CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF H. F. Bellis nr>»..». Cornell University Library PR 3330.A1 1855b Pilgrim's progress from this world to th 3 1924 013 169 648 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 31 69648 [POlL^lEOia^g [J>[E®iB[E[^§gc 3 THE PILGHIM'S PROGRESS THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. BY JOHN BUNYAN. C0NTAININ3 HIS AUTHENTICATED THIRD PART, "THE TEAVELS OF THE UNGODLY." COLLATED, FOK THE FIRST TIME, WITH THE EAKLY EDITIOKS, AND TH« PHRASEOLOGY OF ALL HIS WOKKS, WITH ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES. BY. THOMAS SCOTT, D. D. CONTAIJJINO, ALSO, AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF EUNYAN. BY JOSIAH CONDER, A. M. PHILADELPHIA : JOHN B. PERRY, 198 MARKET STREET. NEW YORK :-NAFI3 & CORNISH, 2T8 I'EARL ST. I860 MUUEAY AND CHAKLES, STEKEOTYPEHa, J- VANCOORT, TKINTER, KO. 9 GEOKSB STREET. MEMOIR OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF JOHN BUNYAN. The most popular religious book in English literature, — in which the most popular books are of a religious character, — is the-prodtiction of an uneducated peasant, who worked his 'vlray out of the lowest vice and ignorance, not by the force of his genius, so much as by that of an impulse which quickened' his genius into life, and transformed him at once intellectually and morally. The finest specimen of well-sustained allegory in any language, is the composition of this self-taught rustic, who little aimed at litfraiy celebrity. in the honiely parable which he wrote to solace his prison hours, for the religious instruction of the common people. The most adniirable exposition of the elements of Christian theology, — one which is so little of a controversial or sectarian character, that it may confessedly- be read without offence by sober-minded Protestants of all per- suasions, and yet so comprehensive, as to form the best popular body of divinity ,^s the composition of an obscUre itinerant preacher, whose apostolic labours consigned him, in the days of the Stuarts, to a twelve years' imprisonment in Bedford gaol, for no other crime than his nonconformity. What 'is still more remarkable, this work, the Odyssey of the English people,^the favourite with young and o'ld ; which the poit admires for its imaginative beauty, and in which the artist finds the most delightful subjects for the pencil ; to the extra- ordinary merit of which, testimony has been borne by critics w;ho have had no sympathy with either the design and religious spirit of the work, or the theological opinions interwoven with 3 4 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS it, and who rank the reaUties shadowed in the allegory with the visionaiy creations of romance ;— this work — we need liot name it — the Pilgrim's Progress, is, in fact, a powerful address to the conscience ; having no other object than to delineate the successive stages of the spiritual life, and to portray the mental conflicts of experimental piety, which, to those who have no corresponding experience, must appear the hallucination of fanaticism. Strange that a work should have power so to please the imagination of an indevout man, which can be un- derstood otily by the heart in which religion has its seat ; — that those who have not the key to the cipher, should still admire the character in which the spiritual meaning is veiled, and which experience alone can perfectly interpret. But such is the fact. This fextraordinary work, it has been beautifully remarked by an American critic, "is like a painting meant to be exhibited by fire-Ught : the common reader sees it by day. To the Christian (the actual pilgrim) it is a glorious trans- parency ; and the light that shines through it, and gives its incidents such life? its colours such depth, and the Tvhole scene such a surpassing glory, is light from eternity, the meaning of heaven." Religion never offends so long as she addresses only the imagination ; a fact of which, for opposite purposes, the Author of all triith and the apostles of error have alike availed them- selves ; the former to gain access by this avenue to the under- standing and the conscience, the latter to enlist the imagination in the support of superstition.. He who spake as never man spake, taught the people in parables, and by this means obtained a hearing from those who could not bear his hard sayings ; and still these divine allegories^the matchless parable of the Prodigal Son, for instance — have charms for readers who never :take home to their own bosoms their spiritual import. Rousseau has eloquently eulogized the sublirne poetry of the Scriptures. The Pilgrim's Progress is replete with the spirit of poetry, caught from no earthly muse. Bunyan's genius was nourished purely from the fountain-head of inspiration. He thought in the very dialect of Scripture ; and the imagery of "the Bible was ever present to his thoughts, as, if we maj OF JOFIN BUNYAN. 5 say so, the native scenery of his spiritual birth. He was made by the Bible ; educated by the study of it ; it was his " book of all learning ;" and the simplicity of purpose and the intense interest with which he searched its contents, as the treasury of heavenly wisdom, rendered him, like Apollos, ^' eloquent and mighty in the Scriptures," while his mind became more and more embued with their "spirit and life;" It has been said with some truth, that the genius of his work is Hebrew. " The poetry of the Bible," remarljss the critic to whom we have already referred, " was not less the source of Biznyan's poetical power, than the study of the whole Scriptures was the source of his simplicity and purity of style. His heart was not only made new by the spirit of the Bible, but his whole intellectual being was penetrated and transfigur^ by its influence. He brought the spirit and power gathered from so long and ex- clusive a communion with the prophets and apostles, to the composition of every page of the Pilgrim's Progress. To the habit of mind thus induced, and the workings of an imagina- tion thus disciplined, may be traced the simplicity of all his imagery, and the power of his personifications He wrote from the impulse of his geniusj sanctified and illuminated by a heavenly influence : and its movements were as artless as the movement^ of a little child left to play upon the , green by itself."* It is this inimitable simplicity and artlessnes^, that the work: comes nearer to the character of the sacred writings than, perhaps, any uninspired composition. And, like the scriptures, Bunyan's parable, while it com- mands the admiration of cultivated minds by those qualities v^hich delight the imagiiiation, has conveyed instruction and consolation to thousands incapable of appreciating its genius, and unconscious of the spell which it exerted over their minds. To the child,-it is a gallery of pictures ; to the man of taste, an exquisite drama ; to the plain Christian of duller fancy, a chart and road-book of his course through this world. With regard to many whom the Pilgrim's Progress captivates, it might be said of its author as of the Hebrew prophet : "Lo ! thou art • Noj'th Americao Review. No. LXXIX. p. 462. a2 6 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS unto them as a very loTely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument : for they hear Itiy words, but they do .them not." On the other hand, thousands who have had no ear for the music, have delighted in the words of the song, and have followred. the instruction it con- veyed: it would not otherwise be adapted to the mass of common minds among the lower classes for Whom it was designed, and upon whom it has, for two hundred years, ex- erted a beneficial effefct which it is impossible to bring within any estimate. But ther rich vein of native good sense and sober pleasantry which runs through the work, recommends it to all orders of readers ; and the Pilgrim's Progress was the favourite of the people, before the fame of its author had madp its way up to thoge who are called the public. In the « well-told tale," " Sweet 6ction and sweet trutli alike prevail. Its humorous vein, strong sense, and simple style, May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile.—- Witty, and well employed, and, like thy Lord, Speaking in parables his slighted word ; I name thee not, lest so despised a naBie Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame." So Cowper, sang fifty years ago ; and the fact that there is no longer any danger of moving a sneer by naming the author of the Pilgrim's Progress, affords reason to hope that we have ^rown, in this coiiiitry, somewhat wiser. In addition ito these various sources of attraction, the work poissesses, in a considerable degree, the interest of autobiogra- phy : for it is impossible not to feel that, in the progress of his pilgrim, the author is laying open to us his own mental history. As he tells us in his homely rhymes, " It came from my own heart, so to my head, And thence into my fingers trickled." « This characteristic feature of the parable broadly and happily distinguishes it from the heavy ingenuities of didactic or senti- nental allegorists, such as the brood of imitatbrs whom his success raised up, or those who had preceded him in the same species of composition. The charge of being a plagiarist, or OF JOHN BUNYAN. 7 of having been assisted in the composition, Bunyan himself indignantly repels : " Manner and matter too was allmine own." "But," remarfe Dr. Soiithey, « original as Bunyan beliered his own work to he, and as, in the main, undoubtedly it is, the same allegory had often been treated before him."* How could it fail to have been employed by religious writers, when the outline of the allegory is supphed by the Holy Scriptures ? In the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews, the Christian life is represented as a pilgrimage to a better, a heavenly country ; and, in the following chapter, we have the heavetaly city magnificently described. Surelv we ntJed look * Mr. Montgomery, in his very able introductory Essay to the Pilgrim's Progress,, refers to a poem, entitled "Tlie Pilgrim," in Whitney's "Emblems," (1585,) the print affixed to which represents a pilgrim leaving the world, (a geographical globe,) and travelling towards the symbol of the Divine Name. This emblem, with the following stanza, might, it is imagined, have suggested to Bunyan the first idea of his story • though it does not, in fact, present any thing beyond the familiar scripture simile : ; " happier they that, pondering this arighte. Before that here their pilgrimage bee past, Resigne this world ; and marche with all their mighte Within that pathe that leads where ioys shall last. And whilst they maye, there treasure vp their store. Where, without rust, it lastes for evermore.'' Dr. Southey ' mentions a once popular French poem, composed a. d. 1310, en- titled, "ie Pelerinde la Vie Huiiudne," as having suggested the Voyage of the Wandering Knight, by Jean de Cartheray, a French Carmelite, of which a transla- tion was printed in England in the reign of Elizabeth : but there is only a vague general resemblance in the subject, and some occasional similarity in the details. The Pilgrimage of Dovekio and Willekin to their Beloved in Jerusalem, originally published in Dutch, at Antwerp, in 1627, has also been absurdly supposed to have been the original of the Pilgrim's Progress. Dr. Southey has triumphantly-exposed the groundless nature of this supposition ! the works have nothing in common. Dean Patrick's "Parable of the Pilgrim," 1663, comes nearer to Bunyan's work in some points of general resemblance j but it is a treatise rather than an allegory, aijd the author, disclaiming all pretension to fancy or iiivention, states, that he took the idea from a discourse so «ntitled in Baker's " Sancta Sophia." , Bernaijd's " Isle of Man, or the Legal Prpceedings in Man-shire against Sin," a popular Book in Bun- yan's time, is more likely to have been seen by him, and to have Had some effect upon his style J but it wants the charm of story, and has nothing of the romantic interest of Bunyan's parable. 8 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS no further for the origin of Butiyan's allegory, as- regards tbn main idea of the parable. But the _felicity with which he has dramatized the progress of the Christian pilgrim, is peculiar to himself; and Dr. Southey sums up his examination of the works to which it has been thought to bear the strongest appearance of resemblancie) with the candid and tiecisive con- clusion^ that " if ever there was a work which carried with it the stamp of originality in all its parts, it is that of John Bunyan." . ^" Did its author's claim to originality rest upon this work alone, his fame would even then be safe ; but, in his Holy War, Bunyan has, displayed even superior power of invention; and if his " Life and Death of Mr. Badman" has not been as generally read, it is, in the opinion of Dr. Southey, whom We cite as an impartial judge, " because the subject is less agree- able, not that it has bepn treated with inferior ability." " Little less popular" than the Pilgrim's- Progress, and, whether viewed as a theological work or as an allegory, of al Jeast equal merit, the Holy War fails to excite the • same romantic kind of interest, chiefly because we synap^ithize less strongly with the personifications of the drama; conscious that, instead of beiiig led through the vivid scenery of a dreafn, which is the shadow of waking realitieSj we are only looking at the weU-teonstructed machinery of a fable. We feel to be conversing with abstractions, and never foVget thij allegory. One principal reason why the Pilgrim's Progress is the most delightful thing of the kind in the world, Mr. Montgomery observes, is " fliat , though the whole is written under the similitude of a dream, there is very little of pure allegory in it ; and few abstract qualities or passions are person^ed If ever allegorical charapters. excite either sympathy or affection, it is when we forget that they are allegorical; consequently, when the allegory is suspended with respect to them." In reading the Pilgrim's , Progress, we so constantly identify the atathor with his hero, as to find it difficult to separate them in oiir feelings ; and the allegorical meaning seems superinduced upon, the story, which flows on with so much of the semblance of real life. The Pilgrim n6t only seems a rejal character, but OF JOHN BUNYAN. 9 gives reality to the emblematic phantoms with which he is associated ; and the- mind of the reader undergoes a sort of deception similar to that which is produced lipon the waking eye by a peculiar affection of the brain, the subject of which sees spectral forms blending with living figures, and is unable 'o discriminate between- the substantial and the unreal. It may be suspected, indeed, that in. the subordinate per- sonages of the allegory, Bunyan had real characters* so far in view, that the idfeal was, as it were, modelled upon a portrait. In all the variety. of characters which he brings before us, there is an- individuality stamped upon them by which they may be identified. But the biographical . unity is as truly preserved by the prominence given to the principal actor, as in the classical epic. Christian is the Ulysses of the story. And this unity of interest results from the author's simplicity of pwpose, which led him steadily to keep in view his main design. Hence, the allegory, if defective > or inconsistent in parts, (for which the author has provided a sufficie'nt apology in styling it a ,dream, for in dreams we are not conscious of such disftrepancies,) is -/perfectly adapted, as Mr. Montgomery remarks, to the purpose for which it was composed. This was, " to show the particular experience of one Christian traveller, whose peculiar temptations and confl,icts are general examples of what converted sinners must expect to encounter, though not all in the same degree, nor indeed all the same in kind. Christian, therefore, may be considered as a w'hole- Ipnglh portrait of the author himself; while the secondary characters, more or less curtailed, show the variety which is found in religious societies.", l . . " The -Pilgrim's Progress is the history of one man's experience in full, and the experience of many others in part ; wherefore, thftugh the plan may be defective with regard to the multitude,, all of whom are abso- * " We may be sure," remarks Dr. Southey, " that Mr. Valiant-for.the.Trntli, Old Honest, of the town of Stupidity, Mr. Despondency, and his daughter Much- Afraid, and their companions, were well known in ' Bishop Bunyan's diocese;'. and if DO real characters were designed hy him in those who are less favourably intro- diiced a9 turning back on theik- jourhey, striking into by-pitths, or slumbering by the way, likenesses would be discovered ^here none were intended." 10 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS lately subordinate to the hero, Christian, with regard to him it is perfect, consistent, and satisfactory throughout. This was all that the author primarily proposed ; and -whatever went ■beyond 'this, fell in his way, rather than belonged to his actual design. The unity of the plot in the personal adventures of Christian, is not broken, but embellished and enriched by the , incidental or episodical characters with which he becomes acquainted by the way." Mr. Montgomery has pt>ihted out a remarkable instance of the consummate yet artless skill which Bunyan has. in this respect displayed in the introduction of a companion to Chris- tian, by which the- interest of the narrative is reinforced without being divided. "The individual experience of one man," remarks ■ this accomplished critic, " would not have been sufficient to exen:^)lify all tire most useful lessons of the Gospel, unless the trials of maUy persons, of different age, sex, and disposition, were interwoven. Christian could not both have 'suffered martyrdom in Vanity Fadr, and travelled the remainder of his journey to the Celestial City ; yet in the days of John Bunyan, (who had himself been most cruelly persecuted for righteousness' sake,) it was necessary to set the precedent of a confessor, who was ready, not to be bound only, but to die far the Lord Jesus. This has been done in the case of Faithful, who seals his testimony with his Mood, while Christian, in ^ manner not explained, (which, however, is no flaw in the plot, having been advisedly adopted,) escapes 'for this time,' and, being joinfed by Hopeful, a convert raised up by the death of Faithful, proceeds on his way." The Second Part of the Pilgrim's Progress, if it does not excite so intense an interest, is not less delightful than the first. It is even richer in incident ; and the author has shown the -fertility of his invention, in the novelty which he has thrown into the journey over the same ground, so that nothing is repeated, but what is pleasing in the repetition, from the com- bined effect of reminiscence and contrast. Ill the pilgrimage of Christian and his successive companions, it appears to have been his design, Mr. Montgomery remarks, to portray -the personal and solitary experience of the individual believer, or OF JOHN BUNYAN. 11 only the bosom fellowship between two Christian friends. " In the journey of Christiana and her family, gradually in- creasing to a goodly troop, he seems to have had more in view to illustrate the communion of saints and the advantages of church-membership It is delightful to travel in such pompany, and hear them not only tell their several histories, but discourse of the adventures of others who have gone before ; so that to the last stago,in the Enchanted Ground, when they find Stand- fast on his knees, there is a perpetual change of captivating anecdote and biography. Among the characters which so eminently enliven and adorn the Second Part of the Pilgrim's Progress, Mercy is the most lovely ; and though of the- utmost simplicity, it would be difficult, among the most finished por- traits of womanly excellence by our first poets, to parallel this in delicacy and truth of drawing and colouring." In the attempt to embody in an imaginary portrait, the personification of feminine virtue,, some of the greatest of our poets have failed ; and when we consider the circumstances of Bunyan's early history, his success in this instance must be viewed as a remarkable proof of the tendency of religion to purify and refine the taste. But here again the Bible was both his model and the source of his inspiration; and MerCy might almost pass, for a scriptural character. It has been remarked that the allegory is not so perfect in the Second Part, the pilgrimage of Christiana and her family appearing to occupy as many years as that of her husband did weeks ; for those who are children at their setting out, are grown up and married by the time they reach the half-way house of Gains. But these incon- gruities, which are regarded as a pardonable license in the dramatist, cannot be fairly imputed to want of skill in our " ingenious dreamer." Bunyan's purpose was to convey instruction ; and to this, his main end, he would have sacrificed all the unities. But, upon the whole, the allegory is very skilfully maintained. It may be questioned^ whether Bunyaa himself would have succeeded in a Third Part. But let us now fum from the author's parable to the pro- totype in the history of his own experience, of which he has left a narrative that forms one of the most interesting pieces of 12 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS religious aufobic^raphy in any language. In common with all productions of the kind, where the sincerity of the writer is above suspicion, it requires to be taken as a transcript of the writer's feelings and impressions, rather than as a literal and accurate history. There is always a generous exaggeration in the disclosures of true penitence, for which allowance must be made ; and in the description of the interior phenomena of a mental conflict, such as Bunyan passed through, the calmest judgment must be sometimes at a loss to discriminate betweeti the healthful and the morbid .action, when it is the patient who describes the ease. Such works furnish the most valuable materials -for biography ; but, as will appear in the sequel, it requires no ordinary discrimination, candour, and knowledge of the heart, to make the requisite allowances for the eircum- stances of the most conscientious narrator of his own history. John Bunyan was born in the village of Elstow, near Bedford, in the year 162S. His descent, to use his own words, was "of a low and . inconsiderable generation," his ^' father's house being of that rank that is meanest and most despised of all the families in the land." The craft to which he was born a:nd bred, like his father before him, was that of a brazier or tinker ; and he is said to have worked as a journeyman at Bedford. Mean and inconsiderable as were the circumstances of his parents, they were able to put their ison to school ; where he learned both to read and write " according to the rate of other poor men's children ;" but he confesses that he soon lost, almost utterly, what little he had acquired. Thrown among vile companions, he was early initiated into profaneness, lying, and all sorts of boyish vice and ungodliness; arid the only indication of his having a capacity above the village rabble, was aflforded by his beipg a ringleader of all the youth that kept him company, in their wickedness. Yet, even at nine or ten years old, in the midst of liis many sports and childish vanities, and surrounded by his vain companions, he was often seized with deep compunction ; and in his sleep, fearful visions corresponding to l>is waking terrors, would alarm his con- science. " I was often," hfr says, "much cast down and afl^icted therewith, yet could I not let go my sins : yea, I was OF JOHN BUNYAN. 13 also then so overcome with despair of life and heaven, that I should often wish, either that there had ,heen no hell, or that I had been a devil, supposing they were only tormentors ; that, if it must needs be that. I went thither, I might be rather a tormentor, than be tfsrmeuted myself." After a time, these terrible dreams left him, and his apprehensions of infernal punishment wore off. He became " void of all good consider- ation;" " heaven and hell, were both out of piind ;" and, "had not p. miracle of precious grace prevented," he says, "he had, not only perished by the strolce of eternal justice, but had also laid hirriself open ever^ to the stroke pf those laws which bring some to disgrace j^ud open shame before the world." It may be inferred, however, from this ingeimous confession, that he was nevertheless restrained from the commission of any delinquency cognizable by the magistrate. He was wild, boisterous, reck- less, disorderly; passionately fond of village-sports, such as bell-ringing, dancing, ' the game of cat,' and similar amuse- ments-; a Sabbath-breaker, a .terrible swearer, and thoroughly ungodly. , But this appears to have been the extent of his youthful wickedness. He was no drunkard, nor ■v^as he, in the grossest acceptation, licentious. Wfe have his own solemn declaration, in reply to Ms calumniators, that " no woman in heaven, or earth, or hell," could witness against him. " Not," he adds, f' that I have been thus kept because of any goodness in me, more than other, but God has been m^rciiful to me, and has kept me." It is evident that his conscience, thpugh laid asleep, was never hardened ; for, while he could take pleasure in the vileness of his companions, yet, if at any time he saw wicked things conimitted by those " who professed goodness," it would m^ke his spirit tremble. Once, when in the height of his vanity, hearing a , person swear who was reputed a religious man, " it struck upon his spirit," he says, " so as to make his heart ache." Bunyan was only seventeen when he entered into the Par- liament's army ; and in 1645, he was drawn out, with others, to go to the siege of Leicester ; but when he was just ready to set off, one of, the cpmpa,ny expressed a desire to go in his stead, and Bunyan having consented, the volunteer took his B 14 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS place, weiJ to the siege and was shot as he stood sentinel. This remarkable interposition of Divme Proyidence, as well as some other narrow escapes from death, Bunyan records with devout gratitude ; but, at the time, they appear to have made a slight or transient impression upon his conscience. He could .not have been long a soldier ; yet it is probable that we are indebted to his ^having served in the civil vrjas, for the skilful management of his military allegory. Not long after the occurrence above mentioned, and when consequently, he must haVe been very young, (Dr. Southey thinks, before he was nineteen,) Bunyan married ; and " my mercy was," he says, " to light upon a Wife whose father was counted godly." They were both so, poor as not to have so much household stuff as a dish or a spoon between them ; but she brought him, for her portion, two books which her father had beqxieathed to her when he died ; one entitled " The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven;" the other "The Practice of Piety."* In these two books, Bunyan would sometimes read with his wife ; and though they did not reach his- heart so as to waken" him to a sense of his real condition, yet they pro- duced some desires and endeavours after reformation. These were fostered, too, by the frequent references m^de by his wife to the strict and holy life of her father. Bunyan now "fell in very eagerly with the religion of the times ; went to church twice on the Sunday, and said and sung with the foremost ; and was withal, according to his own account, " so overrun with the spirit'of superstition," that he adored with great de- votion all things belonging to the church, — " the high-place, priest, clerk, vestment," and every thing relating to the service. The priest and clerk he counted most happy, and without doubt blessed, as the servants of God ; and for the loVe he bore to the clergy, supposing them the ministers of heaven, he could have lain down at their feet, and have been trampled upon by them ; so strongly, at this time, did their name, their garb, and * The latter work, by Bayjy, Bishop of Bangor, was at one time so popular as to pass through more than fifty editions in the course of a hundred years, and has been Iranslated not only into Welsh, the author's native tongue, but into Polish and Hua- jarian. OF JOHN I3UNYAN. 1& their function " intoxicate and bewitch" him. This is precisely the feehng of abject reverence with which the priest of the Romish church is regarded by the common people in Popish countries ; and if, at this period of his life, when his imagina- tion was so much stronger than his judgment, and his mind had not emerged from the grossest ignorance, Bunyan had been thrown in the way of an artful emissary of that church, it is probable that he would have been inextricably entangled in the toils of superstition.-, His moyal and ihtelleotual progress would have terminated at the Giant's Cave. All this while, he, says, he was not sensibje of the danger and evil of sin, nor ever thought of the Saviour. The " Plain Man's Pathway," had not, directed him to the Cross. " Thus man," he remarks, . " while blitid, doth wander, but wearieth himself with vanity, for he knoweth not the way to the city of Qod." In fact, at this stage, Bunyan had not even thrown off the habit of using profane language ; for, some time afterwards, he met with a humiliating, reproof from a woman who was herself of bad character, but who protested that Bunyan's awful prafaue- ness made her tremble, and that "he was able to spoil, all the youth in the town who but came into his company." "A,t this reproof," he says, " I was silenced and pqt to secret shame, and that t,oo, as I thought,- before the God of heaven ; wherefore, while I stood there, a,nd hanging down my head, I wished with all my heart that I might be a little child again, that my. father, might learn me to speak without this wicked way of swear- ing ; for, thought I, I am so accustomed to it, that it is in vain for me to think of a re^rmation ; for I thought that could never be. But, how it came to pass T know not; I did from this time forward so leave my swearing, that it was a great won- der to myself to observe it ; and whereas, before, I knew not how to speak unless I put an oath before and another behind, to- make my words have authority ; now I could, without it, speak better, and with more pleasantness than ever I could . before." This cordial wish, so touchihgly expressed, would -seem to have been the first genuine emotion of penitence in Bunyan's heart, such as all the tertific alarmsof an awakened conscience 16 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS had hitherto failed to produce. At this critical moment of in- cipient conversion, he "fell into company with one poor man that made profession of religion," who, as he .then thought, " did talk pleasantly of the Scriptures and of the matter of re- ligion ;%herefore," he says, " faUing into some Ifvveandhking to what he said, I betook me to my Bible, and began to take great pleasure in reading, but especially with the -historical pai-t thereof; for, as for Paul's Epistles, and such, like scriptures, I could not away with them, being as yet ignorant either of the corruptions of my nature, or of the want and worth of Jesus Christ to save us. Wherefore, I fell to some outward refornaa- tion, both in my words and life, and did set the commandments before me for my way to heaven ; which commandments I did also strive to keep, and as I thoughtdid keep them pretty well sometimes My neighbours were amazed at tliis my great conversion from prodigious "ptofaneiless to somethihg like a moral life ; and truly so they well might; for this -my conversion Tvas as great as for Tom of Bedlam to ' become a sober man. Now, therefore, they began to praise, to com- mend, and to speak well of me, both to my face and behind my back." Flattered by these commendations, and proud of his imagined godliness, he concluded that the Almighty "could not choose but, be now pleased with him. Yea," he says, " to relate it in mine own way, I thought that no maai in England could please God better than I." He was awakened from this self-righteous delusion by acci- dentally overhearing the discourse of three or four poor women^ who were sitting at a door in the sun, in one of the streets of Bedford, "talking about the things of God." Bunyan's atten- tion was arrested ^by language which was altogether new to him, and which he heard, but understood not. What especially struck him was, that they conversed about the matters of re- ligion "as if joy did make them speak,*' and "as if they had found a new world." . . . . "At this," he says, " I felt my own heart begin to shake, and mistrust my condition to be naught." When he left \h&w. to go about his employment, their talk and discourse went with him, while his heart tarried behind ; for, he says, " I was greatly affected with their words, OF JOHN BUNYAN. 17 both because by them I was convinced that I wanted the true tokens of a truly godly man, and also because by them I was convinced of the happy and blessed condition of him that was such a one." These poor women were members of a small Baptist con- gregation at Bedford, who had for their pastor a man whose religious history is not less remarkable thafn that of Bunyan himself. Formerly a major in the king's army, and having narrowly escaped execution as a rebel, John Giftbrd had come a stranger to Bedford,-where he practised physic ; leading, at the same time, the genuine life of a cavalier. Profligate and recklessj a drunkard, a gambler, and abominably profane, he entertained the most savage hatred of all Puritaps. Yet was this rnan, when in a state of desperation occasioned by losses from gambling, "startled into a sense of his real condition" by meeting with one of the works of Robert Bolton ; the peru- sal of which, after a mental conflict of some weeks, wrought a cure of his diseased mind and heart ; and, joining himself to the company of those whom he had formerly most despised, he be- came at length their chosen pastor. From the members of this- little flock, Bunyan received the first elements of evangelical instruction ; and the more he A I twenty more had in my crowjj ; And they again began to multiply, Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. Nay then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, I'll put you by yourselves, lejit you at last Should proye ad infinitum, and eat out The book ^^at I already am about, , Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think To show to all the world my pen and ink In such a mode ; I only thought ta make I knew not what ; nor did I undertake 2e 53 54 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. Thereby to please my neighbour ; no, not I ; I did it mine own self to gratify. , Neither did I but vacant seasons spend In this my scribble ; nor did I intend But to divert myself, in doing thi?, f ' From worser thoughts whicH make me do amiss. Thus I set pen fo paper with delight, And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. For having now my method by the end, Still as I pulled, it came ; and so I penned , ..» It doWB ; until at last it came to be. For length and breadth, the bigness which yt)u see. Well, when I had thus put my ends together, I showed them others, that I might see whether They would condemn them, or them justify ; •And some said, Let them live ; some. Let them die ; Some' said, John, print it ; others said. Not so : Some said. It might do good ; others said. No. Now was I in a strait, and did not see Which was the best*thing to be done by me : At last I thoughtj Since you are thus divided, I print it will ; and so the case decidedJ For, thought I, some I see would have it done, Though others in that channel do not run : To prove, then, who advised for the best, Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. I further thought, if now I did deny Those that would have it thus to gratify, I did not know but hinder them I might, Of that which would to them be great delight : For those Avhich were not for its coming fortfi, I said to them, Offend ^ou lam loath; THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 55 Yet, since your brethren pleased, with it be, Forbear to judge, till you do further, see. If that thou wilt not read, let it alone ; Soine loT© the meat, some love to pick the bone ; Yea, that I might them bettef palliate, [ did too with them thus expdstulate : May I not write in such a style as this? In such a method too, and yet not miss My end, thy good ? Why may it not be done ? Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright brjng none Yea, dari£ or bright,' if they their silver drops Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops, Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at ^either, But treasures up the fruit they yield together ; Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit None can distinguish this froni that ; they suit , Her well when hungry ; but, if she be full. She spews out both, and makes their blessing null You see die ways the fishennan doth take To catch the fish ; what engines doth he make ! Behold ! how he engageth all his wits 5 Also his snares, lines, angles, hoolss, and nets ; Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line, , Nor snare, nor net, nor engine, can make thine ; They must be groped for, and be tickled too, Or they will not be catched, whate'er you do. . How does the fowler seek to catch his game ? By divers means, all which one cannot name : His gims, his nets, his limertwigs, light, and bell • He creeps, he goes, he stands ; yea, who can tel Of all his postures ? Yet there's none of th^se Will make him master of what fowls heptease. 56 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. Yea, he must pipe and .whistle to ca.tch this, Yet, if he does bo, that hiid he will miss. If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, And maty be found too in an oyster shell : If things that promise nothing do contain What better is than gold, who will disdain. That have an inkling of it, there to look,' ■ • That they may find it ? Now, my little book (Though void of all these paintings, that may make. It with this or the other man to take) Is not without those thingsthat do. excel What do in brave but empty notions dwell. fVell) yet I am not fully satisfied That this your booh will stand when soundly tried. Why, what's the matter ? // is dark .' What ^ough i But it is feigned. What of that ? I trow Some men, by feigned words, as dark as mine, i Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shing ! But they want solidntss. Speak, man, thy mind ! They drown the weak; metaphors make us^SRnd. Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen Of him that writeth things divine to men : But must I needs Want solidness, because By metaphors I speak ? Were not God's laws. His gospel laws, in oldein time held forth S' By shadows, types, and metaphors ? Yet loath Will any sober* man be to find fault - h/J > With them, lest he be foimd for to assault •• tl The Highest Wisdom ! No, he rather stoops,. And -seeks to find out what by puis and loops. By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams, ; By birds and hcfrbs, and by the blood of lambs^ THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 57 God speaketh to him ; and happy is he That finds the light and grace that in them be. Be not too, forward, therefore, to conclude l^at I want solidness, that I am rude: All things solid in show, not solid be ; All things in parable despise not we, Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, ' And tilings that good are, of our souls bereave My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold. The prophets used much by metaphors To set forth truth ; yaci, whoso considers Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see That truths to this day in, such mantles be. Am I afraid to say, that holy writ, Which for its style, and phrase puts down all wit. Is every where so full of all these things, (Dark figures, allegories,) yet there springs From that same book, that lustre, and thoi^ rays Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days. Come, let my carper to his life now look, And find there darker lines than in my book > He findeth any ; yea, and let him kijow. That in his best things there are worse lines too. May we but stand before impartial men, To his poor one I dare adventure ten, That they will take my meaning in these lines Far better than his lies in silver shrines. Come, truth, although in swaddling-clouts I find, Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind ; Pleases the understanding, makes the will i Submit ; the memory tqo it doth fill C2 58 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. With what doth our imagination please ; Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use, 'And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; But yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbid / The use of parables in which lay hid • '> That gold, those pearls, and precious stones, that were Worth digging for, ^nd that with greatest care. Let me add one word mere : O man of Godj Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had 3 Put forth my matter in another dress ? n't Or that I had in things been more express ? *": <>'' To those that are my betters, as is fit, Three things let me propound, then I submit ; 1. I find not that I am denied the use Of this my method, so I no abuse Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude In handling figure or similitude, In apglication ; but all that I may Seek the advance of truth, this or that way. Denied, did I say ? Nay, I have leave, (Examples too, and that from them that have God better pleased, by their words or ways, Than any man that breatheth now-a-days,) Thus to express my mind, thus to declare Things unto thee that excellentest are. 2. I find that men as high as trees will write Dialogue-wise ; yet no man doth them slight For writing so : indeed, if they abuse Truth, curised be they, and the craft they use To that intent ; but yet let truth be free To make her sallies upon thee and me, THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 59 Which way it pleases God ; for who knows how, Better than He that taught us first to plough, To guide our minds and pens for his design ? And He makfes base things usher in divine. 3. I find that holy writ, in many places, Hath semblance with this method, where the cases Do call for one thing to set forth another : Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother Truth's golden beams : nay, by this method may Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. And now, before I do put up my pen, I'll show the profit of my book ; and then Commit both me and it unto that hand That pulls the strong down, and makes weak one stand. This book it chalketh out before thine eyes The man that seeks the everlasting prize : It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes ; What he leaves undone 5 also what he does : It also shows you how he runs and runs. Till he unto the Gate of Glory comes. It shows too who set out for life amain, As if the lasting crown they would obtain- Here also you may see the reason why They lose their labor, and like fools do die. This book will make a traveller of ^hee, If by its counsel thou wilt rdled be ; It will direct thee to the Holy Land, i - If thou wilt its direction understand ; ; Yea, it will make the slothful active be ; i~-The blind also delightful things to see. Art thou for something rare and profitable ? Or wouldst thou see a truth within a fable ? 60 THE AUTliOE'S APOLOGY. Art thou forgetful ? Wouldest thou remember Fro;tn New-year's day to the last of Deeember? Then read my fsaicies ; they will stick like burs, And may be to the helpless, comforters. This book is, writ in such a dialect -^^li :;* As may the minds of listless men affect : :]n- '■ i . It seems a novelty, and yet contains ' Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ? Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly? Wouldst thou read riddles and their explatiaUon ? Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ? i Dost thou love picking meat ? Or wouldst thou see A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee? Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep ? Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm, And find thyself again without a charm ? { ; Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knowst not what, And yet know whether thou art blest or not. By reading the same lines? then come hither ! And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. JOHN BUNYAN. THE PILGRIM'S PEOGEESS. PART I. As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a den,* the jail. and laid me down in that {>lace to sleep ; and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and, behold, I sawf a * Mr. Bunyan was confined, at different times, about twelve years in Bedford jail, for exercising his ministry contrary to the statutes then in force. This was ' the den, in which he slept and dreamed :' here he penned this instructive allegory, and many other useful works, which evince that he was neither soured nor disheartened by,persecution. The Christian, who understands what usage he ought to expect in this evil world, com- paring our present measure of religious liberty with the rigoms of that age, will see abundant cause for gratitude ; but they, who are disposed to complain, can never be at a loss for topics, while so much is amiss among all ranks and orders of men, and in the conduct of every individual. f The allegory opens with a description of the principal character to which it relates. The view, which the author in his dream had of him, as ' clothed in rags,.' implies that all men afl| sinners, in their dispositions, affections and conduct ; that their supposed virtues are radically defective, and worthless in the sight of God ; that the pilgrim has discovered this in Ms- own ease, so that he perceives his own righteousness to be insufficient for justification, even as sordid rags would be unsuitable raiment for those who stand before kings. His ' face turned from his own house' represeiits the sinner convinced that it is absolutely necessary to subordinate all other concerns to the care of his immortal soul, and to renounce every thing which interferes with that grand object: this makes him lose his former lehsh for the pleasures of sin, and even for the most lawful temporal satis- fections, while he trembles at the thought of impending destruction. (Heb. vL 8. 24 — 27.) ' The book in his hand,' &c. instructs us, that sinners dis- F ol 62 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. man clothed with rags standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back,' I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein ; and, as he read, he wept and trembled ; and, not bei«g able longer to con- tain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I do !'" In this plight,* therefore, he went home, and re- * ' Isaiah Iziv. 5. Luke ziv. 33. PBalm xxxviii. 4. Hab./ii, 3, ^ Acts ii. 37. cover their real state and character, by reading and believing the Scrip- tures ; that their first attention is often directed to the denunciations of the wrath to come Contained in them, and that such persons cannot but con- tinue to search the word of God, though their grief and alarm be increased by every perusal. The 'burden upon his back' represents that distressing sense of guilt, ^and fear of wrath, which deeply convinced, sinners cannot shake off; 'the remembrance" of their sins is grievous to them, the burden of them is intolerable :' their consciences are oppressed with guilt, even on account of those actions in which their neighbours perceive no harm ; their hearts tremble at the prospect of dangers of which others have no appre- hension ; and they see an absolute necessity of escaping from a situation in which others live most securely : for true faith, from the very first, ' sees things that are invisible.' In one Way or other, therefore, they soon mani- fest the earnestness of their minds, in inquiring ' what they must do to be saved.' The circumstances of these humiliating convictions exceedingly vary ; but the life of faith and grace always begins with t)iem : and they, who are wholly strangers to this experience, are Christians only in name and form : — ' He knows no hope, who never knew a fear.' Cowper. . * The contempt or indignation, which worldly people express towards those who are distre'ssed in conscience, commbnly induces them to conceal their inquietude as long as they can, even from their relatives ; but this soon becomes impracticable. Natural affection also, connected with a view of the extreme danger to which a man sees the objects of his most tender attachments exposed, but of which they have no apprehensions, will extort such earnest representations,. warnings, and entreaties, as are here ex- pressed. The city of Destruction (as it is afterwards called) signifies this present ^vil world, as doomed to tije flames ; or the condition of careless sinners, immersed in secular pursuits and pleasures, neglecting eternal things, and exposed to the unquenchable fire of hell, « at the day of judg- THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 6 etrained himself as long as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his distress ; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore, at length, he brake his mind to his wife and children; and thus he began to talk to them: O my dear wife, said he, and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am certainly informed that this our city will be this would. burnt with fire from heaven; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except he knows no (the which yet I see not) some way of escape ■^s yet. can be found, whereby we may be delivered. At this his relations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that what he had said to them was true, but because they thought that some frenzy distemper had ment and perdition of ungodly men.' They who are igfnorant of the Scriptures, and unaccustomed to compare their own conduct with, the Divine law, will be amazed at such discourse ; and, instead of duly regard- ing the warnings given them, will commonly ascribe them to enthusiasm] or insanity ; and as prophets, apostles, and the Son of God himself, were looked upon in this light by their contemporaries, we may be sure that no prudence, excellence, or benevolence, can exempt the consistent believer from the trial. Near relations will generally be tlie first to fisrm this opinion of his case ; and will devise various expedients to quiet his mind : diversions, company, feastings, absence fmn serious friends or books, will be prescribed : and by these means a fals^peiace often succeeds a transient alarm. But when a genuine humiliating discovery of the evil and desert of sin has been made to the soul, such expedients will not alleviate, but increase, the anguish ; and will be followed by still greater earnestness about a man's own salvation, and that of others. This commonly strengthens prejudice, and induces obduracy : and contemptuous pity gives place to resentment, ill usage, derision, or neglect. The disconsolate believer will then be driven into retirement, and relieve his burdened mind by reading the Scriptures, and meditating on his doleful case, with compassionate prayers for his despisers : and thus he sows in tears that seed from which the harvest of his future joy will surely be produced. 64 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. got into his head. Therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with> all haste they got him to bed. But the night was as troublesome to him as the day ; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So when the morning was come, they would know how he did. He told them, Worse and worse. He also set to talking to them again ; but they began to be hardened. They CARNAL PHY- also thought to drive away his distemper by file FOR A SICK , - _ , *■ .t 1 ■ j^' soBL. harsh and surly carriage to him : sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and pometimes they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber, to pray- for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery. He would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying: and thus for some days he spent his time. Now I saw,* upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was (as he wa^ wont) reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as he read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying, " What shall I do to be saved ?'" I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as if he would run ; yet he stood still, because (as I per- ceived) he could not tell which way to gol I looked > Acta XTi. 30, 31. * The Scriptures are indeed sufficient to make us wise unto salTation, as T?ell as to show us our guilt and danger; yet the Lord, commonly uses the ministry of his servants, to direct, into the way of peace, even those who hiive previously discovered their lost condition. Though convinced of fce necessity of escaping from impending ruin, they hesitate, not knowing what to do, till Providence brings them acquainted with some faithful preacher of the Gospel, whose instructions afford an explicit answer to their secret inquiries after the way of salvation. ^ONOF THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 65 then, and saw a naati named Evangelist coining to him, and he asked, Wherefore dost thou cry ? He- answered, Sir, I perceive, by tlie book in my_ handj that I am condemhed to die, and after that to come to'^jti^^ent ; and I find that I lain not wililng to do the: fl^, nor able to do the s^ond.M> , Theft said Evangelist* Why not wi'Hitig to cKe, since this fife is attendee? with so ihaiiy evils'? The man answered, Because I fear that this burdeh that is upon Hiy hack wiB sifak me lower than the grave, and I shall fall intOi Tophet."' And, sir, if I be not fit to gb to priscwii lam not fit-to go .to judgment, and from thence to e}icecuti<}n : and the thoughts of thesd 'things make me ay. -. ■ •■ ,- ■ - ''■ ■''•- > ,T?ieli:sai^EvangeUst,tS!lf this be thy condition, vthy standest thou still ? He aiftsweried, Because cosvicxms I know not whither to go. Then he gave w fi-eeiko. bim^ parcluhept roll 5 and there was written within, " llfee: from' tl^ewrratli to come.'" ITie man therefore read it,, and looking Upon Evan- gelist very carefully, said, Whithei- must I flee ? f Then ' Heb. 11. 27. Jofrxvi. 21, 22. Ess^fc. xjtii. 14. < Isa.xxX.SS. ' Matt. Hi. 7. ' • TU« able minister of Christ. will deem it necessary to enfotee l&e warning, '.4lee froro^ the wrath tpoowe,' eveii'iftipon those who are alarmed about then Bonis ; because this is the proper way of exci^ng thent .to di}t>- g-enceanij deciaipij, a^d of, preserving |the^, from procijistination. They, 'therfefoTe, who would persuadfj such persons!, that JhelriBafs are groundless, thpir gsilt far less'thaaj they suppose, and .their danger imaginary, use the most effectual mean.s of soothing themjnto a fafcil security, . Nor can any discoveries of heinous guilt or -helplesa ruin in themselves prdduce de sij>«),jldeBcy» provided the salvation of the Gosptjl ha fully exhibited, atid profiosed. to them, ■ ■ - f The .awakened' sinner may be inQspabls for atime of perceiving the way of salvation by feith in Christ; for divine illumination is often very gnidn^i Thus, though Ijie pilgiim ck>uld not see the gate, when Evangelist panted it out to hiio, he thoiight he could discern the .shining li^t. Up>' 5 66 , . THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very Ttfide field, Do you see yonder wicket-gate ? * The man on^ J. said, No, Then said the other, Do you see "„%&Ie yonder shining Kght?\ He said, I think I oStThew^kb' do. Then said EvangeUst, Keq) that light in your, eye, and j^o up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall -be told thee what thou shall do. So I saw ita my dream, that the man began to run. Now be had not run far fi-om bis own door, when hia wife and children perceiv- mg it, btegan to cry after him to return;' but the man put his fingers ,in his ears, and ran oh^ crying, 'Life! life! eten«il life !' So he looked not behind him,* but fled to:wards the middle pf the plain. ' The neighbours* also came out to see hiiia run: mtd. « Matt. vii. 13, 14. . « Psalm cxi^. 105. 2 Pet. i. 19, Lulie liv, 36. , •! < Gen. xii. 17. ,>U.. right inquirers attend to the general instructions and encouiagetnentfi of Scripture, and the declarations of the paMoning mercy of God ; which by d€!grees lead thfem to th'e^kiipwledg^of Christ, and to faith in him : few, as our author says in a marginal note, ' Christ, and the way to him, cannpt be found without the word.' Thus instructed, the pilgrim ' begaik to run ;' for no persuasions or cpn^erations can indjtce the man, who is duly in earnest abou| salvation, tol^lect th^se things which he knows to be his -present duty 4 but it must be expected that eamal relatioiis will oppose this, especially as it appears to them destructive of all their prospects of woridly advantage. The foHrfwing lines aire here subjoined to a very rude engraving:—,- ' xjit ' Christian no sooner leaves the wdrld, but meets '"* r/ :W''; Kvangelist, who lovingly him greets ' ■;■ w;^^.' With tidings of another; and doth show Him how to mount to that from this bdow.' ♦ The attention of numbers is in general excited when one of thei? cojnpanions in sin and vanity engages in religion and forsakes the party; He soon becomes the topic of conversation among them : their minds are variously affected; some' ridicule, others rail, threaten, . attempt force, or employ artificB,' to withdraw him from his purpose; aoeording to their dif* -•erejit dispositions, situations, or relations to him. Most of them, howerei. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 67 as he ran, some mocked, others thfeatenedi and some cried after him to return: and amonsi those ™e» ™"> , ' O . rvi PBOM THK that did so, there were two that were resolved T/^a^az.™ to fetch him back by force. The name of the "o«Td ™ ■"" one was Obstinate, and the name of the other Pliable. Now by this time the man was got a godd distance frcHtt them ; but, however, they were resolved to pursue hini ; which they did, and in a little time they overtook bin*. Then said the man. Neighbours, wherefore are ,you come? Tljiey said, To persuade you tp go back vntk us. _ But he said, That can by no means be. You dwell, said he, in the city of Destruction; the place also where I was bom : I see it to be so j and dying there, sooner or later, "you will sink lower than the grave, into a place that bums with fire and brimstone : be content, good neighbours, and go along with me. What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends and our comforts behind us ? Yes, said Christian, (for that was his name,) because that all" which you shall forsake, is nht worthy to be ' soon desist, and leave him to his choice. But two chaiacteis are not so easify shaken off; these our author has named Obstinate and Pliable, to denote' their opposite' propensities. The former, through a resolute pride and. stoutness pf heart, persis^ts in attempting to bring back the new con- vert to his worldly pursuits ; the latter, from a natural easiness of temper and susceptibility of impressioji, is pliant to persuasion, and readily cdn- sents to tnake a profession of resligion. The sobsequent dialoguie admirably illustrates the characters of the speakers. Christian (for so he is henceforth called^ is'firm, decided, bold, and sanguine : — Obstinate is profane, scornful, self-sufficient, and di^osed to contemn God's word, when it 'interfei'es with his worldly interests : — Pliable is yielding, and easily induce^ to engage in thjfigs, of which he understands neither the nature nor the consequences. Christian's plain warnings and earnest entreaties; Obstinate's contempt of helievers, as *crazy-headed coxcombs,' and his exclamation when Pliable incUAes to be a pilgrim, ' What, more fools still V are admirably characteristic i- and show that Such things are peculiar to no age or place, but always accom- pany serious, godliness, as the shadow does the substance. 68 THE PILGRIfm PR0GKE8S. .V, compared with a litfele of that wlbicll I am seeking to Injoy ;* and if yoa will go along with me, and hold it, you shaJl fare as I myself j for there, where I go, is enough and to spare." Come away, aad prote my words. ,?, Obst. What are the things you seek, smee you leaves all the world to find them ? ._.^ i Chvl. I' seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not a,way; and it is laid up in heav^' and safe there, to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if yo^iaU, in my book. ' .". ••».- Tush, said Obstinate, away 'with your book; will you go back with us, or no ? , , No,. not I» said the other, because I have laid iny hand to the plough."* OpsT. Come then, neighbour PUable, let us turn again, and go home without him : there is a company ofJliese crazy-headed , coxcombs, who, when they take a fancy by the cnd^ are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason. Then said PUable, Don't revile; if what the good Christian says is true, the things he looks after are better than ours: my heart inclines to go with my neighbour. .Obst. What I more fools still ! Be ruled by. me, and go back;. Who knows whither such a braia-^ick fellow win lead you ? Go ba,ck, go back, and be wise. Cm, Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour o«"w"TE,iL° Pliablje; thej;eare such things to be had which IS'J"^'"-''" I spoke of; and many more glories besides. If you believe Hot me, read here in this book, and, for ' 2 Cor. iy. 18. « tuke xt. 17. •lPrt.i.4— 6, Beb.n. 6,16. «I.ukeiz.69. THE PILeRIM'S PROGRESS. 69 the truth^;of what is expt^ssed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Hub that made it,' ' Well, neighbour Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin to come to a pOint : I intend to go along with ti-iable cos. * , " ^ SENTETH TO GO this good ttiaii, and to cast in niy lot with J"/™ *=■"""- him: but, my good companion, do you know the way td this desired place ? Chr. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evan- gelist, to speed me to> a little gate that is before us, where we shall receive instructions about the way. Plii Come then, gBod neighbour, let us be going. Then th Heb. ix. 17—22. * This cDnversation between Christian and Pliable marks the difference in their characters, as well as the meaaure of the new convert's attain- ments. The want of a due appieheUsiqn of eternal things is evidently the primary defect of all who oppose or neglect rjeligipn; but more maturity of judgment and experience is requisite to discover, that many professors are teitially strangers to a realising view ' of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen.' The men represented by Pliable disregard these subjects ; they inquire eagerly jp.b out the good things to be enjoyed, but not in any due proportion about the way ^f solvation, the difficulties to be encoun- tered, or the danger of coining short: and new converts, b^ing Jealous, sanguine, and unsuspecting, are natumlly led to enlarge on the descriptions of heavenly felicity given in Scripture. As these^are generally figufative ,or negative, su^h unhumbled jprofessors, annexing carnal ideas to them, are greatly delighted ; and, not being retarded by^any distiressing remorse and terror, or feeling the opposition of corrttpt nature, they are often taore ■ zealous, and seem to proceed faster in external duties, than true converts. They take it for granted that all the privileges of the Gospel belong to (fcem ; and, being very confident, zealous, and joyfiil, they often censure those who are really fighting the good fight of faith. There are also Sys- tems diligently 'propagated, which marvellously encourage this delusion, excite a Mgh flow of false afiTections, especially of a mere selfish gratitude to a supposed benefactor for imaginary benefits, which is considered as a 70 THB, PJSMSRIM'S j»ROGI^|a^^ TALK BETWBiEB gooe bacfc, ChristiaD and Ptiable went talking i™^ll]t. over the plain; and thus they began their discourse. " , *' Chr. Come, neighbour Pliable,'-how do you do? I am glad you are persuaded to go along with me. Had even Obstinate himself but felt what I liave felt; of tbe powers and terrors of Avhat is yet unseen, he would not thus lightly have given us the back. ■ Pu. Come, neighbour Christian, since there are none but us two hrare, tell me n©w farther, what the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are going. Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind, UNOT eakIbLeI' than speak af them with my tongue : but yet, since you are desirous to know, I wiH read of them in my book. *" PlI; And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true ? Chr, Yes, verily j for it was made by Him that can- not lie.' Pli. Well said ; what things are they Chr. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlfisting life to be given us, that we may inhabit that kingdom for ever.' Pli, Well said ; and what else ? « Chr. There ar^' browns of glory to be given us; and garments that wijl make us shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven.' Pli. This is very pleasant ; and what else ? Chr. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow ; 'Tit. i. 2. . » Iaa.,liT. 17. John x. 27— 29. »,2Tim. iv. 8. Rev. xxii.5. Mutt. xiii. 43. very high" attainment: till the event proves them to be like tjie Israelites at the Red Sea, who ' believed t?ie Lord's wojfs, and sang his praise ; but Boon fwfgat his works, and vraiteci not for his eonnsel.' (Psalm ovi. 12-^.) THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. Tl for He that is owner of the place wilF:^ipe all tears from our eyes.' . Pli. And what company shall we have there ? Cmr. Th^te we shall be with seraphims and cheru- bims, creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on them.^ There also you shall meet with thousands and ten thousands that have gone before us to that place; none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy,; every one walking in the sight of God, and standing in his presence with acceptance for ever. In a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden crowns ;' there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps;* there we shall see men that by the vvrorld were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas, for the love they bare to the Lord of the place, all well, and clothed, with immortality as with a gar- ment.' , Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart. But are these things to be enjoyed ? How shall we get to be sharers thereof? Chr. The Lord, the governor of the country, hath recorded that in this book, the substance of which is, If we be truly Trilling to have it, he will bestow it upon us freely.* « Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things : come on, let us inend our pace. Chr. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is upon my back. ' t Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew nigh to a very miry sloUgh,* that ' Xsa. m'v. 8. Rev. vii. 16, 17. nxi. 4. « Isa. vi. 2. 1 Thess, iv. 16, 17. ' Re", iv. 4. * Rev. xiv. T — 5. * John xii. 25. 2 Cor. .. 2 — 4. » Isa. Iv. 1—8. John vi. 37. vii. 37. Rev. xxi. 6, 7. xxii. 17. ' * The slough of Despond represents those dkoouraging fears which often harass new conTcrts. It is distinguished from the alarms which induced ^ THE I'lLGRIM'S PROGRESS. was in the, mddit of the plain ; and they being heedless, 4id|)oth fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the^ Christian to leave the city, and. 'fce feom the wrath :to,eOBae:' for the ahxibn# apprehensions of one who is diligently seeMhg salration are very different from those which excited Win to inquire aftsi- it. The latter ar« 'Reasonable and usefulj. and arise from feith in God's word : but the former > are groundle^ ; they result from, remaining^ ignorance, ^attention a^d •unhelief, anil greatly retard the pilgrim in his ^rpgress. Thej^ should also be carefully distinguished Aom those doubts and discourageineiit^, which ^ssaulf the estahlished Phristian; for these are generally , the tsdnsequeftce of negligence, or yielding tq temptation; whereas new ^ eon verts, ;iaH into their despdndings, when most diligent, according to the light; they haye received : and if some conscientious persons' seein to meet with this slough in every part of their pilgrimage, it arises from an ftnmature judgment, erroneous sentiments, or ||ouliar temptations. /VVhsin the diligent student of the Scriptures ohtains^SUch an acquaintance with the perfect holiness of God, the spirituali^^ of his law, the inexpressible evil of sin, and his own obligationsand transgressions, as greatly exceeds the measure inwhieh he discerns the free and full salyation of Ijie Gospel, his humiliation will verge nearer and nearer to despondency. Tnis, however, is not essential to repentance, but arises from misapprehension i though few in proportion wholly escape it. The mire of the slough represeiits that idea which de- sponding pepons entertain of themselves and, their situation, as altogether vile and loathsome; and their confessions and self-abasing complaints, which render them contemptible in the opinion of others. As every attempt to rescue themselves discovers to them more of the latent evil Of their hearts, they seem^ to grow worse mi worse ; and, fo| want of a clear understanding of the. Gospel, they have no firm ground to tread on, and know neither where they are, orwhat they mudt do. But how could Pli- able fell into this' slough, seeing he had no such views of God or his law, of himself, or of sin,, as this condition seems to presuppose I To this it may be answered, that men can hardly associate wife religious persons, and hear 'their discourse, confessions, and complaints, or become acqu^nted with any part of Scripture, wtehout making some alarming-and mollifying discoveries concerning themselves. These transient convictions taking place when they fancied they were about to be(;ome very good,' and suc- ceeding to ^eat self-complacency, constitute a grievous disappointment ; and they ascribe their uneasiness to the new doctrine lliey have' heaid. But, though Pliable fell into the slough. Christian 'by reason of his bur- den' sank the deepest; for the true believer's hnmiliation for sin tends greatly to increase his fear of wrath. Superficial professors, expecting the promised happiness without . trouble or suflTering, are often very angry at those "who were the nleans of inducing them to think of religion ; as if th^ had deceived them : and,, being' destittttse of true faith, their only NOT ENOUGH TO BE THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 73 slough was Despond. 'Here, therefore, they o/dL/ond'!'^ wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; _and Christian, because of the iMirden that was on his back, began to sink iii the mife. Then said Phable, Ah, neighbour Christian/ where are you now? Truly, said Christian, I do not know. At that Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his fellow. Is this the happiness you have told me of" all this while ? If we have such fll speed at our first setting out, what may we expect between this and our journey's end ? May I get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me* it And with that he gave a desperate struggle nti-j^j-E or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the slough which was next to his own hous^: so away he went, and Christian saw him no more. Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone : but still he endeavoured r chkictia*,!!, to struggle to that side of the slough that ^IT^Tfr^^ ^ , „ , . FA.RTHEK FKOM was lartnest irom his own house, and next "" o^" »o"8«- to the Wicfcet-gate ;* the which he did, but could not object is; at any rate to get rid of their uneasiness. This is a speoiea of Btony^onuiJ hearers abounding in every part of the church, who are offended aiid fell away, by means of a little inward disquietude* before any outward tribulation arises because of the word. * Christian dreaded the dooni of his city more than the slough. Many persons, under deep distress of conscience, are afraid of relief, lest it should prove delusive. Deliverance from wjath and the blessings of sal- vation' appear to them so valuable, that all else is comparatively trivial. Desponding fears may connect with their religiouS' diligence ; but df.spaif would be the consequence of a retarn to their former course of sin. If they perish, therefore, it shall be whilst earnestly struggling, under deep discouragement, after that salvation for whifeh their souls even feint within theih. Their own efforts, indeed, feil to extricate them : but in due time the Lord will send them assistance. This is described by tRe allegorical person named Help, who may represent the instruments by which they D 74 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. get out because of the burden that was upon his back But I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him, whose name was Help, and asked him, What he did there? Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way by a man called Evangehst, who directed mp also to yonder gate, that I might escape the wrath to come. And as I was going thither, I fell in his^ee. THB PEOMwm. Hsi-p. But why did not you look for the steps? Chb; Fear foltowed.me so hard, that I fled the next way, and fell in. Then said he^ Give me lliy hand; so he gave him Hiro^T. ""' his hand, and he drew him oiit, and set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way»' Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way from the city of Destruction to yonder gate, is it, that this plat is not mended, that poor traveDers might go thither with more security? And he said unto me,* > PBalm xl. 3. receive encouragement : a service in which it is a privilege to be employed ! Fear is ako p^rsojiified : in the midst of the new convert's disconrsp on the joys of heaven« fears of wrath often oast hioi into despondency, while he so thinks of the terrors of the Lord, as to overiool? bis preoiou? promises, . * This account of the slough, which our author in his vision received from Help, coincides with the preceding expl?i,nation. Increasing know- ledge, produces deeper self-abasement : hencQ discouraging fears arise in men's minds, lest they should at last perish ; and objections against them- selves continually accumulate till they fall into habitual despondency, unless they constantly attend to the encouragements of the Scripture, or, in the apostle's language, have their ' feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel of peace.' As this state of mind is distressing and enfeebling in itself, and often furnishes enemies with a plausible objection to religion, the ser- . vants of God have always attempted to preserve humble inquirers from it, by various sciriptural instructions and consolatory topics { yet their success is not adequate to their wisjies ; for Ae Lord is pleased to permit numbets IVHAT MAKES THE 6LOVGH OF THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 75 This Bftiry slough. is sioh a place as cannot be mended: it is'the descent \vhither the scum and filth that attends conviction for sin doth contiH- bbspomd. ually run, and therefore it is called the Slough of Despond ; for still, as the sinner is awakened about his losvt condition, there arise in his soul many fears and t- doubts, and' discouraging apiMrehensionSf which all of them get together, and settle in this place. And this is the reason of the badness of this ground. It is not the pleasure of the King that this place shpuld remain so bad*' His labourers also have, by the direction of .his Majesty's surveyors, been for above these sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended : yea, and to my knowledge, said he, here have been swallowed up at least twenty thousand' cart-loads,. yea, millions of wholesome instructions, that h^ve at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's dominions, (and they that can tell, say, they are the best materials to make good ground of the place,) if so be it might have been mended; but it is the slough of Despond still, and so will be when they have done what they can. ' Isa. Hxv. 3, 4, 8. to be thus'4isoouraged, in order to detect false professors, and, to render the upright more watchful and humble. Our author in a marginal note, explains the steps to mean, 'the promises of forgiveness and acceptance to life by faith in Christ ;' which includes the general invitations, and the various encouragements given in Scripture to all who seek the salvation of the Lord, and diligently use the appointed means. It was evidently his opinion, that the path from destmctidn to life lies by this slough ; and that none are indeed in the- narrow way, who had neither struggled" through it, nor gone over it by means of "the steps. The ' change of weather' seems to denote those seasons when peculiar teiiiptations, exciting sinful pas- sions, perplex the minds of new converts j and so, losing sight of the promises, they sink into despondency during humiliating experiences : but laith in Christ, and in the mercy of God through him, sets the pilgrim's feet on godd ground. 76 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, True, there are, hy the direction oif the Lawgiver, THE piipMisE certain good and substantial steps, placed OF rOIlOIVE- ,11 < 1 (• 1 • 1 1 c^l?A^c" *To ^^®° through the very midst oi this slough; "'cHwsX*"" but at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth; against change of Weather, these steps are hardly Seen; or if they 'be> men, through the dizziness of their heads, step beside; and then they are bemired to purpose, notwiti?.standing the steps be there :' bi^t the ground is good when they are once got in at the gate. ^i ' ■ "' ' Now I saw in my dreamy that by this time Pliabfe puABM ooT was ffot home to his house. So his nei^^ HOME, AMD IS ~ ' *-* VSboIL"' hours came to visit him ; and some of them called him wise man for c6rning back,^ and some called him fool for hazarding himself with- Christian : others again did mock at his cowardliness, saying, Surely^ since you began to venture; I Would not have been so base as to have given oiit for a few difficulties: so Pliable sat sneaking among them. But at laSt he got more confidence, and then they all turned their tales and began to deride 'pooi* Christian behind his back. And thus much concerning Pliable. ;>! 'f J N(jw as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he espied one afar ofi^ come crossing over the field to woBLDiT meet him : and their hftp was to meet iust as [AM MEETS , *^ , .J they were crossing the Way of each other. The gentleman's name that met hiin was Mr. Worldly Wiseman :f he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a % '1 Sam, xi|, jtl. *' They, who affect to'despise real Christians, often both express and feel great c^tempt for those' that cast off their |)rofession; Such men are un- able, tak a time, to resume their wonted confidence among their former comjtaiuons; and this excites them' to pay court to them by reviling- and deriving those whom theiy have forsaken. + The wise men of this world caiefiilly notice those who begin to turn their thoushts to religion, and attempt to counteract theJ!roouvictions before MR. WISEMAN MEETS WITH CHRIS TIAK. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 77 very great town, and also hard-by from whence Chris- tian came. This man then, nroetirig with Christian, and having some inkling of hiiA, (for Christian's setting forth from the city of Destruction was much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the town^talk in some other places,) — Mr. Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess of him, by beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs and groans, and the Eke, began tlras to enter into some talk with Christian. World. How now, good fellow, whither t;lkbbtwse» ^ MH. WOBLDLT away after this Mrdened, manner ?* ThSIan. *"" the case becomes desperate : from their desponding fears they take occasion to insinuate that thejr are deluded or disordered in their minds ; that they make too much ado about religion ; and that a decent regard to it (which is all that is Tcquisite) consists with tiie enjbyment of this life, and eren con- duces' to secular advatitage. Worldly Wiseman, therefore, is a person of consequence, whose superiority gives him influence over poor pilgrims : he is a reputable and successful man ; prudent, sagacious^ and acquainted with mankind ; moral and religious in his way, and qualified to give the very best counsel to those who wish tb serve both God and Mammon : but he is decided in his jud^eiit against all kinds and degrees of religion, which interfere with a man's worldly intei«st, disquiet his mind, or spdil his relish for outward enjc^ments. He resides at Carnal Policy, a great town near the city of Destruction : for worldly prudence, modellilfg a man's xeligiou, is as ruinous as open vice and impiety ; ' thoiigh it be Tery prevalent among decent and virtuous people. Such men attend to the reports that are circu- lated about the conversioii of their neighbours, and often vateh their opportunity of entering into discourse with them. * There is great beauty in this dialogue, arising from: thie exact regard to character preserved throughout. Indeed this forms one of our author's peculiar excellencies ; as it is a Very di£Bcult attainment, and always i^ani- fests a stiperiorityof genius. The self-satisfactionof Worldly Wiseman, his contempt of Christian's ca^city, sentiments, and pursuits ; his affected sneering compassion, and, his censure of Evangelist's advice; his repre- sentation of the dangers and hardships of the way, and of ' the desperate ventures of religidus people to obtain they know not what :' and his confi- dent assumption that Christian's concern arose from weakness of intellect, ' meddling with things too high*^ for him, hearkening to bad counsel (that is reading the word of God, and attending to the preaching of the Gospel), and from distraction* as the natural consequence, are most admirably cha- 433 78 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. Chr. a burdened manner indeed, as ever I think poor creature had"! And whereas you ask me, Whither away? I tell you, sir, I am gomg to yonder wicket- gate before me ; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put into a ,lvay to be rid of my heavy: burden. World. Hast thou a wife and children? Chr. Yes ; but I am so laden wiA this burden, that I cannot take that pleasure in them as formerly : me- thinks I am as if I had hone.' World. Wilt thou hearken to me, if I give thee counsel? Chr. If it be good, I -will; fori stand in need of good counsek . •' '1 Cor. vii. 39. lacteristio. , His arguniehls also are very speciouS) though wholly deduced from worldly considBrations. He dpea not say, that Evangelist had not pointed out tlie way of salvation, or that wicked men are not in danger of futpre misery; hut he urges, Ibai so much concern ahout sia and the eternal vorldtali;es men off from a proper regard to their secular interesl^i to the injury of their families; that it prevents th^r enjoying comfort in domestip life, or in other providential blessings^ that it leads them into perilous and distressing ^itQations, of which their first terrors and despencl- ings are only an earnest ; tha^ a troubled eonscienoe may be quieted In a more expeditious and easy manner^ and that they may obtain credit, com- fortf.and m^iaifold advantages, by {bllqwing prudent counsel. On the other, hand,, Christian not only sp^ks according to his name, but eonsistenfljt. with the character of a young convert. He makes, no secret of hia dlsrl quietude and. terrors, and declares, without reserve, the method in which he sought relief. He owns, that he had lost his relish for every earthly comfQTt, apd he d^ite$ to receive good counsel : but, while he is p^epaieid to withstand all persuasions to return honte, he is not upon his guard against the insidious propositi of his carnal counsellor. He fears the wrath fb come more than all the dreadful things wjiichhad been mentioned : but his earnestness to get present relief exposes him. to the danger of seeking: itiij an unwarrant^ way. He has obtained from the Scriptures a convic- tion of his .guilt and danger; but, not having also. learned the instructions of life, he^o^s not discern the fetal tendency of the plausible advice given him by so repi^table a persoi^. Every one, who has been in the way of .naking observations on these matters, must perceive how exactly this suits (he case of Jiumbers, when first brought to iflindthe'one thing needful. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 79 World. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself rid of thy burden i for thou wouldlywise- ., , 1 1 ■ i • 1 Ml 1 MAN'S COUNSEL Wilt never be settled in thy mi^d till then: tochbistian. , nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of the blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee, till then» Cna.'That is that which 'I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden : but get it off myself I cannot ; nor is there any man in our country 1;hat can take it off my shoulders ; therefore am I going this way, as I t(Ad you, thatliflaay be rid Of my burden. World. WTio bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden? > i , Chr, a man that appeared to me to be a very great and hoiiourable person : his name, as I remember, is Evangelist. World. I beshrew him for his counsel^ tliereis not a more dangerous and troublesome way in the world than ia that into which, he hath »emsctS directed thee; and th^t thou shalt find^if ^^'■ thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. ' Thou hast met with something, as I perceive, already ; few I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee : but that slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way. Hear me; I am older, than thou: thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, ( nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a Avord, death, and what not. These things are certainly true, having been confirmed by many testimonies. And* should a man so carelessly cast, away himself, by giving heed to a stranger? Chr. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than are all these things which »he fUAHs or T ■- _ , ■^"'^ Heart or yoa have mentioned: nay, methinks I care MB. WORLDLY WISEMAN CON- EVAN- OfiLIST'a COUH* THE Heart of A TOUNQ CHRIS- TIAN. HE DOBB NOT LIKE THAT MEA SHOULD BE KIOUS IN BEAD' ING 80 " ' THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. not what I meet with m the way, if so be I can ako meet with deliverance from my burden. WoKLD. How earnest thou by thy burden at first? Chr. By reading this book in my hand-. ■ World. I thoUgit so ; and it is happened unto thee as to other weak men, who, HSiBddling with things too high for thmi, do suddenly fell into thy distractiofis ; whieh distractions do not only unnian men, es* as thine I perceive have done thee, but th^y LIB IM BEA.D- . 1 ' i ' a 1_x ' THE BIBLE, run them upon ^Jesperat^ ventures, to obtam they know not what. Chr, I know what I would obtain; it is ease from my heavy burden. World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way^ seeing so many dangers attend it? especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me) I could direct thee to the obtaining of what thon desirest, without the dan- gers that thou in this' way wilt rUn thyself into. Yea, and the remedy is- at hand. Besides, I will add, that, instejid' of those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, firiendshqj, and content. Chr. Sir, I pray open this secret to me. World. Why, in yonder village* (the village is * Tlie village Morality, is the emblem of that large company, who in nations faTonied wiA revelation abstain, from scandalous vices,- and prac- tise repulal^le duti^, vrithout any,tr^e fearor love of God. or regard to his authority, or glory. TJiis, connected with a system of notions, and a stint of exteimal worship, is substituted in the place of Christianity: but it is faulty in its principle, measure^ and object ; it results wholly from self-love ;. ifi restricted tq the outward observance of some precepts selected from tiie: Scriptures ; an{l aims principally at the acquisition of reputation, distinc- tion, or temporal advantages, with no more than a subordinate respect even to the interests of eternity : it is destitute of humility, delight, impar- tijjityi and universality in obedience f it leaves the heart in the possession of some worldly 14ol, and never advances a man to the tank of a spiritual wor8WH>eT, or renders him meet for the peculiar pleasnttes of heaven. Yet this mutilated kind of religion draws multitudes off from attending either THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. gp named Morality) there dwells a gentleman wlipse name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very good name, that has sldll to help men off he PBEKEKa mo- With such burdens as thine is from their S"te.'™''"' shoulders : yea, tO my knotjrledge, he hath done a great deal of good this way ; aye, and besides, he hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To him, as I said, thou mayst go, aod; be helped presently. His house is not quite a' mile £bom this place ; and if be should not be at home him- self, he hath a pretty young man to his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gentleman himself; there, I say, thou mayst be eased of thy burden ; and if thou art not minded to go hack to thy foraier habitation, (as indeed I would not wish thee,) thou mayst send for thy wife and children to the kbly requirements of the law, or to ths humhling doctrines of the Gdspef. • The most noted inhabitant of this village does not derive his name, Legality, ftota making the law qf God the rule of his conduct (for ' by the law is the knowledge of sin,' which tends to increase the convinced timer's distress), but ftbm his teaching men to depend on a defective Obedience to a small part of the law, explained and lowered, accof jing to the method of the scribes and pharisees. Such teachers, however, are a^hi^ired by the wise men of this world, and are deemed very skilful ia ^Jievin^ troi^bled consciences, and recovering .m^ from religious clistiap- tions. His son Civility is the embrem of those, who persuade themselves %iii others, that a decent, benevolent, an^ obliging behayipur, will secure men ftom all future punishment, and insure an inheritance in heaven, if indeed there be any such place ! Sijph counsellorg can ease the qonsciencea (if Ignorant persons, when superficially alarmed, almost as well as those '^ho superadd a form of godliness, a few doctrinal opinions, and a re|:anl to some precepts of the.Gospel. Both are nigh at hand in every place; and the wise men of this world are ever ready to direct convinced sinneis to seelc relief from them: they allow, that it is better for those who have been ijnmoral and profligate to reform their lives ; for this will meet with the approbation of th^ relatives, and conduce to their advantage, while the strait gate and narrow way would prove their ruin. Most pilgrims aje assailed by such counsellors : and many are not able to detect the fallacy of their reasonings till their own folly corrects them. D2 82 THE PIL6RI!li'S PROGRESS, to thee to. this village, where there are houses now standing «mpty, me of which thou ma^st have at a rea- sonable rate^: provision is there also cheap and good; and that which will make thy life the more- happy is, to be sure there thou shalt live by hohest neighbours, in credit and gbod fashion. • Now was Christian someWhat at a stand ; but pre- sently he conchided, If this be true which this gentle- cHBisTuii ihan hath said, my wisest' course istci' take tIIA«ED BV MK. 1 ■ 1 1 I I £ _£l- ■ woBtoi-T^wME- ]^^g advice : and with that he thus lurther A, pake. \ Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house? ,iou.iT ..KAi. Would. Do you see yonder high hill?* Chr. Yes, very well. World. By that hill you' must go, and the first hdiise fou come at is his. • So Christian tuirned out of his way to go to Mr. cHBmui. Legality's house for help : but behold, when tfouKT J,"m he' was got now hafd by the hill, it seemed WOnV? FALL 1 • 1 ' 1 ■ 1 1 * 1 ■ ' i* • 1 ' ON H» HEAD, so high, and also that side of it that w^a next the way-side did hang so much over, that Christian * Chfistian mbst go past mount Sinai to the village Morality ; not that such meii, as depend on their own reformation and good works, 'pay a due' regard to the holy law which was delivered from that mounlain (for ' they are alive without the law') 5 hui Becaijse they Substitute their own Scanty obedience in the place of Christ's tighteouanesis and atonement. They, who are not duly humbled and enlightened, peieeiving little danger, pass o,n quietly ind securely ; but the sinner, who is deeply convinced of his guilt, finds every attempt ' to establish his own righteousness' entirely abortive : the more narrowly he compares his conduct and character with the holy law, the greater is his alanh: and he trembles lest its curses sji'ould immediately fall upon him, with vengeance more tremendous than thjB roost siwful ,thunder. Then the counsels of worldly Vis'dom appear in their true light, and the sinner is prepared to welcome the Gospel of free salvation : but if the minister, whose instruc^ons he had forsaken, irieiet him, his terror will unite with conscious shame; ,a|id' he will even be tempted to shun his faitliJui friend, through fear of his merited reproofs.* THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 83 was afraid to venture further, lest the hill should fall on his head; wherefore there he stoo#^ still, and wist not what to do. Also his burden now seiemed heavier to him than while he was in his ivay. There came also flashes of fire buj of the hill, that made Christian afraid hat he should be burnt :* here therefore he did sweat, and quake for fear. And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly Wiseman's courisel; and with' that he saw EviEmgelist coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom he b^an to blush evangelist O \ ■ , ~ PINDETH CHRIS- for shame. So EvangeUst drew nearer and "^^^^^ i;?°f," nearer; and coming up to him, he looked upon him with a severe and dreadfiil countenance, and thus began to' reason tpith Christian. ' > What dost thou het'e, Christian? said he: at which words Christian knew not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. Then said Evangelist further^ Art not thoU the man that kvakohkt ~ , 11 f» 1 • REASONS AFRESH I found eryitig without the wails or the city with christian. of Destruction ? " CkR. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. EVan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate? • . '■ Yes, dear sir, said Christian. Evan. How is it then that thou art so quickly turned aside? For thou art now out of the way. Chr. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over the Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that I might, in the village before me, find a man that cbiild take off ray burden., Evan. What was he ? Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to mCj and gpt me at last to yield ; so I came hither ; < Ezod. xix. IS— 18. Heb. xii. 31. f^f'.: ^4 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. but when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my head* Evan. What said that gentleman to you ? Chr. Why, he asked me whither Ijpas gohig; and I told him. Evan. And what said he then ? Chr. He asked me if I bad a family; and I toM him. But, said I, I am so laden with the burden that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly. Evan. And what ^aid he. then? ■ Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burdfeli; and I told him it^was ease that I sought. Au'd, said* I, I am therefore going to yonder gate, to receive ftirliier direction hovv^ I may get to the place of deliverance* So he said that he W0uld show me a better way,. a.n4 short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, that you set me iii ; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath' skill to take, off these burdens : so, I believed Mm, apd turned out of tiiat way into this, iC haply I might be soon eased of my burden. But wheii I came to this place, and beheld things as they are, I stopped, for fear, as I said»of danger : but I now know not what to do. , EVAN0EU8T ThcH sBidv Evauffelist, Stand still a little* coffvinces him J^ . OF Hi> EKKOH. that I may show thee the words of God.* , , *; Oar autho^r judged it rigl^t, in de&ling with persona under ^eat terror of conscience, to aim rather at preparing them for solid peace, th»n hasfilf to give them comfort. Men may be gjeatly disdiayed, and in some degree truly humhled, yet not be duly sensible oif the aggravation and degtee of their fuilt. , In this case, further instructions, as to flje nature and hefiious- ness of their offences, are needful to excite them to proper .diligence an4 self-denial, and to prepare them for solid peace and comfort. WheKas, a well-meant, compassionate, but injudicious, method, of proposing consoU THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 8§ So he stood trembling. Then said EvangeUst, "See that ye refuse 6ot Him that speaketh : for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall riot we' escape, if we turn away from Him that speaketh from Heaven."' He said, moreover, "Now the just shall live by faith ; but if any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him.'" He also did thus apply them: Thou art the man that art running into this misery- thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, even almost to the hazarding of thy perdition. Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead^ crying. Woe is me, for I am undone I At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the tight hand, saying, "All manner of sin and blasphemies shall be f6rgfven iinto men." "Be not faithless, but believing." Then did > Heb. lii. 25. « Heb. x. 38. to*y tijipies indiscriminately to all under trouble of conscience, lulls many into a fatal sleep ; and ^ves others a transient peace, which soon terminates in deep despondency : like a -vrouild, hastily skinned over by an ignorant practitioner, instead, of being soundly cured, by thp patient attention of a skilful surgeon. The comnjunication of , more knowledge may, indeed, augment a man's terror and distress ; but it will produce deeper humilia- tion, and thus effectually warn him against c^r^l counsellors and legal dependences; Whatever may be generally thought of ' turning aside' from the Gospel, it is a direqt refiisal to hearken to Christ ; and they who do so, ran into misery, and leave the way of peace, to the hazard of their souls ; even though moral decency and formal piety be the result. (Gal. y. 4.) Such denunciations are despised by the stout-hearted, but the contrite in spirit, when conscious of this guilt, are cast by them into the deepest distress ; so that tiley would fall into despair did not the ministers of Christ encourage thetu by evangelical, topics. . The following lines are here inserted, as before, in the old editions : — '' ' When Christians unto carnal men give ear, Out of their way they go, and pay for't dear : ' For Master Worldly Wiseman can btt show A saint the way to bondage and to woe.' H 86 JHE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist. Then Evangelist proceeded, saying. Give more earnest heed to the things that I shall, teU tjjee pf. I vrill now show thee who >it was that deluded thee, and who it was also to who]|i,t.he sent thee. The man that met ME. wo»u.i.r thee is one Worldly Wiseman, and rightly WISEMAN 1>E- , J a .1 vanIblis*.^^*'' is he so called; pa^rtly because he sq,voureth only of the doctrine of this world,' (therefore l;ie always go^s to the town pf Morality to phurch;*) and partly because heloveth that doctrine best, for it saveth hiin best from the cross :^ and because he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways, though right. Now there are three things in t^s man's coimsel that thou must utterly abhpr. , ; . , 1. His turning thee out of the way. , . 2. His labouring to render the crosg odious to thee. 3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto the administration, of death. * First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way; yea, and thine own conseirting tl^ere;tp; because this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, , * Strive to enter in at the, strait gate," the gate to which I send thee; "for strait is the gate that leadeth unto nfe, and few there be that find it.'" From this little ' 1 John iv. 5. 2 Gal. vi. 12. » Luke xiii. 24. Matt. vii. 13, 14. * Wordly "Wiseman goes to church at the town of Morality : for such men support their confidence and reputation for religion by attending on those preachers, who substitute a proud scanty lAorality in place of the Gospel. This coincides with' their secular •views, dispositions, and in^ terests; they avoid the cross, xerily thinking'they had found out the secret of reconciling the friendship of the world with the fevqur of God; and then they set up for teachers of the same convenient system to their neighbours ! THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 87 wicket-gate, and from the way thereto, hath this wicked ^ man turned thee, to the bringing, of thee ahuost to de- struction: hate, therefore, his turning thee but of tht way, and abhor thyself for hearkening to him. r Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to rendei the cross odious unto thee; for thou art to prefer it before the treasures of E^ypt.' Besides, the King of gtoiy hath, told thee, that he that will save his life shall lose it. And he that comes after hun, and hates not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, atid brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be his disciple.?. I say, therefore, for man to labour to per- suade thee that that shall be thy death, without which, the truth hath said, thbu canst not have eternal life; this doctrine thou must abhor* Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that leadeth to the ministration of death. And for this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and also how unable that person was to deliver thee from thy burden. He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality,* is the son of the bond-woman which now is, < Heb. xi. 25, 26. , ' > 2 Matt. 37-^39. Mar^s vUi. 34, 35. Luke xir. 26, 27. John. xii. 23j ■ * When Christ had finished his Work on earth, the Sinai covenant with Israel was abrogated. The Jews, therefore, by cleaving to the Mosaic la,w as a complex covenant of works, were left, in bondage and under condem- nation ; and all professed Christiahs, who thus depend on notions, sacra- mients, religJoos duties, and morality, to the neglect of Christ and the new covenant in his blood, are entangled in the same fatal error. Legality can only lead a man to a felse peace : it can never deliver a sinner from guilt, or quietothe coilscience of one who is really humbled and enlightened. The Scriptures adduced by Evangelist are so perfinertt and ooncluslve against the fashionable religion, which has at present almost superseded the 6i>8- pel, that they can never be fairly answered : nay, the more any man con- siders them as the testimony of God, the greater must be his alarm (even aa if he heard the voice from mount Sinai out of the midst of, the fiie) j 88 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. and is in bondage with her children ;' and is, in a mys- tery, this mount Sinai, which thou hast feared wiU fall on thy head. Now, if she and her children are in bond- Tage, how canst thou expect by them to be Inade free? This Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of his burden by him ; no, nor ever is like to be. Ye cannot be justi- • fied by the worics of the law ; for by the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his burden: therefore Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat j and for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot help thee. BeUeve me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from the way in which I had set thee, i^fter this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for confirmation of ^vhat he had said ; and Matt. vii. 8 / „ * The gate, at which Chb,, Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable : but when thejr saw that they could not prevail, Obstinate went raiUng baek, but PliaUe came with me a Uttl^way. Good. But why did he not come through? Chb. We indeed came both together, until we came to the Slough of Despond, into the which we also sud- denly fell., And then Avas my neighbour Pliable dis- couraged, and would not adventure further. Where- fore, getting out again on the side next to his own house, he told me, I should possess .1 1 ■ A 1 /• t- • 1 i YEH, AMD YBTOO the brave country alone tor him : so he, went thithebalohe. his way, and I came mine: he after Obstinate, and I to this gate. Then said Goodrwill, Alas, poor man ! is ,the celes- tial glory of so little esteem ^ith him, that he. counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few di^culties to obtain it? ■, ■ p, * Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable, and if I should also say all the truth of my- christian ac- •^ ^ ■ *' CUSETH HIMSELF self, it will appear there is no betterment* lf°^elAT^" betwixt him and myself. It is true, he v^ent back to his own houae, but I also turned aside to go into the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argument of one Mr* Worldly Wiseman. Good. Oh, did he light upon you ? What, he would have had you seek for ease at the hands of Mr. Lega- * Our author here puts a very emphatical word into Christian's month, (' there is Ho bellefmeni betwixt him and myself,') whi^h latCT editors have clianged for d^^rence. This is far from an improvement, though the word be more classical : for grace had made an immense difference betwe^ Christian and Pliable ; but the former thought his. conduct equally criminal, and therefore, in respect to flieir deservings,' Uiers was no betterment betwixt them. There are m^iny alterations of a similar nature, in which the old copies have been generally followed ; but it would preclude more usefuh matter were they constantly noted. 94 THfi PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. lity ! they are both of them a very cheat. But did you take his counsel ? ' Chr. Yes, as far as I durst.'s^ I went to find out Mi. Legality, until I thought that the mountain that Stands by his housei would have fallen upon my head"? where-: fore there was I forced to stop. i*it « Good. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of mahy more : it is well you escaped beiiig by it dashed to pieces. Chr. Why, truly, I do hot know what had becora© of me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again as I Was musing in the midst of my dumps,: but it Was God's mercy that he came to me again, for elfee, I had never come hither. But now I km come, such a one as I am,, more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than thus to stand taikilag with my Lord. But, oh ! what a favour is this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance heire. Good. We make no objections against any, notwidli^ standing all that they have done' before they come cHRiBTiAK IS hither J they in no wise are cast out.' And eAnTS? oil therefore, good Christian, come a little way ]^ECTKp YET QN , - Kis wiT. ^ith me, ahd I will teach thee about the way thou must go." Look befo:te thee; "dost thou see this nEirrow way?* that is the way thou must go. It was ' John \i. 37. ' * Christian, being admittefl at the strait gate, is direftted in the narrow way. Ift the broad road every man may choose a path suited to his incliid- tions, shift about to avoid difficulties, or>Bc6oinmodat@ himself to circui{i> etiiices; ahd he will be surd'ofcompairty agreeable to his taste. But Christians must follow oiie another in the narrow way, along the satoe track, surmounting difficulties, facing enemies, ahd bearing hardshipis, without any room to evade them : nor is any indulgence given to different taslis', habits, of propensities. It is, therefore, a straitened, or, as some render the word, an afflicted way; being indeed an habitual course of THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 95- cast up by the patriarchs, prophets^ Christ, and his apostles, and it is as straight as a rule can make it : this is the way thou must go. But, said Christian, are there no turnings ckihstias , J. , 1 • 1 I • AFHAID of LOS- nor wmdmgs, by which a stranger may lose '^° "'? wa«. his way. Good. Yes, there are. many ways butt' dowii upon this, and they are crooked and wide: but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being straight and narrow.' Then I saw in my dreaiii, that Christian asked him further, if he could not lielp him off with his burden that was upon his back,* for as yet bo»b"em CHBISTIAM WEART OP HIS ' Matt. vU; 14. Repentance, faith,' loVe,' self-denial, patience, and mortificalion to sin, and the world, according to the rule of the Holy Scriptures. Qhriat himself is the way, by which we come to the Father and walk with him ; but true feith works by love, and ' sets us in the way of his steps' (Psalm Ixxxv. 13.) This path is also straight, as Opposed to the crooked ways of wicked men (Psalm exXv. 5;) for it cortsists in an uniform regard to piety, integrity, sincerity, and kindness, at a distance from all the hypocrisies, ftauds, and artifices by which ungodly men wind about, to avoid detection, keep up their credit, deceive others, or impose on themselves. The ques' tion proposed by Christian implies^ that believers are more afraid of missing the way, than encountering hardships in it: and Good-will's' answer, that many ways butted down en it, or opened into it, in various directions, ^ows, that the careless and self-^j:lled are extremely liable to Ije deceived : but it follows, that all these Ways are crooked and wide; they turn aside from the direct line of living faith and holy obedience, and are more sooth- ing, indulgent, and pleastog to corrupt nature than tlie path of life ; which lies straight forward, and is every where contrary to the bias of the carnal mind. * A general reliance on the mercy of God by foith in Christ, accompa- nied with consciousness of sincerity in applying for' this salvation, gives some encouragement to the convinced sinner's hope; and transient joys are often vouchsafed in a large proportion to unestablished believers : but more distinct views of the glory of the gospel are necessary to abiding peace. The young convert's consolations resemble the breaking forth of the sun in a cloudy and tempeetuoua da;y ; those of the experienced Chris- 96 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. he had not got ri(J thereof^ nor could he by any meann get it off withotit, help* He told him,. A^ to thy bttrdea, be content TUE^vili to. bear it, until thou comest to the place of lUHD^N OF ' ^ deliverance i for there it will fall frdm thy THERE 18 NO D E L I V E RANGE FKOM AND BURDEN SIN, BUT BV THE DEATH AND BLOOD OF ,1 f 'j If CHRIST. back ot itseli. • Then Christian began to gijtd up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. So the other told hiro* that by that he was gone some distance from the gate* he would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, and he would show him exeellent things. Then Christian took his- leave of his friend, and he agato bid him God speed.: Then he Went on, till he came at the house of the cHiitsTiAir Interpreter,* where he knocked over and GOMES TO, THE ^ , raTfc»™°ETEE!" over. At last one came to the door, and asked who was there ' tian, the Sun's more constsnt light in settled weatijer, which' is not lon^ together, interrupted, thpugh U be sometimes dimmed by i^terrening clouds. Believers should not^ therefore, rest in such tiansjlent gUi^pses, but press forward to, more abiding peace and joy ; and, as Christ doe? not in geneial bestow this blessing on the uneatablished, the endeavours of ministers, to do so must be vain. * We continually meet with fresh proofs of our author's exact aQciuain^' ance with the Scriptures, his sound judgment, deep experience, and extensive observation. With great propriety he places the house of.tha Interpreter beyond the strait gate: for the knowledge of divine thing!, which precedes conversion to God by faith m Christ, is very scanty,, com- pared with tbe diligent believer's subsequbnt attainments. A few leadti^ truths deeply impressed on the heart and producing e^caQiojis fears, hopes, ■desires, anA affections, characterize the state ,of a new-born babe : but reliance on the mercy of God through Jesus Christ prepares him to receiw further instruction: and,' 'having tasted that the l-ord ig graoiousi he dosiies the sincere milk of t}ie