which he that searches the heart will judge. And
truly my present condition is such that if I ask my own
conscience whether it be reconcilable to that rule, it is at
this time so perplexed about it, that I can neither give my-
self nor you an answer. You know, sir, who says, ' Happy
is that man whose conscience doth not accuse him for that
thing which he does.' To these I might add other reasons
that dissuade me; but I crave your favour that I may for-
bear to express them, and thankfully decline your offer."
This was his present resolution, but the heart of man is not
in his own keeping; and he was destined to this sacred ser-
vice by an higher hand — a hand so powerful as at last forced
him to a compliance : of which I shall give the reader an
account before I shall give a rest to my pen.
Mr. Donne and his wife continued with Sir Francis Wolly
till his death: a little before which time Sir Francis was so
happy as to make a perfect reconciliation betwixt Sir George
and his forsaken son and daughter ; Sir George conditioning
by bond to pay to Mr. Donne £800 at a certain day, as a
portion with his wife, or £20 quarterly for their maintenance
as the interest for it, till the said portion was paid.
Most of those years that he lived with Sir Francis he
studied the Civil and Canon Laws ; in which he acquired
such a perfection, as was judged to hold proportion with
many who had made that study the employment of their
whole life.
Sir Francis being dead, and that happy family dissolved,
Mr. Donne took for himself a house in Mitcham, near to
Croydon in Surrey, a place noted for good air and choice
company: there his wife and children remained; and for
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 337
himself he took lodgings in London, near to Whitehall,
whither his friends and occasions drew him very often, and
where he was as often visited by many of the nobility and
others of this nation, who used him in their counsels of
greatest consideration, and with some rewards for his better
subsistence.
Nor did our own nobility only value and favour him, but his
acquaintance and friendship was sought for by most ambas-
sadors of foreign nations, and by many other strangers, whose
learning or business occasioned their stay in this nation.
He was much importuned by many friends to make his
constant residence in London; but he still denied it, having
settled his dear wife and children at Mitcham, and near some
friends that were bountiful to them and him; for they, God
knows, needed it: and that you may the better now judge of
the then present condition of his mind and fortune, I shall
present you with an extract collected out of some few of his
many letters.
"... And the reason why I did not send an answer to your
last week's letter was, because it then found me under too
great a sadness; and at present 'tis thus with me: There is
not one person, but myself, well of my family: I have al-
ready lost half a child, and, with that mischance of hers, my
wife has fallen into such a discomposure as would afflict her
too extremely, but that the sickness of all her other children
stupefies her — of one of which, in good faith, I have not
much hope ; and these meet with a fortune so ill-provided for
physic, and such relief, that if God should ease us with
burials, I know not how to perform even that : but I flatter
myself with this hope, that I am dying too; for I cannot
waste faster than by such griefs. As for, —
From my Hospital at Mitcham,
Aug. 10. ^ John Donne."
Thus he did bemoan himself ; and thus in other letters —
"... For, we hardly discover a sin, when it is but an
omission of some good, and no accusing act : with this or the
former I have often suspected myself to be overtaken ; which
33S IZAAK WALTON
is, with an over-earnest desire of the next life : and, though I
know it is not merely a weariness of this, because I had the
same desire when I went with the tide, and enjoyed fairer
hopes than I now do; yet I doubt worldly troubles have in-
creased it: 'tis now spring, and all the pleasures of it dis-
please me; every other tree blossoms, and I wither; I grow
older, and not better; my strength diminisheth, and my load
grows heavier; and yet I would fain be or do something;
but that I cannot tell what, is no wonder in this time of my
sadness; for to choose is to do: but to be no part of any
body is as to be nothing: and so I am, and shall so judge
myself, unless I could be so incorporated into a part of the
world, as by business to contribute some sustentation to the
whole. This I made account: I began early, when I under-
stood the study of our laws; but was diverted by leaving
that, and embracing the worst voluptuousness, an hydroptic
immoderate desire of human learning and languages : beauti-
ful ornaments indeed to men of great fortunes, but mine was
grown so low as to need an occupation ; which I thought I
entered well into, when I subjected myself to such a service
as I thought might exercise my poor abilities : and there I
stumbled, and fell too; and now I am become so little, or
such a nothing, that I am not a subject good enough for
one of my own letters. — Sir, I fear my present discontent
does not proceed from a good root, that I am so well content
to be nothing, that is, dead. But, sir, though my fortune
hath made me such, as that I am rather a sickness or a
disease of the world, than any part of it, and therefore
neither love it nor life, yet I would gladly live to become
some such thing as you should not repent loving me. Sir,
your own soul cannot be more zealous for your good than
I am; and God, who loves that zeal in me, will not suffer
you to doubt it. You would pity me now if you saw me
write, for my pain hath drawn my head so much awry, and
holds it so, that my eye cannot follow my pen. I therefore
receive you into my prayers with mine own weary soul, and
commend myself to yours. I doubt not but next week will
bring you good news, for I have either mending or dying
on my side; but if I do continue longer thus, I shall have
comfort in this, that my blessed Saviour in exercising his
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 339
justice upon my two worldly parts, my fortune and my body,
reserves all his mercy for that which most needs it, my soul !
which is, I doubt, too like a porter, that is very often near
the gate, and yet goes not out. Sir, I profess to you truly
that my loathness to give over writing now seems to myself
a sign that I shall write no more.
Your poor friend, and
God's poor patient,
Sept. y. John Donne."
By this you have seen a part of the picture of his narrow
fortune, and the perplexities of his generous mind: and thus
it continued with him for about two years, all which time his
family remained constantly at Mitcham ; and to which place
he often retired himself, and destined some days to a constant
study of some points of controversy betwixt the English and
Roman Church, and especially those of Supremacy and Al-
legiance : and to that place and such studies he could will-
ingly have wedded himself during his life; but the earnest
persuasion of friends became at last to be so powerful as to
cause the removal of himself and family to London, where
Sir Robert Drewry, a gentleman of a very noble estate, and
a more liberal mind, assigned him and his wife an useful
apartment in his own large house in Drury Lane, and not
only rent free, but was also a cherisher of his studies, and
such a friend as sympathised with him and his, in all their
joy and sorrows.
At this time of Mr. Donne's and his wife's living in Sir
Robert's house, the Lord Hay was, by King James, sent upon
a glorious embassy to the then French king, Henry the
Fourth ; and Sir Robert put on a sudden resolution to ac-
company him to the French court, and to be present at his
audience there. And Sir Robert put on a sudden resolution
to solicit Mr. Donne to be his companion in that journey.
And this desire was suddenly made known to his wife, who
was then with child, and otherwise under so dangerous a
habit of body, as to her health, that she professed an un-
willingness to allow him any absence from her; saying,
"Her divining soul boded her some ill in his absence;" and
therefore desired him not to leave her. This made Mr.
340 IZAAK WALTON"
Donne lay aside all thoughts of the journey, and really to
resolve against it. But Sir Robert became restless in his
persuasions for it, and Mr. Donne was so generous as to
think he had sold his liberty, when he received so many
charitable kindnesses from him ; and told his wife so, who did
therefore, with an unwilling-willingness, give a faint consent
to the journey, which was proposed to be but for two months ;
for about that time they determined their return. Within a
few days after this resolve, the Ambassador, Sir Robert, and
Mr. Donne left London ; and were the twelfth day got all
safe to Paris. Two days after their arrival there. Mr.
Donne was left alone in that room in which Sir Robert, and
he, and some other friends had dined together. To this
place Sir Robert returned within half-an-hour ; and as he
left, so he found, Mr. Donne alone, but in such an ecstasy,
and so altered as to his looks, as amazed Sir Robert to be-
hold him; insomuch that he earnestly desired Mr. Donne
to declare what had befallen him in the short time of his
absence. To which Mr. Donne was not able to make a pres-
ent answer, but after a long and perplexed pause, did at last
say, " I have seen a dreadful vision since I saw you : I have
seen my dear wife pass twice by me through this room, with
her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in
her arms ; this I have seen since I saw you." To which Sir
Robert replied, " Sure, sir, you have slept since I saw you ;
and this is the result of some melancholy dream, which I
desire you to forget, for you are now awake." To which Mr.
Donne's reply was, " I cannot be surer that I now live than
that I have not slept since I saw you; and am as sure that
at her second appearing she stopped and looked me in the
face, and vanished." Rest and sleep had not altered Mr.
Donne's opinion the next day, for he then affirmed this
opinion with a more deliberate, and so confirmed a confi-
dence, that he inclined Sir Robert to a faint belief that the
vision was true. — It is truly said that desire and doubt have
no rest, and it proved so with Sir Robert ; for he immedi-
ately sent a servant to Drewry House, with a charge to
hasten back, and bring him word whether Mrs. Donne were
alive ; and. if alive, in what condition she was as to her
health. The twelfth day the messenger returned with this
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 341
account: That he found and left Mrs. Donne very sad, and
sick in her bed ; and that, after a long and dangerous labour,
she had been delivered of a dead child. And, upon exami-
nation, the abortion proved to be the same day, and about
the very hour, that Mr. Donne affirmed he saw her pass by
him in his chamber.
This is a relation that will beget some wonder, and it well
may ; for most of our world are at present possessed with an
opinion that visions and miracles are ceased. And, though
it is most certain that two lutes being both strung and tuned
to an equal pitch, and then one played upon, the other, that
is not touched, being laid upon a table at a fit distance, will
— like an echo to a trumpet — warble a faint audible harmony
in answer to the same tune; yet many will not believe there
is any such thing as a sympathy of souls; and I am well
pleased that every reader do enjoy his own opinion. But if
the unbelieving will not allow the believing reader of this
story a liberty to believe that it may be true, then I wish him
to consider, many wise men have believed that the ghost of
Julius Caesar did appear to Brutus, and that both St. Austin
and Monica his mother had visions in order to his conver-
sion. And though these, and many others — too many to
name — have but the authority of human story, yet the in-
credible reader may find in the sacred story 1 that Samuel did
appear to Saul even after his death — whether really or not,
I undertake not to determine. — And Bildad, in the Book of
Job, says these words : " A spirit passed before my face ;
the hair of my head stood up; fear and trembling came upon
me, and made all my bones to shake." 2 Upon which words
I will make no comment, but leave them to be considered by
the incredulous reader; to whom I will also commend this
following consideration: That there be many pious and
learned men that believe our merciful God hath assigned to
every man a particular guardian angel, to be his constant
monitor, and to attend him in all his dangers, both of body
and soul. And the opinion that every man hath his par-
ticular Angel may gain some authority by the relation of
St. Peter's miraculous deliverance out of prison, 3 not by
1 1 Sam. xxviii. 14. « Job iv. 13-16
» Acts xii. 7-10; tb. 13-15.
342 IZAAK WALTON
many, but by one angel. And this belief may yet gain more
credit by the reader's considering, that when Peter after his
enlargement knocked at the door of Mary the mother of
John, and Rhode, the maidservant, being surprised with joy
that Peter was there, did not let him in, but ran in haste
and told the disciples — who were then and there met together
— that Peter was at the door ; and they, not believing it, said
she was mad; yet, when she again affirmed it, though they
then believed it not, yet they concluded, and said, " It is his
angel."
More observations of this nature, and inferences from
them, might be made to gain the relation a firmer belief; but
I forbear, lest I, that intended to be but a relator, may be
thought to be an engaged person for the proving what was
related to me; and yet I think myself bound to declare, that
though it was not told me by Mr. Donne himself, it was told
me — now long since — by a person of honour, and of such
intimacy with him, that he knew more of the secrets of his
soul than any person then living: and I think he told me the
truth; for it was told with such circumstances, and such
asseverations, that — to say nothing of my own thoughts — I
verily believe he that told it me did himself believe it to
be true.
I forbear the reader's further trouble, as to the relation,
and what concerns it; and will conclude mine with com-
mending to his view a copy of verses given by Mr. Donne
to his wife at the time he then parted from her. And I beg
leave to tell that I have heard some critics, learned both in
languages and poetry, say that none of the Greek or Latin
poets did ever equal them.
A Valediction, Forbidding to Mourn.
As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
The breath goes now, and some say No:
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
'Twere profanation of our joys,
To tell the laity our love.
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 343
Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears :
Men reckon what it did or meant :
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers' lo\
Whose soul is sense — can not admit
Absence, because that doth remove
Those things which elemented it.
But we, by a love so far refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care not hands, eyes, or lips to miss.
Our two souls therefore which are one, —
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to airy thinness beat.
If we be two ? we are two so
As stiff twin-compasses are two :
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but does if th' other do.
And though thine in the centre sit,
Yet, when my other far does roam,
Thine leans and hearkens after it,
And grows erect as mine comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run :
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And me to end where I begun.
I return from my account of the vision, to tell the reader
that both before Mr. Donne's going into France, at his being
there, and after his return, many of the nobility and others
that were powerful at Court, were watchful and solicitous to
the King for some secular employment for him. The King
had formerly both known and put a value upon his company,
and had also given him some hopes of a State employment;
being always much pleased when Mr. Donne attended him,
especially at his meals, where there were" usually many deep
discourses of general learning, and very often friendly dis-
putes, or debates of religion, betwixt his Majesty and those
divines whose places required their attendance on him at
those times, particularly the Dean of the Chapel, who then
was Bishop Montague — the publisher of the learned and the
344 IZAAK WALTON
eloquent works of his Majesty — and the most Reverend
Doctor Andrews, the late learned Bishop of Winchester, who
was then the King's almoner.
About this time there grew many disputes that concerned
the oath of supremacy and allegiance, in which the King had
appeared, and engaged himself by his public writings now
extant; and his Majesty discoursing with Mr. Donne concern-
ing many of the reasons which are usually urged against the
taking of those oaths, apprehended such a validity and clear-
ness in his stating the questions, and his answers to them,
that his Majesty commanded him to bestow some time in
drawing the arguments into a method, and then to write his
answers to them; and, having done that, not to send, but be
his own messenger, and bring them to him. To this he
presently and diligently applied himself, and within six
weeks brought them to him under his own handwriting, as
they be now printed ; the book bearing the name of Pseudo-
Martyr, printed anno 1610.
When the King had read and considered that book, he
persuaded Mr. Donne to enter into the ministry; to which,
at that time, he was, and appeared, very unwilling, appre-
hending it — such was his mistaken modesty — to be too
weighty for his abilities: and though his Majesty had prom-
ised him a favour, and many persons of worth mediated with
his Majesty for some secular employment for him, — to which
his education had adapted him, — and particularly the Earl of
Somerset, when in his greatest height of favour ; who being
then at Theobald's with the King, where one of the clerks
of the council died that night, the Earl posted a messenger for
Mr. Donne to come to him immediately, and at Mr. Donne's
coming said, " Mr. Donne, to testify the reality of my affec-
tion, and my purpose to prefer you, stay in this garden till
I go up to the King and bring you word that you are clerk
of the council : doubt not my doing this, for I know the King
loves you, and know the King will not deny me." But the
King gave a positive denial to all requests, and, having a
discerning spirit, replied, " I know Mr. Donne is a learned
man, has the abilities of a learned divine, and will prove a
powerful preacher; and my desire is to prefer him that way,
and in that way I will deny you nothing for him."
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 345
After that time, as he professeth, 1 " the King descended to
a persuasion, almost to a solicitation, of him to enter into
sacred orders;" which, though he then denied not, yet he
deferred it for almost three years. All which time he ap-
plied himself to an incessant study of textual divinity, and
to the attainment of a greater perfection in the learned lan-
guages, Greek and Hebrew.
In the first and most blessed times of Christianity, when the
clergy were looked upon with reverence, and deserved it,
when they overcame their opposers by high examples of vir-
tue, by a blessed patience and long suffering, those only
were then judged worthy the ministry whose quiet and meek
spirits did make them look upon that sacred calling with an
humble adoration and fear to undertake it ; which indeed
requires such great degrees of humility, and labour, and
care, that none but such were then thought worthy of that
celestial dignity. And such only were then sought out, and
solicited to undertake it. This I have mentioned, because
forwardness and inconsideration could not, in Mr. Donne,
as in many others, be an argument of insufficiency or unfit-
ness ; for he had considered long, and had many strifes
within himself concerning the strictness of life, and com-
petency of learning, required in such as enter into sacred
orders ; and doubtless, considering his own demerits, did
humbly ask God with St. Paul, " Lord, who is sufficient for
these things ? " and with meek Moses, " Lord, who am I ? "
And sure, if he had consulted with flesh and blood, he had
not for these reasons put his hand to that holy plough. But
God, who is able to prevail, wrestled with him, as the angel
did with Jacob, and marked him ; marked him for his own ;
marked him with a blessing, a blessing of obedience to the
motions of his blessed Spirit. And then, as he had for-
merly asked God with Moses, " Who am I ? " so now, being
inspired with an apprehension of Gael's particular mercy to
him, in the King's and others' solicitations of him he came
to ask King David's thankful question, " Lord, who am I,
that thou art so mindful of me?" So mindful of me, as to
lead me for more than forty years through this wilderness
of the many temptations and various turnings of a dan-
i In his Book of Devotions.
346 IZAAK WALTON
gerous life ; so merciful to me, as to move the learnedest of
Kings to descend to move me to serve at the altar ! So
merciful to me, as at last to move my heart to embrace this
holy motion ! Thy motions I will and do embrace ; and I
now say with the blessed Virgin, " Be it with thy servant
as seemeth best in thy sight " ; and so, Blessed Jesus, I do
take the cup of salvation, and will call upon thy name, and
will preach thy gospel.
Such strifes as these St. Austin had, when St. Ambrose
endeavoured his conversion to Christianity; with which he
confesseth he acquainted his friend Alipius. Our learned
author — a man fit to write after no mean copy — did the like.
And declaring his intentions to his dear friend Dr. King,
then Bishop of London, a man famous in his generation, and
no stranger to Mr. Donne's abilities, — for he had been chap-
lain to the Lord Chancellor at the time of Mr. Donne's being
his Lordship's secretary, — that reverend man did receive the
news with much gladness; and, after some expressions of
joy, and a persuasion to be constant in his pious purpose,
he proceeded with all convenient speed to ordain him first
deacon, and then priest not long after.
Now the English Church had gained a second St. Austin ;
for I think none was so like him before his conversion, none
so like St. Ambrose after it: and if his youth had the in-
firmities of the one, his age had the excellencies of the other;
the learning and holiness of both.
And now all his studies, which had been occasionally dif-
fused, were all concentered in divinity. Now he had a new
calling, new thoughts, and a new employment for his wit
and eloquence. Now, all his earthly affections were changed
into divine love; and all the faculties of his own soul were
engaged in the conversion of others ; in preaching the glad
tidings of remission to repenting sinners, and peace to each
troubled soul.
To these he applied himself with all care and diligence;
and now such a change was wrought in him, that he
could say with David, " O how amiable are thy taber-
nacles, O Lord God of Hosts ! " Now he declared openly,
" that when he required a temporal, God gave him a spiritual
blessing." And that " he was now gladder to be a door-
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 347
keeper in the house of God, than he could be to enjoy the
noblest of all temporal employments."
Presently after he entered into his holy profession, the
King sent for him, and made him his chaplain in ordinary,
and promised to take a particular care for his preferment.
And though his long familiarity with scholars and persons
of greatest quality was such as might have given some men
boldness enough to have preached to any eminent auditory,
yet his modesty in this employment was such that he could
not be persuaded to it, but went usually accompanied with
some one friend to preach privately in some village, not far
from London, his first sermon being preached at Paddington.
This he did, till his Majesty sent and appointed him a day
to preach to him at Whitehall ; and, though much were ex-
pected from him, both by his Majesty and others, yet he
was so happy — which few are — as to satisfy and exceed their
expectations : preaching the Word so, as showed his own
heart was possessed with those very thoughts and joys that
he laboured to distil into others; a preacher in earnest;
weeping sometimes for his auditory, sometimes with them ;
always preaching to himself, like an angel from a cloud, but
in none; carrying some, as St. Paul was, to heaven in holy
raptures, and enticing others by a sacred art and courtship
to amend their lives ; here picturing a vice so as to make
it ugly to those that practised it, and a virtue so as to make
it beloved even by those that loved it not; and all this with
a most particular grace and an unexpressible addition of
comeliness.
There may be some that may incline to think — such indeed
as have not heard him — that my affection to my friend hath
transported me to an immoderate commendation of his
preaching. If this meets with any such, let me entreat,
though I will omit many, yet that they will receive a double
witness for what I say; it being attested by a gentleman of
worth, — Mr. Chidley, a frequent hearer of his sermons, — in
part of a funeral elegy writ by him on Dr. Donne; and is
a known truth, though it be in verse —
— Each altar had his fire —
He kept his love, but not his object; wit
He did not banish, but transplanted it;
348 IZAAK WALTON
Taught it both time and place, and brought it home
To piety which it doth best become.
For say, had ever pleasure such a dress ?
Have you seen crimes so shaped, or loveliness
Such as his lips did clothe religion in?
Had not reproof a beauty passing sin ?
Corrupted Nature sorrow'd that she stood
So near the danger of becoming good.
And, when he preach'd, she wish'd her ears exempt
From piety, that had such power to tempt.
How did his sacred flattery beguile
Men to amend? —
More of this, and more witnesses, might be brought ; but I
forbear and return.
That summer, in the very same month in which he entered
into sacred orders, and was made the King's chaplain, his
Majesty then going his progress, was entreated to receive an
entertainment in the University of Cambridge; and Mr.
Donne attending his Majesty at that time, his Majesty was
pleased to recommend him to the University, to be made
doctor in divinity. Dr. Harsnett, after Archbishop of York,
was then Vice-Chancellor, who, knowing him to be the
author of that learned book, The Pseudo-Martyr, required
no other proof of his abilities, but proposed it to the Uni-
versity, who presently assented, and expressed a gladness
that they had such an occasion to entitle him to be theirs.
His abilities and industry in his profession were so emi-
nent, and he so known and so beloved by persons of quality,
that within the first year of his entering into sacred orders
he had fourteen advowsons of several benefices presented to
him; but they were in the country, and he could not leave
his beloved London, to which place he had a natural inclina-
tion, having received both his birth and education in it, and
there contracted a friendship with many, whose conversation
multiplied the joys of his life: but an employment that might
affix him that place would be welcome, for he needed it.
Immediately after his return from Cambridge his wife
died, leaving him a man of a narrow, unsettled state, and —
having buried five — the careful father of seven children then
living, to whom he gave a voluntary assurance never to
bring them under the subjection of a step-mother; which
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 349
promise he kept most faithfully, burying with his tears all
his earthly joys in his most dear and deserving wife's grave,
and betook himself to a most retired and solitary life.
In this retiredness, which was often from the sight of his
dearest friends, he became crucified to the world, and all
those vanities, those imaginary pleasures, that are daily acted
on that restless stage ; and they were as perfectly crucified
to him. Nor is it hard to think — being, passions may be
both changed and heightened by accidents — but that that
abundant affection which once was betwixt him and her,
who had long been the delight of his eyes and the com-
panion of his youth; her, with whom he had divided so
many pleasant sorrows and contented fears, as common peo-
ple are not capable of; — not hard to think but that she
being now removed by death, a commensurable grief took
as full a possession of him as joy had done; and so indeed
it did; for now his very soul was elemented of nothing but
sadness; now grief took so full a possession of his heart, as
to leave no place for joy: if it did, it was a joy to be alone,
where, like a pelican in the wilderness, he might bemoan him-
self without witness or restraint, and pour forth his passions
like Job in the days of his affliction : " Oh that I might have
the desire of my heart ! Oh that God would grant the thing
that I long for ! " For then, as the grave is become her
house, so I would hasten to make it mine also; that we two
might there make our beds together in the dark. Thus, as
the Israelites sat mourning by the rivers of Babylon, when
they remembered Sion, so he gave some ease to his oppressed
heart by thus venting his sorrows : thus he began the day,
and ended the night ; ended the restless night and began the
weary day in lamentations. And thus he continued, till a
consideration of his new engagements to God, and St. Paul's
" Woe is me, if I preach not the gospel ! " dispersed those
sad clouds that had then benighted his hopes, and now forced
him to behold the light.
His first motion from his house was to preach where his
beloved wife lay buried, — in St. Clement's Church, near
Temple Bar, London, — and his text was a part of the Prophet
Jeremy's Lamentation : " Lo, I am the man that have seen
affliction."
350 IZAAK WALTON
And indeed his very words and looks testified him to be
truly such a man; and they, with the addition of his sighs
and tears, expressed in his sermon, did so work upon the
affections of his hearers, as melted and moulded them into a
companionable sadness ; and so they left the congregation ;
but then their houses presented them with objects of diver-
sion, and his presented him with nothing but fresh objects
of sorrow, in beholding many helpless children, a narrow
fortune, and a consideration of the many cares and casualties
that attend their education.
In this time of sadness he was importuned by the grave
Benchers of Lincoln's Inn — who were once his companions
and friends of his youth — to accept of their lecture, which,
by reason of Dr. Gataker's removal from thence, was then
void; of which he accepted, being most glad to renew his
intermitted friendship with those whom he so much loved,
and where he had been a Saul, — though not to persecute
Christianity, or to deride it, yet in his irregular youth to
neglect the visible practice of it, — there to become a Paul,
and preach salvation to his beloved brethren.
And now his life was a shining light among his old
friends; now he gave an ocular testimony of the strictness
and regularity of it; now he might say, as St. Paul adviseth
his Corinthians, " Be ye followers of me, as I follow Christ,
and walk as ye have me for an example;" not the example
of a busy body, but of a contemplative, a harmless, an humble
and an holy life and conversation.
The love of that noble society was expressed to him many
ways; for, besides fair lodgings that were set apart, and
newly furnished for him with all necessaries, other courte-
sies were also daily added; indeed so many, and so freely,
as if they meant their gratitude should exceed his merits :
and in this love-strife of desert and liberality, they continued
for the space of two years, he preaching faithfully and con-
stantly to them, and they liberally requiting him. About
which time the Emperor of Germany died, and the Pals-
grave, who had lately married the Lady Elizabeth, the king's
only daughter, was elected and crowned King of Bohemia,
the unhappy beginning of many miseries in that nation.
King James, whose motto— Beati pacifici — did truly speak
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 351
the very thoughts of his heart, endeavoured first to prevent.
and after to compose, the discords of that discomposed
State : and, amongst other his endeavours, did then send the
Lord Hay, Earl of Doncaster, his ambassador to those un-
settled Princes; and, by a special command from his Maj-
esty, Dr. Donne was appointed to assist and attend that em-
ployment to the princes of the union; for which the Earl
was most glad, who had always put a great value on him,
and taken a great pleasure in his conversation and dis-
course: and his friends at Lincoln's Inn were as glad, for
they feared that his immoderate study and sadness for his
wife's death would, as Jacob said, " make his days few,"
and, respecting his bodily health, "evil" too; and of this
there were many visible signs.
At his going he left his friends of Lincoln's Inn, and they
him, with many reluctations ; for. though he could not say as
St. Paul to his Ephesians, " Behold, you, to whom I have
preached the kingdom of God, shall from henceforth see my
face no more," yet he, believing himself to be in a consump-
tion, questioned, and they feared it: all concluding that his
troubled mind, with the help of his unintermitted studies, has-
tened the decays of his weak body. But God, who is the
God of all wisdom and goodness, turned it to the best; for
this employment — to say nothing of the event of it — did not
only divert him from those too serious studies and sad
thoughts, but seemed to give him a new life, by a true oc-
casion of joy, to be an eye-witness of the health of his most
dear and most honoured mistress, the Queen of Bohemia, in
a foreign nation ; and to be a witness of that gladness which
she expressed to see him : who, having formerly known him
a courtier, was much joyed to see him in a canonical habit,
and more glad to be an ear-witness of his excellent and
powerful preaching.
About fourteen months after his departure out of England,
he returned to his friends of Lincoln's Inn, with his sorrows
moderated, and his health improved; and there betook him-
self to his constant course of preaching.
About a year after his return out of Germany, Dr. Carey
was made Bishop of Exeter, and by his removal the Deanery
of St. Paul's being vacant, the King sent to Dr. Donne, and
352 IZAAK WALTON
appointed him to attend him at dinner the next day. When
his Majesty sat down, before he had eat any meat, he said
after his pleasant manner, "Dr. Donne, I have invited you
to dinner ; and, though you sit not down with me, yet I will
carve to you of a dish that I know you love well ; for, know-
ing you love London, I do therefore make you Dean of St.
Paul's ; and, when I have dined, then do you take your be-
loved dish home to your study, say grace there to yourself,
and much good may it do you."
Immediately after he came to his deanery he employed
workmen to repair and beautify the chapel; suffering, as
holy David once vowed, "his eyes and temples to take no
rest till he had first beautified the house of God."
The next quarter following, when his father-in-law, Sir
George More — whom time had made a lover and admirer
of him — came to pay to him the conditioned sum of twenty
pounds, he refused to receive it; and said, as good Jacob did
when he heard his beloved son Joseph was alive, " 'It is
enough;' you have been kind to me and mine. I know your
present condition is such as not to abound, and I hope mine
is, or will be such as not to need it : I will therefore receive
no more from you upon that contract;" and in testimony of
it freely gave him up his bond.
Immediately after his admission into his deanery, the
vicarage of St. Dunstan in the West, London, fell to him
by the death of Dr. White, the advowson of it having been
given to him long before by his honourable friend, Richard,
Earl of Dorset, then the patron, and confirmed by his
brother, the late deceased Edward, both of them men of
much honour.
By these, and another ecclesiastical endowment which fell
to him about the same time, given to him formerly by the
Earl of Kent, he was enabled to become charitable to the
poor, and kind to his friends, and to make such provision for
his children that they were not left scandalous, as relating
to their or his profession and quality.
The next Parliament, which was within that present year,
he was chosen Prolocutor to the Convocation, and about that
time was appointed by his Majesty, his most gracious master,
to preach very many occasional sermons, as at St. Paul's
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 353
Cross, and other places. All which employments he per-
formed to the admiration of the representative body of the
whole clergy of this nation.
He was once, and but once, clouded with the King's dis-
pleasure, and it was about this time; which was occasioned
by some malicious whisperer, who had told his Majesty that
Dr. Donne had put on the general humours of the pulpits, and
was become busy in insinuating a fear of the King's inclin-
ing to Popery, and a dislike of his government ; and particu-
larly for the King's then turning the evening lectures into
catechising, and expounding the Prayer of our Lord, and of
the Belief and Commandments. His Majesty was the more
inclinable to believe this, for that a person of nobility and
great note, betwixt whom and Dr. Donne there had been a
great friendship, was at this very time discarded the court —
I shall forbear his name, unless I had a fairer occasion — and
justly committed to prison; which begot many rumours in
the common people, who in this nation think they are not
wise unless they be busy about what they understand not,
and especially about religion.
The King received this news with so much discontent and
restlessness, that he would not suffer the sun to set and
leave him under this doubt; but sent for Dr. Donne, and
required his answer to the accusation ; which was so clear
and satisfactory, that the King said "he was right glad he
rested no longer under the suspicion." When the King had
said this, Dr. Donne kneeled down and thanked his Majesty,
and protested his answer was faithful, and free from all col-
lusion, and therefore, "desired that he might not rise till, as
in like cases, he always had from God, so he might have
from his Majesty, some assurance that he stood clear and
fair in his opinion." At which the King raised him from his
knees with his own hands, and " protested he believed him ;
and that he knew he was an honest man, and doubted not
but that he loved him truly." And, having thus dismissed
him, he called some lords of his council into his chamber,
and said with much earnestness, "My doctor is an honest
man; and, my lords, I was never better satisfied with an
answer than he hath now made me; and I always rejoice
when I think that by my means he became a divine."
hc xv — 12
354 IZAAK WALTON
He was made dean in the fiftieth year of his age; and in
his fifty-fourth year a dangerous sickness seized him, which
inclined him to a consumption: but God, as Job thankfully
acknowledged, preserved his spirit, and kept his intellectuals
as clear and perfect as when that sickness first seized his
body; but it continued long, and threatened him with death,
which he dreaded not.
In this distemper of body, his dear friend, Dr. Henry King,
— then chief residentiary of that church, and late Bishop of
Chichester, — a man generally known by the clergy of this
nation, and as generally noted for his obliging nature, visited
him daily; and observing that his sickness rendered his
recovery doubtful, he chose a seasonable time to speak to
him to this purpose :
" Mr. Dean, I am, by your favour, no stranger to your
temporal estate, and you are no stranger to the offer lately
made us, for the renewing a lease of the best Prebend's corps
belonging to our church ; and you know 'twas denied, for that
our tenant being very rich, offered to fine at so low a rate as
held not proportion with his advantages : but I will either
raise him to a higher sum, or procure that the other residen-
tiaries shall join to accept of what was offered; one of these
I can and will by your favour do without delay, and without
any trouble either to your body or mind: I beseech you to
accept of my offer, for I know it will be a considerable addi-
tion to your present estate, which I know needs it."
To this, after a short pause, and raising himself upon his
bed, he made this reply :
" My most dear friend, I most humbly thank you for your
many favours, and this in particular ; but in my present con-
dition I shall not accept of your proposal ; for doubtless there
is such a sin as sacrilege ; if there were not, it could not have
a name in Scripture; and the primitive clergy were watchful
against all appearances of that evil; and indeed then all
Christians looked upon it with horror and detestation, judg-
ing it to be even an open defiance of the power and prov-
idence of Almighty God, and a sad presage of a declining
religion. But instead of such Christians, who had selected
times set apart to fast and pray to God, for a pious clergy,
which they then did obey, our times abound with men that
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 355
are busy and litigious about trifles and church ceremonies,
and yet so far from scrupling sacrilege, that they make not so
much as a qucere what it is: but I thank God I have; and
dare not now upon my sick-bed, when Almighty God hath
made me useless to the service of the Church, make any
advantages out of it. But if He shall again restore me to
such a degree of health, as again to serve at his altar, I shall
then gladly take the reward which the bountiful benefactors
of this church have designed me ; for God knows my children
and relations will need it. In which number, my mother —
whose credulity and charity has contracted a very plentiful
to a very narrow estate — must not be forgotten. But, Dr.
King, if I recover not, that little worldly estate that I shall
leave behind me — that very little, when divided into eight
parts — must, if you deny me not so charitable a favour, fall
into your hands, as my most faithful friend and executor,
of whose care and justice I make no more doubt than of
God's blessing, on that which I have conscientiously collected
for them ; but it shall not be augmented on my sick-bed ; and
this I declare to be my unalterable resolution."
The reply to this was only a promise to observe his re-
quest.
Within a few days his distempers abated; and as his
strength increased, so did his thankfulness to Almighty God,
testified in his most excellent Book of Devotions, which he
published at his recovery ; in which the reader may see the
most secret thoughts that then possessed his soul, para-
phrased and made public : a book that may not unfitly be called
a sacred picture of spiritual ecstasies, occasioned and appli-
able to the emergencies of that sickness ; which book, being
a composition of meditations, disquisitions, and prayers, he
writ on his sick-bed ; herein imitating the holy patriarchs,
who were wont to build their altars in that place where they
had received their blessings. ¥
This sickness brought him so near to the gates of death, and
he saw the grave so ready to devour him, that he would often
say his recovery was supernatural: but that God that then
restored his health continued it to him till the fifty-ninth year
of his life; and then, in August 1630, being with his eldest
daughter, Mrs. Harvey, at Abury Hatch, in Essex, he there
356 IZAAK WALTON
fell into a fever, which with the help of his constant infirmity
— vapours from the spleen — hastened him into so visible a
consumption that his beholders might say, as St. Paul of
himself, " He dies daily;" and he might say with Job, " My
welfare passeth away as a cloud, the days of my affliction
have taken hold of me, and weary nights are appointed
for me."
Reader, this sickness continued long, not only weakening,
but wearying him so much, that my desire is he may now take
some rest; and that before I speak of his death, thou wilt not
think it an impertinent digression to look back with me upon
some observations of his life, which, whilst a gentle slumber
give rest to his spirits, may, I hope, not unfitly exercise thy
consideration.
His marriage was the remarkable error of his life — an error
which, though he had a wit able and very apt to maintain
paradoxes, yet he was very far from justifying it ; and though
his wife's competent years, and other reasons, might be justly
urged to moderate severe censures, yet he would occasionally
condemn himself for it; and doubtless it had been attended
with an heavy repentance, if God had not blessed them with
so mutual and cordial affections, as in the midst of their
sufferings made their bread of sorrow taste more pleasantly
than the banquets of dull and low-spirited people.
The recreations of his youth were poetry, in which he was
so happy, as if nature and all her varieties had been made only
to exercise his sharp wit and high fancy ; and in those pieces
which were facetiously composed and carelessly scattered —
most of them being written before the twentieth year of his
age — it may appear by his choice metaphors that both nature
and all the arts joined to assist him with their utmost skill.
It is a truth, that in his penitential years, viewing some of
those pieces that had been loosely — God knows, too loosely —
scattered in his youth, he wished they had been abortive, or so
short-lived that his own eyes had witnessed their funerals:
but, though he was no friend to them, he was not so fallen out
with heavenly poetry as to forsake that ; no, not in his declin-
ing age; witnessed then by many divine sonnets, and other
high, holy, and harmonious composures. Yea, even, on his
former sick-bed he wrote this heavenly hymn, expressing the
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 357
great joy that then possessed his soul in the assurance of
God's favour to him when he composed it —
AN HYMN
TO GOD THE FATHER.
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore ?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.
Wilt thou forgive that sin, which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two ; — but wallow'd in a score ?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.
I have a sin of fear, that when I've spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ;
But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
And having done that, thou hast done,
I fear no more.
I have the rather mentioned this hymn, for that he caused it
to be set to a most grave and solemn tune, and to be often
sung to the organ by the choristers of St. Paul's Church, in
his own hearing, especially at the evening service; and at
his return from his customary devotions in that place, did
occasionally say to a friend, " The words of this hymn have
restored to me the same thoughts of joy that possessed my
soul in my sickness, when I composed it. And, O the power
of church-music ! that harmony added to this hymn has raised
the affections of my heart, and quickened my graces of zeal
and gratitude; and I observe that I always return from
paying this public duty of prayer and praise to God, with
an unexpressible tranquillity of mind, and a willingness to
leave the world."
After this manner the disciples of our Saviour, and the
best of Christians in those ages of the church nearest to his
time, offer their praises to Almighty God. And the reader of
St. Augustine's life may there find that towards his dissolution
358 IZAAK WALTON
he wept abundantly, that the enemies of Christianity had
broke in upon them, and profaned and ruined their sanctu-
aries, and because their public hymns and lauds were lost
out of their churches. And after this manner have many
devout souls lifted up their hands and offered acceptable sac-
rifices unto Almighty God, where Dr. Donne offered his, and
now lies buried.
But now, O Lord ! how is that place become desolate I 1
Before I proceed further, I think fit to inform the reader,
that not long before his death he caused to be drawn a figure
of the body of Christ extended upon an anchor, like those
which painters draw when they would present us with
the picture of Christ crucified on the cross: his varying no
otherwise, than to affix him not to a cross, but to an anchor —
the emblem of hope; — this he caused to be drawn in little, and
then many of those figures thus drawn to be engraven very
small in Heliotropium stones, and set in gold; and of these he
gent to many of his dearest friends, to be used as seals, or rings,
and kept as memorials of him, and of his affection to them.
His dear friends and benefactors, Sir Henry Goodier and
Sir Robert Drewry, could not be of that number; nor could
the Lady Magdalen Herbert, the mother of George Herbert,
for they had put off mortality, and taken possession of the
grave before him : but Sir Henry YVotton, and Dr. Hall, the
then late deceased Bishop of Norwich, were ; and so were Dr.
Duppa, Bishop of Salisbury, and Dr. Henry King, Bishop of
Chichester — lately deceased, — men in whom there was such a
commixture of general learning, of natural eloquence, and
Christian humility, that they deserve a commemoration by
a pen equal to their own, which none have exceeded.
And in this enumeration of his friends, though many must
be omitted; yet that man of primitive piety, Mr. George
Herbert, may not; I mean that George Herbert who was
the author of The Temple, or Sacred Poems and Ejaculations.
A book in which, by declaring his own spiritual conflicts, he
hath comforted and raised many a dejected and discomposed
soul and charmed them into sweet and quiet thoughts; a book,
by the frequent reading whereof, and the assistance of that
spirit that seemed to inspire the author, the reader may attain
I 16S6
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 359
habits of peace and piety, and all the gifts of the Holy Ghost
and heaven ; and may, by still reading, still keep those sacred
fires burning upon the altar of so pure a heart, as shall free
it from the anxieties of this world, and keep it fixed upon
things that are above. Betwixt this George Herbert and Dr.
Donne there was a long and dear friendship, made up by such
a sympathy of inclinations, that they coveted and joyed to be
in each other's company; and this happy friendship was still
maintained by many sacred endearments ; of which that which
followeth may be some testimony.
TO MR. GEORGE HERBERT
SENT HIM WITH ONE OF MY SEALS OF THE ANCHOR AND CHRIST
A Sheaf of Snakes used heretofore to be my Seal, which is the Crest
of our poor family
Qui prius assuetus serpentum fake tabellas
Signare, haec nostrae symbola parva domus,
Adscitus domui Domini —
Adopted in God's family, and so
My old coat lost, into new Arms I go.
The Cross, my Seal in Baptism, spread below,
Does by that form into an Anchor grow.
Crosses grow Anchors, bear as thou shouldst do
Thy Cross, and that Cross grows an Anchor too.
But he that makes our Crosses Anchors thus,
Is Christ, who there is crucified for us.
Yet with this I may my first Serpents hold ; —
God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old —
The Serpent, may, as wise, my pattern be;
My poison, as he feeds on dust, that's me.
And, as he rounds the earth to murder, sure
He is my death ; but on the Cross, my cure,
Crucify nature then ; and then implore
All grace from him, crucified there^before.
When all is Cross, and that Cross Anchor grown
This Seal's a Catechism, not a Seal alone.
Under that little Seal great gifts 1 send,
Both works and prayers, pawns and fruits of a friend.
Oh ! may that Saint that rides on our Great Seal,
To you that bear his name, large bounty deal.
John Donne.
360 IZAAK WALTON
IN SACRAM ANCHORAM PISCATORIS
GEORGE HERBERT
Quod Crux nequibat fixa clavique additi, —
Tenere Christum scilicet ne ascenderet,
Tuive Christum —
Although the Cross could not here Christ detain,
When nail'd unto 't, but he ascends again ;
Nor yet thy eloquence here keep him still,
But only whilst thou speak'st — this Anchor will :
Nor canst thou be content, unless thou to
This certain Anchor add a Seal ; and so
The water and the earth both unto thee
Do owe the symbol of their certainty.
Let the world reel, we and all our's stand sure,
This holy cable's from all storms secure.
George Herbert.
I return to tell the reader that, besides these verses to his
dear Mr. Herbert, and that hymn that I mentioned to be
sung in the choir of St. Paul's Church, he did also shorten and
beguile many sad hours by composing other sacred ditties; and
he writ an hymn on his death-bed which bears this title :
AN HYMN TO GOD, MY GOD, IN MY SICKNESS
March 23, 1630
Since I am coming to that holy room,
Where, with thy Choir of Saints, for evermore
I shall be made thy music, as I come
I tune my instrument here at the door,
And, what I must do then, think here before.
Since my Physicians by their loves are grown
Cosmographers ; and I their map, who lye
Flat on this bed —
So, in his purple wrapt, receive my Lord !
By these his thorns, give me his other Crown :
And, as to other souls I preach'd thy word,
Be this my text, my sermon to mine own,
"That he may raise ; therefore the Lord throws down."
If these fall under the censure of a soul whose too much
mixture with earth makes it unfit to judge of these high rap-
tures and illuminations, let him know, that many holy and
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 361
devout men have thought the soul of Prudentius to be most
refined, when, not many days before his death, " he charged it
to present his God each morning and evening with a new and
spiritual song;" justified by the example of King David and
the good King Hezekiah, who, upon the renovation of his
years paid his thankful vows to Almighty God in a royal
hymn, which he concludes in these words : " The Lord
was ready to save; therefore I will sing my songs to the
stringed instruments all the days of my life in the temple
of my God."
The latter part of his life may be said to be a continued
study; for as he usually preached once a week, if not oftener,
so after his sermon he never gave his eyes a rest, till he had
chosen out a new text, and that night cast his sermon into
a form, and his text into divisions ; and the next day betook
himself to consult the fathers, and so commit his meditations
to his memory, which was excellent. But upon Saturday he
usually gave himself and his mind a rest from the weary
burthen of his week's meditations, and usually spent that day
in visitation of friends, or some other diversions of his
thoughts ; and would say, " that he gave both his body and
mind that refreshment, that he might be enabled to do the
work of the day following, not faintly, but with courage and
cheerfulness."
Nor was his age only so industrious, but in the most un-
settled days of his youth his bed was not able to detain him
beyond the hour of four in the morning; and it was no com-
mon business that drew him out of his chamber till past ten ;
all which time was employed in study ; though he took great
liberty after it. And if this seem strange, it may gain a belief
by the visible fruits of his labours ; some of which remain as
testimonies of what is here written : for he left the resultance
of 1400 authors, most of them abridged and analysed with his
own hand; he left also six score of his,, sermons, all written
with his own hand ; also an exact and laborious treatise con-
cerning self-murder, called Biathanatos ; wherein all the laws
violated by that act are diligently surveyed, and judiciously
censured : a treatise written in his younger days, which alone
might declare him then not only perfect in the civil and canon
law but in many other such studies and arguments as enter
362 IZAAK WALTON
not into the consideration of many that labour to be thought
great clerks, and pretend to know all things.
Nor were these only found in his study, but all businesses
that passed of any public consequence, either in this or any of
our neighbour nations, he abbreviated either in Latin, or in
the language of that nation, and kept them by him for useful
memorials. So he did the copies of divers letters and cases of
conscience that had concerned his friends, with his observa-
tions and solutions of them; and divers other businesses of
importance, all particularly and methodically digested by
himself.
He did prepare to leave the world before life left him,
making his will when no faculty of his soul was damped or
made defective by pain or sickness, or he surprised by a sud-
den apprehension of death : but it was made with mature de-
liberation, expressing himself an impartial father, by making
his children's portions equal; and a lover of his friends, whom
he remembered with legacies fitly and discreetly chosen and
bequeathed. I cannot forbear a nomination of some of them ;
for methinks they be persons that seem to challenge a recor-
dation in this place; as namely, to his brother-in-law, Sir
Thomas Grimes, he gave that striking clock, which he had
long worn in his pocket ; to his dear friend and executor, Dr.
King, — late Bishop of Chichester — that model of gold of the
Synod of Dort, with which the States presented him at his last
being at the Hague; and the two pictures of Padre Paolo
and Fulgentio, men of his acquaintance when he travelled
Italy, and of great note in that nation for their remarkable
learning. — To his ancient friend Dr. Brook, — that married
him — Master of Trinity College in Cambridge, he gave the
picture of the Blessed Virgin and Joseph. — To Dr. Winniff,
who succeeded him in the Deanery, he gave a picture called
the Skeleton. — To the succeeding Dean, who was not then
known, he gave many necessaries of worth, and useful for
his house ; and also several pictures and ornaments for the
chapel, with a desire that they might be registered, and re-
main as a legacy to his successors. — To the Earls of Dorset
and Carlisle he gave several pictures ; and so he did to many
other friends ; legacies, given rather to express his affection,
than to make any addition to their estates : but unto the poor
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 363
he was full of charity, and unto many others, who, by his
constant and long-continued bounty, might entitle themselves
to be his alms-people : for all these he made provision, and so
largely, as, having then six children living, might to some
appear more than proportionable to his estate. I forbear to
mention any more, lest the reader may think I trespass upon
his patience: but I will beg his favour, to present him with
the beginning and end of his will.
" In the name of the blessed and glorious Trinity, Amen,
I, John Donne, by the mercy of Christ Jesus, and by the
calling of the Church of England, priest, being at this time
in good health and perfect understanding, — praised be God
therefore — do hereby make my last will and testament in
manner and form following.
" First, I give my gracious God an entire sacrifice of body
and soul, with my most humble thanks for that assurance
which his blessed Spirit imprints in me now of the salvation
of the one, and the resurrection of the other; and for that
constant and cheerful resolution, which the same Spirit hath
established in me, to live and die in the religion now pro-
fessed in the Church of England. In expectation of that
resurrection, I desire my body may be buried — in the most
private manner that may be — in that place of St. Paul's
Church, London, that the now residentiaries have at my
request designed for that purpose, etc. — And this my last will
and testament, made in the fear of God, — whose mercy I
humbly beg, and constantly rely upon in Jesus Christ — and
in perfect love and charity with all the world — whose pardon
I ask, from the lowest of my servants, to the highest of my
superiors — written all with my own hand, and my name sub-
scribed to every page, of which there are five in number.
" Sealed December 13, 1630."
Nor was this blessed sacrifice of charity expressed only at
his death, but in his life also, by a cheerful and frequent
visitation of any friend whose mind was dejected, or his
fortune necessitous; he was inquisitive after the wants of
prisoners, and redeemed many from prison that lay for their
fees or small debts : he was a continual giver to poor scholars,
both of this and foreign nations. Besides what he gave with
364 IZAAK WALTON
his own hand, he usually sent a servant, or a discreet and
trusty friend, to distribute his charity to all the prisons in
London, at all the festival times of the year, especially at the
birth and resurrection of our Saviour. He gave an hundred
pounds at one time to an old friend, whom he had known
live plentifully, and by a too liberal heart and carelessness
became decayed in his estate; and when the receiving of it
was denied by the gentleman's saying, " He wanted not; " for
the reader may note, that as there be some spirits so generous
as to labour to conceal and endure a sad poverty, rather than
expose themselves to those blushes that attend the confession
of it; so there be others, to whom nature and grace have
afforded such sweet and compassionate souls, as to pity and
prevent the distresses of mankind ; — which I have mentioned
because of Dr. Donne's reply, whose answer was : " I know
you want not what will sustain nature ; for a little will do
that; but my desire is, that you, who in the days of your
plenty have cheered and raised the hearts of so many of your
dejected friends, would now receive from me, and use it as a
cordial for the cheering of your own : " and upon these terms
it was received. He was an happy reconciler of many differ-
ences in the families of his friends and kindred, — which he
never undertook faintly; for such undertakings have usually
faint effects — and they had such a faith in his judgment and
impartiality, that he never advised them to any thing in vain.
He was, even to her death, a most dutiful son to his mother,
careful to provide for her supportation, of which she
had been destitute, but that God raised him up to prevent
her necessities ; who having sucked in the religion of the
Roman Church with the mother's milk, spent her estate in
foreign countries, to enjoy a liberty in it, and died in his
house but three months before him.
And to the end it may appear how just a steward he was
of his lord and master's revenue, I have thought fit to let the
reader know, that after his entrance into his Deanery, as he
numbered his years, he at the foot of a private account, to
which God and his angels were only witnesses with him, —
computed first his revenue, then what was given to the poor,
and other pious uses ; and lastly, what rested for him and
his; and having done that, he then blessed each year's poor
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 365
remainder with a thankful prayer; which, for that they dis-
cover a more than common devotion, the reader shall partake
some of them in his own words :
So all is that remains this year — [1624-5].
Deo Opt. Max. benigno largitori, a. me, et ab iis quibus haec
a me reservantur, Gloria et gratia in aeternum. Amen.
Translated thus.
To God all Good, all Great, the benevolent Bestower, by
me and by them, for whom by me these sums are laid up,
be glory and grace ascribed for ever. Amen.
So that this year [1626] God hath blessed me and mine
with : —
Multiplicatae sunt super nos misericordiae tuae, Domine.
Translated thus.
Thy mercies, O Lord ! are multiplied upon us.
Da, Domine, ut quae ex immensa. bonitate tua nobis elargiri
dignatus sis, in quorumcunque manus devenerint, in tuam
semper cedant gloriam. Amen.
Translated thus.
Grant, O Lord! that what out of thine infinite bounty
thou hast vouchsafed to lavish upon us, into whosoever hands
it may devolve, may always be improved to thy glory. Amen.
In fine horurn sex annorum manet: — [1628-9].
Quid habeo quod non accepi a Domino? Largitur etiam
ut quae largitus est sua iterum fiant, bono eorum usu ; ut
quemadmodum nee officiis hujus mundi, nee loci in quo me
posuit dignitati, nee servis, nee egenis, in toto hujus anni
curriculo mihi conscius sum me defuisse; ita et liberi, quibus
quae supersunt, supersunt, grato animo ea accipiant, et bene-
ficum authorem recosrnoscant. Amen.
366 IZAAK WALTON
Translated thus.
At the end of these six years remains : —
What have I, which I have not received from the Lord?
He bestows, also, to the intent that what he hath bestowed
may revert to him by the proper use of it: that, as I have
not consciously been wanting to myself during the whole
course of the past year, either in discharging my secular
duties, in retaining the dignity of my station, or in my conduct
towards my servants and the poor, — so my children for whom
remains whatever is remaining, may receive it with gratitude,
and acknowledge the beneficent Giver. Amen.
But I return from my long digression.
We left the author sick in Essex, where he was forced to
spend much of that winter, by reason of his disability to re-
move from that place; and having never, for almost twenty
years, omitted his personal attendance on his Majesty in that
month, in which he was to attend and preach to him ;
nor having ever been left out of the roll and number of
Lent preachers, and there being then — in January 1630 — a
report brought to London, or raised there, that Dr. Donne
was dead ; that report gave him occasion to write the fol-
lowing letter to a dear friend:
" Sir, — This advantage you and my other friends have by
my frequent fevers, that I am so much the oftener at the gates
of heaven ; and this advantage by the solitude and close im-
prisonment that they reduce me to after, that I am so much
the oftener at my prayers, in which I shall never leave out
your happiness; and I doubt not, among his other blessings,
God will add some one to you for my prayers. A man would
almost be content to die, — if there were no other benefit in
death, — to hear of so much sorrow, and so much good testi-
mony from good men, as I — God be blessed for it — did upon
the report of my death : yet I perceive it went not through all ;
for one writ to me, that some — and he said of my friends —
conceived that I was not so ill as I pretended, but withdrew
myself to live at ease, discharged of preaching. It is an
unfriendly, and, God knows, an ill-grounded interpretation;
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 367
for I have always been sorrier when I could not preach than
any could be they could not hear me. It hath been my
desire, and God may be pleased to grant it, that I might die
in the pulpit; if not that, yet that I might take my death in
the pulpit ; that is, die the sooner by occasion of those labours.
Sir, I hope to see you presently after Candlemas ; about which
time will fall my Lent sermon at court, except my Lord
Chamberlain believe me to be dead, and so leave me out of
the roll : but as long as I live, and am not speechless, I would
not willingly decline that service. I have better leisure to
write, than you to read; yet I would not willingly oppress
you with too much letter. God so bless you and your son,
Your poor friend and servant
in Christ Jesus,
J. Donne."
Before that month ended, he was appointed to preach upon
his old constant day, the first Friday in Lent : he had notice of
it, and had in his sickness so prepared for that employment,
that as he had long thirsted for it, so he resolved his weak-
ness should not hinder his journey; he came therefore to Lon-
don some few days before his appointed day of preaching. At
his coming thither, many of his friends — who with sorrow
saw his sickness had left him but so much flesh as did only
cover his bones — doubted his strength to perform that task,
and did thereof persuade him from undertaking it, assuring
him however, it was like to shorten his life: but he passion-
ately denied their requests, saying " he would not doubt that
that God, who in so many weaknesses had assisted him with
an unexpected strength, would now withdraw it in his last
employment ; professing an holy ambition to perform that
sacred work." And when, to the amazement of some of the
beholders, he appeared in the pulpit, many of them thought
he presented himself not to preach mortification by a living
voice, but mortality by a decayed body and a dying face.
And doubtless many did secretly ask that question in Ezekiel,
— " Do these bones live ? or, can that soul organise that
tongue, to speak so long time as the sand in that glass will
move towards its centre, and measure out an hour of this
dying man's unspent life? Doubtless it cannot." And yet,
368 IZAAK WALTON
after some faint pauses in his zealous prayer, his strong
desires enabled his weak body to discharge his memory of
his preconceived meditations, which were of dying; the text
being, " To God the Lord belong the issues from death."
Many that then saw his tears, and heard his faint and hollow
voice, professing they thought the text prophetically chosen,
and that Dr. Donne had preached his own funeral sermon.
Being full of joy that God had enabled him to perform this
desired duty, he hastened to his house; out of 'vhich he never
moved, till, like St. Stephen, " he was carried by devout men
to his grave."
The next day after his sermon, his strength being much
wasted, and his spirits so spent as indisposed him to business
or to talk, a friend that had often been a witness of his free and
facetious discourse asked him, "Why are you sad?" To whom
he replied, with a countenance so full of cheerful gravity, as
gave testimony of an inward tranquillity of mind, and of a
soul willing to take a farewell of this world ; and said, —
" I am not sad ; but most of the night past I have enter-
tained myself with many thoughts of several friends that have
left me here, and are gone to that place from which they
shall not return; and that within a few days I also shall go
hence, and be no more seen. And my preparation for this
change is become my nightly meditation upon my bed, which
my infirmities have now made restless to me. But at this
present time, I was in a serious contemplation of the prov-
idence and goodness of God to me; to me, who am less than
,the least of his mercies: and looking back upon my life past,
I now plainly see it was his hand that prevented me from all
temporal employment ; and that it was his will I should never
settle nor thrive till I entered into the ministry ; in which I
have now lived almost twenty years — I hope to his glory, —
and by which, I most humbly thank him, I have been enabled
to requite most of those friends which showed me kindness
when my fortune was very low, as God knows it was : and —
as it hath occasioned the expression of my gratitude T thank
God most of them have stood in need of my requital. I have
lived to be useful and comfortable to my good father-in-law,
Sir George More, whose patience God hath been pleased to
exercise with many temporal crosses; I have maintained
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 369
my own mother, whom it hath pleased God, after a plentiful
fortune in her younger days, to bring to great decay in her
very old age. I have quieted the consciences of many that
have groaned under the burthen of a wounded spirit, whose
prayers I hope are available for me. I cannot plead innocency
of life, especially of my youth; but I am to be judged by a
merciful God, who is not willing to see what I have done
amiss. And though of myself I have nothing to present to
him but sins and misery, yet I know he looks not upon me
now as I am of myself, but as I am in my Saviour, and hath
given me, even at this present time, some testimonies by his
Holy Spirit, that I am of the number of his elect: I am
therefore full of inexpressible joy, and shall die in peace."
I must here look so far back, as to tell the reader that at his
first return out of Essex, to preach his last sermon, his old
friend and physician, Dr. Fox — a man of great worth — came
to him to consult his health ; and that after a sight of him,
and some queries concerning his distempers, he told him,
" That by cordials, and drinking milk twenty days together,
there was a probability of his restoration to health ; " out he
passionately denied to drink it. Nevertheless, Dr. Fox, who
loved him most entirely, wearied him with solicitations, till
he yielded to take it for ten days; at the end of which time
he told Dr. Fox, " He had drunk it more to satisfy him, than
to recover his health ; and that he would not drink it ten
days longer, upon the best moral assurance of having twenty
years added to his life ; for he loved it not ; and was so far
from fearing death, which to others is the King of Terrors,
that he longed for the day of dissolution."
It is observed that a desire of glory or commendation is
rooted in the very nature of man; and that those of the
severest and most mortified lives, though they may become so
humble as to banish self-flattery, and such weeds as natu-
rally grow there; yet they have not been able to kill this
desire of glory, but that like our radical heat, it will both live
and die with us ; and many think it should do so ; and we want
not sacred examples to justify the desire of having our mem-
ory to outlive our lives; which I mention, because Dr. Donne,
by the persuasion of Dr. Fox, easily yielded at this very time
to have a monument made for him; but Dr. Fox under-
370 IZAAK WALTON
took not to persuade him how, or what monument it should
be; that was left to Dr. Donne himself.
A monument being resolved upon, Dr. Donne sent for a
Carver to make for him in wood the figure of an urn, giving
him directions for the compass and height of it; and to bring
with it a board, of just the height of his body. " These being
got, then without delay a choice painter was got to be in
readiness to draw his picture, which was taken as followeth. —
Several charcoal fires being first made in his large study, he
brought with him into that place his winding-sheet in his
hand, and having put off all his clothes, had this sheet put
on him, and so tied with knots at his head and feet, and his
hands so placed as dead bodies are usually fitted, to be
shrouded and put into their coffin, or grave. Upon this urn
he thus stood, with his eyes shut, and with so much of the
sheet turned aside as might show his lean, pale, and death-
like face, which was purposely turned towards the east, from
whence he expected the second coming of his and our Saviour
Jesus." In this posture he was drawn at his just height; and
when the picture was fully finished, he caused it to be set by
his bed-side, where it continued and became his hourly object
till his death, and was then given to his dearest friend and
executor Dr. Henry King, then chief residentiary of St.
Paul's, who caused him to be thus carved in one entire piece
of white marble, as it now stands in that church ; and by Dr.
Donne's own appointment, these words were to be affixed to
it as an epitaph :
JOHANNES DONNE,
SAC. THEOL. PROFESS.
POST VARIA STVDIA, QVIBUS AB ANNIS
TENERRIMIS FIDELITER, NEC INFELICITER
INCVBVIT ;
INSTINCTV ET IMPVLSV SP. SANCTI, MONITV
ET HORTATV
REGIS JACOBI, ORDINES SACROS AMPLEXVS,
ANN SVI JESV, MDCXIV. ET SVJE ^TATIS XLII.
DECANATV HVJVS ECCLESI.E INDVTVS,
XXVII. NOVEMBRIS, MDCXXI.
EXVTVS MORTE VLTIMO DIE MARTII, MDCXXXI.
HIC LICET IN OCCIDVO CINERE, ASPICIT EVBC
CVJVS NOMEN EST ORIENS.
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 371
And now, having brought him through the many labyrinths
and perplexities of a various life, even to the gates of death
and the grave ; my desire is, he may rest till I have told my
reader that I have seen many pictures of him, in several
habits, and at several ages, and in several postures : and I now
mention this, because I have seen one picture of him, drawn
by a curious hand, at his age of eighteen, with his sword, and
what other adornments might then suit with the present
fashions of youth and the giddy gaieties of that age ; and his
motto then was —
How much shall I be changed,
Before I am changed !
And if that young and his now dying picture were at this
time set together every beholder might say, Lord ! how much
is Dr. Donne already changed, before he is changed ! And the
view of them might give my reader occasion to ask himself
with some amazement, " Lord ! how much may I also, that am
now in health, be changed before I am changed; before this
vile, this changeable body shall put off mortality ! " and there-
fore to prepare for it. — But this is not writ so much for my
reader's memento, as to tell him that Dr. Donne would often
in his private discourses, and often publicly in his sermons,
mention the many changes both of his body and mind ;
especially of his mind from a vertiginous giddiness; and
would as often say, " His great and most blessed change was
from a temporal to a spiritual employment ; " in which he
was so happy, that he accounted the former part of his life
to be lost ; and the beginning of it to be from his first entering
into sacred orders, and serving his most merciful God at his
altar.
Upon Monday, after the drawing this picture, he took his
last leave of his beloved study; and, being sensible of his
hourly decay, retired himself to his bed-chamber; and that
week sent at several times for many of Jjis most considerable
friends, with whom he took a solemn and deliberate farewell,
commending to their considerations some sentences useful for
the regulation of their lives ; and then dismissed them, as good
Jacob did his sons, with a spiritual benediction. The Sunday
following, he appointed his servants, that if there were any
372 IZAAK WALTON
business yet undone that concerned him or themselves, it
should be prepared against Saturday next ; for after that day
he would not mix his thoughts with anything that concerned
this world ; nor ever did ; but, as Job, so he " waited for the
appointed day of his dissolution."
And now he was so happy as to have nothing to do but to
die, to do which, he stood in need of no longer time; for he
had studied it long, and to so happy a perfection, that in a
former sickness he called God to witness * " He was that
minute ready to deliver his soul into his hands if that minute
God would determine his dissolution." In that sickness he
begged of God the constancy to be preserved in that estate for
ever; and his patient expectation to have his immortal soul
disrobed from her garment of mortality, makes me confident
that he now had a modest assurance that his prayers were
then heard, and his petition granted. He lay fifteen days ear-
nestly expecting his hourly change; and in the last hour of
his last day, as his body melted away, and vapoured into spirit,
his soul having, I verily believe some revelation of the beati-
fical vision, he said, "I were miserable if I might not die;"
and after those words, closed many periods of his faint breath
by saying often, " Thy kingdom come, thy will be done." His
speech, which had long been his ready and faithful servant,
left him not till the last minute of his life, and then forsook
him, not to serve another master — for who speaks like him,
— but died before him ; for that it was then become useless to
him, that now conversed with God on earth, as angels are
said to do in heaven, only by thoughts and looks. Being
speechless, and seeing heaven by that illumination by which
he saw it, he did, as St. Stephen, " look steadfastly into it,
till he saw the Son of Man standing at the right hand of
God his Father ; " and being satisfied with this blessed sight,
as his soul ascended, and his last breath departed from him,
he closed his own eyes, and then disposed his hands and body
into such a posture as required not the least alteration by
those that came to shroud him.
Thus variable, thus virtuous was the life: thus excellent,
thus exemplary was the death of this memorable man.
1 In his Book of Devotions written then.
LIFE OF DR. DONNE 373
He was buried in that place of St. Paul's Church, which he
had appointed for that use some years before his death ; and
by which he passed daily to pay his public devotions to
Almighty God — who was then served twice a day by a public
form of prayer and praises in that place: — but he was not
buried privately, though he desired it ; for, beside an unnum-
bered number of others, many persons of nobility, and of
eminence for learning, who did love and honour him in his
life, did show it at his death, by a voluntary and sad attend-
ance of his body to the grave, where nothing was so re-
markable as a public sorrow.
To which place of his burial some mournful friends re-
paired, and, as Alexander the Great did to the grave of the
famous Achilles, so they strewed his with an abundance of
curious and costly flowers; which course, they — who were
never yet known — continued morning and evening for many
days, not ceasing, till the stones, that were taken up in that
church, to give his body admission into the cold earth — now
his bed of rest, — were again by the mason's art so levelled
and firmed as they had been formerly, and his place of burial
undistinguishable to common view.
The next day after his burial, some unknown friend, some
one of the many lovers and admirers of his virtue and learn-
ing, writ this epitaph with a coal on the wall over his
grave : —
Reader ! I am to let thee know.
Donne's Body only lies below ;
For, could the grave his Soul comprise,
Earth would be richer than the Skies !
Nor was this all the honour done to his reverend ashes ; for,
as there be some persons that will not receive a reward for
that for which God accounts himself a debtor; persons that
dare trust God with their charity, and without a witness ; so
there was by some grateful unknown friend, that thought Dr.
Donne's memory ought to be perpetuated, an hundred marks
sent to his faithful friends 1 and executors, towards the making
of his monument. It was not for many years known by
whom ; but, after the death of Dr. Fox, it was known that it
was he that sent it ; and he lived to see as lively a representa-
1 Dr. King and Dr. Montford.
374 IZAAK WALTON
tion of his dead friend as marble can express : a statue indeed
so like Dr. Donne, that — as his friend Sir Henry Wotton hath
expressed himself — " It seems to breathe faintly, and posterity
shall look upon it as a kind of artificial miracle."
He was of stature moderately tall ; of a straight and equally-
proportioned body, to which all his words and actions gave an
unexpressible addition of comeliness.
The melancholy and pleasant humour were in him so con-
tempered, that each gave advantage to the other, and made
his company one of the delights of mankind.
His fancy was unimitably high, equalled only by his great
wit; both being made useful by a commanding judgment.
His aspect was cheerful, and such as gave a silent testi-
mony of a clear knowing soul, and of a conscience at peace
with itself.
His melting eye showed that he had a soft heart, full of
noble compassion; of too brave a soul to offer injuries, and
too much a Christian not to pardon them in others.
He did much contemplate — especially after he entered into
his sacred calling — the mercies of Almighty God, the immor-
tality of the soul, and the joys of heaven : and would often
say in a kind of sacred ecstasy, — "Blessed be God that he is
God, only and divinely like himself."
He was by nature highly passionate, but more apt to reluct
at the excesses of it. A great lover of the offices of humanity,
and of so merciful a spirit, that he never beheld the miseries
of mankind without pity and relief.
He was earnest and unwearied in the search of knowledge,
with which his vigorous soul is now satisfied, and employed
in a continual praise of that God that first breathed it into
his active body: that body, which once was a temple of the
Holy Ghost, and is now become a small quantity of Christian
dust : —
But I shall see it re-animated.
Feb. is, 1639. I. W.
THE LIFE OF
MR. GEORGE HERBERT
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
"For the life of that great example of holiness, Mr. George
Herbert, I profess it to be iso far a free-mill offering, that it was
writ chiefly to please myself, but yet not without some respect
to posterity: for though he was not a man that the next age
can forget, yet many of his particular acts and viftues might
have been neglected, or lost, if I had not collected and presented
them to the imitation of those that shall succeed us: for I humbly
conceive writing to be both a safer and truer preserver of men's
virtuous actions than tradition; especially as it is managed in
this age. And I am also to tell the Reader, that though this
Life of Mr. Herbert was not by me writ in haste, yet I intended
it a review before it should be made public; but that was not
allowed me, by reason of my absence from London when it was
printing; so that the Reader may find in it some mistakes, some
double expressions, and some not very proper, and some that
might have been contracted, and some faults that are not justly
chargeable upon me, but the printer; and yet I hope none so
great, as may not, by this confession, purchase pardon from a
good-natured Reader." — From Isaak Walton's Introduction to
the "Lives."
THE LIFE OF
MR. GEORGE HERBERT
GEORGE HERBERT was born the third day of April,
in the year of our redemption 1593. The place of his
birth was near to the town of Montgomery, and in
that castle that did then bear the name of that town and
county; that castle was then a place of state and strength,
and had been successively happy in the family of the Her-
berts, who had long possessed it; and with it, a plentiful es-
tate, and hearts as liberal to their poor neighbours. A
family that hath been blessed with men of remarkable wis-
dom, and a willingness to serve their country, and, indeed, to
do good to all mankind ; for which they are eminent : But
alas ! this family did in the late rebellion suffer extremely in
their estates ; and the heirs of that castle saw it laid level
with that earth that was too good to bury those wretches
that were the cause of it.
The father of our George was Richard Herbert, the son of
Edward Herbert, Knight, the son of Richard Herbert,
Knight, the son of the famous Sir Richard Herbert of Cole-
brook, in the county of Monmouth, Banneret, who was the
youngest brother of that memorable William Herbert, Earl
of Pembroke, that lived in the reign of our King Edward
the Fourth.
His mother was Magdalen Newport, the youngest daugh-
ter of Sir Richard, and sister to Sir Francis Newport of
High Arkall, in the county of Salop, Knight, and grand-
father of Francis Lord Newport, now Controller of his
Majesty's Household. A family that for their loyalty have
suffered much in their estates, and seen the ruin of that
excellent structure where their ancestors have long lived,
and been memorable for their hospitality.
377
378 IZAAK WALTON
This mother of George Herbert — of whose person, and
wisdom, and virtue, I intend to give a true account in a
seasonable place — was the happy mother of seven sons and
three daughters, which she would often say was Job's num-
ber, and Job's distribution ; and as often bless God, that they
were neither defective in their shapes nor in their reason ;
and very often reprove them that did not praise God for so
great a blessing. I shall give the reader a short account of
their names, and not say much of their fortunes.
Edward, the eldest^ was first made Knight of the Bath, at
that glorious time of our late Prince Henry's being installed
Knight of the Garter; and after many years' useful travel,
and the attainment of many languages, he was by King
James sent ambassador resident to the then French king,
Lewis the Thirteenth. There he continued about two years;
but he could not subject himself to a compliance with the
humours of the Duke de Luisens, who was then the great
and powerful favourite at court : so that upon a complaint
to our King, he was called back into England in some dis-
pleasure; but at his return he gave such an honourable ac-
count of his employment, and so justified his comportment to
the Duke and all the court, that he was suddenly sent back
upon the same embassy, from which he returned in the be-
ginning of the reign of our good King Charles the First,
who made him first Baron of Castleisland, and not long after
of Cherbury in the county of Salop. He was a man of great
learning and reason, as appears by his printed book De
Veritate, and by his History of the Reign of King Henry the
Eighth, and by several other tracts.
The second and third brothers were Richard and William,
who ventured their lives to purchase honour in the wars of
the Low Countries, and died officers in that employment,
Charles was the fourth, and died fellow of New College in
Oxford. Henry was the sixth, who became a menial servant
to the crown in the days of King James, and hath continued
to be so for fifty years ; during all which time he hath been
Master of the Revels, a place that requires a diligent wisdom,
with which God hath blessed him. The seventh son was
Thomas, who, being made captain of a ship in that fleet with
which Sir Robert Mansell was sent against Algiers, did there
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 379
show a fortunate and true English valour. Of the three
sisters I need not say more than that they were all married
to persons of worth and plentiful fortunes; and lived to be
examples of virtue, and to do good in their generations.
I now come to give my intended account of George, who
was the fifth of those seven brothers.
George Herbert spent much of his childhood in a sweet
content under the eye and care of his prudent mother, and
the tuition of a chaplain, or tutor to him and two of his
brothers, in her own family, — for she was then a widow, — >
where he continued till about the age of twelve years; and
being at that time well instructed in the rules of grammar,
he was not long after commended to the care of Dr. Neale,
who was then Dean of Westminster ; and by him to the care
of Mr. Ireland, who was then chief master of that school;
where the beauties of his pretty behaviour and wit shined,
and became so eminent and lovely in this his innocent age,
that he seemed to be marked out for piety, and to become
the care of heaven, and of a particular good angel to guard
and guide him. And thus he continued in that school, till he
came to be perfect in the learned languages, and especially
in the Greek tongue, in which he after proved an excellent
critic.
About the age of fifteen — he being then a King's scholar —
he was elected out of that school for Trinity College in Cam-
bridge, to which place he was transplanted about the year
1608; and his prudent mother, well knowing that he might
easily lose or lessen that virtue and innocence which her
advice and example had planted in his mind, did therefore
procure the generous and liberal Dr. Nevil, who was then
Dean of Canterbury, and master of that College, to take him
into his particular care, and provide him a tutor; which he
did most gladly undertake, for he knew the excellencies of
his mother, and how to value such a friendship.
This was the method of his education, till he was settled
in Cambridge; where we will leave him in his study, till I
have paid my promised account of his excellent mother; and
I will endeavour to make it short.
I have told her birth, her marriage, and the number of her
children, and have given some short account of them. I
380 IZAAK WALTON
shall next tell the reader that her husband died when our
George was about the age of four years : I am next to tell,
that she continued twelve years a widow ; that she then mar-
ried happily to a noble gentleman, the brother and heir of
the Lord Danvers, Earl of Danby, who did highly value
both her person and the most excellent endowments of her
mind.
In this time of her widowhood, she being desirous to give
Edward, her eldest son, such advantages of learning, and
other education, as might suit his birth and fortune, and
thereby make him the more fit for the service of his country,
did, at his being of a fit age, remove from Montgomery
Castle with hirn, and some of her younger sons, to Oxford;
and having entered Edward into Queen's College, and pro-
vided him a fit tutor, she commended him to his care, yet
she continued there with him, and still kept him in a mod-
erate awe of herself, and so much under her own eye, as to
see and converse with him daily : but she managed this power
over him without any such rigid sourness as might make
her company a torment to her child; but with such a
sweetness and compliance with the recreations and pleasures
of youth, as did incline him willingly to spend much of his
time in the company of his dear and careful mother; which
was to her great content: for she would often say, "That
as our bodies take a nourishment suitable to the meat on
which we feed; so our souls do as insensibly take in vice by
the example or conversation with wicked company :" and
would therefore as often say, "That ignorance of vice was
the best preservation of virtue ; and that the very knowledge
of wickedness was as tinder to inflame and kindle sin and
keep it burning." For these reasons she endeared him to her
own company, and continued with him in Oxford four years ;
in which time her great and harmless wit, her cheerful
gravity, and her obliging behaviour, gained her an ac-
quaintance and friendship with most of any eminent worth
or learning that were at that time in or near that university ;
and particularly with Mr. John Donne, who then came acci-
dentally to that place, in this time of her being there. It
was that John Donne, who was after Dr. Donne, and Dean
of St. Paul's, London: and he, at his leaving Oxford, writ
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 381
and left there, in verse, a character of the beauties of her
body and mind : of the first he says,
No spring nor summer-beauty has such grace,
As I have seen in an autumnal face.
Of the latter he says,
In all her words to every hearer fit,
You may at revels, or at council sit.
The rest of her character may be read in his printed
poems, in that elegy which bears the name of "The Autumnal
Beauty." For both he and she were then past the meridian
of man's life.
This amity, begun at this time and place, was not an amity
that polluted their souls ; but an amity made up of a chain of
suitable inclinations and virtues; an amity like that of St.
Chrysostom's to his dear and virtuous Olympias; whom, in
his letters, he calls his saint : or an amity, indeed, more like
that of St. Hierome to his Paula; whose affection to her was
such, that he turned poet in his old age, and then made her
epitaph; wishing all his body were turned into tongues that
he might declare her just praises to posterity. And this
amity betwixt her and Mr. Donne was begun in a happy
time for him, he being then near to the fortieth year of his
age, — which was some years before he entered into sacred
orders; — a time when his necessities needed a daily supply
for the support of his wife, seven children, and a family.
And in this time she proved one of his most bountiful ben-
efactors ; and he as grateful an acknowledger of it. You
may take one testimony for what I have said of these two
worthy persons, from this following letter and sonnet: —
"Madam,
"Your favours to me are everywhere : I *use them and have
them. I enjoy them at London, and leave them there; and
yet find them at Mitcham. Such riddles as these become
things inexpressible; and such is your goodness. I was al-
most sorry to find your servant here this day, because I was
loth to have any witness of my not coming home last night,
and indeed of my coming this morning. But my not coming
382 IZjAAK WALTON
was excusable, because earnest business detained me; and
my coming this day is by the example of your St. Mary
Magdalen, who rose early upon Sunday to seek that which
she loved most; and so did I. And, from her and myself, I
return such thanks as are due to one to whom we owe all
the good opinion that they, whom we need most, have of
us. By this messenger, and on this good day, I commit the
enclosed holy hymns and sonnets — which for the matter,
not the workmanship, have yet escaped the fire — to your
judgment, and to your protection too, if you think them
worthy of it; and I have appointed this inclosed sonnet to
usher them to your happy hand.
Your unworthiest servant,
Unless your accepting him to be so
have mended him,
Mitcham, jo. Donne."
July ii, 1607.
To the Lady Magdalen Herbert:
Of St. Mary Magdalen
Her of your name, whose fair inheritance
Bethina was, and jointure Magdalo,
An active faith so highly did advance,
That she once knew more than the Church did know,
The Resurrection ! so much good there is
Delivered of her, that some Fathers be
Loth to believe one woman could do this,
But think these Magdalens were two or three.
Increase their number, Lady, and their fame :
To their devotion add your innocence :
Take so much of th' example, as of the name;
The latter half ; and in some recompense
That they did harbour Christ himself, a guest,
Harbour these Hymns, to his dear name addrest.
J.D.
These hymns are now lost to us; but doubtless they were
such as they two now sing in heaven.
There might be more demonstrations of the friendship,
and the many sacred endearments betwixt these two ex-
cellent persons, — for I have many of their letters in my
hand, — and much more might be said of her great prudence
and piety; but my design was not to write hers, but the life
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 383
of her son; and therefore I shall only tell my reader, that
about that very day twenty years that this letter was dated,
and sent her, I saw and heard this Mr. John Donne — who
was then Dean of St. Paul's — weep, and preach her funeral
sermon, in the Parish Church of Chelsea, near London,
where she now rests in her quiet grave : and where we
must now leave her, and return to her son George, whom
we left in his study in Cambridge.
And in Cambridge we may find our George Herbert's be-
haviour to be such, that we may conclude he consecrated the
first-fruits of his early age to virtue, and a serious study of
learning. And that he did so, this following letter and son-
net, which were, in the first year of his going to Cambridge,
sent his dear mother for a New Year's gift, may appear to
be some testimony: —
". . . But I fear the heat of my late ague hath dried up
those springs by which scholars say the Muses use to take
up their habitations. However, I need not their help to re-
prove the vanity of those many love-poems that are daily
writ and consecrated to Venus; nor to bewail that so few
are writ that look towards God and heaven. For my own
part, my meaning — dear mother — is, in these sonnets, to de-
clare my resolution to be, that my poor abilities in poetry
shall be all and ever consecrated to God's glory: and I beg
you to receive this as one testimony."
My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee,
Wherewith whole shoals of Martyrs once did burn,
Besides their other flames ? Doth Poetry
Wear Venus' livery ? only serve her turn ?
Why are not Sonnets made of thee? and lays
Upon thine altar burnt? Cannot thy love
Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise
As well as any she ? Cannot thy Dove
Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight?
Or, since thy ways are deep, and still the same,
Will not a verse run smooth that bears thy name?
Why doth that fire, which by thy power and might
Each breast does feel, no braver fuel choose
Than that, which one day, worms may chance refuse?
Sure, Lord, there is enough in thee to dry
Oceans of ink; for as the Deluge did
Cover the Earth, so doth thy Majesty;
Each cloud distils thy praise, and doth forbid
384 IZAAK WALTON
Poets to turn it to another use.
Roses and lilies speak Thee; and to make
A pair of cheeks of them, is thy abuse.
Why should I women's eyes for crystal take?
Such poor invention burns in their low mind
Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go
To praise, and on thee, Lord, some ink bestow.
Open the bones, and you shall nothing find
In the best face but filth ; when Lord, in Thee
The beauty lies in the discovery. „ „
This was his resolution at the sending this letter to his
dear mother, about which time he was in the seventeenth
year of his age; and as he grew older, so he grew in learn-
ing, and more and more in favour both with God and man :
insomuch that, in this morning of that short day of his life,
he seemed to be marked out for virtue, and to become the
care of Heaven; for God still kept his soul in so holy a
frame, that he may, and ought to be a pattern of virtue to
all posterity, and especially to his brethren of the clergy, of
which the reader may expect a more exact account in what
will follow.
I need not declare that he was a strict student, because,
that he was so, there will be many testimonies in the future
part of his life. I shall therefore only tell, that he was made
Minor Fellow in the year 1609, Bachelor of Arts in the year
1611; Major Fellow of the College, March 15th, 1615: and
that in that year he was also made Master of Arts, he being
then in the twenty-second year of his age ; during all which
time, all, or the greatest diversion from his study, was the
practice of music, in which he became a great master; and
of which he would say, " That it did relieve his drooping
spirits, compose his distracted thoughts, and raised his weary
soul so far above earth, that it gave him an earnest of the
joys of heaven, before he possessed them." And it may be
noted, that from his first entrance into the college, the gen-
erous Dr. Nevil was a cherisher of his studies, and such a
lover of his person, his behaviour, and the excellent endow-
ments of his mind, that he took him often into his own com-
pany; by which he confirmed his native gentleness: and if
during his time he expressed any error, it was that he kept
himself too much retired, and at too great a distance with
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 385
all his inferiors ; and his clothes seemed to prove that he put
too great a value on his parts and parentage.
This may be some account of his disposition, and of the
employment of his time till he was Master of Arts, which
was anno 1615, and in the year 1619 he was chosen Orator
for the University. His two precedent Orators were Sir
Robert Naunton and Sir Francis Nethersole. The first was
not long after made Secretary of State, and Sir Francis,
not very long after his being Orator, was made secretary to
the Lady Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia. In this place of
Orator our George Herbert continued eight years ; and man-
aged it with as becoming and grave a gaiety as any had ever
before or since his time. For " he had acquired great learn-
ing, and was blessed with a high fancy, a civil and sharp
wit; and with a natural elegance, both in his behaviour, his
tongue, and his pen." Of all which there might be very
many particular evidences ; but I will limit myself to the
mention of but three.
And the first notable occasion of showing his fitness for
this employment of Orator was manifested in a letter to
King James, upon the occasion of his sending that university
his book called Basilicon Doron; and their Orator was to
acknowledge this great honour, and return their gratitude to
his Majesty for such a condescension; at the close of which
letter he writ,
Quid Vaticanam Bodleianamque objicis, hospes!
Unicus est nobis Bibliotheca Liber.
This letter was writ in such excellent Latin, was so full of
conceits, and all the expressions so suited to the genius of the
King, that he inquired the Orator's name, and then asked
William, Earl of Pembroke, if he knew him? whose answer
was, "That he knew him very well, and th^t he was his kins-
man ; but he loved him more for his learning and virtue than
for that he was of his name and family." At which answer
the King smiled, and asked the Earl leave that he rright love
him too, for he took him to be the jewel of that university.
The next occasion he had and took to show his great abili-
ties was, with them, to show also his great affection to that
Church in which he received his baptism, and of which he
hc xv — 13
386 I&AAK WALTON
professed himself a member; and the occasion was this:
There was one Andrew Melvin, a minister of the Scotch
Church, and Rector of St. Andrew's; who, by a long and
constant converse with a discontented part of that clergy
which opposed episcopacy, became at last to be a chief leader
of that faction; and had proudly appeared to be so to King
James, when he was but King of that nation, who, the second
year after his coronation in England, convened a part of the
bishops, and other learned divines of his Church, to attend
him at Hampton Court, in order to a friendly conference
with some dissenting brethren, both of this and the Church
of Scotland : of which Scotch party Andrew Melvin was one ;
and he being a man of learning, and inclined to satirical
poetry, had scattered many malicious, bitter verses against
our Liturgy, our ceremonies, and our Church government;
which were by some of that party so magnified for the wit,
that they were therefore brought into Westminster School,
where Mr. George Herbert, then, and often after, made such
answers to them, and such reflections on him and his Kirk,
as might unbeguile any man that was not too deeply pre-
engaged in such a quarrel. But to return to Mr. Melvin at
Hampton Court conference : he there appeared to be a man
of an unruly wit, of a strange confidence, of so furious a
zeal, and of so ungoverned passions, that his insolence to
the King, and others at this conference, lost him both his
Rectorship of St. Andrew's and his liberty too; for his for-
mer verses, and his present reproaches there used against
the Church and State, caused him to be committed prisoner
to the Tower of London ; where he remained very angry for
three years. At which time of his commitment he found the
Lady Arabella an innocent prisoner there; and he pleased
himself much in sending, the next day after his commitment,
these two verses to the good lady; which I will underwrite,
because they may give the reader a taste of his others,
which were like these:
Casua tibi mecum est communis, carceris, Ara-
Bella, tibi causa est, Araque sacra mihi.
I shall not trouble my reader with an account of his en'
largement from that prison, or his death; but tell him Mr.
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 387
Herbert's verses were thought so worthy to be preserved,
that Dr. Duport, the learned Dean of Peterborough, hath
lately collected and caused many of them to be printed, as an
honourable memorial of his friend Mr. George Herbert, and
the cause he undertook.
And in order to my third and last observation of his great
abilities, it will be needful to declare, that about this time
King James came very often to hunt at Newmarket and
Royston, and was almost as often invited to Cambridge,
where his entertainment was comedies, suited to his pleasant
humour; and where Mr. George Herbert was to welcome
him with gratulations, and the applauses of an Orator ; which
he always performed so well, that he still grew more into
the King's favour, insomuch that he had a particular ap-
pointment to attend his Majesty at Royston; where, after a
discourse with him, his Majesty declared to his kinsman, the
Earl of Pembroke, that he found the Orator's learning and
wisdom much above his age or wit. The year following,
the King appointed to end his progress at Cambridge, and to
stay there certain days; at which time he was attended by
the great secretary of nature and all learning, Sir Francis
Bacon, Lord Verulam, and by the ever-memorable and
learned Dr. Andrews, Bishop of Winchester, both which did
at that time begin a desired friendship with our Orator.
Upon whom, the first put such a value on his judgment, that
he usually desired his approbation before he would expose
any of his books to be printed; and thought him so worthy
of his friendship, that having translated many of the Prophet
David's Psalms into English verse, he made George Herbert
his patron, by a public dedication of them to him, as the best
judge of divine poetry. And for the learned Bishop, it is
observable, that at that time there fell to be a modest debate
betwixt them two about predestination, and sanctity of life;
of both of which the Orator did, not long after, send the
Bishop some safe and useful aphorisms, in a long letter,
written in Greek; which letter was so remarkable for the
language and reason of it, that, after the reading of it,
the Bishop put it into his bosom, and did often show it to
many scholars, both of this and foreign nations; but did
always return it back to the place where he first lodged it,
388 IZAAK WALTON
and continued it so near his heart till the last day of
his life.
To this I might add the long and entire friendship betwixt
him and Sir Henry Wotton, and Dr. Donne; but I have
promised to contract myself, and shall therefore only add
one testimony to what is also mentioned in the life of Dr.
Donne ; namely, that a little before his death he caused many
seals to be made, and in them to be engraven the figure of
Christ, crucified on an anchor, — the emblem of hope, — and of
which Dr. Donne would often say, "Crux mihi anchora." —
These seals he gave or sent to most of those friends on
which he put a value; and, at Mr. Herbert's death, these
verses were found wrapt up with that seal, which was by
the Doctor given to him:
When my dear friend could write no more.
He gave this Seal and so gave o'er.
When winds and waves rise highest I am sure,
This Anchor keeps my faith, that me, secure.
At this time of being Orator, he had learned to under-
stand the Italian, Spanish, and French tongues very per-
fectly: hoping that as his predecessors, so he might in time
attain the place of a Secretary of State, he being at that
time very high in the King's favour, and not meanly valued
and loved by the most eminent and most powerful of the
court nobility. This, and the love of a court conversation,
mixed with a laudable ambition to be something more than
he then was, drew him often from Cambridge, to attend the
King wheresoever the court was, who then gave him a sine-
cure, which fell into his Majesty's disposal, I think, by the
death of the Bishop of St. Asaph. It was the same that
Queen Elizabeth had formerly given to her favourite Sir
Philip Sidney, and valued to be worth an hundred and
twenty pounds per annum. With this, and his annuity, and
the advantage of his college, and of his Oratorship, he en-
joyed his genteel humour for clothes, and court-like com-
pany, and seldom looked towards Cambridge, unless the King
were there, but then he never failed; and, at other times,
left the manage of his Orator's place to his learned friend.
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 389
Mr. Herbert Thorndike, who is now Prebend of West-
minster.
I may not omit to tell, that he had often designed to leave
the university, and decline all study, which he thought did
impair his health; for he had a body apt to a consumption,
and to fevers, and other infirmities, which he judged were
increased by his studies ; for he would often say, " He had
too thoughtful a wit; a wit like a penknife in too narrow a
sheath, too sharp for his body." But his mother would by
no means allow him to leave the university, or to travel;
and though he inclined very much to both, yet he would by
no means satisfy his own desires at so dear a rate, as to
prove an undutiful son to so affectionate a mother; but did
always submit to her wisdom. And what I have now said
may partly appear in a copy of verses in his printed poems ;
'tis one of those that bear the title of Affliction; and it
appears to be a pious reflection on God's providence, and
some passages of his life, in which he says, —
Whereas my birth and spirit rather took
The way that takes the town :
Thou didst betray me to a lingering book,
And wrapt me in a gown :
I was entangled in a world of strife,
Before I had the power to change my life.
Yet, for I threaten'd oft the siege to raise,
Not simpering all mine age ;
Thou often didst with academic praise
Melt and dissolve my rage :
I took the sweeten'd pill, till I came where
I could not go away, nor persevere.
Yet, lest perchance I should too happy be
In my unhappiness,
Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me
Into more sicknesses.
Thus doth thy power cross-bias nje^not making
Thine own gifts good, yet me from my ways taking.
Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me
None of my books will show.
I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree,
For then sure I should grow
To fruit or shade, at least some bird would trust
Her household with me, and I would be just.
390 IZAAK WALTON
Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek,
In weakness must be stout,
Well, I will change my service, and go seek
Some other master out ;
Ah, my dear God ! though I am clean forgot,
Let me not love thee, if I love thee not.
G. H.
In this time of Mr. Herbert's attendance and expectation
of some good occcasion to remove from Cambridge to court,
God, in whom there is an unseen chain of causes, did in
a short time put an end to the lives of two of his most
obliging and most powerful friends, Lodowick Duke of
Richmond, and James Marquis of Hamilton; and not long
after him King James died also, and with them all Mr. Her-
bert's court hopes : so that he presently betook himself to a
retreat from London, to a friend in Kent, where he lived
very privately, and was such a lover of solitariness, as was
judged to impair his health more than his study had done.
In this time of retirement he had many conflicts with him-
self, whether he should return to the painted pleasures of
a court life, or betake himself to a study of divinity, and
enter into sacred orders, to which his mother had often per-
suaded him. These were such conflicts as they only can
know that have endured them; for ambitious desires, and
the outward glory of this world, are not easily laid aside;
but at last God inclined him to put on a resolution to serve
at his altar.
He did, at his return to London, acquaint a court-friend
with his resolution to enter into sacred orders, who per-
suaded him to alter it, as too mean an employment, and too
much below his birth, and the excellent abilities and endow-
ments of his mind. To whom he replied, " It hath been
formerly judged that the domestic servants of the King of
Heaven should be of the noblest families on earth. And
though the iniquity of the late times have made clergymen
meanly valued, and the sacred name of priest contemptible;
yet I will labour to make it honourable, by consecrating all
my learning, and all my poor abilities to advance the glory
of that God that gave them ; knowing that I can never do
too much for him, that hath done so much for me as to
make me a Christian. And I will labour to be like my
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 391
Saviour, by making humility lovely in the eyes of all men,
and by following the merciful and meel; example of my dear
Jesus."
This was then his resolution; and the God of constancy,
who intended him for a great example of virtue, continued
him in it, for within that year he was made deacon, but the
day when, or by whom, I cannot learn; but that he was
about that time made deacon is most certain; for I find by
the records of Lincoln, that he was made Prebend of Layton
Ecclesia, in the diocese of Lincoln, July 15th, 1626, and that
this Prebend was given him by John, then Lord Bishop of
that see. And now he had a fit occasion to show that piety
and bounty that was derived from his generous mother, and
his other memorable ancestors, and the occasion was this.
This Layton Ecclesia is a village near to Spalden, in the
county of Huntingdon, and the greatest part of the parish
church was fallen down, and that of it which stood was so
decayed, so little, and so useless, that the parishioners could
not meet to perform their duty to God in public prayer and
praises; and thus it had been for almost twenty years, in
which time there had been some faint endeavours for a
public collection to enable the parishioners to rebuild it; but
with no success, till Mr. Herbert undertook it; and he, by
his own, and the contribution of many of his kindred, and
other noble friends, undertook the re-edification of it; and
made it so much his whole business, that he became restless
till he saw it finished as it now stands; being for the work-
manship, a costly mosaic; for the form, an exact cross; and
for the decency and beauty, I am assured, it is the most
remarkable parish church that this nation affords. He lived
to see it so wainscotted as to be exceeded by none, and, by
his order, the reading pew and pulpit were a little distance
from each other, and both of an equal height; for he would
often say, " They should neither have a precedency or
priority of the other; but that prayer and preaching, being
equally useful, might agree like brethren, and have an equal
honour and estimation."
Before I proceed further, I must look back to the time of
Mr. Herbert's being made Prebend, and tell the reader, that
not long after, his mother being informed of his intentions
392 IZAAK WALTON
to rebuild that church, and apprehending the great trouble
and charge that he was like to draw upon himself, his rela-
tions and friends, before it could be finished, sent for him
from London to Chelsea, — where she then dwelt, — and at
his coming, said, " George, I sent for you, to persuade you
to commit simony, by giving your patron as good a gift as
he has given to you ; namely, that you give him back his pre-
bend; for, George, it is not for your weak body, and empty
purse, to undertake to build churches." Of which, he desired
he might have a day's time to consider, and then make her
an answer. And at his return to her the next day, when he
had first desired her blessing, and she given it him, his next
request was, " That she would, at the age of thirty-three
years, allow him to become an undutiful son; for he had
made a vow to God, that, if he were able, he would rebuild
that church." And then showed her such reasons for his
resolution, that she presently subscribed to be one of his
benefactors; and undertook to solicit William Earl of Pem-
broke to become another, who subscribed for fifty pounds;
and not long after, by a witty and persuasive letter from Mr.
Herbert, made it fifty pounds more. And in this nomination
of some of his benefactors, James Duke of Lenox, and his
brother, Sir Henry Herbert, ought to be remembered; as
also the bounty of Mr. Nicholas Farrer, and Mr. Arthur
Woodnot: the one a gentleman in the neighbourhood of
Layton, and the other a goldsmith in Foster Lane, London,
ought not to be forgotten: for the memory of such men
ought to outlive their lives. Of Mr. Farrer I shall here-
after give an account in a more seasonable place ; but before
I proceed further, I will give this short account of Mr.
Arthur Woodnot.
He was a man that had considered overgrown estates do
often require more care and watchfulness to preserve than
get them, and considered that there be many discontents
that riches cure not; and did therefore set limits to himself,
as to desire of wealth. And having attained so much as to
be able to show some mercy to the poor, and preserve a com-
petence for himself, he dedicated the remaining part of his
life to the service of God, and to be useful to his friends ; and
he proved to be so to Mr. Herbert; for besides his own
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 393
bounty, he collected and returned most of the money that
was paid for the rebuilding of that church; he kept all the
account of the charges, and would often go down to state
them, and see all the workmen paid. When I have said that
this good man was a useful friend to Mr. Herbert's father,
and to his mother, and continued to be so to him, till he
closed his eyes on his death-bed, I will forbear to say more,
till I have the next fair occasion to mention the holy friend-
ship that was betwixt him and Mr. Herbert. From whom
Mr. Woodnot carried to his mother this following letter,
and delivered it to her in a sickness, which was not long
before that which proved to be her last: —
A Letter of Mr. George Herbert to his mother, in her
sickness.
" Madam,
" At my last parting from you, I was the better content,
because I was in hope I should myself carry all sickness out
of your family: but since I know I did not, and that your
share continues, or rather increaseth, I wish earnestly that I
were again with you ; and would quickly make good my wish,
but that my employment does fix me here, it being now but
a month to our commencement : wherein my absence, by how
much it naturally augmenteth suspicion, by so much shall it
make my prayers the more constant and the more earnest
for you to the God of all consolation. In the meantime, I
beseech you to be cheerful, and comfort yourself in the God
of all comfort, who is not willing to behold any sorrow but
for sin. — What hath affliction grievous in it more than for a
moment? or why should our afflictions here have so much
power or boldness as to oppose the hope of our joys here-
after ? Madam, as the earth is but a point in respect of the
heavens, so are earthly troubles compajed to heavenly joys ;
therefore, if either age or sickness lead you to those joys,
consider what advantage you have over youth and health,
who are now so near those true comforts. Your last letter
gave me earthly preferment, and I hope kept heavenly for
yourself : but would you divide and choose too? Our college
customs allow not that: and I should account myself most
394 IZAAK WALTON
happy, if I might change with you; for I have always ob-
served the thread of life to be like other threads or skeins
of silk, full of snarles and incumbrances. Happy is he whose
bottom is wound up, and laid ready for work in the New
Jerusalem. For myself, dear mother, I always feared sick-
ness more than death, because sickness hath made me unable
to perform those offices for which I came into the world,
and must yet be kept in it; but you are freed from that fear,
who have already abundantly discharged that part, having
both ordered your family and so brought up your children,
that they have attained to the years of discretion, and com-
petent maintenance. So that now, if they do not well, the
fault cannot be charged on you, whose example and care of
them will justify you both to the world and your own con-
science; insomuch that, whether you turn your thoughts on
the life past, or on the joys that are to come, you have
strong preservatives against all disquiet. And for temporal
afflictions, I beseech you consider, all that can happen to
you are either afflictions of estate, or body, or mind. For
those of estate, of what poor regard ought they to be? since,
if we had riches, we are commanded to give them away: so
that the best use of them is having, not to have them. But
perhaps, being above the common people, our credit and
estimation calls on us to live in a more splendid fashion : but,
O God ! how easily is that answered, when we consider that
the blessings in the holy scripture are never given to the
rich, but to the poor. I never find ' Blessed be the rich,' or
' Blessed be the noble' ; but ' Blessed be the meek,' and
* Blessed be the poor,' and ' Blessed be the mourners, for
they shall be comforted.' And yet, O God ! most carry them-
selves so as if they not only not desired, but even feared to
be blessed. And for afflictions of the body, dear madam,
remember the holy martyrs of God, how they have been
burned by thousands, and have endured such other tortures,
as the very mention of them might beget amazement; but
their fiery trials have had an end ; and yours — which, praised
be God, are less — are not like to continue long. I beseech
you, let such thoughts as these moderate your present fear
and sorrow; and know that if any of yours should prove a
Goliah-like trouble, yet you may say with David, ' That God,
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 395
who hath delivered me out of the paws of the lion and bear,
will also deliver me out of the hands of this uncircumcised
Philistine.' Lastly, for those afflictions of the soul ; consider
that God intends that to be as a sacred temple for himself
to dwell in, and will not allow any room there for such an
inmate as grief; or allow that any sadness shall be his com-
petitor. And, above all, if any care of future things molest
you, remember those admirable words of the Psalmist: ' Cast
thy care on the Lord, and he shall nourish thee.' 1 To which
join that of St. Peter, ' Casting all your care on the Lord,
for he careth for you.' 2 What an admirable thing is this,
that God puts his shoulder to our burden, and entertains our
care for us, that we may the more quietly intend his service !
To conclude, let me commend only one place more to you:
Philipp. iv. 4. St. Paul saith there, ' Rejoice in the Lord
always: and again I say, Rejoice.' He doubles it, to take
away the scruple of those that might say, What, shall we
rejoice in afflictions? Yes, I say again, rejoice; so that it
is not left to us to rejoice, or not rejoice ; but, whatsoever
befalls us, we must always, at all times, rejoice in the Lord,
who taketh care for us. And it follows in the next verses:
' Let your moderation appear to all men : The Lord is at
hand : Be careful for nothing.' What can be said more com-
fortably? Trouble not yourselves; God is at hand to deliver
us from all, or in all. Dear madam, pardon my boldness,
and accept the good meaning of
Your most obedient son,
Trin. Coll., George Herbert."
May 25 th, 1622.
About the year 1629, and the thirty-fourth of his age, Mr.
Herbert was seized with a sharp quotidian ague, and thought
to remove it by the change of air ; to which end he went to
Woodford in Essex, but thither more chiefly to enjoy the
company of his beloved brother, Sir Henry Herbert, and
other friends then of that family. In his house he remained
about twelve months, and there became his own physician,
and cured himself of his ague, by forbearing to drink, and
not eating any meat, no not mutton, nor a hen, or pigeon,
unless they were salted; and by such a constant diet he re-
1 Psalm lv. 22. *i Peter v ; 7
396 IZAAK WALTON
moved his ague, but with inconveniences that were worse;
for he brought upon himself a disposition to rheums, and
other weaknesses, and a supposed consumption. And it is
to be noted that in the sharpest of his extreme fits he would
often say, "Lord, abate my great affliction, or increase my pa-
tience : but Lord, I repine not ; I am dumb, Lord, before thee,
because thou doest it." By which, and a sanctified submis-
sion to the will of God, he showed he was inclinable to bear the
sweet yoke of Christian discipline, both then and in the latter
part of his life, of which there will be many true testimonies-.
And now his care was to recover from his consumption,
by a change from Woodford into such an air as was most
proper to that end. And his remove was to Dauntsey in
Wiltshire, a noble house, which stands in a choice air; the
owner of it then was the Lord Danvers, Earl of Danby,
who loved Mr. Herbert so very much, that he allowed him such
an apartment in it as might best suit with his accommodation
and liking. And in this place, by a spare diet, declining all
perplexing studies, moderate exercise, and a cheerful con-
versation, his health was apparently improved to a good
degree of strength and cheerfulness. And then he declared
his resolution both to marry and to enter into the sacred
orders of priesthood. These had long been the desire of his
mother and his other relations; but she lived not to see
either, for she died in the year 1627. And though he was
disobedient to her about Layton Church, yet, in conformity
to her will, he kept his Orator's place till after her death,
and then presently declined it; and the more willingly that
he might be succeeded by his friend Robert Creighton, who
now is Dr. Creighton, and the worthy Bishop of Wells.
I shall now proceed to his marriage; in order to which, it
will be convenient that I first give the reader a short view
of his person, and then an account of his wife, and of some
circumstances concerning both. He was for his person of a
stature inclining towards tallness ; his body was very straight,
and so far from being cumbered with too much flesh, that
he was lean to an extremity. His aspect was cheerful, and
his speech and motion did both declare him a gentleman ;
for they were all so meek and obliging, that they purchased
love and respect from all that knew him.
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 397
These, and his other visible virtues, begot him much love
from a gentleman of a noble fortune, and a near kinsman to
his friend the Earl of Danby; namely, from Mr. Charles
Danvers of Bainton, in the county of Wilts, Esq. This Mr.
Danvers, having known him long, and familiarly, did so
much affect him, that he often and publicly declared a desire
that Mr. Herbert would marry any of his nine daughters, —
for he had so many, — but rather his daughter Jane than any
other, because Jane was his beloved daughter. And he had
often said the same to Mr. Herbert himself; and that if he
could like her for a wife, and she him for a husband, Jane
should have a double blessing: and Mr. Danvers had so
often said the like to Jane, and so much commended Mr.
Herbert to her, that Jane became so much a platonic as to
fall in love with Mr. Herbert unseen.
This was a fair preparation for a marriage; but, alas! her
father died before Mr. Herbert's retirement to Dauntsey:
yet some friends to both parties procured their meeting; at
which time a mutual affection entered into both their hearts,
as a conqueror enters into a surprised city ; and love having
got such possession, governed, and made there such laws
and resolutions as neither party was able to resist; inso-
much, that she changed her name into Herbert the third
day after this first interview.
This haste might in others be thought a love-frenzy, or
worse ; but it was not, for they had wooed so like princes,
as to have select proxies; such as were true friends to both
parties, such as well understood Mr. Herbert's and her
temper of mind, and also their estates, so well before this
interview, that the suddenness was justifiable by the strictest
rules of prudence ; and the more, because it proved so happy
to both parties ; for the eternal lover of mankind made them
happy in each other's mutual and equal affections, and com-
pliance ; indeed, so happy, that there never was any opposi-
tion betwixt them, unless it were a contest which should
most incline to a compliance with the other's desires. And
though this begot, and continued in them, such a mutual
love, and joy, and content, as was no way defective ; yet
this mutual content, and love, and joy, did receive a daily
augmentation, by such daily obligingness to each other, as
398 IZAAK WALTON
still added such new affluences to the former fulness of these
divine souls, as was only improvable in heaven, where they
now enjoy it.
About three months after this marriage, Dr. Curie, who
was then Rector of Bemerton, in Wiltshire, was made Bishop
of Bath and Wells, and not long after translated to Win-
chester, and by that means the presentation of a clerk to
Bemerton did not fall to the Earl of Pembroke, — who was
the undoubted patron of it, — but to the King, by reason of
Dr. Curie's advancement : but Philip, then Earl of Pembroke,
— for William was lately dead — requested the King to be-
stow it upon his kinsman George Herbert; and the King
said, " Most willingly to Mr. Herbert, if it be worth his ac-
ceptance;" and the Earl as willingly and suddenly sent it
him, without seeking. But though Mr. Herbert had formerly
put on a resolution for the clergy ; yet, at receiving this
presentation, the apprehension of the last great account, that
he was to make for the cure of so many souls, made him
fast and pray often, and consider for not less than a month :
in which time he had some resolutions to decline both the
priesthood and that living. And in this time of considering,
"he endured," as he would often say, "such spiritual conflicts
as none can think, but only those that have endured them."
In the midst of these conflicts, his old and dear friend, Mr.
Arthur Woodnot, took a journey to salute him at Bainton, —
where he then was with his wife's friends and relations — and
was joyful to be an eye-witness of his health and happy
marriage. And after they had rejoiced together some few
days, they took a journey to Wilton, the famous seat of the
Earls of Pembroke; at which time the King, the Earl, and
the whole court were there, or at Salisbury, which is near
to it. And at this time Mr. Herbert presented his thanks
to the Earl for his presentation to Bemerton, but had not
yet resolved to accept it, and told him the reason why: but
that night, the Earl acquainted Dr. Laud, then Bishop of
London, and after Archbishop of Canterbury, with his kins-
man's irresolution. And the Bishop did the next day so
convince Mr. Herbert that the refusal of it was sin, that a
tailor was sent for to come speedily from Salisbury to
Wilton, to make measure, and make him canonical clothes
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 399
against next day; which the tailor did: and Mr. Herbert
being so habited, went with his presentation to the learned
Dr. Davenant, who was then Bishop of Salisbury, and he
gave him institution immediately, — for Mr. Herbert had
been made deacon some years before, — and he was also the
same day — which was April 26th, 1630 — inducted into the
good, and more pleasant than healthful, parsonage of Bem-
erton, which is a mile from Salisbury.
I have now brought him to the parsonage of Bemerton,
and to the thirty-sixth year of his age, and must stop here,
and bespeak the reader to prepare for an almost incredible
story, of the great sanctity of the short remainder of his holy
life; a life so full of charity, humility, and all Christian vir-
tues, that it deserves the eloquence of St. Chrysostom to
commend and declare it : a life, that if it were related by a
pen like his, there would then be no need for this age to
look back into times past for the examples of primitive
piety; for they might be all found in the life of George
Herbert. But now, alas! who is fit to undertake it? I
confess I am not; and am not pleased with myself that I
must; and profess myself amazed when I consider how few
of the clergy lived like him then, and how many live so
unlike him now. But it becomes not me to censure : my de-
sign is rather to assure the reader that I have used very
great diligence to inform myself, that I might inform him
of the truth of what follows ; and though I cannot adorn it
with eloquence, yet I will do it with sincerity.
When at his induction he was shut into Bemerton Church,
being left there alone to toll the bell, — as the law requires
him, — he stayed so much longer than an ordinary time, be-
fore he returned to those friends that stayed expecting him
at the church door, that his friend Mr. Woodnot looked in
at the church window, and saw him lie prostrate on the
ground before the altar; at which time and place — as he
after told Mr. Woodnot — he set some rules to himself, for
the future manage of his life ; and then and there made a
vow to labour to keep them.
And the same night that he had his induction, he said to
Mr. Woodnot, " I now look back upon my aspiring thoughts,
and think myself more happy than if I had attained what
400 IZAAX WALTON
then I so ambitiously thirsted for. And I now caa behold
the court with an impartial eye, and see plainly that it is
made up of fraud and titles, and flattery, and many other
such empty, imaginary, painted pleasures ; pleasures that are
so empty as not to satisfy when they are enjoyed. But in
God, and his service, is a fulness of all joy and pleasure,
and no satiety. And I will now use all my endeavours to
bring my relations and dependants to a love and reliance on
him, who never fails those that trust him. But above all,
I will be sure to live well, because the virtuous life of a
clergyman is the most powerful eloquence to persuade all
that see it to reverence and love, and at least to desire to
live like him. And this I will do, because I know we live
in an age that hath more need of good examples than pre-
cepts. And I beseech that God, who hath honoured me so
much as to call me to serve him at his altar, that as by his
special grace he hath put into my heart these good desires
and resolutions ; so he will, by his assisting grace, give me
ghostly strength to bring the same to good effect. And I be-
seech him, that my humble and charitable life may so win upon
others, as to bring glory to my Jesus, whom I have this day
taken to be my master and governor; and I am so proud of his
service, that I will always observe, and obey, and do his will ;
and always call him, Jesus my Master ; and I will always con-
temn my birth, or any title or dignity that can be conferred
upon me, when I shall compare them with my title of being a
priest, and serving at the altar of Jesus my Master."
And that he did so may appear in- many parts of his book
of Sacred Poems: especially in that which he calls " The
Odour." In which he seems to rejoice in the thoughts of
that word Jesus, and say, that the adding these words, my
master, to it, and the often repetition of them, seemed to
perfume his mind, and leave an oriental fragrancy in his
very breath. And for his unforced choice to serve at God's
altar, he seems in another place of his poems, "The Pearl "
(Matt. xiii. 45, 46), to rejoice and say: "He knew the ways
of learning; knew what nature does willingly, and what,
when it is forced by fire; knew the ways of honour, and
when glory inclines the soul to noble expressions: knew the
court: knew the ways of pleasure, of love, of wit, of music.
UFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 401
and upon what terms he declined all these for the service
of his master Jesus": and then concludes, saying:
That, through these labyrinths, not my grovelling wit,
But thy silk twist, let down from Heaven to me,
Did both conduct, and teach me, how by it
To climb to thee.
The third day after he was made Rector of Bemerton,
and had changed his sword and silk clothes into a canonical
coat, he returned so habited with his friend Mr. Woodnot
to Bainton ; and immediately after he had seen and saluted
his wife, he said to her — " You are now a minister's wife,
and must now so far forget your father's house as not to
claim a precedence of any of your parishioners ; for you are
to know, that a priest's wife can challenge no precedence or
place, but that which she purchases by her obliging hu-
mility; and I am sure, places so purchased do best become
them. And let me tell you, that I am so good a herald, as
to assure you that this is truth." And she was so meek a
wife, as to assure him, " it was no vexing news to her, and
that he should see her observe it with a cheerful willing-
ness." And, indeed, her unforced humility, that humility
that was in her so original, as to be born with her, made
her so happy as to do so ; and her doing so begot her an
unfeigned love, and a serviceable respect from all that
conversed with her; and this love followed her in all places,
as inseparably as shadows follow substances in sunshine.
It was not many days before he returned back to Bemer-
ton, to view the church and repair the chancel: and indeed
to rebuild almost three parts of his house, which was fallen
down, or decayed by reason of his predecessor's living at a
better parsonage-house; namely, at Minal, sixteen or twenty
miles from this place. At which time of Mr. Herbert's
coming alone to Bemerton, there came, to him a poor old
woman, with an intent to acquaint him with her necessitous
condition, as also with some troubles of her mind : but after
she had spoke some few words to him, she was surprised
with a fear, and that begot a shortness of breath, so that
her spirits and speech failed her; which he perceiving, did
so compassionate her, and was so humble, that he took her
402 IZAAK WALTON
by the hand, and said, " Speak, good mother ; be not afraid
to speak to me; for I am a man that will hear you with
patience; and will relieve your necessities too, if I be able:
and this I will do willingly; and therefore, mother, be not
afraid to acquaint me with what you desire." After which
comfortable speech, he again took her by the hand, made
her sit down by him, and understanding she was of his
parish, he told her " He would be acquainted with her, and
take her into his care." And having with patience heard
and understood her wants, — and it is some relief for a poor
body to be but heard with patience, — he, like a Christian
clergyman, comforted her by his meek behaviour and coun-
sel; but because that cost him nothing, he relieved her with
money too, and so sent her home with a cheerful heart,
praising God, and praying for him. Thus worthy, and —
like David's blessed man — thus lowly, was Mr. George Her-
bert in his own eyes, and thus lovely in the eyes of others.
At his return that night to his wife at Bainton, he gave
her an account of the passages betwixt him and the poor
woman ; with which she was so affected, that she went next
day to Salisbury, and there bought a pair of blankets, and
sent them as a token of her love to the poor woman ; and
with them a message, " that she would see and be acquainted
with her, when her house was built at Bemerton."
There be many such passages both of him and his wife,
of which some few will be related : but I shall first tell, that
he hasted to get the parish church repaired; then to beautify
the chapel, — which stands near his house, — and that at his
own great charge. He then proceeded to rebuild the great-
est part of the parsonage-house, which he did also very com-
pletely, and at his own charge ; and having done this good
work, he caused these verses to be writ upon, or engraven
in, the mantel of the chimney in his hall.
TO MY SUCCESSOR
If thou chance for to find
A new house to thy mind,
And built without thy cost;
Be good to the poor,
As God gives thee store,
And then my labour's not lost.
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 403
We will now, by the reader's favour, suppose him fixed at
Bemerton, and grant him to have seen the church repaired,
and the chapel belonging to it very decently adorned at his
own great charge, — which is a real truth ; — and having now
fixed him there, I shall proceed to give an account of the
rest of his behaviour, both to his parishioners, and those
many others that knew and conversed with him.
Doubtless Mr. Herbert had considered, and given rules to
himself for his Christian carriage both to God and man, be-
fore he entered into holy orders. And 'tis not unlike, but
that he renewed those resolutions at his prostration before
the holy altar, at his induction into the church of Bemerton :
but as yet he was but a deacon, and therefore longed for the
next ember-week, that he might be ordained priest, and
make capable of administering both the sacraments. At
which time the Reverend Dr. Humphrey Henchman, now
Lord Bishop of London, — who does not mention him but
with some veneration for his life and excellent learning, —
tells me, " He laid his hand on Mr. Herbert's head, and,
alas ! within less than three years lent his shoulder to carry
his dear friend to his grave."
And that Mr. Herbert might the better preserve those
holy rules which such a priest as he intended to be ought
to observe ; and that time might not insensibly blot them out
of his memory, but that the next year might show him his
variations from this year's resolutions ; he therefore did set
down his rules, then resolved upon, in that order as the
world now sees them printed in a little book, called The
Country Parson; in which some of his rules are:
The Parson's knowledge. The Parson arguing.
The Parson on Sundays. The Parson condescending.
The Parson praying. The Parson in his journey.
The Parson preaching. The Parson in his mirth.
The Parson's charity. The Parson, with his Church-
The Parson comforting the wardens.
sick. The Parson blessing the people.
And his behaviour towards God and man may be said to be
a practical comment on these, and the other holy rules set
down in that useful book: a book so full of plain, prudent,
and useful rules, that that country parson that can spare
404 IZAAK WALTON
twelve pence, and yet wants it, is scarce excusable; because
it will both direct him what he ought to do, and convince
him for not having done it.
At the death of Mr. Herbert this book fell into the hands
of his friend Mr. Woodnot; and he commended it into the
trusty hands of Mr. Barnabas Oley, who published it with a
most conscientious and excellent preface ; from which I have
had some of those truths, that are related in this life of Mr.
Herbert. The text of his first sermon was taken out of
Solomon's Proverbs, chap. iv. 23, and the words were, " Keep
thy heart with all diligence." In which first sermon he gave
his parishioners many necessary, holy, safe rules for the dis-
charge of a good conscience, both to God and man; and
delivered his sermon after a most florid manner, both with
great learning and eloquence ; but, at the close of this ser-
mon, told them, " That should not be his constant way of
preaching; for since Almighty God does not intend to lead
men to heaven by hard questions, he would not therefore
fill their heads with unnecessary notions; but that, for their
sakes, his language and his expressions should be more plain
and practical in his future sermons." And he then made it
his humble request, " That they would be constant to the
afternoon's service, and catechising;" and showed them con-
vincing reasons why he desired it; and his obliging example
and persuasions brought them to a willing conformity to his
desires.
The texts for all his future sermons — which God knows
were not many — were constantly taken out of the gospel for
the day; and he did as constantly declare why the Church
did appoint that portion of scripture to be that day read;
and in what manner the collect for every Sunday does refer
to the gospel, or to the epistle then read to them; and, that
they might pray with understanding, he did usually take oc-
casion to explain, not only the collect for every particular
Sunday, but the reasons of all the other collects and re-
sponses in our Church service ; and made it appear to them
that the whole service of the Church was a reasonable, and
therefore an acceptable sacrifice to God : as namely, that we
begin with "Confession of ourselves to be vile, miserable
sinners;" and that we begin so, because, till we have con-
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 405
fessed ourselves to be such, we are not capable of that mercy
which we acknowledge we need, and pray for: but having,
in the prayer of our Lord, begged pardon for those sins
which we have confessed; and hoping, that as the priest hath
declared our absolution, so by our public confession, and
real repentance, we have obtained that pardon ; then we dare
and do proceed to beg of the Lord, "to open our lips, that
our mouth may show forth his praise;" for till then we are
neither able nor worthy to praise him. But this being sup-
posed, we are then fit to say, "Glory be to the Father, and to
the Son, and to the Holy Ghost;" and fit to proceed to a
further service of our God, in the collects, and psalms, and
lauds, that follow in the service.
And as to the psalms and lauds, he proceeded to inform
them why they were so often, and some of them daily, re-
peated in our Church service; namely, the psalms every
month, because they be an historical and thankful repetition
of mercies past, and such a composition of prayers and
praises, as ought to be repeated often, and publicly ; for with
such sacrifice God is honoured and well-pleased. This for the
psalms.
And for the hymns and lauds appointed to be daily re-
peated or sung after the first and second lessons are read to
the congregation ; he proceeded to inform them, that it was
most reasonable, after they have heard the will and goodness
of God declared or preached by the priest in his reading the
two chapters, that it was then a seasonable duty to rise
up, and express their gratitude to Almighty God for those
his mercies to them, and to all mankind ; and then to say
with the Blessed Virgin, "that their souls do magnify the
Lord, and that their spirits do also rejoice in God their
Saviour:" and that it was their duty also to rejoice with
Simeon in his song; and say with him, " That their eyes
have" also "seen their salvation ;" for they have seen that
salvation which was but prophesied till his time: and he
then broke out into these expressions of joy that he did see
it ; but they live to see it daily in the history of it, and there-
fore ought daily to rejoice, and daily to offer up their sacri-
fices of praise to their God, for that particular mercy. A
service, which is now the constant employment of that
406 IZAAK WALTON
Blessed Virgin and Simeon, and all those blessed saints that
are possessed of heaven : and where they are at this time
interchangeably and constantly singing, "Holy, holy, holy,
Lord God; glory be to God on high, and on earth peace."
And he taught them that to do this was an acceptable service
to God, because the Prophet David says in his Psalms, "He
that praiseth the Lord honoureth him."
He made them to understand how happy they be that are
freed from the encumbrances of that law which our fore-
fathers groaned under : namely, from the legal sacrifices,
and from the many ceremonies of the Levitical law; freed
from circumcision, and from the strict observation of the
Jewish Sabbath, and the like. And he made them know, that
having received so many and great blessings, by being born
since the days of our Saviour, it must be an acceptable sac-
rifice to Almighty God, for them to acknowledge those bless-
ings daily, and stand up and worship, and say as Zacharias
did, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he hath — in our
days — visited and redeemed his people; and — he hath in our
days — remembered, and showed that mercy, which by the
mouth of the prophets he promised to our forefathers; and
this he has done according to his holy covenant made with
them." And he made them to understand that we live to
see and enjoy the benefit of it, in his birth, in his life, his
passion, his resurrection, and ascension into heaven, where
he now sits sensible of all our temptations and infirmities;
and where he is at this present time making intercession for
us, to his and our Father : and therefore they ought daily to
express their public gratulations, and say daily with Zacha-
rias, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, that hath thus
visited and thus redeemed his people." These were some of
the reasons by which Mr. Herbert instructed his congrega-
tion for the use of the psalms and hymns appointed to be
daily sung or said in the Church service.
He informed them also when the priest did pray only
for the congregation, and not for himself; and when they
did only pray for him ; as namely, after the repetition of the
creed before he proceeds to pray the Lord's Prayer, or any
of the appointed collects, the priest is directed to kneel down
and pray for them, saying, "The Lord be with you;" and
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 407
when they pray for him, saying, "And with thy spirit;" and
then they join together in the following collects: and he
assured them, that when there is such mutual love, and such
joint prayers offered for each other, then the holy angels
look down from heaven, and are ready to carry such char-
itable desires to God Almighty, and he is ready to receive
them; and that a Christian congregation calling thus upon
God with one heart, and one voice, and in one reverent and
humble posture, looks as beautifully as Jerusalem, that is at
peace with itself.
He instructed them also why the prayer of our Lord is
prayed often in every full service of the Church ; namely, at
the conclusion of the several parts of that service; and
prayed then, not only because it was composed and com-
manded by our Jesus that made it, but as a perfect pattern
for our less perfect forms of prayer, and therefore fittest to
sum up and conclude all our imperfect petitions.
He instructed them also, that as by the second command-
ment we are required not to bow down, or worship an idol,
or false God; so, by the contrary rule, we are to bow down
and kneel, or stand up and worship the true God. And he
instructed them why the Church required the congregation
to stand up at the repetition of the creeds ; namely, because
they thereby declare both their obedience to the Church,
and an assent to that faith into which they had been bap-
tized. And he taught them, that in that shorter creed or
doxology, so often repeated daily, they also stood up to tes-
tify their belief to be, that "the God that they trusted in was
one God, and three persons; the Father, the Son, and the
Holy Ghost ; to whom they and the priest gave glory." And
because there had been heretics that had denied some of those
three persons to be God, therefore the congregation stood
up and honoured him, by confessing and saying, "It was so
in the beginning, is now so, and shall evef be so, world with-
out end." And all gave their assent to this belief, by stand-
ing up and saying Amen.
He instructed them also what benefit they had by the
Church's appointing the celebration of holy-days and the
excellent use of them, namely, that they were set apart for
particular commemorations of particular mercies received
iOS IZAAK WALTON
from Almighty God; and — as Reverend Mr. Hooker says —
to be the landmarks to distinguish times; for by them we
are taught to take notice how time passes by us, and that
we ought not to let the years pass without a celebration of
praise for those mercies which those days give us occasion
to remember, and therefore they were to note that the year
is appointed to begin the 25th day of March ; a day in which
we commemorate the angel's appearing to the Blessed Air-
gin, with the joyful tidings that "she should conceive and
bear a son, that should be the redeemer of mankind." And
she did so forty weeks after this joyful salutation; namely,
at our Christmas; a day in which we commemorate his
birth with joy and praise: and that eight days after this
happy birth we celebrate his circumcision ; namely, in that
which we call Xew Year's day. And that, upon that day
which we call Twelfth day, we commemorate the manifesta-
tion of the unsearchable riches of Jesus to the Gentiles : and
that that day we also celebrate the memory of his goodness
in sending a star to guide the three wise men from the east
to Bethlehem, that they might there worship, and present
him with their oblation of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
And he — Mr. Herbert — instructed them that Jesus was forty
days after his birth presented by his blessed mother in the
temple ; namely, on that day which we call ''The Purification
or the Blessed Virgin, Saint Mary." And he instructed them
that by the Lent-fast we imitate and commemorate our
Saviour's humiliation in fasting forty days ; and that we
ought to endeavour to be like him in purity: and that on
Good Friday we commemorate and condole his crucifixion ;
and on Easter commemorate his glorious resurrection. And
he taught them that after Jesus had manifested himself to
his disciples to be "that Christ that was crucified, dead and
buried;" and by his appearing and conversing with his dis-
ciples for the space of forty days after his resurrection, he
then, and not till then, ascended into heaven in the sight of
those disciples ; namely, on that day which we call the ascen-
sion, or Holy Thursday. And that we then celebrate the
performance of the promise which he made to his disciples
at or before his ascension ; namely, "that though he left them,
yet he would send them the Holy Ghost to be their com-
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 409
forter;" and that he did so on that day which the Church
calls Whitsunday. Thus the Church keeps an historical and
circular commemoration of times, as they pass by us; of such
times as ought to incline us to occasional praises, for the
particular blessings which we do, or might receive, by those
holy commemorations.
He made them know also why the Church hath appointed
ember-weeks; and to know the reason why the command-
ments, and the epistles and gospels, were to be read at the
altar or communion table : why the priest was to pray the
Litany kneeling; and why to pray some collects standing:
and he gave them many other observations, fit for his plain
congregation, but not fit for me now to mention; for I must
set limits to my pen, and not make that a treatise which I
intended to be a much shorter account than I have made it;
but I have done, when I have told the reader that he was
constant in catechising every Sunday in the afternoon, and
that his catechising was after his second lesson, and in the
pulpit; and that he never exceeded his half-hour, and was
always so happy as to have an obedient and full con"
gregation.
And to this I must add, that if he were at any time too
zealous in his sermons, it was in reproving the indecencies
of the people's behaviour in the time of divine service; and
of those ministers that huddle up the Church prayers, with-
out a visible reverence and affection ; namely, such as seemed
to say the Lord's Prayer or a collect in a breath. But for
himself, his custom was to stop betwixt every collect, and
give the people time to consider what they had prayed, and to
force their desires affectionately to God, before he engaged
them into new petitions.
And by this account of his diligence to make his parishion-
ers understand what they prayed, and why they praised and
adored their Creator, I hope I shall the more easily obtain
the reader's belief to the following account of Mr. Herbert's
own practice; which was to appear constantly with his wife
and three nieces — the daughters of a deceased sister — and
his whole family, twice every day at the Church prayers in
the chapel, which does almost join his parsonage-house.
And for the time of his appearing, it was strictly at the can-
410 IZAAK WALTON
onical hours of ten and four: and then and there he lifted
up pure and charitable hands to God in the midst of the con-
gregation. And he would joy to have spent that time in that
place, where the honour of his master Jesus dwelleth ; and
there, by that inward devotion which he testified constantly
by an humble behaviour and visible adoration, he, like
Joshua, brought not only "his own household thus to serve
the Lord;" but brought most of his parishioners, and many
gentlemen in the neighbourhood, constantly to make a part
of his congregation twice a day : and some of the meaner
sort of his parish did so love and reverence Mr. Herbert,
that they would let their plough rest when Mr. Herbert's
saint's-bell rung to prayers, that they might also offer their
devotions to God with him; and would then return back to
their plough. And his most holy life was such, that it begot
such reverence to God, and to him, that fhey thought them-
selves the happier when they carried Mr. Herbert's blessing
back with them to their labour. Thus powerful was his
reason and example to persuade others to a practical piety
and devotion.
And his constant public prayers did never make him to
neglect his own private devotions, nor those prayers that he
thought himself bound to perform with his family, which
always were a set form, and not long; and he did always
conclude them with a collect which the Church hath appointed
for the day or week. Thus he made every day's sanctity a
step towards that kingdom, where impurity cannot enter.
His chiefest recreation was music, in which heavenly art he
was a most excellent master, and did himself compose many
divine hymns and anthems, which he set and sung to his lute
or viol : and though he was a lover of retiredness, yet his
love to music was such, that he went usually twice every
week, on certain appointed days, to the Cathedral Church
in Salisbury; and at his return would say, "That his time
spent in prayer, and cathedral-music, elevated his soul, and
was his heaven upon earth." But before his return thence
to Bemerton, he would usually sing and play his part at an
appointed private music-meeting; and, to justify this prac-
tice, he would often say, " Religion does not banish mirth, but
only moderates and sets rules to it."
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 411
And as his desire to enjoy his heaven upon earth drew
him twice every week to Salisbury, so his walks thither were
the occasion of many happy accidents to others; of which
I will mention some few.
In one of his walks to Salisbury, he overtook a gentleman,
that is still living in that city; and in their walk together,
Mr. Herbert took a fair occasion to talk with him, and hum-
bly begged to be excused, if he asked him some account of
his faith ; and said, "I do this the rather because though you
are not of my parish, yet I receive tithe from you by the
hand of your tenant; and, sir, I am the bolder to do it, be-
cause I know there be some sermon-bearers that be like those
fishes that always live in salt water, and yet are always
fresh."
After which expression, Mr. Herbert asked him some
needful questions, and having received his answer, gave him
such rules for the trial of his sincerity, and for a practical
piety, and in so loving and meek a manner, that the gentle-
man did so fall in love with him, and his discourse, that he
would often contrive to meet him in his walk to Salisbury,
or to attend him back to Bemerton; and still mentions the
name of Mr. George Herbert with veneration, and still
praiseth God for the occasion of knowing him.
In another of his Salisbury walks he met with a neighbour
minister; and after some friendly discourse betwixt them,
and some condolement for the decay of piety, and too gen-
eral contempt of the clergy, Mr. Herbert took occasion to
say:
" One cure for these distempers would be for the clergy
themselves to keep the ember-weeks strictly, and beg of their
parishioners to join with them in fasting and prayers for a
more religious clergy.
"And another cure would be for themselves to restore the
great and neglected duty of catechising; on which the salva-
tion of so many of the poor and ignorant lay-people does de-
pend; but principally, that the clergy themselves would be
sure to live unblamably ; and that the dignified clergy espe-
cially which preach temperance would avoid surfeiting and
take all occasions to express a visible humility and charity
in their lives; for this would force a love and an imitation,
412 IZAAK WALTON
and an unfeigned reverence from all that knew them to be
such." (And for proof of this, we need no other testimony
than the life and death of Dr. Lake, late Lord Bishop of
Bath and Wells.) "This," said Mr. Herbert, "would be a
cure for the wickedness and growing atheism of our age.
And, my dear brother, till this be done by us, and done in
earnest, let no man expect a reformation of the manners of
the laity; for 'tis not learning, but this, this only that must
do it ; and, till then, the fault must lie at our doors."
In another walk to Salisbury he saw a poor man with a
poorer horse, that was fallen under his load : they were both
in distress, and needed present help; which Mr. Herbert
perceiving, put off his canonical coat, and helped the poor
man to unload, and after to load, his horse. The poor man
blessed him for it, and he blessed the poor man ; and was so
like the good Samaritan, that he gave him money to refresh
both himself and his horse ; and told him, "That if he loved
himself he should be merciful to his beast." Thus he left the
poor man : and at his coming to his musical friends at Salis-
bury, they began to wonder that Mr. George Herbert, which
used to be so trim and clean, came into that company so
soiled and discomposed : but he told them the occasion. And
when one of the company told him "He had disparaged him-
self by so dirty an employment," his answer was, "That the
thought of what he had done would prove music to him at
midnight; and that the omission of it would have upbraided
and made discord in his conscience, whensoever he should
pass by that place: for if I be bound to pray for all that be
in distress, I am sure that I am bound, so far as it is in
my power, to practise what I pray for. And though I do
not wish for the like occasion every day, yet let me tell you,
I would not willingly pass one day of my life without com-
forting a sad soul, or showing mercy; and I praise God for
this occasion. And now let's tune our instruments."
Thus, as our blessed Saviour, after his resurrection, did
take occasion to interpret scripture to Cleopas, and that
other disciple, which he met with and accompanied in their
journey to Emmaus ; so Mr. Herbert, in his path toward
heaven, did daily take any fair occasion to instruct the ig-
norant, or comfort any that were in affliction; and did always
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 413
confirm his precepts by showing humility and mercy, and
ministering grace to the hearers.
And he was most happy in his wife's unforced compliance
with his acts of charity, whom he made his almoner, and
paid constantly into her hand a tenth penny of what money
he received for tithe, and gave her power to dispose that to
the poor of his parish, and with it a power to dispose a tenth
part of the corn that came yearly into his barn : which trust
she did most faithfully perform, and would often offer to
him an account of her stewardship, and as often beg an en-
largement of his bounty; for she rejoiced in the employment:
and this was usually laid out by her in blankets and shoes
for some such poor people as she knew to stand in most need
of them. This as to her charity. — And for his own, he set
no limits to it: nor did ever turn his face from any that
he saw in want, but would relieve them; especially his poor
neighbours; to the meanest of whose houses he would go,
and inform himself of their wants, and relieve them cheer-
fully, if they were in distress ; and would always praise God,
as much for being willing, as for being able to do it. And
when he was advised by a friend to be more frugal, because
he might have children, his answer was, "He would not see
the danger of want so far off: but being the scripture does
so commend charity, as to tell us that charity is the top of
Christian virtues, the covering of sins, the fulfilling of the
law, the life of faith ; and that charity hath a promise of the
blessings of this life, and of a reward in that life which is
to come : being these, and more excellent things are in scrip-
ture spoken of thee, O charity ! and that, being all my tithes
and Church dues are a deodate from thee, O my God ! make
me, O my God ! so far to trust thy promise, as to return
them back to thee; and by thy grace I will do so, in dis-
tributing them to any of thy poor members that are in dis-
tress, or do but bear the image of Jesus my master." "Sir,"
said he to his friend, "my wife hath a competent maintenance
secured her after my death; and therefore, as this is my
prayer, so this my resolution shall, by God's grace, be un-
alterable."
This may be some account of the excellencies of the active
part of his life; and thus he continued, till a consumption
414 IZAAK WALTON
bo weakened him as to confine him to his house, or to the
chapel, which does almost join to it; in which he continued
to read prayers constantly twice every day, though he were
very weak: in one of which times of his reading his wife
observed him to read in pain, and told him so, and that it
wasted his spirits, and weakened him; and he confessed it
did, but said, his "life could not be better spent than in the
service of his master Jesus, who had done and suffered so
much for him. But," said he, "I will not be wilful; for
though my spirit be willing, yet I find my flesh is weak ; and
therefore Mr. Bostock shall be appointed to read prayers
for me to-morrow ; and I will now be only a hearer of them,
till this mortal shall put on immortality." And Mr. Bostock
did the next day undertake and continue this happy employ-
ment till Mr. Herbert's death. This Mr. Bostock was a
learned and virtuous man, an old friend of Mr. Herbert's,
and then his curate to the church of Fulston, which is a
mile from Bemerton, to which church Bemerton is but
a chapel of ease. And this Mr. Bostock did also constantly
supply the Church service for Mr. Herbert in that chapel,
when the music-meeting at Salisbury caused his absence
from it.
About one month before his death, his friend Mr. Farrer,
— for an account of whom I am by promise indebted to the
reader, and intend to make him sudden payment, — hearing
of Mr. Herbert's sickness, sent Mr. Edmund Duncon — who
is now rector of Friar Barnet in the county of Middlesex — ■
from his house of Gidden Hall, which is near to Hunting-
don, to see Mr. Herbert, and to assure him he wanted not
his daily prayers for his recovery; and Mr. Duncon was to
return back to Gidden, with an account of Mr. Herbert's
condition. Mr. Duncon found him weak, and at that time
lying on his bed, or on a pallet; but at his seeing Mr. Dun-
con he raised himself vigorously, saluted him, and with some
earnestness inquired the health of his brother Farrer; of
which Mr. Duncon satisfied him, and after some discourse
of Mr. Farrer's holy life, and the manner of his constant
serving God, he said to Mr. Duncon, — "Sir, I see by your
habit that you are a priest, and I desire you to pray with
me:" which being granted, Mr. Duncon asked him, "What
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 415
prayers ?" To which Mr. Herbert's answer was, "O sir !
the prayers of my mother, the Church of England: no other
prayers are equal to them ! But at this time I beg of you
to pray only the Litany, for I am weak and faint :" and Mr.
Duncon did so. After which, and some other discourse of
Mr. Farrer, Mrs. Herbert provided Mr. Duncon a plain
supper, and a clean lodging, and he betook himself to rest.
This Mr. Duncon tells me; and he tells me that, at his first
view of Mr. Herbert, he saw majesty and humility so recon-
ciled in his looks and behaviour, as begot in him an awful
reverence for his person ; and says, "his discourse was so
pious, and his motion so genteel and meek, that after almost
forty years, yet they remain still fresh in his memory."
The next morning Mr. Duncon left him, and betook him-
self to a journey to Bath, but with a promise to return back
to him within five days ; and he did so : but before I shall
say anything of what discourse then fell betwixt them two,
I will pay my promised account of Mr. Farrer.
Mr. Nicholas Farrer — who got the reputation of being
called St. Nicholas at the age of six years — was born in
London, and doubtless had good education in his youth; but
certainly was, at an early age, made Fellow of Clare Hall
in Cambridge; where he continued to be eminent for his
piety, temperance, and learning. About the twenty-sixth
year of his age he betook himself to travel : in which he
added to his Latin and Greek a perfect knowledge of all the
languages spoken in the western parts of our Christian
world; and understood well the principles of their religion,
and of their manner, and the reasons of their worship. In
this his travel he met with many persuasions to come into a
communion with that Church which calls itself Catholic;
but he returned from his travels as he went, eminent for
his obedience to his mother, the Church of England. In
his absence from England, Mr. Farrer's father — who was a
merchant — allowed him a liberal maintenance ; and, not long
after his return into England, Mr. Farrer had, by the death
of his father, or an elder brother, or both, an estate left him
that enabled him to purchase land to the value of four or
five hundred pounds a year; the greatest part of which land
was at Little Gidden, four or six miles from Huntingdon,
416 IZAAK WALTON
and about eighteen from Cambridge; which place he chose
for the privacy of it, and for the hall, which had the parish
church or chapel belonging and adjoining near to it; for
Mr. Farrer, having seen the manners and vanities of the
world, and found them to be, as Mr. Herbert says, "a nothing
between two dishes," did so contemn it, that he resolved to
spend the remainder of his life in mortifications, and in
devotion, and charity, and to be always prepared for death.
And his life was spent thus:
He and his family, which were like a little college, and
about thirty in number, did most of them keep Lent and all
ember-weeks strictly, both in fasting and using all those
mortifications and prayers that the Church hath appointed
to be then used : and he and they did the like constantly on
Fridays, and on the vigils or eves to be fasted before the
saints' days: and this frugality and abstinence turned to the
relief of the poor: but this was but a part of his charity;
none but God and he knew the rest.
This family, which I have said to be in number about
thirty, were a part of them his kindred, and the rest chosen
to be of a temper fit to be moulded into a devout life; and
all of them were for their dispositions serviceable, and quiet,
and humble, and free from scandal. Having thus fitted him-
self for his family, he did, about the year 1630, betake him-
self to a constant and methodical service of God; and it was
in this manner : — He, being accompanied with most of his
family, did himself use to read the common prayers — for he
was a deacon — every day, at the appointed hours of ten and
four, in the parish church, which was very near his house,
and which he had both repaired and adorned; for it was
fallen into a great ruin, by reason of a depopulation of the
village before Mr. Farrer bought the manor. And he did
also constantly read the matins every morning at the hour
of six, either in the church, or in an oratory, which was
within his own house. And many of the family did there
continue with him after the prayers were ended, and there
they spent some hours in singing hymns, or anthems, some-
times in the church, and often to an organ in the oratory.
And there they sometimes betook tbemselves to meditate,
or to pray privately, or to read a part of the New Testa-
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 417
ment to themselves, or to continue their praying or reading
the psalms ; and in case the psalms were not always read in
the day, then Mr. Farrer and others of the congregation did
at night, at the ringing of a watch-bell, repair to the church
or oratory, and there betake themselves to prayer and laud-
ing God, and reading the psalms that had not been read in
the day: and when these, or any part of the congregation,
grew weary or faint, the watch-bell was rung, sometimes
before, and sometimes after midnight ; and then another part
of the family rose, and maintained the watch, sometimes by
praying, or singing lauds to God, or reading the psalms;
and when, after some hours, they aslo grew weary or faint,
then they rung the watch-bell and were also relieved by some
of the former, or by a new part of the society, which con-
tinued their devotions — as hath been mentioned — until morn-
ing. And it is to be noted, that in this continued serving of
God, the psalter or the whole book of psalms, was in every
four and twenty hours sung or read over, from the first to the
last verse: and this was done as constantly as the sun runs
his circle every day about the world, and then begins again
the same instant that it ended.
Thus did Mr. Farrer and his happy family serve God day
and night; thus did they always behave themselves as in his
presence. And they did always eat and drink by the strictest
rules of temperance; eat and drink so as to be ready to rise
at midnight, or at the call of the watch-bell, and perform
their devotions to God. 'And it is fit to tell the reader, that
many of the clergy, that were more inclined to practical
piety and devotion than to doubtful and needless disputations,
did often come to Gidden Hall, and make themselves a part
of that happy society, and stay a week or more, and then
join with Mr. Farrer and the family in these devotions, and
assist and ease him or them in their watch by night. And
these various devotions had never less tharj two of the do-
mestic family in the night; and the watch was always kept
in the church or oratory, unless in extreme cold winter nights,
and then it was maintained in a parlour, which had a fire in it ;
and the parlour was fitted for that purpose. And this course
of piety, and great liberality to his poor neighbours, Mr.
Farrer maintained till his death, which was in the year 1639.
hc xv — 14
418 IZAAK WALTON
Mr. Farrer's and Mr. Herbert's devout lives were both so
noted, that the general report of their sanctity gave them
occasion to renew that slight acquaintance which was begun
at their being contemporaries in Cambridge; and this new
holy friendship was long maintained without any interview,
but only by loving and endearing letters. And one testimony
of their friendship and pious designs may appear by Mr.
Farrer's commending the Considerations of John Valdesso —
a book which he had met with in his travels, and translated
out of Spanish into English — to be examined and censored
by Mr. Herbert before it was made public: which excellent
book Mr. Herbert did read, and return back with many mar-
ginal notes, as they be now printed with it; and with them,
Mr. Herbert's affectionate letter to Mr. Farrer.
This John Valdesso was a Spaniard, and was for his learn-
ing and virtue much valued and loved by the great Emperor
Charles the Fifth, whom Valdesso had followed as a cavalier
all the time of his long and dangerous wars : and when Val-
desso grew old, and grew weary both of war and the world,
he took his fair opportunity to declare to the Emperor that
his resolution was to decline his Majesty's service, and be-
take himself to a quiet and contemplative life, " because
there ought to be a vacancy of time betwixt fighting and
dying." The Emperor had himself, for the same, or other
like reasons, put on the same resolution : but God and himself
did, till then, only know them; and he did therefore desire
Valdesso to consider well of what he had said, and to keep
his purpose within his own breast, till they two might have
a second opportunity of a friendly discourse ; which Val-
desso promised to do.
In the meantime the Emperor appoints privately a day for
him and Valdesso to meet again ; and after a pious and free
discourse, they both agreed on a certain day to receive the
blessed sacrament publicly; and appointed an eloquent and
devout friar to preach a sermon of contempt of the world,
and of the happiness and benefit of a quiet and contemplative
life ; which the friar did most affectionately. After which
sermon, the Emperor took occasion to declare openly, " That
the preacher had begot in him a resolution to lay down his
dignities, and to forsake the world, and betake himself to a
UFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 419
monastical life." And he pretended he had persuaded John
Valdesso to do the like: but this is most certain, that after
the Emperor had called his son Philip out of England, and
resigned to him all his kingdoms, that then the Emperor
and John Valdesso did perform their resolutions.
This account of John Valdesso I received from a friend,
that had it from the mouth of Mr. Farrer. And the reader
may note that in this retirement John Valdesso writ his
Hundred and Ten Considerations, and many other treatises
of worth, which want a second Mr. Farrer to procure and
translate them.
After this account of Mr. Farrer and John Valdesso, I
proceed to my account of Mr. Herbert and Mr. Duncon, who
according to his promise returned from Bath the fifth day,
and then found Mr. Herbert much weaker than he left him ;
and therefore their discourse could not be long: but at Mr.
Duncon's parting with him, Mr. Herbert spoke to this pur-
pose: "Sir, I pray you give my brother Farrer an account
of the decaying condition of my body, and tell him I beg
him to continue his daily prayers for me; and let him know
that I have considered, that God only is what he would be;
and that I am, by his grace, become now so like him, as to
be pleased with what pleaseth him ; and tell him, that I do
not repine but am pleased with my want of health : and tell
him, my heart is fixed on that place where true joy is only
to be found ; and that I long to be there, and do wait for my
appointed change with hope and patience." Having said
this, he did, with so sweet a humility as seemed to exalt
him, bow down to Mr. Duncon, and with a thoughtful and
contented look, say to him, " Sir, I pray deliver this little
book to my dear brother Farrer, and tell him he shall find
in it a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that have passed
betwixt God and my soul, before I could subject mine to
the will of Jesus my master : in whose se/vice I have now
found perfect freedom. Desire him to read it; and then,
if he can think it may turn to the advantage of any de-
jected poor soul, let it be made public; if not, let him burn
it; for I and it are less than the least of God's mercies."
Thus meanly did this humble man think of this excellent
book, which now bears the name of The Temple; or, Sacred
420 IZAAK WALTON
Poems and Private Ejaculations; of which Mr. Farrer would
say, " There was in it the picture of a divine soul in every
page: and that the whole book was such a harmony of holy
passions, as would enrich the world with pleasure and piety."
And it appears to have done so; for there have been more
than twenty thousand of them sold since the first impression.
And this ought to be noted, that when Mr. Farrer sent
this book to Cambridge to be licensed for the press, the Vice-
Chancellor would by no means allow the two so much noted
verses,
Religion stands a tiptoe in our land,
Ready to pass to the American strand,
to be printed ; and Mr. Farrer would by no means allow the
book to be printed and want them. But after some time, and
some arguments for and against their being made public, the
Vice-Chancellor said, " I knew Mr. Herbert well, and know
that he had many heavenly speculations, and was a divine
poet: but I hope the world will not take him to be an in-
spired prophet, and therefore I license the whole book." So
that it came to be printed without the diminution or addition
of a syllable, since it was delivered into the hands of Mr.
Duncon, save only that Mr. Farrer hath added that excellent
preface that is printed before it.
At the time of Mr. Duncon's leaving Mr. Herbert, — which
was about three weeks before his death, — his old and dear
friend Mr. Woodnot came from London to Bemerton, and
never left him till he had seen him draw his last breath, and
closed his eyes on his death-bed. In this time of his decay,
he was often visited and prayed for by all the clergy that
lived near to him, especially by his friends the Bishop and
Prebends of the Cathedral Church in Salisbury; but by none
more devoutly than his wife, his three nieces, — then a part
of his family, — and Mr. Woodnot, who were the sad wit-
nesses of his daily decay; to whom he would often speak
to this purpose: " I now look back upon the pleasures of my
life past, and see the content I have taken in beauty, in wit,
in music, and pleasant conversation, are now all past by me
like a dream, or as a shadow that returns not, and are now
all become dead to me, or I to them ; and I see, that as my
father and generation hath done before me, so I also shall
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 421
now suddenly (with Job) make my bed also in the dark; and
I praise God I am prepared for it; and I praise him that I
am not to learn patience now I stand in such need of it; and
that I have practised mortification, and endeavoured to die
daily, that I might not die eternally; and my hope is, that I
shall shortly leave this valley of tears, and be free from all
fevers and pain ; and, which will be a more happy condition,
I shall be free from sin, and all the temptations and anxieties
that attend it : and this being past, I shall dwell in the New
Jerusalem ; dwell there with men made perfect ; dwell where
these eyes shall see my master and Saviour Jesus ; and with
him see my dear mother, and all my relations and friends.
But I must die, or not come to that happy place. And this
is my content, that I am going daily towards it : and that
every day which I have lived, hath taken a part of my ap-
pointed time from me ; and that I shall live the less time, for
having lived this and the day past." These, and the like ex-
pressions, which he uttered often, may be said to be his
enjoyment of heaven before he enjoyed it. The Sunday be-
fore his death, he rose suddenly from his bed or couch, called
for one of his instruments, took it into his hand, and said, —
My God, my God,
My music shall find thee,
And every string
Shall have his attribute to sing.
And having tuned it, he played and sung —
The Sundays of man's life,
Threaded together on time's string,
Make bracelets to adorn the wife
Of the eternal glorious King :
On Sundays Heaven's door stands ope ;
Blessings are plentiful and rife,
More plentiful than hope.
Thus he sung on earth such hymns and anthems as the
angels, and he, and Mr. Farrer now sing in heaven.
Thus he continued meditating, and praying, and rejoicing,
till the day of his death ; and on that day said to Mr. Wood-
not, " My dear friend. I am sorry I have nothing to present
to my merciful God but sin and misery ; but the first is par-
422 IZAAK WALTON
doned, and a few hours will now put a period to the latter;
for I shall suddenly go hence, and be no more seen." Upon
which expression Mr. Woodnot took occasion to remember
him of the re-edifying Layton Church, and his many acts of
mercy. To which he made answer, saying, "They be good
works, if they be sprinkled with the blood of Christ, and not
otherwise." After this discourse he became more restless,
and his soul seemed to be weary of her earthly tabernacle ;
and this uneasiness became so visible, that his wife, his three
nieces, and Mr. Woodnot stood constantly about his bed, be-
holding him with sorrow, and an unwillingness to lose the
sight of him, whom they could not hope to see much longer.
As they stood thus beholding him, his wife observed him to
breathe faintly, and with much trouble, and observed him to
fall into a sudden agony; which so surprised her, that she
fell into a sudden passion, and required of him to know how
he did. To which his answer was, " that he had passed a
conflict with his last enemy, and had overcome him by the
merits of his master Jesus." After which answer he looked
up, and saw his wife and nieces weeping to an extremity,
and charged them, if they loved him, to withdraw into the
next room, and there pray every one alone for him ; for noth-
ing but their lamentations could make his death uncomfort-
able. To which request their sighs and tears would not
suffer them to make any reply; but they yielded him a sad
obedience, leaving only with him Mr. Woodnot and Mr.
Bostock. Immediately after they had left him, he said to Mr.
Bostock, " Pray, sir, open that door, then look into that cabi-
net, in which you may easily find my last will, and give it
into my hand": which being done, Mr. Herbert delivered it
into the hand of Mr. Woodnot, and said, " My old friend, I
here deliver you my last will, in which you will find that I
have made you my sole executor for the good of my wife
and nieces ; and I desire you to show kindness to them, as
they shall need it: I do not desire you to be just; for I know
you will be so for your own sake ; but I charge you, by the
religion of our friendship, to be careful of them." And
having obtained Mr. Woodnot's promise to be so, he said,
" I am now ready to die." After which words he said,
" Lord, forsake me not now my strength faileth me : but
LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 423
grant me mercy for the merits of my Jesus. And now, Lord
— Lord, now receive my soul." And with those words he
breathed forth his divine soul, without any apparent dis-
turbance, Mr. Woodnot and Mr. Bostock attending his last
breath, and closing his eyes.
Thus he lived, and thus he died, like a saint, unspotted of
the world, full of alms-deeds, full of humility, and all the
examples of a virtuous life; which I cannot conclude better,
than with this borrowed observation:
— All must to their cold graves :
But the religious actions of the just
Smell sweet in death, and blossom in the dust.
Mr. George Herbert's have done so to this, and will doubt-
less do so to succeeding generations. I have but this to say
more of him: that if Andrew Melvin died before him, then
George Herbert died without an enemy. I wish — if God
shall be so pleased — that I may be so happy as to die like
him.
Iz. Wa.
There is a debt justly due to the memory of Mr. Herbert's
virtuous wife ; a part of which I will endeavour to pay, by a
very short account of the remainder of her life, which shall
follow.
She continued his disconsolate widow about six years, be-
moaning herself, and complaining, that she had lost the de-
light of her eyes; but more that she had lost the spiritual
guide for her poor soul ; and would often say, " O that I had,
like holy Mary, the mother of Jesus, treasured up all his
sayings in my heart ! But since I have not been able to do
that, I will labour to live like him, that where he now is I
may be also." Arid she would often say, — as the prophet
David for his son Absalom, — "O thatl^had died for him! "
Thus she continued mourning till time and conversation had
so moderated her sorrows, that she became the happy
wife of Sir Robert Cook, of Highnam, in the county of
Gloucester, Knight. And though he put a high value on the
excellent accomplishments of her mind and body, and was
so like Mr. Herbert, as not to govern like a master, but as
424 IZAAK WALTON
an affectionate husband; yet she would even to him often
take occasion to mention the name of Mr. George Herbert,
and say, that name must live in her memory till she put off
mortality. By Sir Robert she had only one child, a daughter,
whose parts and plentiful estate make her happy in this
world, and her well using of them gives a fair testimony
that she will be so in that which is to come.
Mrs. Herbert was the wife of Sir Robert eight years, and
lived his widow about fifteen ; all which time she took a
pleasure in mentioning and commending the excellencies of
Mr. George Herbert. She died in the year 1663, and lies
buried at Highnam: Mr. Herbert in his own church, under
the altar, and covered with a gravestone without any in-
scription.
This Lady Cook had preserved many of Mr. Herbert's
private writings, which she intended to make public; but
they and Highnam House were burnt together by the late
rebels, and so lost to posterity. I. W.
