p. 249¶Then the Giant came up, and Mr Great-heart went to meet him; and as he went he drew his Sword, but the Giant had a Club. So without more ado they fell to it, and at the first blow the Giant stroke Mr Great-heart down upon one of his knees; with that the Women and Children cried out; so Mr Great-heart recovering himself, laid about him in full lusty manner, and gave the Giant a wound in his arm; thus he fought for the space of an hour to that height of heat, that the breath came out of the Giant's nostrils, as the heat doth out of a boiling Caldron.
¶Then they sat down to rest them, but Mr Great-heart betook him to prayer; also the Women and Children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the Battle did last.
¶When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it again, and Mr Great-heart with a full blow fetched the Giant down to the ground. Nay hold and let me recover, quoth he. So Mr Great-heart fairly let him get up. So to it they went again, and the Giant missed but little of all to breaking Mr Great-heart's skull with his Club.
¶Mr Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit, and pierceth him under the fifth rib; with that the Giant began to faint, and could hold up his Club no longer. Then Mr Great-heart seconded his blow, and smit the head of the Giant from his shoulders. Then the Women and Children rejoiced, and Mr Great-heart also praised God for the deliverance he had wrought.
¶When this was done, they among them erected a Pillar, and fastned the Giant's head thereon, and wrote underneath in letters that Passengers might read.
¶He that did wear this head, was one
¶That Pilgrims did [250]misuse; He stopt their way, he sfiared none,
p. 250¶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 was a p. 70 little way off cast up to be a Prospect for Pilgrims, (that was the place from whence Christian had the first sight of Faithful his Brother) wherefore 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 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 please, I think God has been wonderful good unto us, both in bringing us out of this Valley, and in 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 [251]little before them stood an Oak, and under it when they came O'd Honest to it, they found an old Pilgrim fast asleep; they knew j^ ^^ that he was a Pilgrim by his Cloaths and his Staff and his Girdle.
p. 251¶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 Ccelestial Country.
¶Honest. Then said Mr Honest, I cry you mercy, I O"*^ s?'"' 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 (.a^e from.
¶Hon. My name I cannot, but I came from the Town of Stupidity, it lieth about four degrees beyond the City of Destruction.
¶Great-heart. Oh! are you that Countryman then.'' [252]I deem I have half a guess of you, your name is Old Hori' esty, is it not ? So the old Gentleman 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.
p. 252¶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 Master, for he knows all things that are done on the Earth; but I have often wondered that any should come from your place, for your Town is worse than 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 uf)on him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw; and thus it hath been with me.
¶Great-heart. I believe it. Father Honest, I believe 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 you have heard of, good Christian was my Husband.and these four were his Children. But can you 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 of his travels and Wars which he underwent in his 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
¶PILGRIM S PROGRESS 253 Matthew the Publican, not in vice but in vertue. Samuel, said he, be thou like Samuel the Prophet, a man of faith and prayer. Joseph, said he, be thou Hke Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flies from temptation. And James be thou like James the Just and Hke James the Brother of our Lord.
¶Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her 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 shall thou be sustained, and carried through all those difficulties that shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither where thou shah 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.
¶Now as they walked along together, the Guide asked ^""'J'^ the old Gentleman if he did not know one 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 hereafter, I was with him.
¶Great-heart. I was his Guide from my Master's house to the gates of the Ccelestial 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 he managed himself under your conduct.
¶Great-heart. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of whither he had a desire to go. [254]Everything Mr Fear- frightned him that he heard anybody speak of, that had ing's trou- but the least appearance of opp)osition in it. I hear that he lay roaring at the Slough of Dispond for above a month together, nor durst he, for all he saw several go over before him, venture, tho' they, many of them, offered to lend him their hand. He would not go back again 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 Hammer 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 so faint. So he said to him. Peace be to thee, up, for I have set ojjen 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 was bid go on his way, and also told the way he should take. So [255]he came till he came to our house. But as he behaved him- ||'".'*' self at the Gate, so he did at my Master the Interpreter's ,hc inter-door. He lay thereabout in the cold a good while, before he would adventure 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 chicf^in-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 Dejection, 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 a 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 encouragement. 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 comfortable things to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went before him; but the man was but of few words, only he would sigh aloud.
p. 255¶When we were come to where the three fellows [256]were He was hanged, he said that he doubted that that would be his
¶end also. Only he seemed glad when he saw the Cross and the Sepulchre. There I confess he desired to stay a little to look, and he seemed for a while after to be a little cheery. When we came to the Hill Difficulty, he made no stick at 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, before he was willing. Also when he was in, I brought him acquainted with the Damsels that were 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 Interpreters, but that he durst not be so bold to ask.
¶When we went also from the House Beautiful, down the Hill into the Valley of Humiliation, he went down as well as ever I saw man in my life; for he cared not how mean he was, so he might be happy at last. Yea, I think there was a kind of sympathy betwixt that Valley and him, for I never 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.
¶But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I thought I should have lost my man; not for that he had any inclination to go back, that he always abhorred, but he 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 [257]but heard him, 'twas enough to encourage them to come and fall upon us.
p. 257¶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 wakeful. 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. Hon. 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 would deny himself of that which was lawful, because 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 for it. One is, the wise God will have it so, some must pipe and [258]some Reasons must weep. Now Mr Fearing was one that played upon this Base; he and his fellows sound the sad{but, 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.
p. 258¶I make bold to talk thus metaphorically, for the ripening of the Wits of young Readers; and because 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. Difficulties, 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 Coelestial Country.
¶Great-heart. You say right. Those were the things that were his troublers, and they, as you 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.
¶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 [259]Entertainment, but my trouble was always such as made me knock the louder.
p. 259¶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 beginning have neither middle nor end. But we will here conclude our discourse of Mr Fearing, after we have sent after him this farewell.
¶Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear
¶Thy God, and wast afraid
¶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.
¶Now I saw that they still went on in their talk; for after Mr Great-heart had made an end with Mr Fearing, Mr Honest began to tell them of another, but his name was Mr Self-u/ill. He pretended 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 [260]al-Old Honest ways be like himself, self-willed. He neither cared for
¶nian, nor argument, nor yet example; what his 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 as well as the Vertues of the Pilgrims, and that if 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 exempted 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 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.
p. 261¶Great-heart. High base indeed, and you are sure he was of this opinion?
¶Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture 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 because good men heretofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had allowance to do it of a presumptuous 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 appointed.
¶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 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 or 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 [262]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 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 [263]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 F'"* P*"- three that set upon Little-faith heretofore. Well, said he, p. 128 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 Hon- (^^ ^„ ;„„ est. There is one a little before us, where a very honorable Disciple, one Gaius, 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 one for Christiana and her Children and Mercy, and another for Mr Great-heart and the old Gentleman.
¶Great-heart. Then said Mr Great-heart, Good Gaius, what hast thou for Supper.' for these Pilgrims have come far to-day, and are weary.
¶Gaius. It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot [264]conveniently go out to seek food, but such as we have you shall be welcome to, if that will content.
p. 264¶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 name was Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready 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 Gaius, Whose Wife is this aged Matron? and whose Daughter is this young Damsel?
¶Great-heart. The Woman is the Wife of one Christian a Pilgrim of former times, and these are his four Children. The Maid is one of her Acquaintance, 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 Gaius, Is this Christian's Wife? and are these Christian's Children? I knew your 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 above any that I know, shewed themselves men of great Vertue 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, [265]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, Rotnanus 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 impossible 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.
p. 265¶Great-heart. Indeed Sir, they are likely Lads, they seem to chuse heartily their Father's ways.
¶Gaius. That is it that I said, wherefore Christian's Family is like still to spread abroad upon the face of the ^^* 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, a lovely couple. And may I advise, take Mercy into a nearer Relation to thee. If she will, let her 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.
¶Gaius also proceeded and said, I will now sf)eak on the behalf of Women, to take away their Reproach. [266]For Why as Death and the Curse came into the world by a Woman, so also did Life and Health: 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.
p. 266¶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 Substance. '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 followed him from the Cross, and that sat by his Sepulchre when he was buried. They were Women that was first with him at his Resurrection-morn, and Women that brought tiding first to his Disciples 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 almost ready, and sent one to lay the Cloath, the 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.
¶Gains. So let all ministring doctrines to thee in this life, beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the 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 v/ill 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 [267]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.
p. 267¶The next they brought up was a Bottle of Wine, red as Blood. So Gaius 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 Gaius ^ ''"^ said, Let the Boys have that, that they may grow thereby.
¶Then they brought up in course a dish of Butter and ° j''^'' 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 l^now 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 Matthew, May we eat Apples, since they were such, by and with which the Serpent beguiled our first Mother ?
¶Then said Gaius,
¶Apples were they with which we were beguil'd.
¶Yet sin, not Apples, hath our souls defil'd.
¶Apples forbid, if eat, corrupts the Blood;
¶To eat such when commanded, does us good.
¶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 with another dish, and 'twas a dish of Nuts. Then said some at the Table, Nuts spoil tender Teeth, specially the Teeth of Children; which when Gaius heard, he s[268]aid, Hard Texts are Nuts (I will not call them cheaters)
p. 268¶Whose Shells do keep their Kernels from the Eaters.
¶Ofje 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 man there was, tho' some did count him mad.
¶The more he cast away the more he had.
¶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,
¶Shall have as much again, and ten times more.
¶Then said Joseph, I dare say Sir, I did not think you could a found it out.
¶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 1 have gained thereby. There is that scattereth, yet increaseth, and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to Poverty. There is that maketh himself Rich, yet hath nothing, there is that ma{eth 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 Gaius the Host overhearing said, With a very good will, my Child.
¶So they stayed there more than a month, and Mercy was given to Matthew to Wife.
¶While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was, would be making Coats and Garments to the Poor, [269]by which she brought up a very good report upon the Pilgrims.
p. 269¶But to return again to our Story. After Supper the Lads desired a Bed, for that they were weary with ' travelling. Then Gaius called to shew them their chamher, 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 Gaius 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 Gaius, began to nod. Then said Great-heart, What Sir, you begin to be drowsy, come, rub up, now here's a Riddle for you. "' ° ' Then said Mr Honest, Let's hear it.
¶Then said Mr Great-heart:
¶He that will kill, must first be overcome; A
¶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 Landlord, 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 Gaius, 'twas put to you, and 'tis expected that you should answer it.
¶Then said the old Gentleman,
¶He first by Grace must conquer'd be.
¶That Sin would mortify;
¶And who, that lives, would convince me,
¶Unto himself must die.
¶It is right, said Gaius, good Doctrine and Experience teaches this. For First, until Grace displays itself, and overcomes the soul with its Glory, it is altogether without heart to oppose Sin. Besides, 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 [270]or Grace, believe that such a man can be a living Monument of Grace that is a Slave to his own Corruptions.
p. 270¶And now it comes in my mind, I will tell you a Story worth the hearing. There were two men 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 which heads it against the greatest opposition, gives best demonstration that it is strongest. Specially 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 themselves with this mistake, namely, taking the decays of Nature for a gracious Conquest over Corruptions, and so have been apt to beguile themselves. 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 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 [271]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.
p. 271¶Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I S'*"V . 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. 'Twould 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 *^<^ j? him with one Feeble-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.
¶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, as [272]I One also told thee before. So they went to it again, and the
¶Giant made Mr Great-heart give back; but he came up again, and in the greatness of his mind 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 sickly man as you see, and, because Death did usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at home; so I betook myself to 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 weakly looks, nor against 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 [273]me prepare for an Encounter; but alas, feeble one that I was, I had more need of a Cordial. So he came up and took Mark this 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, 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.
p. 273¶Hon. Then said old Mr Honest, Have you not some time ago been acquainted with one Mr Fearing a Pilgrim ?
¶Feeble. Acquainted with him. Yes. He came from the Town of Stupidity, which lieth four degrees to the northward of the City of Destruction, and as many off of where """''' I was born; yet we were well acquainted, for indeed he was mine Uncle, my 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 believe ^^^' also that you were related one to another; for you have his whitely Look, a Cast like his with your eye, and your . Sfjeech is much alike.
¶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 Gaius, be of good cheer,
1 11 111
¶you are welcome to me and to my house, and what thou hast a mind to, call for freely; and what thou [274]would'st have my servants to do for thee, they will do it with a ready mind.
p. 274¶Then said Mr Feeble-mind, This is unexpected Favour, and as the Sun shining out of a very dark 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 Gaius was thus in talk, there comes one running and called at the door, and told, That about a mile and a half off there was one Mr
¶a
¶Not-right a Pilgrim struck dead upon the place where he was with a Thunderbolt.
¶Feeble. Alas, said Mr Feeble-mind, is he slain? He overtook me some days before I came so far as hither, and would be my Company-keeper. He also was with me when Slay-good the Giant took me, but he was nimble of his heels and escaped. But it 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 Gaius gave his Daughter Phebe to 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 [275]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,
p. 275¶Great-heart. Beloved, thou dost faithfully whatsoever 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 Chil- 9"^^. ^'f dren, 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 ^^^j.^) 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 yet know all the Truth. I am a very ignorant Christian man. Sometimes if I hear some rejoice in 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 that is ready to slip with 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, I have it in Commission to comfort the feeble-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 [276]will A Chris- deny ourselves of some things both opinionative and practical for your sake, we will not enter into doubtful disputations before you, we will be made all things to you rather than you shall be left behind.
p. 276¶Now all this while they were at Gaius's door; 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, how camest thou hither? I was but just now complaining that I had not a suitable Companion, but thou art according to my wish. Welcome, welcome, 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 E)og.
¶Ready. If either myself or my Crutches can do thee a pleasure, we are both at thy command, good Mr Feeble-mind.
¶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,
¶Hon. Pray Sir, now we are upon the Road, tell us some profitable things of some that have gone on Pilgrimage before us.
¶Great-heart. With a good will. I suppose you 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 [277]First, with one Discontent, and Shame, four as deceitful Villains as a man can meet with upon the road.
p. 277¶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.
¶Hon. But pray Sir, where was it that Christian and Faithful met TalJ{ative? 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.
¶Great-heart. Ay, but Christian put him into a way ^^"^ P"*' 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 encouragement withal. But what do we talk of them? they were ^' '°° a couple of lion-like men, they had set their faces like flint. Don't you remember how undaunted 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 acquainted with things.
¶Great-heart. Above all that Christian met with [278]after Firit Part, he had passed through Vanity Fair, one By-ends was p. 102 the arch one.
p. 278¶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 of the Town of Vanity where Vanity Fair is kept. So when they saw that they were so near the Town, they consulted with one another how they should 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 Conductor of Pilgrims through this Town, now I am acquainted with one Mr Mnason, a Cyprusian by Nation, an old Disciple, at whose house we may lodge. If you think good, said he, we will turn in there.
¶Content, said old Honest, Content, said Christiana, Content said Mr Feeble-mind, and so they 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 Gaius 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.
p. 279¶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. J''*y
¶Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them ? for the sight of good men to them that are going on Pilgrim- °^^^ age, is like to the appearing of the Moon and the Stars to them that are sailing upon the Seas. '•>•= '°w"
¶Then Mr Mnason stamped with his foot, and his ^^^ """ daughter Grace came up; so he said unto her, Grace, go you tell my Friends, Mr Contrite, Mr 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 Neighbors, 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, [280]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.
p. 280¶Hon. Then Mr Honest (when they were all sat down) asked Mr Contrite and the rest in what posture their Town was at present?
¶Contrite. You may be sure we are full of hurry in Fair-time. 'Tis hard keeping our hearts and spirits in any good order, when we are in a cumbered condition. He that lives in such a place as this is, and that has to do with such as we have, 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 Faithful were used at our Town; but of late, I say, they have been far more moderate. I think the blood of Faithful lieth with load upon them till 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 Wayfaring 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. [281]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.
p. 281¶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. Indeed 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 Gaius, 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 Gaius 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 Spirits. So we approached up to his Den, and lo when we came there, he had dragged by mere force into his Net this {xxjr 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 [282]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 two things that they have need to be possessed with 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.
¶Loue-saint. Then said Mr Love-saint, I hope this caution is not needful amongst you. But truly 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 true, they neither have the Pilgrim's Weed, nor 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 ought to be troubled for, nor are the Pilgrims like to have that Grace put upon them and their 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). Wherefore the Pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the good people of the Town, and did them what service they could. Mercy, as she was wont, laboured much for the [283]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 Christian's name, as was said before, was like to live in the World.
p. 283¶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 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 Holy-man, Mr Dare-not-lye, and Mr Penitent, with their Weapons go forth to meet him. Now the Monster at first was very rampant, and looked uf)on these Enemies with great Disdain, but they so belaboured 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; insomuch that in process of [284]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.
p. 284¶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, they conferred 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 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 convenient, they again committed each other to the Protection of their King, and parted.
¶They therefore that were of the Pilgrims' Company 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 [285]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.
¶Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre, where the R"' P"*« Silver-mine was, which took Demas off from his Pil- ^' '"' grimage, and into which, as some think, By-ends fell and perished; wherefore they considered 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 the River R"' ^"^ that was on this side of the Delectable Mountains. To the River where the fine Trees grow on both sides, and whose Leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against Surfeits, where the Meadows 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 commit 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, [286]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 Flowers, variety of Trees, and such as bear wholesome 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 be at the Charge of the King, and so was as an Hospital for young Children and Orphans.
¶Now they went on; and when they were come to By-p. 114 path Meadow, to the Stile over which Christian went with his Fellow Hopeful, when they were taken by Giant Despair and put into Doubting Castle, they sat down and consulted what was best to be done; to wit, now they were so strong, and had got such a man as
¶a
¶a Mr Great-heart for their Conductor, whether they had not best make an 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 [287]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 jour Sons, Matthew Samuel 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.
p. 287¶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 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, thought no man could overcome him; and again, thought he, since heretofore I have made a Conquest 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 was P^P*^ brought down to the Ground, but was very loth to die. ,0 He struggled hard, and had, as they say, as many Lives [288]as a Cat, but Great-heart was his Death, for he left him not till he had severed his Head from his Shoulders.
p. 288¶Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, and that you know might with ease be done since 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 performed this exploit, they took Mr Dispondency and his Daughter Much-afraid into their protection, 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 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 Crutch 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 dancing, 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.
p. 290¶The Keep by the Pole, and do by Compass steer
¶From Sin to Grace, else they had not been here;
¶Next here's old Honest come on Pilgrimage,
¶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 Company. You are welcome to us, for we have comfort for the feeble as for the strong. Our 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 Dispondency, and Mrs Much-afraid his Daughter. These, Mr Great-heart, said the Shepherds to the 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 Liberty. 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, [291]and the day clear, and because it was the custom of the Shepherds to shew to the Pilgrims before their departure, some Rarities; 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.
p. 291¶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 Great-grace, 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, 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 Innocent, and there they saw a man cloathed all in White, and two men Prejudice and Ill-will continually 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 dear 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. Whoever 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 Noonday.
¶Then they took them, and had them to Mount Charity, where they shewed them a man that had a bundle of cloth [292]^^"^^ 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.
p. 292¶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 one Fool and one Want-wit washing of an Ethiopian with intention to make him white, but the more they washed him the blacker he was. They then asked the Shepherds what that should mean. So they told them, saying. Thus shall it be with the 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.
¶Then said Mercy the Wife of Matthew to Christiana her Mother, Mother, I would, if it might be, see the Hole in the Hill, or that commonly called the By-way to 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
¶hearkened, and heard one saying. Cursed be my Father p. 125 for holding of my feet back{^ 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 Soul; 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 delivered from this place.
¶Now when the Shepherds had shewed them all these things, then they had them back to the Palace, and entertained them with what the house would [293]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 1 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.
p. 293¶Now the Glass was one of a thousand. It would 'J , present a man, one way, with his own l*eature exactly, 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 Humiliation or in his Exaltation, whether coming to Suffer or coming to Reign.
¶Christiana therefore went to the Shepherds apart (now I^'"' P"*> the names of the Shepherds are Knowledge, 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 assuredly have what we can help her to. So they called her, and said to her, Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldest have? Then she blushed, and said, The great Glass that hangs up [294]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 1 know that I have obtained favour in your eyes.
p. 294¶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 demolishing of Doubting Castle.
¶About Christiana's Neck the Shepherds put a Bracelet, and so they did about the Necks of her four Daughters, also they put Ear-rings in their Ears, and Jewels on their Fore-heads.
¶When they were minded to go hence, they let them
¶p. 126
¶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 approaching.
¶What Cautions Christian and his Companions had p. 135 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 fidy 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!
¶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.
¶When they were gone from the Shepherds, they p. 128 quickly came to the place where Christian met with [295]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 where Christian met with one Turn-away, who carried with him the H°"' °"* character of his Rebellion at his back. And this I have to say concerning this man, he would hearken to no ^^ counsel, but once a falling, persuasion could not stop him.
p. 295¶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 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 ^°^ Little-faith formerly was robbed, there stood a man with his Sword drawn, and his Face all bloody. Then said ^'^ w** Mr Great-heart, What art thou ? The man made answer, saying, I am one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I am a Pilgrim, and am going to the Coelestial 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 become 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 [296]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 Pragmatic/(^, drew upon me, and I also drew upon them.
p. 296¶So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of above three hours. They have left upon me, as you see, some of the marks of their Valour, and have also carried away with them some of mine. 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 against one.
¶Valiant. 'Tis true, but little or more are nothing 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 Valiant-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 thereon 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.
¶Valiant. I fought till my Sword did cleave to my Hand; and when they were joined together, as if a Sword
¶PILGRIMS PROGRESS 297 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 he loved one greatly that he found to be a man of his hands) and because there were with his Company 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{4and, 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 me to come on Pilgrimage was this; we had one Mr Tell-true came into our parts, and he told it about what Christian k.° °" had done, that went from the 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 Welcome 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, how 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 w[298]ay. Great-heart. You came in at the Gate, did you not?
p. 298¶Valiant. Yes, yes, for the same man also told us that all would be nothing, if we did not begin to enter this way at the Gate.
¶Great-heart. Look you, said the Guide to Christiana, the Pilgrimage of your Husband, and what he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and near.
¶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.
¶Valiant. It glads me at heart. Good man, how joyful will he be when he shall see them that would not go with him, yet to enter after him in at the 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 imaginable to persuade me to stay at home.
¶Great-heart. What could they against it?
p. 299¶Valiant. They said it was an idle life, and if I myself The great were not inclined to Sloth and Laziness, I would never stumblinjjcountenance a Pilgrim's condition.
¶Great-heart. And what did they say else?
¶Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous 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 Dispond, where Christian was well nigh smothered. 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 Despair, 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 dangerous. 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 Ccelestial Country.
¶Great-heart. And was this all ?
¶Valiant. No. They also told me that this way was full of Deceivers, and of persons that laid 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 Wiseman did there lie in wait to deceive. They also said that there [300]was Formality and Hypocrisy continually 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 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.
p. 300¶Great-heart. I promise you this was enough to discourage, but did they make an end here?
¶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 something 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, Turn-away 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 advantage by going as amounted to the weight of a Feather.
¶Great-heart. Said they anything more to discourage you?
¶Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr Fearing 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 Ccelestial 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 discourage you?
¶Valiant. No, they seemed but as so many nothings to me.
¶Great-heart. How came that about ?
p. 301¶Valiant. Why I still believed what Mr Tell-true had How he said, and that carried me beyond them all. these
¶Great-heart. Then this was your victory, even your
¶, >
¶p. 138
¶where the air naturally tended to make one drowsy, 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 [302]therefore they went, both one with another, and Mr Great-heart went before for that he was the Guide, and Mr Valiant-jor-trtith he came behind, being there a Guard for fear lest pcradventure 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 a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another 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.
p. 302¶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 promising 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 [303]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 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 Slothjul's Friend, on purpose to allure, if it might be, some of the Pilgrims there to take up their Rest when weary.
p. 303¶I saw then in my Dream, that they went on in this their J^ "»>' solitary ground, till they came to a place at 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 J^' (f""** the Ccelestial City; wherefore he struck a Light (for he never goes also without his Tinder-box) and takes a view of his Book or Map, which bids him be careful in that place to turn to the right-hand way. And 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 Pil- <^<^'' grimage but would have one of these Maps about 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 they ^ "^' came to where there was another Arbor, and it was built by the High-way side. And in that Arbor there lay two men whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These two went thus far on Pilgrimage, but here being [304]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 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.
p. 304¶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 ta/^e my Many. 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 talf^ 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 awal{e I will see\ it again. You know when men talk in their Sleeps they say anything, but their words are not governed 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
¶PILGRIM S PROGRESS 305 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 to these, that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none can wake them.
¶Then the Pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward; only they prayed their Guide to strike a 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 they '^^, cried out unto him that loveth Pilgrims to make their way more comfortable. So by that they had 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 ground. they perceived that a little before them was a solemn Noise, as of one that was much concerned. So they went '"j* '"■ on and looked before them; and behold they saw, as they thought, a man upon his Knees, with Hands and Eyes lift up, and speaking, 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 Coelestial 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 Valiantjor-truth, Prithee, who is it} 'Tis one, said he, who comes from whereabouts I dwelt, his name is Stand-fast, he is certainly a right good [306]Pilgrim. Talk be- So they came up one to another; and presently Stand-tween him fast said to old Honest, Ho Father Honest, are you there? Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as you are there. Right glad am I, said Mr Stand-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 up)on 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.
p. 306¶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 destroyeth men. Those that die here, die of no violent Distemper. The Death which such die is not grievous 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, [307]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 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 Deliverance, for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my Journey.
p. 307¶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.
p. 308¶Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good Limner, and he that wrote of her said true.
¶Great-heart. This woman is a Witch, and it is by vertue of her Sorceries that this ground is inchanted. 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 Banqueting 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 thousand 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 [309]drawn thee into many foolish and hurtful LMSts, u/hich drown men in Destruction and Perdition.
p. 309¶'Twas she that set Absalom against his Father, and feroboam against his Master. 'Twas she that persuaded fudas 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 Neighbor, '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-(>an,
¶Do leap into the Fire.
¶After this I beheld until they were come unto the Land of Beulah, where the Sun shineth Night and Day. p. 156 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 continually 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 [310]are come to Town. And 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 Coclestial 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.
p. 310¶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 ftowings, 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 Camp/lire with Spikenard and Saffron Calamus and Cinnamon, with all its Trees of Frankincense Myrrh and Aloes, with all chief Spices. With these the Pilgrim's Chambers 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 Ccelestial City, with matter of great importance to one Christiana the Wife 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 [311]Letter, the contents whereof was, Hail, good Woman, I bring His thee Tidings that the Master calleth for thee, and expecteth that thou shouldest stand in his presence in Cloaths of Immortality, within this ten days.
p. 311¶When he had read this Letter to her, he gave her therewith a sure token that he was a true Messenger, and was j^j,!, ,„ come to bid her make haste to be gone. The token was an Arrow with a point sharpened with Love, let easily j^g ,<, into her heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with her, that at the time appointed she must be gone.
¶When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first of this Company that was to go over, she called for Mr Great-heart her 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 her Blessing, and told them that she yet read with 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 commanded her Sons and her Daughters to be ready against the Messenger should come for them.
¶When she had spoken these words to her Guide and to '1'° her Children, she called for Mr Valiant-for-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 Children, and if at any time you see them faint, speak comfortably to them. For my Daughters, my Sons' Wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilUng of the Promise upxan them will be their end. But she gave Mr Stand-fast a [312]Ring. To old 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 Zion, 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.
p. 312¶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 Despair 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 delivered 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 followed her to the River-side. The last word she was heard to say here was, / come Lord, to be with thee and bless thee.
p. 313¶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 again, ^'^l.' and his business was with Mr Ready-to-halt. So he enquired him out, and said to him, 1 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 Pilgrims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, and God shall surely visit you also. So he desired Mr 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 and Kindness, and so addressed himself to his Journey. When he came at the Brink of the River he said, 'Now I shall have no more need of these 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 [314]way. Feeble- After this Mr Feeble-mind had Tidings brought him that the Post sounded his Horn at his Chamber-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 loo^ out at the Windows shall be dark^ened.
p. 314¶Then Mr Feeble-mind called for his Friends, and told them what 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 \eeble 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 rest. His last words were, Hold out Faith and Patience. So he went over to the other side.
¶When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Dispondency was sent for. For a Post was come, and brought this Message to him. Trembling man, these are to sum-man thee to be ready with thy King by the next Lard's day, to shout for Joy for thy Deliverance from all thy Doubtings.
¶And said the Messenger, That my Message is true take this for a Proof; 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 Dispondency said to his Friends, Myself and my Daughter, you know what we have been, and how troublesomely we have behaved ourselves in every Company. My Will and my Daughter's is, that our Disponds and slavish Fears be by no man ever received from the day of our Departure for ever, for I know that after my [315]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.
p. 315¶When the time was come for them to depart, they went to the Brink of the River. The last words of Mr Dispondency were. Farewell Night, welcome Day. His Daughter went through the River singing, but none could understand what she said.
¶Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a Post in the town that enquired for Mr Honest. 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 thyself before thy Lord at his Father's house. And for a Token that my Message is true, All thy Daughters of Musicl{ 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 Honesty, it shall go with me; let him that comes 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 overflowed the Banks in some places, but Mr Honest in his lifetime had spoken to one Good-conscience to meet him there, the which he also did, and lent him his hand, and so helped him over. The last words of Mr Honest were, Grace reigns. So he left the World.
¶After this it was noised abroad that Mr Valiant-for-truth was taken with a Summons by the same Post as the other, and had this for a Token that the Summons was true. That his Pitcher was bro/(en 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 difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do [316]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 1 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 Trumpets sounded for him on the other side.
p. 316¶Then there came forth a Summons for Mr Stand-fast, (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 brol{en 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 you, you have been profitable to me. When I came 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 Family, and let them be acquainted with all that hath and shall happen unto me. Tell them moreover 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 [317]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.
p. 317¶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; wherefore 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 thoughts of it also have often frighted me. But 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 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 [318]against my Paintings. He has held me, and I have kept me from mine iniquities, yea, my Steps hath he strengthened in his Way.
p. 318¶Now while he was thus in Discourse, his Countenance changed, his strong man bowed under him, and after he had said, Taf{e 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 Trumpeters 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.
A U Tho R's Vindication
p. 319¶THE AUTHOR ' S VINDICATION