|
John Bunyan's dream, written
from a prison cell, has become the most famous allegory in English
literature.
Written almost three hundred fifty years ago, this book has been
read in prim parlors,
in sophisticated drawing rooms, in royal households, in
religion classes, in schoolrooms,
in family worship- and still it is read by
all those who, too, would be a pilgrim.
THE
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
FROM THIS WORLD
TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME;
DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILTUDE OF A
DREAM.
BY JOHN
BUNYAN.
Timeline History of "The Pilgrim's Progress"*
*Note: At the website "Acacia John Bunyan", see A
Timeline Chronicling the Life of John Bunyan
---New Window for more about the events of
John Bunyan's life.
PART
II.
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. I have used
similtudes.-Hos. 12:10. Pilgrimage of Christiana and her children - To My Courteous Companions - The News of Christian,
Christiana and Their Children - How Christiana Decided to Become a Pilgrim - A
Visit From Mrs. Timorous and Mercy
THE FIRST STAGE.
THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF SENDING FORTH HIS
SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM. - Uncertainties
- Slough of Despond - knocking at the gate - the Dog - talk
between the Pilgrims
THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART OF THE
PILGRIM.
o, now, my little
Book, to every place Where my first Pilgrim has but shown 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? If they say They did, and were delighted in his way; Then let them know that these 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 overcome 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 Beloved of their King, under his care; What goodly mansions he for them provides; Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides, How 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 show well, they of Pilgrims lovers are. OBJECTION I. 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 books, to make them do. But yet they, by their features, do declare Themselves not mine to be, whose'er they are. If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way Before them all, is, to say out thy say In thine own native language, which no man Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can. If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, Thinking that you, like gypsies, 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 testify you pilgrims be; Yea, I will testify that only you My Pilgrims are, and that alone will do. OBJECTION II. But yet, perhaps, I may enquire for him Of those who 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 groundless fears. My Pilgrim's book has traveled sea and land, Yet could I never come to understand That it was slighted or turned out of door By any Kingdom, were they rich or poor. In France and Flanders, where men kill each other, My Pilgrim is esteemed 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, newcloth'd, and deck'd with gems, That it might show 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 shows his head in any company. Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love, Esteem it much, yea, value it above Things of greater bulk; yea, with delight Say, my lark's leg is better than a kite. Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too, Do not small kindness to my Pilgrim show; Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts, My Pilgrim has; 'cause he to them imparts His pretty riddles in such wholsome strains, As yield them profit double to thetr pains Of reading; yea, I think I may be bold To say some prize 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, and much desire To have his company, and hear him tell Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well. Yea, some that did not love him at 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 show 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. OBJECTION III. 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. continued at the top of the next column... |
continued... ANSWER. One may, I think, say, Both his laughs and cries May well be guess'd at by his wat'ry eyes. Some things are of that nature, as to make One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache: When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, He did at the same time both kiss and weep. Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head; That doth but show his wisdom's covered With its own mantles-and to stir the mind To search well 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 curious fancy more intrude, And will stick faster in the heart and head, Than things from similes 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 conceal'd, Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveal'd; What Christian left lock'd up, and went his way, Sweet Christiana opens with her key. OBJECTION IV. 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 fish, some love no cheese, 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 cuckoo 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 most humble wise, Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise. Go then, my little Book, and show to all That entertain and bid thee welcome shall, What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest; And wish what thou shalt show them may be bless'd To them for good, and make them choose to be Pilgrims, by better 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 Hosanna! when the old ones did deride. Next tell them of old Honest, whom 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 the cross. Perhaps with some gray 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. Show them also, how he had like been slain, And how one Great-Heart did his life regain. This man was true of heart; though weak in grace, One might true godliness read in his face. 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 opinion much agree. And let all know, though 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 pull down Doubting-Castle, slay Despair! Overlook not Master Despondency, Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though 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 music make, They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake. Those riddles that lie couched 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 is but lost or thrown away. Yea, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit; And may it some persuade, that go astray, To turn their feet and heart to the right way, Is the hearty prayer of The Author, JOHN BUNYAN. |
THE
PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Pilgrimage of Christiana and her
children
To My Courteous Companions
OME time since, to tell you my dream that I had of
CHRISTIAN the pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey towards the Celestial
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 showed
you, he left them and departed.
Now it hath so happened, through the
multiplicity of business, that I have been much hindered 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 inquiry 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, having taken up my lodgings in a wood about a
mile off the place, as I slept I dreamed again.
The News of Christian, Christiana and Their
Children
nd 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, we 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 lies on the left hand of our
way?"
Sagacity. 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 that 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 on pilgrimage up towards the higher
regions?"
Sag. Hear of him! aye, and I also heard of the molestations, troubles, wars,
captivities, cries, groans, frights, and fears, that he met with and had in his
journey. Besides, I must tell you, all our country rings of him; there are but
few houses that have heard of him and his doings, that have sought after and got
the records of his pilgrimage. Yea, I think I may say, that his hazardous
journey 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 commended of all:
for 't is 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 anything that is true, that he lives
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."
Sag. Talk! the people talk strangely about him. Some say that he now walks in
white; that he has a chain of gold about his neck; and that he has a crown of
gold beset with pearls upon his head:
others say that the Shining Ones that sometimes showed
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 neighbour is with
another.
Besides, 't is 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 eats and drinks, and walks and
talk with him, and receives 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 neighbours 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 't was for the love that he had to his
Prince that he ventured as he did.
"I dare say," quoth I. "I am glad of it; I am glad for the
poor man's sake. For that now he has rest from his labour;
and for that he now reaps the benefit of his tears with
joy;
and for that he has got beyond the gunshot 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
like to do as well as did CHRISTIAN himself; for though they all played 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 packed up, and are also gone after him.
"Better and better,"
quoth I. "But what! Wife and children and all?"
Sag. 'Tis true. I can give you
an account of the matter; for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was
thoroughly 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.
How Christiana Decided to Become a Pilgrim
his 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 conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was,
moreover, much broken with calling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish
tears, and self-bemoanings 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 two.
Specially, that bitter outcry of his, 'What must I do to be saved?' did ring in
her ears most 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 hindered 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 though I formerly foolishly
imagined concerning the troubles of your father, that they proceeded of a
foolish fancy that he had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy humours;
yet now 't will 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, 'Oh, woe worth the
day!'
"The next night CHRISTIANA had a dream; and behold, she saw as if a
broad parchment was opened before her, in which were recorded the sum of her
ways; and the times, as she thought, looked 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 favoured ones standing by her bedside, and saying,
'What shall we do with this woman; for she cries out for mercy waking and
sleeping? If she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her as 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 awhile she fell to sleeping again. And then
she thought she saw CHRISTIAN her husband in a place of bliss, among many
immortals, with a 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 paved work that was under the Prince's feet, saying,
'I heartily thank my Lord and King for bringing of me into this place.' Then
shouted a company of them that stood around 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, and had prayed to God, and
talked with her children awhile, one knocked hard at the door; to whom she spake
out saying, 'If 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.
CHRISTIANA, the merciful One has sent me to tell thee that he is a God ready to
forgive; and that he takes delight to multiply pardon to offences. He also would
have thee know that he inviteth thee to come into his presence; to his table;
and that he will 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; and bowed her head to the ground, this visitor 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 worship this King?'
"Then said the visitor, 'CHRISTIANA! the bitter
is before the sweet. Thou must through troubles, as did he that went before
thee, enter this Celestial City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did CHRISTIAN
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 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, as he told me
this story, did himself seem to be greatly affected therewith. He moreover,
proceeded 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 much exercise in my soul about the death of your father; not for that 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 that 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 celestial country; that we may see your father, and be
with him and his companions 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 visitor bade them farewell: and they
began to prepare to set out for their journey.
A
Visit From Mrs. Timorous and Mercy
ut while they were thus about to be gone, two of
the women that were CHRISTIANA'S neighbours came up to her house, and knocked at
her door. To whom she said, as before, 'If you come in God's name, 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 preparing to be gone from her house.
"So they
began, and said, 'Neighbour, pray what is your meaning by
this?'
"CHRISTIANA answered and said to the eldest of them, whose name
was Mrs. TIMOROUS, 'I am preparing for a journey.' (This TIMOROUS was daughter
to him that met CHRISTIAN upon the Hill Difficulty, and would have had him go
back for fear of the lions.)
"Timorous. For what journey, I pray
you?
"Chris.
Even to go after my good husband. And with that she fell
a-weeping.
"Tim. I hope not so, good neighbour. Pray, for your poor children's sakes, do
not so unwomanly cast away yourself.
"Chris. Nay, my children shall go with me; not
one of them is willing to stay behind.
"Tim. I wonder, in my very heart, what or who
has brought you into this mind.
"Chris. Oh, neighbour, 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
sorely afflicted since my husband's departure from me; but specially since he
went over the river. But that which troubles 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 dreaming last night that I saw him.
Oh that my soul was with him! He dwells 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 entertainment 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 plucked
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 thy husband, to run yourselves upon
such difficulties! You have heard, I am sure, what your husband did meet with,
even in a manner at the first step that he took on his way, as our neighbour
OBSTINATE, can yet testify; for he went along with him, yea, and PLIABLE too,
until they, like wise men, were afraid to go any farther. We also heard, over
and above, how he met with the lions, APOLLYON, the Shadow of Death, and many
other things. Nor is the danger that he met with at Vanity Fair to be forgotten
by thee. For if he, though 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 shouldst be so rash as
to cast away thyself, yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep thou at
home.
"But CHRISTIANA said unto her, 'Tempt me not, my neighbour; I have
now a price put into mine hand 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 discouragement, that they show 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 further.'
"Then
TIMOROUS also reviled her, and said to her fellow, 'Come, neighbour MERCY, let's
leave her in her own hands, since she scorns our counsel and company.' But MERCY
was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her neighbour; and that for
a twofold reason. First, her bowels yearned over CHRISTIANA; so she said within
herself, 'If my neighbour 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 neighbour
TIMOROUS.
"Mercy. Neighbour, I did indeed come with you to see CHRISTIANA this morning;
and since she is, as you see, a taking of her last farewell of her country, I
think to walk this sunshiny morning 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 too; but take heed in time,
and be wise: while we are out of danger we are out; but when we are in we are
in.
"So Mrs. TIMOROUS returned to her house, and CHRISTIANA betook
herself to her journey. But when TIMOROUS was got home to her house, she sent
for some of her neighbours: to wit, Mrs. BAT'S-EYES, Mrs. INCONSIDERATE, Mrs.
LIGHT-MIND, and Mrs. KNOW-NOTHING. So when they were come to her house, she fell
to telling the story of CHRISTIANA and of her intended journey. And thus she
began her tale:
"Tim. Neighbours, having had little to do this
morning, I went to give CHRISTIANA a visit; and when I came at the door I
knocked, as you know 't is our custom. And she answered, 'If you come in God's
name, come in.' So in I went, thinking all was well; but when I came in, I found
her preparing 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 husband was had sent her an
inviting letter to come thither.
"Mrs. Know-nothing. Then said Mrs.
KNOW-NOTHING, 'And what, do you think she will go?'
"Tim.Aye, 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 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-eyes. 'Oh, this
blind and foolish woman,' said she; 'will she not take warning by her husband's
afflictions? For my part, I see, if he were here again, he would rest him
content in a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for
nothing.'
"Mrs. Inconsiderate
also replied, saying, 'Away with such fantastical 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 unneighbourly, 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: 't was never a good
world since these whimsical fools dwelt in it.'
"Then Mrs. Light-mind
added as follows: 'Come, put this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at Madam
WANTON'S, where we were as merry as the maids. For who do you think should be
there, but I, and Mrs. LOVE-THE-FLESH, and three or four more, with Mr. LECHERY,
Mrs. FILTH, and some others. So there we had music and dancing, and what else
was meet to fill up the pleasure. And I dare say, my lady herself is an
admirably well bred gentlewoman, and Mr. LECHERY is as pretty a
fellow.'
Uncertainties
y this time CHRISTIANA was got on her way; and
MERCY went along with her. So as they went, her children being there also,
CHRISTIANA began to discourse. And, 'MERCY,' said CHRISTIANA, 'I take this as an
unexpected favour that thou shouldst set foot out of doors with me, to accompany
me a little in my way.'
"Mercy. Then said young MERCY (for she was but
young), 'If I thought it would be to purpose to go with you, I would never go
near the town any more.'
"Chris. 'Well, MERCY,' said CHRISTIANA, 'cast
in thy lot with me. I well know what will be the end of our pilgrimage: my
husband is where he would not but be for all the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor
shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but upon my invitation. The King who
hath sent for me and my children is one that delights in mercy. Besides, 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.'
"Mer.
But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall be entertained? Had I this hope
but from one that can tell, I would make no stick at all; but would go, being
helped by him that can help, though the way was never so
tedious.
"Chris. Well, loving MERCY, I will tell thee what thou shalt do. Go with me to
the wicket gate, and there I will further inquire for thee; and if there thou
shalt not meet with encouragement, I will be content that thou shalt return to
thy place. I also will pay thee for thy kindness which thou showest to me and my
children, in thy accompanying of us in our way as thou
doest.
"Mer.
Then will I go thither, and will take what 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 in her heart, not only that she had a
companion, but also for that she had prevailed with this poor maid to fall in
love with her own salvation. So they went on together; and MERCY began to weep.
Then said CHRISTIANA, 'Wherefore weepest my sister so?'
"Mer. 'Alas!' said she, 'who can
but lament that shall but rightly consider what a state and condition my poor
relations are in that yet remain in our sinful town? and that which makes my
grief the more heavy is, because they have no instructor, nor any to tell them
what is to come.'
"Chris. Bowels becomes 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 goes forth and weeps, 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 it be
his blessed will,
Unto his gate, into 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."'
Now my old friend proceeded, and said, "But when CHRISTIANA
came up to the Slough of Despond, she began to be at a stand: 'For,' said she,
'this is the place in which my dear husband had like to have 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 highway, that bring din and dung instead of stones, and so mar
instead of mending. Here CHRISTIANA therefore, with her boys, did make a stand.
But said MERCY, 'Come, let us venture, only let us be wary.' Then they looked
well to the steps, and made a shift to get staggeringly over.
"Yet
CHRISTIANA had like to have been in, and that 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 believes; for there shall be a performance of those 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 loving reception at the wicket gate as you, I
think no Slough of Despond 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? '"
Knocking at the Wicket Gate
nd now Mr. SAGACITY left me to dream out
my dream by myself. Wherefore methought I saw CHRISTIANA, and MERCY, and the
boys, go all of them up to the gate. To which when they were come, they betook
themselves to a short debate about how they must manage their calling at the
gate, and what should be said to him that did open to them. So it 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 CHRISTIANA began to
knock; and as her poor husband did, she knocked and knocked again. But instead
of any that answered, they all thought that they heard as if a dog came barking
upon them. A dog, and a great one too; and this made the women and children
afraid. Nor durst they for awhile to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should
fly upon them. Now, therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and 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 handmaidens, for that we have knocked at his princely
gate."
Then said the keeper, "Whence come ye, and what is that ye 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 admitted by this gate into the way that leads to the Celestial City.
And I answer my Lord in the next place, that I am CHRISTIANA, once the wife of
CHRISTIAN that now is gotten above."
With that the keeper of the gate did
marvel saying, "What, is she become now a pilgrim, that but awhile 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 herself and her boys, then she began to make intercession
for MERCY.
Chris. And she said, "My Lord, I have a companion of mine that stands yet
without, that is come hither upon the same account as myself: one that is much
dejected in her mind; for that she comes, as she thinks, without sending for,
whereas I was sent to by my husband's King to come."
Now MERCY began to
be very impatient, for each minute was as long to her as an hour; wherefore she
prevented CHRISTIANA from a fuller interceding for her, by knocking at the gate
herself: and she 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 was fallen down
without in a swoon, for she fainted, 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
remembered 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."
Mer. I am come for that unto which I was never invited, as my friend
CHRISTIANA was. Hers was from the King, and mine was but from her; wherefore I
fear I presume.
Keeper of Gate. "Did she desire thee to come with her to
this place?"
Mer. 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 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 something, and give
it to MERCY to smell on, thereby to stay her fainting." So they fetched her a
bundle of myrrh, and awhile after she was revived.
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 gladdened. he also had them up to the top of the
gate, and showed 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 awhile in a summer parlour below, where they
entered into talk by themselves. And thus CHRISTIANA began, "O Lord, how glad am
I that we are got in hither!"
Mer. 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.
Mer. But
my worst fear was after I saw that you were taken into his favour, and that I
was left behind. Now, thought I, 'tis fulfilled which is written, "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 sure your knocks were so earnest,
that the very sound of them made me start; I thought I never heard such knocking
in all my life. I thought you would have come in by violent hands, or have taken
the Kingdom by storm.
Mer. Alas! to be in my case, who that so was could but have 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 fainthearted 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 gave a wonderful innocent smile. I
believe what you did pleased him well enough; for he showed no sign to the
contrary. But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog. Had I known that
afore, I fear I should not have had heart enough to have ventured myself in this
manner. But now we are in, we are in; and I am glad with all my
heart.
Mer.
I will ask, if you please, next time he comes down, why he keeps such a filthy
cur in his yard. I hope he will not take it amiss.
"Ay, do," said the
children; "and persuade him to hang him, for we are afraid he will bite us when
we go hence."
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."
But she
continued upon her face and said, "Righteous art Thou, O Lord, when I plead with
Thee; yet let me 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 owner; he also is
kept close in another man's ground, 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 frightened many an honest pilgrim from worse to
better by the great voice of his roaring. Indeed, he that owns 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.
Sometimes 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 that 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 trow, hadst thou known never so
much beforehand, thou wouldst 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."
Mer. Then said MERCY, "I confess my ignorance;
I spake what I understand not: I acknowledge that Thou doest all things
well."
Then CHRISTIANA began to talk of their journey, and to inquire
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.